Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  “I want to bring Jake in on this.” Sophie spread her hands on the table, steadying herself. “He deserves it.”

  “This?”

  “This. He already knows about my mother. I want him to know everything about what’s going on. You. The Yām Khûmkạn.”

  “No.”

  “No? You don’t get to dictate everything about this situation!” Sophie stood. “These things affect me. They’re my life. I don’t want to keep secrets from Jake that I don’t have to!”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Connor quirked a brow. “Jake wants to be more than your booty call?”

  “Oh.” Sophie sucked a breath. “I’m done here.” She swept up her nylon pack and headed for the door of the jet, pushed it open.

  Connor touched her arm. “Sophie. I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  “Yes, it was.” She glared at him. “You’re jealous.”

  He stiffened. “I’m doing my best.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  Sophie finally sighed. “I won’t tell him about you and the Ghost. But please. All this sneaking around with the Yām Khûmkạn and the CIA would be so much easier if I didn’t have to hide everything. He’s suspicious. And he’s jealous, too.” Sophie took a step down out of the plane. Warm wind, smelling of diesel fumes, swirled around her. She glanced out at the bulk of Kilauea. The wind direction had changed, a rare occurrence, and brought volcanic emissions, commonly known as vog, with it. The soft gray of the particulate ash shrouded Hilo like a photographer’s filter.

  “Damn it.” Connor tugged at his hair in agitation. “Tell him if you must. But keep me out of it. We’ll talk soon.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sophie shook out her napkin and laid it over her lap in the candlelit dining room of the Hilo Bay Seafood Cafe. She wished that she’d had time to go home and change into something other than the Security Solutions uniform. Jake had; his dark hair was still damp with comb tracks, and he smelled of the lemony aftershave she’d come to love. A silk button-down in midnight blue enhanced his muscular form and brought out the ring of blue in his remarkable gray eyes.

  Those eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight as he handed her a glass of wine. “I took the liberty of ordering you something since you were a little late.”

  Sophie nodded, sipping the beverage. “This is good. What is it?”

  “A nice little moscato. I notice you like things sweet.”

  “And I like how you notice what I like.”

  They smiled at each other.

  Jake brought his glass of red to chime with Sophie’s in a gentle toast. “To our first official date out in public as a couple.”

  Heat suffused Sophie’s chest as she remembered Connor’s barb about Jake being her “booty call.” She thrust the memory away and sipped, mind scrabbling over how to proceed with the conversation.

  Mercifully, the waiter arrived to regale them with dinner specials. They ordered, and after he left, Sophie took a hefty sip of wine for courage. “Jake. I have something to tell you.”

  “Where you were this afternoon?” Jake quirked a dark brow. His attempt at a humorous tone fell flat; Sophie could hear the grit behind it.

  “I was meeting Sheldon Hamilton. We are working on a project.”

  “Ah. Our mysterious CEO. That makes sense.”

  Sophie wasn’t imagining the way Jake’s shoulders loosened in relief. He didn’t know about the Ghost, didn’t have any reason to be jealous of Hamilton—and that was a good thing.

  “Hamilton has been helping me navigate things with my mother. You see, Pim Wat didn’t just reappear in my life to resume a relationship. She had a proposal: that I join her clandestine organization, the Yām Khûmkạn, and provide them with tech support.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “No wonder you’ve been sleeping badly!” He reached over to cover her cold hands with his warm ones. “Ah, God, Sophie. That woman. Such a bitch! You deserve a mom who loves and appreciates you.”

  He had no idea how really horrible Pim Wat was. Sophie blinked quick tears away, looking down at their joined hands. Jake’s instant, unstinting compassion undid her—and she was only telling him a piece of the truth. The worm of guilt turned in her guts. She couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat.

  “Come here.” Jake tugged at her hands. “Come sit with me.”

  They were in an old-fashioned leatherette booth; she felt silly, but sitting next to him wasn’t impossible. Sophie slid around the booth until she was flush against Jake’s warm, hard bulk, but that wasn’t enough for him.

  Jake hauled Sophie into his lap, wedging them in tight behind the curve of the table. He snuggled her close, tucking her under his chin and wrapping his thick arms around her. “I wish I could kick her ass,” he whispered in her ear. “I hate her for hurting you.”

  She hid her face in his shirt as Jake kissed her hair and rocked her close. She didn’t deserve the love he showered on her so generously. Thinking about it almost made her burst into tears, and she breathed deep and even to keep from crying openly.

  She heard the waiter return. Jake directed the man to leave the plates, and Sophie finally lifted her head when he’d gone. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. Hamilton just gave me the okay.” Such a pale shadow of the truth.

  “I’m so glad to finally know what’s been going on with you.” The relief in Jake’s expression almost broke her heart. “Tell me more.”

  “We’re working with the CIA. They want me to penetrate the Yām Khûmkạn. Hamilton’s using my job at Security Solutions to protect me from both factions. I’m going into my mother’s organization, but I won’t be alone.”

  “I have to hear everything about this. But I’ll be honest.” Jake blew out a breath that tickled her ear. “I was worried it was something worse.”

  “Like what?” Sophie eased out of Jake’s lap to sit beside him.

  Jake pushed her plate in front of her. “Like…Alika.” Jake had his eyes on his plate now. They ate side by side in silence for a few minutes. Sophie couldn’t taste a thing.

  “Alika is still a problem,” Sophie said softly. “I feel terrible about what happened to him. So guilty. And I’m having flashbacks to the explosion almost every night.”

  “I thought you were talking to Dr. Wilson today,” Jake said. “That’s where I thought you went this afternoon.”

  “I see her tomorrow. I hope she can help me.” Sophie shoved another bite into her mouth and chewed mechanically. “It’s been hard. Keeping so many secrets from you.”

  Jake had only taken a few bites of his dinner, but he thrust the plate aside. His gray eyes gleamed silver in the candlelight. “Finally, you’re telling me what I’ve needed to know—what’s really been going on with you. Let’s get out of here.” He gripped her hand, and the touch lit a fire in her belly. “I need to be with you. Alone. Now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie’s heart was still pounding from their lovemaking as she rested her head on Jake’s chest. The deep thunder of his pulse filled her ear. Cool night air wafted over them, wicking away the sweat of passion.

  The bedside lamp was on. Sophie enjoyed the sight of her tawny skin against Jake’s paler, tanned bulk as she stroked his chest and abs. The visual of her long fingers playing with the arrow of hair that pointed toward his narrow hips was entrancing. She slid her slim, smooth leg up and down his muscular, hairy one, liking the textures, the feel of his heat beneath her coolness.

  “All the ways we’re different is so sexy,” Sophie murmured.

  Jake didn’t reply, and she sneaked a peek at his face.

  Sleeping, his solid jaw had relaxed. Those riveting gray eyes were closed, leaving a fan of black lashes resting on high cheekbones. A snore rumbled in his chest, puffing past lips made soft and pink from kissing.

  He was adorable.

  Well, too big and rugged to be adorable.

  But still…so lovable. Did she love him? He deserved it.

&nb
sp; Sophie traced the knot of a bullet hole in his shoulder. She’d been present for that one and the memory of it still made her stomach tighten. Her fingers slid over the various scars and scrapes left on his skin by a lifetime spent in vigorous, dangerous activities.

  Jake wasn’t a deeply complex or spiritual man. He was a physical one, and he expressed his love, and all of his passions, with his body.

  In many ways they were different. But in this one, the same.

  She slept, and this time, didn’t dream.

  Day Two

  The next morning, Sophie watched as Dr. Wilson settled herself in the overstuffed lounger she favored, a tablet on her knee and stylus poised. “It’s been way too long, Sophie.”

  “I know.” Seated across from the psychologist on a low leather couch, Sophie shook her head. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since before the Akane Chang trial.”

  “We’re in agreement then. No matter what’s happening in your life, you’ll make the time to come for counseling.” Wearing a wrap dress in a floral print, kitten-heeled sandals, and a casual blonde bob, the psychologist looked younger than her fifty-something years. Her keenly intelligent blue eyes searched Sophie’s face. “Something good happened recently?”

  “Multiple orgasms.” Sophie’s neck and chest felt hot. “Jake and I are together. Officially.”

  Dr. Wilson laughed. “Sophie, I never cease to be surprised at the things you say. Never stop being you. We’ll get to the orgasms later, but for now, I’d like to review your current symptoms and situation.”

  Sophie had contacted Dr. Wilson the minute the recent Akane Chang trial on Oahu was over, trying to get an appointment, but they’d both been busy—Sophie with setting up the new Security Solutions office, and Dr. Wilson with other clients. Dr. Wilson had recommended an app for Sophie to use to track her mental state: a checklist on mood, physical feelings and symptoms, sleep, activity, and eating patterns.

  Sophie took out her phone. “I’ll send this data to you from the app now.”

  She forwarded it, and Dr. Wilson studied the graph on her phone. “Hmm. Looks like sleep has been a problem. Volatile affect. Stomach trouble. And overall your mood is still low. I’d say depression is being complicated by some PTSD symptoms.”

  “Exactly. I keep dreaming about the bomb going off.” Sophie shut her eyes. She could clearly see her father’s apartment building’s swanky lobby where things had gone so badly wrong.

  “Talk it through with me. Maybe lie down if that helps.”

  “I don’t think I can lie down.” Sophie rubbed the scar on her cheekbone. She took a deep breath and blew it out, focusing to remember the series of events. “Connor brought me to the building the day before the trial. He said he’d called Hazel Matsue, the marshal I was working with on the case, to meet us there. I told him I didn’t think that was necessary; the building had security.” Sophie shook her head. “How wrong I was. I was dressed in my Mary Watson identity as I went in. Ginger was excited, recognizing a familiar place. The security guard was an old man I didn’t know. He told me I had a visitor.” Sophie shut her eyes. “I thought it was Matsue. The visitor was seated in a chair behind a decorative palm.” The story flowed out of her with her eyes closed, like seeing a movie in slow motion. “The visitor was Alika.”

  Dr. Wilson sucked in a soft breath. “Oh my God.”

  “Yes. I was surprised to see him. I had left him no contact information after a night we spent together in his hotel room in Hilo.” Sophie put the tips of her fingers over her eyes, holding onto darkness. “Alika seemed…different. He was dressed up and looked very handsome. Wanted to talk to me alone.”

  “What was his demeanor like?” Dr. Wilson’s voice drew her deeper into the memory.

  “He was nervous, I think. But trying not to seem that way. Alika’s always so calm and in control of himself. But he seemed…very determined about something. He showed his desire for me with just a few words.” Sophie felt the heat of tears filling her eyes. Wetness slid out from under her fingertips and down her cheeks. “Before we went up in the elevator the security guard told me that I had a package.” She stopped, struggling to keep her breath even, struggling to keep the tears from taking over.

  “Go on, Sophie. You can do this. You need to tell this story to let its poison out.”

  “Yes.” Sophie lowered her hands and blinked at Dr. Wilson, who handed her a box of tissues. “I’d slept with Alika the last time I saw him. We’d been shot at. I was hiding in his room from the killer. It was just the one time, but it changed things between us. Deepened things. We had not been intimate in all our years of knowing each other before that. But a lot of my depression and suicidal thoughts on the lava field were because I’d cut him off, for his own good, because my life is too dangerous for a civilian like him. And all that said, surprised as I was by his turning up in the lobby, I was happy to see him.” Sophie pressed a wad of tissues to her face. “I was trying not to feel all of that. Trying to remember I was still in danger. When the guard said I had a package, I was cognizant enough to stop and ask who it was from.” Sophie took a deep, steadying breath and met Dr. Wilson’s eyes. “He said it was from you.”

  “What?” Dr. Wilson recoiled, a hand coming up to her throat. “No!”

  “Yes. And the box was addressed to Mary Watson, so I thought it must be legitimate. You knew about that identity. You knew I would likely be going to my father’s apartment at some point. I thought the package was some therapy supplies, books or something. Ginger was making a fuss, trying to smell it. Alika took the box and walked to the elevator. ‘I’ll carry this for the lady,’ he said.”

  “Oh, Sophie, I’m just sick that my name was used to gain your trust!” Dr. Wilson’s face had gone pale. “Oh no!”

  Sophie continued woodenly. “I followed Alika toward the elevator, but Ginger wanted to smell the potted palm and tugged me aside. Alika was standing in the doorway reaching for the button. I was walking toward him, with Ginger in front of me, when the bomb went off.”

  “Dear God. And then what happened?”

  “I don’t remember much. Apparently, Ginger was thrown back into me by the blast, and it was her weight that hurt my ribs. She came out of it with just some bruises, but I went down hard and was knocked out for a while. I never saw what happened to Alika. When I came fully conscious in the hospital and asked the doctor about him, he told me Alika ‘wasn’t as lucky’ as I was, and I took that to mean he’d died.” Sophie gulped, feeling nauseous. “His poor body, all it’s been through because of me…”

  “It is terrible what happened, but he is lucky to be alive if he was actually holding the device! And how was he when you saw him last?”

  “I haven’t seen him again.” Sophie covered her face with her hands, hiding her shame.

  “Oh, Sophie. My dear. This is why you are so haunted by this event.” Dr. Wilson set aside her tablet and leaned forward. “The attempt on your life was horribly traumatic—you were injured and betrayed in a place where you thought you were safe, by an assassin using a name you thought you could trust…and you haven’t been back to see Alika. To get closure with him.”

  “I can’t.” Sophie balled her hand into fists. “I just can’t bear it. After what happened to him before.” Sophie reminded Dr. Wilson of the time Alika was attacked by Assan Ang’s henchmen. “This time, he lost an arm. I just can’t deal with seeing him. I can’t. I feel sick when I think of it.” She held a hand over her stomach. “My father and I had a fight over it, and we never fight! He called me a coward. And he was right.” Misery choked her, and Sophie hung her head.

  “Sophie, the reason this is making you sick is that you know that your behavior is not…mature. You owe Alika your support, your concern, at least. He must be struggling emotionally. Losing a limb is huge.”

  “Every time I think of seeing him I…freak out, as Marcella would say. But our paths may be crossing anyway, at least indirectly. Esther Ka`awai, his grandmother, is connecte
d with a new case Jake and I are working. I dread any interaction with her, even if she never knows I was the woman in the lobby with Alika when the bomb exploded.”

  “I’m not saying you have to see him in person. But you do have to reach out in some way. A phone call? What about a letter?”

  “A letter.” Relief at this idea almost made Sophie dizzy. “You’re brilliant, Dr. Wilson! That I can do. And I will.” For the first time, Sophie noticed the small wooden bowl of hand-molded clay figurines resting on the coffee table in front of her, along with a tray of golden beach sand. “What’s this?”

  “A projective tool some clients enjoy called ‘sand tray therapy.’ Very intuitive. You simply choose figures that appeal and set up a small scene. Sometimes insight comes to you in doing so.”

  All the figures were handmade, simple bisque shapes without features, glazed in clear. Sophie picked up the tallest feminine form in the bowl. She set the woman into the sand. She chose three male figures and set them around the woman in a triangle shape.

  Bile rushed up her throat suddenly, and Sophie stood up. “Where’s the bathroom again?”

  Dr. Wilson pointed mutely to a small side door. Sophie ran in and slammed the door, bending over to retch into the pristine bowl.

  When she was empty and had rinsed her mouth repeatedly, she glared at her wan reflection in the mirror over the sink. “You’re a terrible person,” whispered that interior voice. “A selfish coward. You should feel sick.”

  A tap at the door. “Sophie, are you okay?”

  “I’ll be right out.” Sophie turned on the fan. She splashed water on her face and used damp hands to scrunch her disordered curls back into shape. She’d dressed in a fresh Security Solutions “uniform” and needed to go into the office after this, but her knees felt wobbly and she was lightheaded. She opened the door to look at Dr. Wilson. “This trauma stuff is unpleasant.”