Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  “Alika wouldn’t want you to take it that way,” her father said softly.

  Sophie frowned at him. “The man lost an arm because of me. We’re done.” Jake had told her the final extent of Alika’s injuries, and she could hardly stand to think of it. “Don’t bring him up again, Dad.”

  “Coward.” Her father’s mouth tightened as he fisted his hands on his hips. “You owe him at least a goodbye.”

  “None of this is any of your business.” Sophie’s temper flared. “Why did you tell him I’d be coming to your place the day before the trial? If Alika hadn’t met me in the lobby, he would be a whole man right now. I had already decided that my lifestyle is too dangerous for a civilian. I told him that in Hilo and left him without any contact info. And you mucked it up, Dad, by telling him where to find me.”

  “And you’d be dead if he hadn’t been holding that package.” Her father’s gaze was unyielding. “Alika loves you, Sophie. He can offer you a different kind of life. I want that for you, and I am never going to apologize for doing what I think is in your best interest as a parent.”

  “You don’t get to make those kinds of judgments, any more than my mother does.” Sophie’s lips felt stiff as she forced the words out. Her body felt frozen, a pillar of ice. “I will choose my partner, my path, and my lifestyle.”

  “You are throwing your life away fighting dangerous criminals, and someday, you won’t be the winner. You’re my only daughter. I don’t want to stand over your grave!” Frank’s booming voice filled the room. His eyes filled and his hands balled into fists. “You are being selfish and foolhardy! At least consider going back to the FBI, to your tech lab! You didn’t get shot at there!”

  Sophie’s heart raced in shock at Frank’s raised voice—she couldn’t remember a time her father had shouted at her.

  Ginger yelped in distress. Sophie tugged Ginger’s leash, striding away from Frank and into her bedroom. She closed the door and locked it. She sat down at her computers, blindly seeking some form of comfort in her old technological friends.

  Sophie stared at the blank, dark monitors, feeling nothing but despair.

  She’d changed—those “friends” that she’d named Ying, Jinjai, and Amara—they were just machines. They had no wisdom, love or even escape to offer.

  She could count on one hand the number of times her father had lost his temper with her, and his words shook her.

  In many ways, Frank was right. Her life had been one terrifying episode after another since she left the FBI—but it had never been easy there either, the depression whispered. You’re cursed, and someday you’ll kill your father too. Give him a heart attack or a stroke from the stress of being your parent.

  Her dad could never know how close she’d come to killing herself. She’d have done a much more effective job of causing him grief than any outside enemy could have.

  And Alika did deserve at least a visit, but she knew she wouldn’t go. She was a coward—because she couldn’t stand to see his pain and loss. Suffering she’d caused.

  Sophie’s body hunched in misery; she tugged her hair so that the pain without matched the pain within.

  She struggled to remember Dr. Wilson’s words from one of their therapy sessions. “The depression has its own voice. Don’t believe everything you think.”

  “Foul demon depression, filling my ears with lies,” she muttered aloud. “Demented sickness of the mind, I reject you.”

  A soft knock at the door. “Sophie. I’m sorry I yelled.”

  Sophie got up and opened the door. “Dad. I’m sorry, too.”

  Her father embraced her, but she felt unable even to lift her arms and hug him back; she was trapped and paralyzed inside her own body.

  Her father sighed. “I don’t understand you, Sophie. Just like I never understood your mother.”

  Her dad didn’t know the half of what Pim Wat was, and hopefully he never would.

  More guilt stabbed Sophie. “I’m definitely going to the Big Island. I was just getting started on some things over there. Personal things.” She needed to get to Dr. Wilson and talk through all of these events, get back on her medication, have another infusion. Something!

  Her father made a snorting noise and addressed the dog. “Hear that, Ginger? She’s going to take you away again for more camping adventures.”

  The Lab woofed in reply. Sophie bent to reach down and rub Ginger’s silky ears. “She understands everything you say, Dad. And no, I’m done camping for the moment.”

  “How was Witness Protection? Where did they keep you stashed all that time?” He was trying to move them past the fight, but every topic was fraught.

  “I can’t tell you, Dad.” How could she explain the weeks on Connor’s private island?

  Frank led her into the kitchen. “Want something to eat? Marcella brought over a ton of food from her parents’ restaurant.”

  “I could eat.” Sophie found herself using a Jake-ism.

  Jake.

  Jake would make her feel better. She was a little addicted to the comfort and warmth of his arms. Nothing got her to relax quite like his hugs.

  She was weak, and battered, with a sickness of the mind barely in remission. Jake made her feel better, and he loved her. If he could accept her exactly as she was, maybe that was enough for both of them.

  Chapter Forty

  Sophie got out of her father’s Lincoln on the tarmac of the private aircraft area of the Honolulu Airport, and he exited the vehicle, too. Ellie Smith, who had driven them to the airport, popped the trunk for Sophie’s bag.

  She’d ended up spending three days at her father’s apartment, resting her ribs and recovering: sleeping in with Ginger, visiting Marcella, and letting her father buy her a new wardrobe: movement-friendly pants, plain, well-cut, richly colored button-down shirts, a panoply of silk underthings, and a handbag made in Morocco of antique tapestry fabric that was big enough for her laptop.

  “Thanks for everything, Dad. I really needed those restful days with you.” Sophie hugged her father goodbye. “You were right about a lot of things you said the other day. I’m sorry I’ve been a disappointment.”

  “No, Sophie. Never that. But I worry.” Frank clasped her close, careful not to touch her tender ribs. “Please be careful of yourself.” He kissed her forehead.

  “I will.” She kissed his cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

  Ellie picked up Sophie’s heavy backpack to spare her injury. They headed for the Security Solutions jet, its door ajar and stairs to the runway already extended.

  “What did you decide about the Yām Khûmkạn?” Ellie slowed their walk toward the jet.

  “I’m going to work with the CIA on that. But with backup,” Sophie said.

  “What does that mean?”

  Sophie opened her mouth to answer, but Jake appeared in the doorway of the jet. Sunshine gleamed on his hair and the muscles revealed by a sleeveless workout shirt. He bounded down the steps toward them with his usual energy. “Aloha, Agent Smith. Let me get that bag.” Jake swung the heavy backpack out of Ellie’s hand and onto his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

  “When did you two meet?” Sophie frowned, trying to assimilate the surprise of seeing Jake appear out of the plane.

  “Jake brought Tank to your dad’s place to play with Ginger several times before your pup was whisked away to join you wherever you were hiding before the trial,” Ellie said. “Speak of the devil.” She pointed.

  The black-and-white pit bull, looking much sturdier than when they’d first rescued him, stood in the doorway of the jet. The dog’s huge mouth was open in a grin and his stump of a tail wagged so hard his hind end seemed to be doing a hula. Ginger gave a happy yap and lunged forward, yanking her leash out of Sophie’s hand. She scrambled up the stairs to greet her friend.

  “Match made in heaven,” Jake grinned.

  Sophie dodged eye contact and looked back toward Ellie as Jake loped ahead with her bag. “Thanks for your help. With everything.”

&
nbsp; “Your father counts on your phone calls. Please keep in close touch, or I’ll have to send the Secret Service after you.” Ellie chuckled, but Sophie knew she meant it.

  “Fair enough.” Sophie waved goodbye toward her father’s car and focused on climbing the steps of the jet. Breathing still hurt, and she held a hand over her ribs. Her ribs were strapped, but it was more to remind her not to make any sudden movements than for any therapeutic benefits to be had from the stretchy Velcro wrap.

  “Ribs are the worst.” Jake glanced at her from where he was stowing her backpack in an overhead compartment. “They hurt like a mofo and there’s not much anyone can do to help the healing process.”

  “So it seems.” Sophie looked around the plane. “Where’s...Mr. Hamilton?” She’d almost slipped up and called him Connor.

  “Hamilton’s on one of his mysterious business trips.” Jake secured the dogs by their leashes to a convenient handle and settled them in a pair of plushy beds.

  “Okay, now for the obvious.” Sophie put her hands on her hips. “What, exactly, are you doing here?”

  “The boss man has asked me to help you set up a new Security Solutions satellite office in Hilo.” Jake looked up, a shadow in his gray eyes for the first time. “You’re on board with that, right? Hamilton said it was your idea.”

  Was this how Connor was going to handle her request to stay on the Big Island? It appeared so. “I’m eager to discuss the plan with him.”

  They were interrupted by the appearance of Thom Tang and his copilot, emerging from the cockpit. “Good to see you again, Ms. Ang. Just a little hop this time.”

  “Thanks, Thom.”

  They exchanged pleasantries. “Sit down, get comfortable, and enjoy the ride.” Thom and the copilot disappeared.

  Jake’s brows rose. “You seem to be on good terms. What was this about ‘just a short hop this time’?”

  More secrets to keep from Jake, who hated them. He was like a bloodhound on a scent when he sensed subterfuge. “Thom brought me from the Big Island into Witness Protection custody.”

  “That’s the same hop we’re about to take,” Jake pressed. “He acts like he knows you, like he’s flown you further than this.”

  Sophie folded her lips together and settled herself into her seat. She fastened the belt and gazed out the window as Jake sat down beside her.

  She felt his nearness draw her in like a force field. That much hadn’t changed.

  “I missed you,” he whispered. “Even a few days away is too long.”

  The time Jake had spent with her, recovering from the blast in the Witness Protection safehouse, had been platonic but very physical. She’d slept in his arms and awoken to his hugs. She’d missed his warmth, his sheer bodily presence.

  Sophie shut her eyes, savoring the contact as Jake drew her into his arms. He leaned into her and kissed her, his body hot against hers. The G-forces of the jet’s takeoff pressed them deeper into each other.

  Sophie was sad, hurting, filled with guilt and regret, and apprehensive about what would come next on the Big Island and with the Yām Khûmkạn. Jake made her feel better. He lifted her burdens as easily as he lifted her backpack. No, she didn’t love him the same way she loved Alika, but she loved him as much as she could—and maybe he loved her enough for both of them.

  Sophie turned fully toward Jake, turning over in the comfortable lounger to face him. She met his gaze, enjoying the honest heat of his eyes. His brows raised in question.

  “Jacob Sean Overstreet Dunn. Would you…be my lover?” Her voice quavered.

  “Sophie. What you do to me.” He cupped her cheek with a big hand and stroked the scar on her face with his thumb. He wiggled his brows. “You had me at Jacob.”

  She laughed a little and covered her face, flushing with embarrassment and vulnerability.

  Jake pulled her hands away and held them. “What changed?”

  “I almost died. And I want to feel alive.” She couldn’t say it any more clearly. “You make me feel alive.”

  The mist gray of his irises were circled in blue, like a rainy day with the promise of sunshine. “Just so we’re clear—you’re agreeing to my terms. We’re together. Exclusive.”

  “I am, exclusively, a wreck. You have been warned. But if you still want to take your chances…” Her eyes stung, and she closed them.

  His answer was to kiss her. Oh, what a kiss.

  His mouth seemed to breathe life into her. They kissed all the way to the Big Island, and the flight wasn’t long enough.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Pim Wat sat quietly in a corner in the dimly lit, swanky Honua Club in downtown Honolulu. She’d arrived early for the meet to make sure she had a seating advantage; the hostess had put her in a corner booth facing the door at her request. The light from a window behind her would fall into the eyes of the man who sat in the seat across from her, and movement out of the booth would be hampered by deep leather upholstery.

  She had played up her exotic looks with a designer wrap dress in a deep plum that made the most of her golden skin tone and petite, shapely figure. A fat diamond dangled in her cleavage, a handy focal point. Her long, smooth black hair tumbled down her back and swirled around her hips. A tiny designer hat with a swatch of veil perched on her head and hid her eyes.

  She slid her compact out and checked her lipstick. She didn’t appear any older than her daughter. She had years of pampered living away from the sun to thank for that.

  Her gaze darted around the room, checking for threats, for anyone who might be surveilling her—but the restaurant’s noontime bustle seemed normal, sound patterns controlled as servers whisked to and fro. The patrons, mostly men, conferred over micro-brews and top shelf liquor. Occasionally, bursts of deep-toned laughter leavened the air.

  She sipped tonic water over ice with an olive, a drink with every appearance of alcohol, but contained none.

  Her lunch date appeared at last, weaving between the tables confidently. He knew this place. This was his turf, and she’d chosen the Club for that reason. He drew up short at the sight of her, though, and his eyes widened.

  Pim Wat smiled, enjoying her effect on him, and tipped her head back just a little so he could see her eyes behind the veil. She’d lured him to the meeting by using her daughter’s Mary Watson alias, a bit of intel she’d received via text from her anonymous source a while back. She extended a beringed hand to the older man. “Supervisory Marshal Felcher. Thank you for making the time to meet with me.”

  “Ms. Watson. A pleasure.” Felcher was almost stammering. The marshal had well-kept hands, and he held hers a moment too long. “I am eager to hear this information you have.” He swung his trim body to sit beside her on her side of the booth.

  She removed her hand as his proximity forced her to slide around the booth toward the back. She cursed inwardly—he’d boxed her in, and now the sun was in both of their eyes. “I had to speak to you.”

  Felcher gestured for the server. “Perhaps we could have something to drink. Coffee, please. Black.”

  Pim Wat had studied his habits, and even with her visual cue of an apparently alcoholic drink, he was staying true to form. Her gaze fell to his coffee mug, upended on a paper doily. “I prefer something cold on a hot tropical day.”

  “To each his own. You have an intriguing accent, Ms. Watson. Where did you say you were from?”

  “I didn’t.” She smiled.

  The server poured Felcher’s coffee, and he sipped. She sipped. They regarded each other.

  “You asked for this meeting, Mary.” He used the first name deliberately, implying he thought it was false.

  “I have information about a breach in the Witness Protection Program.” Pim Wat wrapped her plump, scarlet lips around the minuscule straw that had come with her drink and sucked. She knew how it looked. She’d practiced it in the mirror.

  Felcher watched her, eyes gleaming. “That is a very serious allegation. Very concerning. Perhaps we should go somewhere
more private to discuss it?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. I hardly know you.” She tipped her head regretfully.

  “Call me Burt.” He wriggled closer.

  She slid further away. “Burt. Such an assertive name.”

  “I really think we should go upstairs. I have a suite here at the Honua Club that I use for private meetings.”

  “How prepared you are, Burt. Let’s work up to that.” Pim Wat put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. He stiffened in surprise, and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.

  The waiter arrived with menus. Felcher waved him off, his gaze on Pim Wat’s face. “How did you come by the name Mary Watson? You are not who I expected.”

  “No?” Pim Wat gazed up at him innocently through the mesh of the veil. “It is a common enough name. Whom did you expect?”

  “Someone...taller.”

  Sophie Malee was indeed tall, at five-foot-nine. She got her height from her father. Pim Wat’s cheeks went hot at the thought of the harm this man had tried to do to her child.

  She sipped her drink. He sipped his coffee. Their eyes never left each other’s faces.

  And then it happened.

  His eyes bulged. His mouth opened. His right hand flew up to clutch the left side of his chest. He turned toward her, panic and comprehension in his gaze.

  “Paralysis of the heart muscle. Relax. Don’t fight it; it will all be over soon,” Pim Wat whispered, holding his terrified gaze. She scooted close and reached out to draw him against her. His body tensed, shuddered. His back arched. His eyes rolled back. She pressed his head into her neck in a hug that looked passionate to anyone passing by.

  Her eyes tracked the room. No one was watching the tableau in the corner booth.

  She held Felcher until he slumped bonelessly, and then she pushed him back upright against the booth’s upholstery.