Quiver: Watched by Shadows (Quivering Shadows Book 2) (2 page)

“Where are we going?” he asked, tugging me to a standstill.

I looked around the street, searching for the perfect place; the shops had their metal shutters down. A greasy take-away storefront had its sign turned on, illuminating the cement pavements in front. Muggy skies above threatened scantily-clad females wearing the latest fashion trends – knock-offs of course – with a sudden downpour, typical of a British autumn night.

“This way,” I said, spotting a quiet alleyway. I marched on, towing him behind me, determined to get my fix. He seemed amused by this and gave no resistance.

The faint orange glow of a street light tried hard to penetrate the black gloom of the alley. Instead the shadows ate at the light that was encroaching upon the space.

We passed discarded, soggy cardboard boxes, and I was careful to tip toe around broken bottles, most likely the remnants of last weekend’s drinking festivities. It wasn’t a romantic spot, that was sure, but no one would be able to see us here.

I stood facing Max, glancing at his lips. I pressed my hands against his firm chest and pushed him against the wall. His lips were soft and inviting, and I could smell the malty beer upon his breath.

“We shouldn’t do this, Kate. I’m practically your boss,” he said with a sigh as I ran my hands up towards the back of his neck and through his hair.

I leaned forward before he could protest, angling my head and placed a keen kiss on his mouth. His lips parted ever so slightly, letting his warm breath escape. I wanted more, but it was over too quick; he pulled back.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“You ask too many questions, Max,” I responded, popping open the top button of my blouse. His eyes travelled to my cleavage and quickly, as if caught, back up to my hungry eyes. I could see he was conflicted.

“It’s OK; you can look. I want you, Max. Right here.” Spelling it out for him.

“You’re drunk.”

“Don’t you want to touch me?” I said, swirling a finger over my breasts and letting it travel into the crack of my cleavage.

“I—” he stammered.

“I know you want me, you always have,” I said, removing and guiding his hands from his sides up my torso onto my breasts.

He was like a deer in headlights, not knowing which way to turn, perfectly still.

“I’m sorry, we can’t do this here, Kate. I know you… and this isn’t you. What has gotten into you?” A frown creased his face.

“Maybe, it’s who I want to be!” I said defensively.

He removed his hands from my chest and caught my hands in his own, holding them gently, reassuring me.

“Kate, you’re gorgeous and sweet. You don’t need to throw yourself at me to get my attention.”

I sighed, not hearing him, disappointed, and bowed my head. It was stupid to try this – he was my friend, my boss. What the hell was I thinking? That one night weeks before was going to plague me for the rest of my life, and I resigned myself to thinking I would never experience anything like it again.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Max suggested.

We emerged from the alleyway, and he took my hand.

“I don’t know what came over me,” I lied, mortified.

“No need to explain, remember – fresh start on Monday,” he encouraged. I think he was just as embarrassed as I was.

We walked the length of the street in silence towards the line of waiting taxis, their yellow lights shining like homing beacons. His hand felt comfortable in mine; it was nice, safe. It would be a shame to let it go.

“Cheer up, it’s not the end of the world. No harm done,” he said, letting go of my hand and brushing a loose strand of hair away from my downcast face.

Just as I was about to get into the taxi, ready to thank him and tell him I was sorry again, his lips grazed my blushing cheek as he kissed me goodnight. Smiling, he pulled away and held the door open for me to get in.

“Night, Kate,” he said, closing the door and gently rapped his knuckles upon the roof of the car.

“Night,” I whispered through the glass, raising a timid wave in reply. I’d been too pushy; he didn’t deserve that.

Had I been wrong? I’d always been under the impression he’d had a thing for me back when we were at Uni… talk about getting my signals all mixed up. He had just been acting like himself, being his normal friendly self, and I’d acted like a horny school-girl. I could see that now, and I was surprised to feel disappointed at his rejection. Had I got it into my daft head that Max would be my fall-back guy?

Chapter Three

“W
here to, pet?” the driver asked.

Sobered by rejection and the fool I’d made of myself, my head was clearer, and I knew what needed to be done. I did not want to go home with the weight of that night on my shoulders; I had to get him out of my head once and for all. It had bugged me that he accused Max of being something that he wasn’t… but I had to find out for sure. Only then could I move on.

“Nowhere, stop the car,” I asked.

“Divvnt yee wan te gan hyem?” he replied in his thick Geordie accent.

“Stop! I’m going to be sick!” I lied.

“Not in me car!” He slammed on the brakes, and I lurched out of the taxi, feigning sickness over the closest open-topped bin. I spied the car over the top of the metal rim, discarded kebab wafting up my nose; the driver stayed in his car and for that I was grateful. Within a few moments, losing patience, he gave up waiting and pulled away from the curb in search of a paying fare.

The taxi hadn’t travelled far and I was just around the corner from the Castle Arms and the office. Now, with a goal set in my mind, I strode forward, my heels clacking on the pavement as I went.

Not wanting to bump into Max, I kept my eye on the corner at the bottom of the street in case he came into view. I didn’t think he would double back since he lived in the opposite direction, but I was on high alert, regardless.

As I approached the office door, sandwiched between two silent shops, I fished in my handbag for the spare key I’d managed to liberate from Max’s keychain earlier in the evening when he nipped to the loo; the opportunity had presented itself, and I took it. I hoped he wouldn’t notice it missing before I could put it back. I felt guilty enough already.

Peering into the gloom, I checked over my shoulder and then up the street. My nerves were on edge, and my hand shook while I gripped tightly onto the flat metal key; its jagged teeth dug painfully into my palm. I’d never broken into anywhere before, never had the need or the desire to, and although I was an employee and had in my possession a key to get in, I’m sure if caught, I would be in a heap-load of trouble.

I faced the door, contemplating my options. I had the choice of just walking away and finding another opportunity to snoop around the office during daylight hours. But the other girls were always watching, eager to stab you in the back at any given opportunity, and multiple sets of eyes would register my every movement, like when I’d make a cuppa or take time to have a quick chat with Max. Plus, I convinced myself, there’d hardly be any chance to get into the Max’s office alone as he was always in there, head bowed over stacks of paperwork, trying his hardest to impress his dad.

The pub door opened on the corner and allowed a roar of voices and loud music to escape from within its sweaty enclosure. Two men, a little worse for wear, stepped out and started to make their way, weaving slightly, up the street towards me. Paranoid that they’d see me, I found myself putting the key into the lock and opening the door, damning the consequences.

I pushed the door closed, and the sounds of the street melted away as I stood in the dim muted entranceway. I took a deep breath and was about to make my way up the narrow stairs to the first floor when a high-pitched beeping clamoured for my attention.

Crap! I’d forgotten about the alarm!

I looked for the panel; green LED lights illuminated the keypad mounted onto the wall, while above, an angry pulsing red light flashed its warning. I had maybe a couple of attempts before it would start shrieking, and I tried hard to remember the code. Did I know it? My heart raced. If only I could remember! My brain was clouded with alcohol and fuzzy with the mounting pressure. I was surely going to be caught.

A sudden image of Max’s fingers tapping the key pad, only hours earlier, popped into my head. I remembered watching his soft hands tracing a Z-like pattern when he’d entered the code… but had there been 5 or 6 numbers? I closed my eyes trying to count the number of beeps I’d heard. There wasn’t much time left.

With a trembling hand I entered the code 2-3-5-7-8 and pressed submit.

“Please be right, please be right,” I chanted, waiting and willing the red light to turn off.

The alarm chirped and the whole panel turned a quiet, calm green. I couldn’t believe my luck and slumped against the wall behind me.

Realising I couldn’t waste any more time, I sprang upright and rushed up the stairs like a startled rabbit. I didn’t know what I was looking for - ever since the encounter, I’d studied each invoice and docket that came across my desk, but nothing seemed relevant, just everyday bills and orders. I made copies to disguise my search, so it seemed to my colleagues that I was busy.

I entered Max’s cool, spacious office, which had large sash windows that overlooked the rear of the building. I was determined in my quest to prove the investigator wrong; Max wasn’t the type to be involved in anything illegal or dodgy. The office was still, and no noise travelled up from the front street. Max had set the desk in the middle of the room, and it was meticulously tidy. Everything, including the mounds of paper-clips, had its own space on the desk. Each pile of paperwork or stationery was like a secluded island; the wood of the polished desk flowed in between them like the sea, connecting them all.

My head started to pound, the effects of cheap house wine kicking in, as I set about searching for anything I could find, beginning at the desk. Sitting down, I turned on the desk lamp and pulled open the top drawer. I carefully stacked its contents on my lap, upside down so that I could easily return them all in the correct order back into the drawer.

As I made my way down through each drawer, I came across nothing that stood out. Only piles and piles of the same regular invoices and paperwork that I dealt with during the monotony of my working day.

I placed it all back into the drawers, both frustrated and relieved, and I looked about the room. Spotting the cupboard in the corner, I quickly opened it, hoping not to find anything untoward. Imagining stacks of drugs, like in the movies, I was delighted that it contained only a vacuum cleaner, its handle propped upright, and a few dusty cleaning supplies standing like tired soldiers on a make-do shelf that’d been wedged and hastily nailed to the side wall.

Exhaustion was setting in; there was nothing to find here and nowhere else to look. This was the only enclosed and private room in the office. All the filing cabinets were out on the main floor which we all shared, and I’d already checked them anyway.

The handsome investigator had lied to me. Damn him!

With the intention of leaving, I walked back into the middle of the room but noticed a small glinting keyhole set into the middle part of the desk… what looked to be a hidden drawer.

My hands immediately went to pull it open, but the drawer wouldn’t budge. I rattled it again; it was locked. A locked drawer indicated that Max wanted to keep something hidden, and I wanted know what. I searched the corners of the drawers I’d already gone through for signs of a small key… nothing but lint and dust.

I scoured the desk, hoping Max did not keep the key on him. I investigated the paperweights and ornaments without caring about their original placements when I put them down. I glanced over the pile of paper-clips in a small open tin - surely not, I thought. I swished my finger in the tin, prodding and moving the clips around. To my surprise, buried right at the bottom, a glint of brass, with its aging colour, shone through between the silver haystack maze of paper-clips. Plucking it between my fingers, I grinned like I’d just won a fairground prize.

I didn’t waste any time getting it into the keyhole, and with a gentle clunk, the lock mechanism inside allowed me entry. The drawer slid out on its greased rails, and I gasped as I saw the contents.

“Please, no,” I whispered. What had Max gotten himself into?

Two black handguns rested upon what looked to be a thick diary.

I’d seen guns on television, but never in my life had I seen or touched one in person. It wasn’t something you would see up in the Northeast of England. You’d hear of gun crime down south in the capitol, of course, but never up here.

My mouth was dry, and it was difficult to swallow. My pulse raced as I reached over to touch the cold steel.

What did Max need with a gun, let alone two?

Curious and hesitantly at first, I inspected one of them and lifted it into my hands to see how it felt. It was heavy, but not so heavy that I couldn’t raise and aim it. A powerful rush surged through me; I held in my delicate hands a weapon that could kill, and my nipples hardened with excitement. I had enough sense and had seen enough TV to check that the safety was on. I continued to hold it while removing the thick, bound notebook from the drawer. Surely, there’d be some answers contained within it.