Deadly Obsession (19 page)

‘
T
hat is some fucking rock
, Amy! Russian cosmonauts could land on that and be exploring for days. I am seriously jealous.'

Laura hadn't been able to take her eyes off Amy's diamond wedding ring ever since Riley had slipped it onto his new wife's finger earlier that day. The ring was obscenely large and even Amy had been taken aback by its sheer size when her husband had first showed it to her. Riley had picked it himself and was determined that Amy shouldn't see it until the big day. Big being the operative word. It swamped her finger and rested on her hand alongside her equally blinged-up engagement ring like a massive sparkling Frisbee, causing light to bounce off its every facet like a Las Vegas night skyline. Amy adored it, partly because it was larger than she had ever imagined but also because of the oversize smile that spread itself across her husband's face every time he looked at it. Lord only knows what it had cost but if the illustrious world of plastics was doing so well then who was Amy to question the cost? It made her dreamy with the euphoria of romance.

‘You are now officially my wife. That slab of beauty proves it. Together forever, till death do us part and all that,' said Riley, taking his wife's hand in his and whisking her off for yet another dance at their evening wedding reception. ‘If you will excuse us, Laura, my gorgeous new wife and I would like to strut our funky stuff.'

Laura pointed at a smirking Riley as he waltzed Amy off to the dance floor. ‘He is such a keeper. If you ever grow tired of him then send him my way and get him to bring the ring too.'

Riley winked at Laura as Amy raised her eyebrows jokingly and stated, ‘Not a chance, sister!'

Amy was the happiest woman alive. The day had been everything she had been planning for months. The beautiful rural church in a tiny village just outside Manchester had been picture postcard perfect. The summer roses growing around the lych gate were in full bloom, the weather was hot enough to warm the skin but still a cooling breeze stopped the humidity from straying into the uncomfortable, and her best friend, Laura, had looked every inch the perfect bridesmaid. The only cause of misery to the new Mr and Mrs Hart was the absence of their parents, all of them taken before their time.

The ceremony had definitely been a meeting of two different worlds. Amy's friends and what family she had left were low-key, from a world where wedding costs would normally be kept to a minimum and the evening reception would amount to a local pub band and a basic spread of sandwiches and finger food.

So the marriage of Amy Barrowman, one of their own, to the successful, ruggedly handsome and undoubtedly loaded businessman, Riley Hart, was a real show-stopper.

Riley's side of the church was rammed with suited and booted, dressed to impress with diamonds and pearls. The right/left rich/poor divide in the church was wider than the age gap between Madonna and some of her beaus, but neither bride nor groom cared. They only had eyes for each other and as long as everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, which they did, then how could the day be anything other than the most wonderfully romantic success?

The evening reception was held at one of the most expensive hotels in Lancashire, last seen within the pages of
Hello
magazine as the wedding venue of a Formula 1 racing car driving and his pit-stop girl turned
Big Brother
star girlfriend. Amy and Riley made sure that caterers had been called in to see that nobody was ever hungry, a never-ending supply of starters, mains, desserts and various
amuse-bouches
arriving at the tables with appetising regularity.

Then there was the music. One of Manchester's trendiest club names spun the tunes, his set a heady mix of mainstream pop, Motown magic and US soul. Riley and Amy's first dance was to a retro delight of a tune they both adored, ‘Together We Are Beautiful' by Fern Kinney. It had been playing on a radio station in the car on one of their first dates together and both of them had instantly made it ‘their tune'.

Laura had been a torrent of tears as she watched Riley move her best friend around the dance floor. She'd originally planned to film the first dance and upload it onto You Tube but not being able to focus through her waterfall of tears blitzed the idea. Not that the tears had stayed for long. In true Laura fashion, she had made a beeline for one of the guitarists in the Indie group Riley had hired for the night. She'd seen them a few times on
MTV
and guessed that they would be well connected. A smiling Laura had last been seen heading off with the baggy-haired musician to make a few connections of her own in the privacy of her hotel room.

The band hadn't gone down so well with everyone. Jemima had looked on as they swayed their way around the specially built reception stage and looked down her nose in disgust at what she saw as their ‘grubby outfits' and ‘hair that looked like it needed a damned good wash'. Staring at them as if they were as welcome as an oil slick at a bird sanctuary Jemima turned to her husband and asked, ‘Why are they wearing trousers that don't bloody fit?'

Tommy huffed. ‘They look like a bunch of fucking students ...' Unsurprisingly, the Hearns had not stayed the entire evening.

Amy wouldn't have cared if all of her guests had disappeared. As she moved around the dance floor she only had eyes for one person and that was the hunk of a man wrapping her in his arms, stroking his fingers through her hair, allowing his lips to gently nuzzle against her forehead and whispering words of love in her ears. It meant the world to Amy to feel the safety of his arms encircling her. It was a feeling that she hoped would never leave her.

‘
I
thought
we'd always be together,' said Amy, staring into the bottom of her empty red wine glass. ‘I just find it so hard to contemplate the fact that Riley's not around anymore.'

‘So, have you convinced yourself that Riley's really dead, then?' said Grant, refilling her glass from the other side of their Manchester hotel restaurant table.

‘I think I didn't really know my husband when he was alive, so how the hell am I supposed to know what's going on now he's supposedly dead? Dead men don't write letters and somebody did, and it was his handwriting. I can't deny that. So he must be alive, but as he's not contacted me in person, how can I tell?'

‘And what about Tommy Hearn and Adam Rich? Are you sure they're involved?' Amy had filled Grant in on her run-in with the two men at Dirty Cash, and on her encounter with Jemima. After Grant had questioned her about the ever-darkening stain of a bruise on her cheek Amy could see no reason not to share what had happened with him. His company was proving invaluable as a way of sharing the burden of her ever-mystifying life.

‘I'm not sure about anything, but I would put money on them knowing something about what happened that night. Neither of them liked Riley, that's for certain, but whether Tommy is a cold-hearted killer ... I don't know. Adam kills for a living according to Lily, so anything's possible with him, but what does he have to gain? Other than his gangland rival being out of action for good. Christ, and to think I used to lie awake at night worrying that I wouldn't know the finer details of the plastics trade and would be an embarrassment to Riley. I didn't think for one second it was all a cover up for something so ...' She searched for the right word, her mind lost in thought, before deciding on ‘… diseased'.

‘I have to ask you a question, Amy,' said Grant.

‘Fire away ...' said Amy, glad of the momentary distraction.

‘I was mentioned in that letter. You let slip that Riley listed me as a suspect. You know there was no love lost between us and yet we're sitting here in a hotel sharing a bottle of wine, having dinner and you're telling me your suspicions about his potential killer. Does that not strike you as more than a bloody bit odd?'

‘Shouldn't I trust you, then?' It was a genuine question.

‘You know you can trust me. I wouldn't be following you up here to Manchester if you couldn't, would I? For what it's worth, I think Riley is dead. I think you're much better off without him too as the fact that he lied constantly to you when he was alive is despicable. But I understand that you loved him ... still do. If you can forgive him for his lies about his job and his indiscretions then who am I to judge him? I just hope you find peace in all this, whatever the outcome. But I can't see this having a happy ending, can you?' Grant's words were bluntly matter of fact but still carried an air of compassion.

‘I may be naive, but even I'm not stupid enough to think that this particular story can have a happy ever after. Even if Riley is alive, and of course I hope he is, I don't think I can forgive him for what he's putting me through. And as for you ... Well, I'm kind of hoping that my judgement in trusting you is a wise one. Like you say, you don't have any real reason to be here with me. You've had your film meeting in the hope of being the next Channing Tatum and you could disappear any time you like. I'd be lying if I didn't say that having you here is making things slightly more bearable.'

‘Actually, about that...'

Amy could tell that Grant was on the verge of some kind of admission. She could feel an all-too-familiar stone of disappointment fall into the pit of her stomach. ‘Go on ...'

‘The meeting wasn't the only reason I came to Manchester. I needed to see someone else, someone involved with Riley's letter.'

The stone in Amy's stomach seemed to instantly grow into a boulder as Grant continued.

‘I came to see Genevieve Peters. I've known her quite a long time. We were ... er ... involved, once. Not any more though. There wasn't any real commitment, we were just mutually incompatible, shall we say? We ...'

‘You were sleeping together.' Amy cut him short, straight to the point. ‘And that affects me how, exactly?' Amy didn't want to admit that an unexpected and not altogether welcome pang of jealousy had fired through her as she said it. A momentary suggestive flash of what Grant would be like between the sheets flickered across her mind. She rapidly tried to push it away.

‘Yes, I'm no angel. She's a good-looking woman, I'm a typical man ...'

‘You don't have to explain yourself to anyone, least of all me, Grant. You can sleep with who you like.' There was an uncharacteristic harshness in Amy's voice, perhaps betraying her disappointment. ‘So, did you see her ...?'

‘Yes, and that's why I figure there's something you ought to know. She was drunk and had been crying.'

‘Ice maiden Genevieve. There's a turn-up for the books ...' Amy was monotone in her delivery. ‘I didn't think she had any form of emotion or weakness in her.'

‘Yeah, well I think someone has defrosted her heart at some point in the past.' He faltered for a moment. 'That's what I need to tell you about.'

Amy sat in silence waiting for Grant to continue. He did.

‘Genevieve likes to drink, she did even back when I was with her. I think it all stems from her mum, as she liked to hit the bottle when Genevieve was younger.'

‘So?' Amy was trying not to sound harsh and uncaring. And failing badly.

‘When I went to Eruption I found Genevieve in the back of the shop, in her office.'

‘I know it,' stated Amy, recalling her catch-up with the boutique owner in the very same room.

‘She became a bit lairy when she saw me and to cut a long story short, tried to throw a glass at me which smashed everywhere and she passed out.'

Amy just raised her eyebrows, her lack of emotion showing once more. ‘And …?'

‘I checked she was okay and decided to leave but before I did I went to clear up the glass all over the floor. I went to put it in the bin but when I did I found a framed photo in there. It had obviously been thrown in, as it was cracked.'

With a sense of dread, Amy knew she had to ask. ‘Of what?'

‘Genevieve and Riley. Together.'

‘So what?'

Amy tried to explain that it could have been innocent, since Genevieve and Riley knew each other from the Kitty Kat, but she could tell that Grant thought there was much more to their relationship than a passing acquaintance. In her heart, where the ball of angst from her stomach had now migrated, spreading yet more despair, Amy knew that there was too.

But she needed a second opinion. Needed to hear someone else say it out loud.

‘What, you think they were having an affair?' After the revelation about Lily and Riley sleeping together, the idea didn't seem so unlikely.

Grant was stony-faced as he answered. ‘Judging from the photo, I'm certain of it.'

L
ily's night
out was heading from depressing to beyond cataclysmic. Even in her blurred state of mind as she stumbled her way across the beer-soaked dance floor of The Black Hart, she knew that her life was definitely suffering from what even the most upbeat of people would call a downward slump.

How had it come to this? It didn't seem that long ago that she was the one at the shining musical heartbeat of Manchester's most talked-about scene. The girl who could turn up the volume all over town. Back in the Kitty Kat days she was one of the key figures organising who came in, who got smashed, how people looked, how head-fucked they wanted to be. She was even experiencing some of the best sex ever thanks to her affair with Riley. She was in control.

But now ..? Bouncing drunkenly into the leather clad, patchouli-smelling clients of The Black Hart, one of Manchester's lower than low-rent dives, Lily was beginning to question where it had all gone wrong. And the excess of drugs and drink she'd taken throughout the evening was not aiding her thought process.

Lily had been doing a lot of thinking about Riley. Of all the men she'd ever been to bed with, it was Riley who had really managed to worm his way underneath her skin and burrow his way into her heart. She'd loved him. She could pretend all she liked that it had been just a meaningless shag fest but it hadn't. Not to her anyway. There was so much more to it than sex. It was only now that she could see that.

So why had he dumped her? It had to be because of that stupid wife of his, surely? She liked Amy as a boss at the club, she even liked her as a person, if she was honest. Totally harmless, completely naive, she was everything that Lily considered herself not to be, but as a love rival – that was something else, a whole different ball game. No, Riley had broken her heart into a million jagged edged scraps and even though Lily had spent months thinking that she could handle it, she was beginning to realise that now she couldn't. The fucker had turned her world upside down. She could have killed him herself when he tossed her aside. It was a moment that Lily Rich would never forget.

T
here was
something feral about sex with Riley Hart. Almost as if it was extra deliciously dirty because it was behind his wife's back, escaping the confines of his everyday union with Amy.

That was half the attraction for Lily. She liked the danger of it. The animalistic nature of it. Sex with Riley was hard, urgent, forceful and powerful. He was a big man, the complete opposite of Lily's petite frame.

Riley would carry her around, lifting her into the air, her legs wrapped either side of him as he ploughed his cock into her. He would grab her hair and bend her ninety degrees over his desk, or a chair or the DJ booth if he found her alone at the club, yanking her knickers to one side before slamming his rod into her. Often he would force her to her knees and make her hold her hands behind her back, face-fucking her with his dick until she swallowed his seed.

And Lily loved every downright dirty moment of it. Lily had never been a ‘love me tender' kind of girl, she liked to please a man, whether she was giving or she was taking. She loved what he made her do, loved how it made her feel, and she had started to love Riley himself.

But Riley had obviously become bored by it. One day at the club as she had tried to blow him in his office, Riley's cock had wilted at her touch, his lack of interest limply evident.

It had never happened to Lily before and she needed to know why it had occurred.

‘Not in the mood, then?' Her tone was jocular but she was far from joking.

‘Look Lily, you're a great girl …' It was clear to Lily straight away where the conversation was going.

She stood up as Riley spoke. He did his trousers back up.

‘But?' she asked. There was always a but.

‘I'm a married man.'

‘You were married when you first stuck your cock in my pussy.'

Riley, never one to mince his words or waste any more time on something he didn't deem important than need be, finished the conversation.

‘It was good while it lasted Lily, but it's over. I don't think we should do this anymore.'

‘Why not? I thought we got on really well. Knew where we're coming from?'

‘Which is?'

‘That you and I are alike. Both free-spirited, strong, fierce people, who like to shag like rabbits.'

‘But it was just a bit of fun, Lily. Nothing more.'

It was the first comment that had really stung Lily. ‘A bit of fun? Is that all I am to you?'

‘Well, it's not like you're falling for me, is it? I'm with Amy. She's my wife. This is just ...' Riley struggled to complete the sentence. ‘… well, this.'

Lily, normally so strong, could feel the quivering of tears growing inside her.

‘And if I was falling for you?'

His answer was quick, clear and destructive. ‘Then I'd say fuck off, we're never going to be together, are we?'

Suddenly it was clear to Lily. The reason why their sex was so brutal, lacking in pillow talk or sweet nothings. Because there was nothing behind it. She was merely a receptacle for his sexual relief. Their relationship had been nothing but a vacuum of lust. How had she been stupid enough to think otherwise?

She wouldn't let him see that she was hurt. Forcing her voice to be as upbeat as possible she stared Riley right in the eye. ‘Be together? No fucking way. You're right, it was good, but enough is enough, eh? No more tears.' She was quoting one of her mum's favourite songs. ‘Right, I'll crack on. I've got some shit to sort out in the cloakroom. If you ever change your mind about …' She pointed to Riley's groin. ‘Then, just let me know. We're sexually good, you and I.'

‘I won't change my mind.' His words could not have been more dismissive.

‘Laters.' It was all Lily could say before quitting Riley's office. She walked straight past the Kitty Kat Club's cloakroom and into the ladies toilet. She walked into a cubicle and shut the door behind her. Sitting on the toilet, she started to cry. Her heart broken.

No more tears? What a crock.

L
ily thought
that she had managed to rid any feelings she had for Riley from her heart. That all of her emotions were long gone. So what had changed? It was simple. All of a sudden there was a chance that maybe Riley was alive. If Amy thought so then why shouldn't she? Stranger things had happened in the murky world Riley had frequented. She'd spent years hearing snippets of people disappearing, being erased, moved elsewhere for their own good through her father's work. She'd not really paid any interest to the hows, whys and wherefores. But maybe something like that had happened to Riley? Maybe one of his jobs had plunged him deeper into some dangerous gangland-infested waters and he had to scarper before it was too late. Stage his own death maybe. Yeah, she wouldn't put that past him. He was always a cunning sod.

But if he didn't die then who had their face shot off in The Kitty Kat? In all the melee of that evening maybe bodies were swapped? Without a face, one suited, muscled chunk of bloke could look pretty much like another. The criminal world was always full of cover-ups and backhanders. Yeah, it could happen, Lily decided, as if willing it to be true.

She tried to steady herself against the wall of the pub as the drugs rushed through her again. It felt clammy against her skin. Why had she come here? It had never been near the top of her list when it came to dealing drugs and it was the kind of bar where someone puking up their gut lining in the corner would improve the look of the place. It was the complete opposite of everything she'd loved about The Kitty Kat. Her father would die if he could see Lily now, peddling shit in some Manchester backstreet crap hole. Especially given the fact that Lily was more off her head than most of the scraggy, hairy-faced blokes and tattooed, scrawny-arsed women surrounding her. She needed to get out, to escape.

But it wasn't just The Black Hart she needed to escape, she needed to put all of this shit behind her. She was taking more drugs than ever before. But they were necessary. She needed them to cope. That's what she told herself. She'd put them all behind her one day. She needed a springboard to another life. One with a man she could love and persuade to love her back. Maybe that way she could love herself a bit more too. And maybe, just maybe, that man could still be Riley ...

Despite the cocktail of booze and narcotics clouding her mind as Lily carelessly zigzagged her way towards the exit of The Black Hart, she had already decided that it was high time to try and meet up with Amy again. She'd know more about the truth behind's Riley's ‘death' than anyone. If there was information to share, then Amy Hart would have it. She looked at the sign above the bar with the name of the pub on it. The Black Hart. She giggled to herself ... The Black Hart ... Amy Hart ... Riley Hart ... she'd never really thought about it before. All these fucking hearts and here she was with a broken one. But she'd soon sort that.

Before leaving she headed off to the toilets for another thick white line of cocaine. One for the road.