Amber Storm
Jack Stroke
Also by Jack Stroke
Blockhouse Blues and the Elmore Beast
Scam
The Other Hotel
18 Hours to Die
18 Hours More
Storm Warning
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Thanks to Heather and John for their editing and all of their much appreciated support.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Dying to know what happens next?
Also by Jack Stroke
Have you read The Other Hotel?
Have you read Blockhouse Blues?
Have you read Scam?
1
The truth was Amber was dead from the moment the photo broke her mind. Although in retrospect, things had been drifting that way for quite some time. Deteriorating without her noticing. It took until Amber was transfixed by the photo for her to realise it. The image seemed to sprain her brain or something.
It was an innocuous enough picture, just a couple of kids on a beach. Yet when Amber happened across it, stuck to the fridge in the man’s house, the world seemed to drain away from her. She stood mesmerised, unable to move.
The strange part was she could easily have not seen the photo at all. What if she hadn’t ventured into the kitchen? There was no operational requirement to go in there. Or if she had not glanced at the fridge? But that is how life seems to work - random, meaningless moments can sometimes change everything.
The photo itself was taken on a tropical beach somewhere. Clear, peaceful water. Palm trees. Impossibly blue sky.
And in the middle of the frame, two girls in their early teens, dripping with water, fresh from a swim, arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
The type of photo clearly not planned, a spur of the moment impulse, perfectly capturing the exuberance and happiness of the particular time and place. The fact that the family bothered to print the image out and stick it on the fridge a testament to this. And the girls all but leapt from the image, their enthusiasm and their joy frozen in time, quite possibly the happiest moment of their lives past or yet to come.
They could have been sisters or friends, around that age where the lines are blurred. BFFs.
Amber didn’t know the girls. She had no idea the man even had children. And yet she couldn’t look away.
It is impossible to say how long Amber stared at the photo, her mind completely stalling. One thing was for sure, it was too long because she was still transfixed when the family returned to the house sometime later, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready or in position to kill the man.
2
Hearing the voices of the family returning at least kicked Amber’s brain into gear. She slid the photo into her pocket and withdrew into a side room to hide.
It is relatively easy to remain hidden in a house if its occupants aren’t expecting you. Different if they know you are there and are specifically seeking you out. That can be a challenge. People just going about their day-to-day lives never expect someone might be hiding in their home, so staying out of sight is never really an issue, so long as you are careful.
Backing into a dining room, Amber reassessed the mission. Her job should have been relatively simple. Kill the man and get out. Mother’s directive was two bullets to the back of the head. Quick and clean. When he returned to the house.
Mother’s intel had also stated that the man would be here by himself. He wasn’t.
Amber cursed quietly under her breath. The fact that family members were present should not have mattered. Yet it did. Usually she would have done her own recon and made certain he would be alone. This job required speed though. The opportunity had arisen and Amber sent to complete the mission with no time for planning.
She glanced about the dining room, fortunate in her choice. Dining rooms are generally the least used rooms in a house. It was unlikely anybody would disturb her here. Were she in a bedroom it probably would have been a different story.
The apartment was spread over three levels. The living areas at street level, sandwiched between bedrooms and the garage. Shared walls with the neighbours, one large block stretching along the street.
Amber slowed her breathing, focusing all her attention on listening.
The excited chatter of young teen girls wafted in through the closed door. They were upstairs in the bedroom. The photo burned a hole in her hip pocket, still messing with her head. Were the voices the girls from the image? Had Mother known they would be here? Was their presence a mistake or deliberate misinformation? There was a time when it wouldn’t have mattered, when Amber would have simply trusted her directive and done as she was ordered. Yet increasingly these questions popped into her head, obscuring her vision.
One thing was for sure, Amber needed to come up with a new plan. Yes, she still had to kill the man, yet she had no desire to do it anywhere where his daughters would find the body.
Even if killing the man elsewhere meant directly disobeying Mother.
3
Amber paced, attempting to take control of her mind. Get in the zone. Her current state was concerning. Already, she had broken the number one rule. Don’t think. And Mother’s second rule - do as directed.
Killing the man elsewhere meant luring him out of the house somehow, without the girls realising. She could get him alone, stick her gun in his face and hope for the best, although there was no guarantee the man wouldn’t scream. It was possible to mop up such a situation with the man’s compliance - have him convince the girls the scream was nothing. Tricky though. You could never anticipate how someone would react with a gun pointed in their face. Not with any certainty. And if it didn’t work, there could be no witnesses.
If she had the man’s mobile phone number, Amber could have called him, but she didn’t have that luxury.
Time to move. Delaying achieved nothing. Straining to hear, she attempted to fix a rough location on everyone in the house. The girls remained upstairs. It wasn’t clear where the man was.
Amber moved with absolute silence, sneaking from the dining room along the corridor. She paused at the kitchen doorway. The man was inside, his back to her, fixated with his phone.
This should have been it. Very simple. Two to the back of the head. Bang, bang. And out.
“Kill him!” Mother’s voice screamed in her ear. “Do it now.”
Amber so well-drilled Mother didn’t even need to be in contact to get her point across.
And yet Amber couldn’t. She watched the man for a few moments more, assessing her options.
His car keys sat in a bowl just beside him. Moving silently, Amber snuck in, snatched the keys and snuck out once more.
In the corridor, footsteps and loud voices greeted her. No time to think, she melted backwards into the coat stand. The best she could manage in a pinch. Long coats obscured everything above her knees. Two girls ran past, giggling and yelling. She wasn’t hidden well. If they had bothered to look, they would have seen her. Instead, their minds skipped over it, assuming there was nothing unusual to be seen.
As they disappeared into the kitchen, Amber moved on.
The corridor stairs led to the garage, where the man’s black BMW sat, still warm, engine clicking slightly. Did he have the car alarm on? People often didn’t bother with such things in the safety of their own home. One way to find out… Amber whacked the side of the shiny black finish. The car emitted a series of earsplitting beeps and the indicators flashed.
Moving to the far end of the space, Amber crouched behind the back wheel. She saw the man’s feet as he came down the stairs briefly, swearing a disproportionate amount. He swiftly retreated back up the stairs.
Moments later, Amber could just make out his voice over the alarm as he yelled, asking if anyone had seen his keys.
Amber turned off the alarm and opened the car’s front door.
After a few seconds peace, she tooted the car’s horn. Long, incessant blasts.
When the man returned, he found the car door wide open. He stared at it in confusion before spotting his keys sitting on the front seat. A puzzled expression stretched across his face.
As he bent inside to retrieve the keys, Amber emerged from the back, pressing the muzzle of her Sig P220 against his head.
“Get in.”
4
The man hesitated, caught off guard.
“I will shoot you right here,” Amber said, her tone both calm and decisive. Leaving no room for doubt. “I would prefer not to, but I will,”
After a few unsteady moments, the man complied. He was an ordinary-looking guy. Nothing special. A sporty dad type. More hair on his stubbily chin than his shiny scalp. Small, yet agile and strong, meaning Amber had to be cautious with him. Not give him any opportunities to escape. All the more reason why she should never have let herself get to this point.
“End this foolishness,” Mother’s voice instructed. “Here and now.”
“Start the car,” Amber told the man. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” he asked in a pleading voice.
“Just drive.”
His striking green eyes caught her in the rearview mirror. “Can I… Can I at least say goodbye to my girls?”
“Of course not.”
“But…”
“You know I can’t let you go wandering back upstairs.”
“They’ll want to know where I have gone. They’ll be worried.”
Amber said nothing. She had already engaged far too much with the man.
“Please…”
“Would you prefer them to find your body here, slumped in your car?”
He hesitated.
“Or worse, them not to make it?”
The man stared, assessing how serious she was. He started the engine.
5
The garage door clunked open and the black BMW reversed out slowly.
Night did its utmost to engulf them in its clutches, held off by the streetlights and the occasional passing car.
Was the man likely to try something? Presumably. People rarely just allowed themselves to be killed. The desire to survive kicks in at some point. He had to be running scenarios in his head, unless he was overcome with fear. That’s why it’s much easier to take people by surprise. The trick would be anticipating what the man might try and when.
“You wouldn’t have to anticipate anything if you had taken care of this already.”
Amber tries to shut Mother’s cold, cynical voice out of her head. She had to get this over with quickly.
“Drive slowly and cautiously. If you do anything erratic or draw attention to us in any way, I will kill you immediately.”
“Why?” the man said, his voice becoming snuffly. Shock kicking in. “Why are you doing this?”
Amber said nothing. She hated having this much contact. It made an unpleasant task all the more unpleasant.
“I said why?! You’ve got the wrong person. I didn’t… I didn’t do anything.”
He aggressively wiped away the tears, embarrassed to be crying. Amber remained silent.
“Whatever they’re paying you, I can match it. I can…”
His eyes found her in the mirror again.
“Watch the road.”
“I’m a good man. A father. My girls… I have two beautiful daughters. Gia and Rosie. They’ll be devastated.”
“At least they won’t have to find your body.”
“I’ll still be dead though. They will still lose their father because of you.”
The tears came thick and fast now, no stopping them. The quiet streets drifted by.
With little knowledge of the area, Amber had no idea where they were headed, other than she would know when she saw it.
Judging the situation professionally, the man appeared resigned to his fate, somewhat at least. This is what led to the mistake.
The thing was, Amber should never have been in the car in the first place. That created the issue. If they hadn’t been in the car, she wouldn’t have been on the lookout for the perfect spot. The man would never have noticed that fraction of a second distraction.
He would have had no opportunity to swing the wheel and plough the car heavily into the tree.
6
With a loud bang, the car wrapped itself around the thick trunk.
Amber was tossed forward, losing her weapon. Fortunately, her seatbelt nullified the effects of the crash slightly. Almost immediately, the rear curtain airbags deployed with a second bang, smashing the side of her face.
The gun disappeared somewhere at her feet.
Being aware the crash was coming gave the man a slight advantage. He recovered a moment quicker, grabbing an umbrella from the passenger side and smashing it repeatedly into Amber’s head. Wrong move. He should have just run. After a few blows, Amber was able to stick out her arm and grab the other end of the umbrella, stopping it.
The man threw open his door, falling from the car and scrambling up the street.
Amber put aside any pain
she was feeling. It could wait until later. She was relatively sure she hadn’t broken anything, at least no limbs. Possibly a broken nose. Breathing deeply and calmly, she felt under the seat in front of her, locating her Sig. Her eyes never left the man in case he tried to hide.
“Help,” the man screamed. “Someone. Help me!”
Houses lined either side of the street. Suburban houses with front yards. If he ran for a yard, he would be infinitely harder to track. Fortunately for Amber, he didn’t.