Deadly Obsession

by Nigel May

  Jarrett stopped. For a moment the only sounds that filled the air were distressed sobs as Jimmy tried to catch his breath again. A viscous line of snot ran down from one of his nostrils. He attempted to sniff it back up. ‘I don’t know anything.’ It was barely more than a whisper. ‘I was just listening out for Amy. Just being an ear for her.’

  ‘Just being an ear. That’s all you are to her, eh? Well, we’ll see, shall we? See if she thinks of you as more than that.’

  Jarrett reached inside his jacket and pulled out a penknife from his inside breast pocket. He opened one end to reveal a short, stubby blade. He ran his finger lightly over the edge of it and turned his fingertip towards Jimmy. A thin line of red blood began to appear. A drop formed and started to loop its way down Jarrett’s finger. Before it could go too far, Jarrett placed his finger in his mouth and sucked away the blood. ‘It’s a sharp fucking knife. Goes straight through flesh ... no problem at all.’

  Jimmy’s eyes opened wider in horror as he contemplated what was about to happen. He shook his bound hands and ankles with as much energy as his tired body could muster, causing the chair he was seated on to move slightly. ‘No, please, I beg you ...’

  Jarrett signalled to his two henchmen to hold Jimmy still. They did so with ease, their combined force extinguishing any flame of fight left within Jimmy.

  ‘You’re Amy Hart’s ear? Let’s see.’ Jarrett moved behind Jimmy and pressed the young man’s head firmly against his jacket. He ran the cold blade against Jimmy’s cheek, letting its short length rub against the flesh. Jimmy was unable to see what was happening with Jarrett standing behind him but he knew what to expect. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glint of reflection from the blade of the knife as the light within the room hit it. He heard a swishing sound as the blade passed quickly alongside his face and for a moment there was silence. Nothing but complete and utter silence.

  Then the pain began. A searing slash of agony shot through the right side of his face and heavy rivers of blood sped down his cheek. Jimmy screamed, writhing in the worst pain he had ever experienced. He was still screaming when Jarrett reappeared in front of him, a demonic smile plastered across his face. In one hand he held the penknife, in the other was Jimmy’s severed ear.

  61

  Then, 2013

  * * *

  The sight of Rio de Janeiro’s Christ The Redeemer through their helicopter window took Amy’s breath away. It was a spectacle that she had longed to see ever since she had first heard about the enormous statue as a little girl, and as their transportation flew around the tip of the Art Deco masterpiece she reached out and squeezed Riley’s hand in excitement, a tiny squeal of exuberance escaping from her lips.

  It was mixed with a tinge of sadness. ‘My mum and dad would have loved to have seen this. It’s such an amazing sight.’ It had been about six years since her parents had died and there still wasn’t a day that Amy didn’t think about them and about how her life with Riley was all they had ever wanted for her; to find happiness with a good man. She counted her blessings despite everything she had gone through.

  Amy had to shout to make herself heard from underneath her helicopter ear protectors and above the sound of the engine. ‘How on earth it was built on top of this mountain is beyond me. Viva Brazil for getting it up there, say I!’ Amy couldn’t quite take in just how massive the statue was.

  ‘Well, it’s been up there since 1931,’ smiled Riley, his own voice equally loud. ‘I don’t have a religious bone in my body, but that is one pretty impressive erection.’ He smiled, knowing exactly where the quip would take the conversation.

  ‘Just like yours last night,’ said Amy, giving Riley’s knee a squeeze. The only other person sharing the helicopter they were flying in above the Rio skyline was the pilot and judging from his limited English when they boarded the flight, they were pretty sure he couldn’t really tell what they were saying. ‘And as for being religious, you were definitely giving me a few “oh my God’s” back on the beach last night if I remember rightly.’

  ‘Can you blame me? You were on fire last night,’ said Riley.

  He was right. Amy didn’t know whether it was the tropical, exotic, exciting heat of the Brazilian weather or the sight of Riley wearing a figure hugging wet T-shirt – they had been caught in one of Brazil’s intense fifteen minute downpours as they wandered back to their hotel along Ipanema beach, swaying slightly after an evening of caipirinhas, Brazil’s favoured cocktail, a rather heady blend of sugar, lime and cachaça, Brazil’s most common distilled alcohol.

  The heavens had opened and so, apparently, had the floodgates of Amy’s libido.

  The sky was already almost black, the virtually pure ebony that only a tropical stormy sky can give and stained with a coating of rain-soaked clouds. The lovers ran along the sidewalk, leaping between the puddles that had already began to form due to the storm. A lightning crack illuminated the air, highlighting the beauty and serenity of the beach and the proud mountains that gazed down across Ipanema. Mountains that just hours before had looked upon a mass of hot, oiled bodies feeling the intensity of the Brazilian sunshine as they lay on the powder fine sand enjoying the rays. Amy and Riley had been two of them, their skin turning a vision of gold with the heat.

  Now it was clear that they were both experiencing a heat of a different kind as the once full beach lay empty in the downpour. Despite the rain, the air was still warm and Amy pulled Riley to a halt as they ran, making it clear that she wanted to go no further. She brought her husband towards her and placed her hands against his chest, feeling the swell of his pecs underneath the now sodden T-shirt he was wearing. The outline of his nipples was evident through the thin cotton. Amy let her fingertips skim over them and looked up into Riley’s eyes. Without saying a word she said everything that needed to be said. The smile that curved itself across Riley’s face showed that he was in total agreement.

  Taking him by the hand, the rain still lashing down onto their bodies, Riley and Amy leapt down onto the beach. They immediately jettisoned their Havaianas, enjoying the feel of the moist sand underneath their feet. Neither of them knew where they were going but a sixth sense between them guided them to their destination. They ran together to an area of the beach far enough away from the sidewalk to be out of sight from other tourists crazy enough to be out in the deluge, but close enough to the ocean for them to hear the crashing of the waves as the surf met the sand.

  Amy immediately tore at Riley’s T-shirt, pulling the material over his head. His hair, thick and black, clung against his face, swirling its way down his forehead. He pushed it back, his bicep flexing as he did so. The mere glimpse of it in the moonlit storm turned Amy on even more then she already was. She undid the buttons on the loose cotton blouse she was wearing and threw it onto the sand. She was already braless and Riley immediately swooped to take her firm young breasts in his hands, raising the peaks of her nipples upwards before taking one of them in his mouth. A thunderclap sounded overhead as Riley bit down gently onto one of her buds. Amy heard nothing but her own ecstasy.

  Lowering his wife onto the sand Riley undid the belt on her cut-off denim shorts and manoeuvred the wet material down her legs. Her panties followed. She lay there naked, staring up at her god of a husband as she removed his own shorts and jockey pants. His cock was already standing to attention, as proud and as impressive as the statue staring down at them atop the Rio mountains. A zig-zag of lightning cracked across the sky again, followed shortly by a powerful roar of thunder. The storm was almost directly overhead. There was no way the two of them should have been outside in such weather conditions, but there was something about the storm and the sheer organic feel of the rain against their lustful flesh that both electrified them and magnified their already unstoppable desire. It was as if Amy could feel the thunder moving through her. There was a brutality in her need for Riley to make love to her. For someone who had spent most of her life being Little Miss Perfect, Amy adored those moments whe
n she needed to be Little Miss Perfectly Filthy.

  Reaching up to take Riley’s girth in her hand, she felt the hard flesh throb. The heat between her legs, already wet from the storm, became even wetter with her own need for her husband. She could feel the sand clinging to her flesh and she guided her man by his cock down onto the sand with her. Another lightning bolt filled the sky. They were alone on the beach, but Amy was oblivious. There could have been a coachload of redneck American tourists looking on at the wonderment of Riley and Amy’s bodies as they prepared for unity and Amy wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. The mix of caipirinhas, the warm rain against her skin and the heat she was feeling from her unquenchable thirst for Riley’s cock inside her were a hypnotic fusion.

  Amy lay back and raised her hips off the sand and guided Riley’s eager flesh into her. A few grains of sand rubbed against the tender skin of her own sex as his member slid inside her sweet folds. She let out a gasp of delight as she felt his satisfaction fill her, the rumble of the storm exciting her further as she took his length. She raised her hips even more, eager to attempt to gain more of him inside her, bucking and whimpering as she did so.

  Amy could feel her pussy twitching around his cock as Riley started to pump harder, increasing the speed of his strokes. He brought his lips to hers, planting shallow, gentle, teasing kisses upon her, ones that he knew from experience would arouse her even more than she already was.

  The rain fell harder onto her body, no doubt mixed with the sweat from Riley’s own muscular core. She lay under him watching her lover savour every moment as he worshipped her body. Just as she felt her own orgasm mounting, a carnival of wondrous explosions igniting between her legs, Riley took one of her ankles and raised it up into the air, resting it at his shoulder level, altering his position about forty-five degrees without withdrawing his cock from her pussy. He was almost sideways to her as he plunged his hardness back into her, her hips askew. Amy let out a scream, masked as another symphony of thunder sounded in her ears. The granules of sand that had worked their way inside her and the hyper-sensitivity of her pussy took her to new heights as Riley’s masterful fucking brought her to the edge. She dug her fingers into the wet sand and heard the waves crashing onto the beach as her own sexual waves of desire erupted. As she peaked, Riley’s own rapturous orgasm thundered inside her.

  Amy felt as if they were at one with the storm. Another thunderclap sounded and a lightning flash decorated the sky again, almost simultaneously. The storm was directly overhead, the thunder and lightning coming together as she and her husband just had. A symmetry of climax and climate.

  Riley remained inside her for the longest time as they lay on the beach, holding each other in their arms. It was a moment that neither of them ever wanted to end.

  Amy stared up at the outline of Christ the Redeemer on the skyline and drew her husband into her, whispering ‘I love you’ as she did so. She needed him to know. She was so lucky to have him in her life. As they lay there under the Brazilian sky it was a perfect moment.

  * * *

  It was a moment that Amy was thinking about as she walked to meet Genevieve in the cold Manchester air. She would not let what she now knew about the fashionista and her husband, or indeed what she knew about Riley and his sordid affair with the late Lily Rich, stain her memories. People may change, but memories don’t.

  Memories like the beautiful ones she had shared with Riley in Brazil, South Africa, Spain, France, and every single perfect moment of their married life and home life together were turning into snapshots that she was becoming increasingly unsure how to deal with. Since Riley’s letters and especially since his anger-inducing reappearance they were nuggets of beauty that she sometimes dared to reflect upon but at other times would only allow herself a fleeting glimpse at. She was rapidly learning that with each and every day and with each and every revelation that was hurtling her way she was having to find the perfect spirit-strengthening balance between the fondness of the memory and the inner pain that it could produce.

  But Amy was now certain of one thing. No matter what was around the corner she wouldn’t let anyone trample over memories that she once held so precious.

  62

  Now, 2015

  * * *

  ‘I’m not going to plead for forgiveness, Amy. That’s not why we’re here. Riley was the married one, I was a free agent when we were together.’

  Genevieve ran her manicured finger around the top of her coffee mug as she spoke. There was no remorse in her voice. Her tone was clinical and calculating. It was no more than Amy had expected. She’d never liked the woman and still held the opinion that she would be more than capable of being a top-of-the-list suspect in the mystery of Riley’s ‘death’.

  ‘You can be sure that I’ll be mentioning the fact that my husband couldn’t keep his dick in his pants when I eventually get to speak to him.’ Amy’s tone was equally devoid of emotion as she dropped a lump of sugar into her own drink.

  The two women had been involved in a volley of snipped, bitchy conversation ever since they’d seated themselves within the coffee house. Amy had followed Genevieve’s instructions and arrived dead on two o’clock. Despite her dislike for the woman, something had told Amy that she needed to meet her.

  ‘I wasn’t going to come. But you were on Riley’s list of people who might have wanted him dead, so I guess I owe it to myself to try and see just how likely it was that you wanted him bumped off.’

  ‘You can’t really believe that, can you? I may be many things, Amy, but a killer isn’t one of them.’ Genevieve felt a sudden chill pass over her as she momentarily thought about how close she’d been to killing when she’d pointed a gun at Riley. Maybe Amy’s thought that she could be so capable wasn’t that ridiculous after all.

  ‘You weren’t my first choice. You’d have so much to lose with your business and everything. But you are a hard bitch, that’s for sure, and now I know you were sleeping with Riley ... well, a woman who’s been dumped by a man is capable of anything in the way of revenge, is she not?’

  ‘There are a million people out there who had more reason to see Riley dead than me. I may not have been his biggest fan in the end but he’s more use to me alive.’

  ‘I only have your word for that, and forgive me if that doesn’t exactly count for a lot from where I’m sitting, Genevieve.’ Amy could feel her bile rising. ‘You’ve not exactly been the most truthful person.’

  ‘You want more than just my word. You want the truth? Then I think it’s about time you found out, don’t you?’ There was defiance in Genevieve’s voice. Whatever she had to say, it was clear that she was not going to take anything lying down. ‘I’m not the bad guy in all of this, despite what you think. Riley is. So what if I was having an affair with him? So what if he was quite happy to climb into bed with me because he wasn’t satisfied at home? That’s not my problem. You told me this morning that he was shagging poor Lily so it’s obviously not a one-off.’

  Genevieve’s words were stinging Amy, scorpion-like, but her inner anger strengthened her fight. For a split second she considered the possibility that if she’d been more of a wife to Riley then maybe he wouldn’t have strayed into the open arms of other women. But she rightly pushed the thought away. In an ocean of doubt, the one thing she could be sure of was that she’d always been a good wife to Riley. If he’d chosen to stray it was of his own doing, his own pathetic weakness, not because of any lack of attention in the marital bed. He had never wanted for her love.

  ‘So, what is the truth? Why am I here?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Because it’s time. Come with me. I’ll show you the truth.’ Genevieve rose from the table and walked towards the door. Amy knew she had to follow despite the confusion stalling her brain.

  Amy followed Genevieve out of the coffee house and along the path that led away from it down a gentle slope to a play area at the bottom. It was empty apart from two small children playing on a see-saw under the watchful eye of th
eir mother and a lady in a heavy overcoat pushing a pram.

  Neither of the women uttered a word until Genevieve stopped and sat herself down on a bench in the play area. It was a perplexed Amy who spoke first. ‘Just what the hell are we doing here? I think both of us are a little too old for swings and climbing frames, aren’t we?’

  ‘I have somebody I want you to meet,’ said Genevieve. She beckoned to the woman with the pram who wheeled it over towards where she and Amy were sitting. Amy could see that the woman must have been around retirement age.

  Amy stayed silent, uncertain of what to say or how to react.

  ‘Amy, this is my mother. Mum, this is Amy Hart.’

  ‘Hart as in Riley?’ The words fell from Genevieve’s mother’s lips before Amy had even had a chance to exchange pleasantries.

  ‘Yes, I was his wife ... still am. Why, did you know him too?’

  Genevieve raised her hands as if to silence the two women. ‘She’s heard of him, Amy. I’ve talked about him.’ She pointed to the pram. ‘This is Emily.’

  Amy leant over to look inside the pram. The cutest angelic face gazed at her, wrapped up warmly against the winter air. She couldn’t help but smile and wave at the bundle of joy gurgling happily.

  ‘She’s my daughter, Amy. She’s two years of age.’