by Toby Neal
“It feels good to be back.” Sophie rubbed the head of one of a pair of bronze lions guarding the entry. Nam preceded her, opening the large double doors for her to enter.
He held her bag aloft and cleared his throat delicately. “Would you like me to put this in the master’s suite?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “No. The guest area will be fine. Where I usually stay.” What had Connor told Nam, that he’d think they might be sleeping together? Her heart raced, and it was as much apprehension as excitement.
Sophie settled into her familiar guest suite, and made a quick call to Armita. A video of Momi taking a nap and a detailed description of the day’s activities satisfied her maternal cravings. “I’ll see you both very soon. I can’t wait.”
She unpacked and, nervous about meeting Connor, primped a little. She rubbed her favorite scented coconut oil into her skin, enjoying the way her pores had opened in the heat and humidity. Her whole being seemed to be softening in the tropics, a relief from chilly San Francisco. She changed into a lightweight silk wrap dress and a pair of sandals.
She drove the truck back down the hill and past the palm orchard’s stately rows, toward the boathouse. She kept the vehicle’s windows down, enjoying the warm breeze and the liquid song of native shama thrushes in the underbrush, as the long shadows of evening deepened the rich colors of the island.
She pulled up at the large covered building that had been the site of much drama the last time she’d been on Phi Ni. The door of the boathouse was unlocked, and swung wide easily on oiled hinges. She stepped into the cool dim of the boathouse.
The Chris-Craft she’d become intimately familiar with two years ago rocked gently at its mooring, fine woodwork squeaking against the rubber edge of the dock. Nam had retrieved the beautiful motor launch from the tiny atoll where she had left it after her adventure to the Thai mainland. He’d kept the boat stored up out of the water until recently—he’d reviewed workers’ bills via email for the restoration of the hulls and brass, and given it a thorough cleaning in anticipation of her and Connor’s visit.
The island, the house, the boat—everything was hers now, but Sophie continued to feel as if she were just holding it in trust.
As if she had conjured his return, she heard the thrum of an approaching boat engine. Connor was here.
Sophie hit the big red button controlling the automatic door facing the ocean. The aluminum barrier rose, rattling, from its setting several feet above the level of the sea, rotating upward into the roof of the boathouse like a giant garage door.
What kind of craft would he be piloting? Would he be surrounded by ninjas, or would he be alone?
And most of all . . . would he still want her? Did she still want him?
Connor came into view, driving a fishing boat. He stood alone behind the wheel, wearing a woven bamboo hat and simple fisherman’s clothes. The skin visible beneath the shade of the hat and at his wrists was so tanned that he could pass as a Thai, but she’d recognize the set of his shoulders anywhere.
Sophie stood quietly, observing, as he piloted the boat into the cavernous space and cut the motor. “Hey, Sophie,” he said, as casual as if he’d just seen her last week.
“Connor. You’re here at last.” She caught the rope he tossed her and snuggled the nose of the weathered aluminum craft against the dock, directly across from the magnificent Chris-Craft. She gestured to the motor launch. “Quite a step down from what you left behind.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Connor leapt onto the dock with a movement so fluid that he seemed to float from inside the fishing boat to land on the balls of his feet on the dock, with hardly a sound or a vibration. He walked toward her, lifting the coolie-style hat off and dropping it to dangle from a cord around his neck. His sea-blue eyes seemed to glow in his tan face. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re what matters.” His voice was husky with emotion.
Sophie stood stiffly. His unfamiliarity, her long celibacy, just the fact that it had been so long since she’d been touched at all, stiffened her spine and set up alarms.
He released her and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You don’t scare me.” And he didn’t—but that quick invasion of her space still did. Damn Assan Ang . . . Sometimes months went by when she didn’t even remember her sadistic ex.
Connor stood perfectly still, his gaze on her face as she took him in. She lifted a hand, reaching out to cup the chiseled corner of his jaw. The bone felt warm and solid under her hand, and she caressed his cheek with her thumb. His skin was smooth, freshly shaven. His eyes, up close, held secrets and depths, as well as all the colors of the ocean.
“You’ve changed.” Her tone was accusing, and she tried to modify it. “I thought I knew you. Now I’m not sure any more.”
“You’ve changed too. Motherhood agrees with you, Sophie.”
His voice felt like a caress, but still . . . she felt disembodied, unable to reach him.
She stepped closer. “Kiss me.”
He made no move, so she slid her hand from his jaw around to the back of his neck, feeling the shorn velvet of his short blond hair, stroking it with her fingers. She drew him closer, into her space, tipped her head up and finally, closed her eyes.
Their mouths touched, held. Opened and tasted. Their arms curled around each other, stroking and touching.
Sophie waited for the magic. For the zing, for the surge of unstoppable passion she remembered with Jake.
She waited for that hot coiling in her lower belly, for that sense of crackling fire searing up her spine and along her veins, for that wild urge to lose herself in someone else—for the passion locked inside her to rise and take over.
But nothing happened.
She floated above the scene, looking down at two physically beautiful people kissing and embracing . . . And she felt nothing.
Sophie let it go on a while, and then she stepped back, sliding her hands down his arms to squeeze his hands. They felt as hard and strong as carved wood, completely unfamiliar. She turned them over, recognizing only their general shape in the mass of nicks, scars, callouses and sun damage altering their appearance. All those hours with weapons each day . . .
Connor had remade himself into someone she no longer recognized.
“You’re not feeling it.” Connor’s voice was cool, detached. “Very interesting. Neither am I.”
They stared at each other for another long moment.
“I want this to work.” Tears filled Sophie’s eyes and she squeezed his hands as hard as she could, desperate for him to feel her urgency, her sincerity. “Maybe we just need more time. Time to get used to each other, to get to know each other again . . .” Grief constricted her chest. Was this really her life? A single mother who had had a chance with three wonderful men, and now had no one?
She flung herself on Connor, desperate to break through the deadness between them. She kissed him feverishly, her hands sliding over his taut, hard body, her mouth tearing at his until she tasted blood mixed with the salt of tears pouring out of her eyes.
He stood, his arms at his sides, and let her batter at him.
She gave up and dropped her face to his shoulder. She let the tears come, sobbing freely. Only then did his arms come up around her, stroking her spine, squeezing her gently.
“Too much has happened, and you love another,” he said in her ear. “As for me, you’re the only woman I’ve ever cared for, but we’ve both changed. Moved on. And it’s all right. We will always be friends, and partners as much as you want to be in the pursuit of justice.”
Sophie sobbed harder, letting go of a dream that had sustained her through the grief of losing Jake. “I didn’t know I loved him this much,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to love him so much. I want to love you.”
He gave a little snort of laughter that almost sounded like the old Connor. “Sorry, babe, that’s not how it works. Come on, let’s go up to the house. I’m
ready to get drunk and have Nam wait on my every wish. The Yām Khûmkạn compound is not exactly vacationland, you know.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sophie: Day Twenty
Connor opened the door of Sophie’s suite, entering with Momi in his wake. “Mama!” Momi yelled with her usual loud enthusiasm, and ran in to embrace Sophie’s legs.
Sophie and Armita had been packing, and Sophie swept the toddler up into her arms, blowing a raspberry onto her daughter’s tender, sweet-smelling neck. Momi giggled, her sturdy little body arching back in Sophie’s arms. Armita bustled in the background, continuing to pack for the trio’s return to Hawaii.
“She ate a good breakfast and gave the dogs some heck already,” Connor reported. “Didn’t you, sweetie?”
“We go walk, Unco!” Momi bellowed. She called all adult males “uncle” and women “auntie” in the way of Hawaiian children.
“We sure did.” Connor grinned, his hands on his hips. “I’m going to miss you, Bean.” Even Connor still used Momi’s pet nickname.
Momi and Armita had arrived as scheduled for their visit with the two dogs in tow, and the five of them had spent a blissful time on Phi Ni, playing in the ocean, walking the beach and making sandcastles, and eating delicious, fresh food made by Nam and his wife.
Connor had been with them much more than Sophie expected, spending little time in his computer cave, and they had fallen into the rhythm of their old friendship. There would always be something deeper between them, but in spite of continued proximity and even a few more attempts at physical intimacy, the spark was gone.
“I’ll get the rest of our laundry,” Armita said, and left the room.
Connor stepped up to Sophie, still holding Momi, and embraced both of them. Momi laughed, grabbing his ear, and Sophie leaned into their threesome, chuckling too as she enjoyed the strength of his arms around them.
“In a way, this simplifies things,” Connor told her. “We can just get together for vacations out here, or if we’re working a case together.”
Sophie set Momi down and the toddler ran to the open suitcase holding her toys, and began taking them out. “As we discussed earlier, I’m going to be handing the CEO role off to Bix and taking a more active role doing investigations. But I don’t know how you mean for us to work cases together, with you a wanted man.”
“I didn’t mean cases that were on the books,” Connor said, and she flicked her gaze to meet his inscrutable one.
“You plan to go back to that . . . online thing you did?” She didn’t want to speak aloud of his Ghost vigilante activities, even just in front of a toddler.
“Already on it. Now that I have access to the computer lab at the compound, I’m assuming the reins for that organization’s online presence. There will definitely be situations for us to pursue together. I hope you will want to take that step and be my United States contact.”
Sophie tightened her mouth. “I’ll think about it.”
Growing bored with her toy unpacking, Momi ran back to Connor and slammed into his leg so hard he grunted. “Unco Connor! Up, up!”
Connor tossed Momi effortlessly up into the air, so high she almost touched the ceiling, then caught her under the armpits. Momi shrieked with delight, but Sophie’s heart stuttered. As many times as he did that, and as addicted as Momi was to his active play, Sophie still gasped—though in the time they’d shared at the house, he’d shown her some of his physical mastery. He seemed able to bend physical space to his will.
More worrisome to Sophie than Connor’s extraordinary abilities was how Momi seemed to be developing into an adrenaline junkie. Fearless and impulsive, the toddler loved nothing more than climbing and launching off of anything raised, and Connor, Sophie, Armita, and even the dogs were constantly trying to keep her away from the cliff’s edge. Nam had spent the week overseeing the building of a fence to ensure her safety, and to combat a fear of Momi drowning they’d begun teaching the toddler to swim.
Soon they’d finished the whirlwind of packing. Nam drove the pickup with their baggage and the dogs, loaded in their carriers, in back of it, while Connor drove the women in his rugged SUV down to the airstrip.
The Security Solutions jet already awaited them, and Connor pulled a billed sports cap down, avoiding contact with the pilot and crew. He and Nam helped them with the luggage and the dogs, and with settling in on board. Amid Momi’s desolate shrieks as Connor said goodbye, Sophie followed him back down the jet’s steps and over into the shadow cast by his SUV to say goodbye. “Thank you for coming all this way to visit. I needed this,” he said, hugging her close. “When can you come again?”
“I don’t know. Got a lot of changes to implement. But it won’t be long. Nam’s cooking is already on my mind,” Sophie said.
“Mine too.” Connor kissed her on the nose. “Wish something else had happened here.”
“Me too.” She leaned her head on his chest for a moment, sighing.
“Something will work out for you,” he said.
“And for you?” She raised her head to look into his sea-colored eyes.
“Probably not. I’m married to my work, and she’s a brutal mistress.”
She punched his shoulder. “Glad I don’t have to compete with her, then.”
“Travel safe. I’ll be in touch.” He hopped into the SUV, and she waved as he and Nam pulled away in their vehicles. She hurried up the steps of the jet as the engines warmed up, and settled into her seat next to Momi, with Armita on the other side.
“Where Unco Connor?” Momi piped, straining to see around Sophie toward the doorway. “I want Unco Connor!”
“Uncle Connor will meet us here again,” Sophie said, tucking her blanket around her daughter. “We’ll be back to see him and Uncle Nam soon.”
Tired from her tantrum and busy antics of the morning, Momi soon fell asleep. Armita extended her seat into a lounger and took a well-deserved nap, and Sophie unpacked her laptop. She booted up her neglected email and weeded through various profit and loss reports, and finally slept.
Momi was fussy and the dogs were rambunctious when they finally arrived mid-morning in Hawaii and got home to the Pendragon Arches apartment. “Take the dogs and Momi for a run,” Armita told Sophie. “I need some peace and quiet to unpack and get us some fresh food.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sophie said. “We know who the boss is around here.” That made Armita smile, and Sophie was glad to see it as she put Momi into the jogging stroller and the dogs on their leashes.
She’d signed Ginger up for extra training at the boarding kennel she’d been at while Sophie worked the case in San Francisco, and Connor had helped work with the energetic Labrador while they were on the island. Ginger, though wagging her thick tail excessively, no longer pulled and tugged at the leash, and Sophie was able to manage both dogs and the stroller getting onto the elevator with only a little maneuvering.
Outside the building, jogging down the sidewalk in the sunshine with Anubis on one side and Ginger on the other, Sophie felt her spirits rise as she approached the ocean. She’d worn her bathing suit under her running clothes, and packed Momi’s pink swimwear in the backpack that held their beach essentials.
She might be alone, but she didn’t have time to be lonely. Her life was full, and rich, and really rather wonderful.
Once they’d swum in the ocean, she tied the dogs loosely to a tree, and they flopped in the shade. Sophie and Momi rinsed off in the park showers. Sophie rolled out her towel, and settled on it to read on her phone, with Momi playing in the sand nearby with a pail and shovel.
The phone buzzed in her hand with an incoming call, and Sophie blinked in surprise at the sight of the caller’s name. “Jake?”
“Hey, Sophie.” His voice was low, hoarse.
Sophie gripped the edge of her towel. Her heart rate leaped into overdrive. She rolled onto her side to keep Momi in visual range. “What’s up?”
“I need to see you.”
Her spine tingled
with alarm. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”
“No, no.” Jake made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Sorry if I scared you. I just . . . I don’t know how to make this call.”
“I don’t understand.” Sophie massaged her throat, trying to calm her galloping heart, trying to strengthen her voice. “Is it . . . Ginger? I assure you, she’s fine. She’s adjusting well. She and Anubis love being together. I don’t want to give her back.”
“No, it’s not Ginger. Damn it. I’m making a hash of this.” He blew out a breath. “I need to talk to you. For personal reasons.”
Sophie’s pulse pounded. She reached out a hand to stroke her daughter’s warm, soft black curls, grounding herself. Momi muttered some internal narrative and flung a spadeful of sand gleefully toward the dogs, then jumped up and ran toward them, spade aloft in one fat fist.
Sophie sat up on her towel and put her free hand over the left side of her chest and massaged, willing her heart to settle into a regular rhythm. “Please, Jake. Just tell me. What’s this about?”
“I have to tell you in person.”
A tiny flare of something Sophie couldn’t name burst into heat under her sternum. Her voice was satisfyingly cool even if her skin felt on fire. “Well, then, I guess we have to meet.”
“That’s all I’m asking for. Just a little of your time.”
“I’m not sure what purpose that would serve, honestly. Unless this is about work. Bix told me you were doing some contract work for us again.” She felt herself stiffening, her voice going wooden and flat, her old defense mechanisms kicking into place. Stop it, Sophie. You just realized you still love him. He’s reaching out. Just see where it goes. “But since you insist . . .”