She clawed at the ground, kicking and screaming, trying to get a hold of something or get the bike off. But her windbreaker had caught in the gears and the two were now one.
They kept sliding, heading directly for a patch of bushes. She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands, preparing for impact.
A hundred twiggy hands clawed and scratched her. Finally, the bike snagged on something. The windbreaker ripped loose. She slid several more feet before coming to a full and complete stop.
She was breathing hard. Stinging everywhere. But that was a good sign, right? Meant she was alive and not paralyzed or something.
She froze. Afraid. What if the bad guy was still coming after her?
See no evil, but she had to look. When she opened her eyes, she was covered in dust, branches and leaves, scrapes and scratches. And completely surrounded and concealed by bushes like a rabbit hiding in a warren.
* * *
A shot zinged off the guardrail next to Ty. All that stood between him and a hole in his head was a thin piece of lightweight yellow fabric, a few bits of metal, and a whole lot of air.
He took aim uphill at the van window just as Keoni finally popped out of the fog in the Exciting Maui Adventures van.
Unfortunately, also at that moment, another tour of single-file sightseeing cyclists passed Keoni and came around the corner. The lead sightseer zipped into the scenic pullout, interfering with Ty’s shot. The bad dude fell in with the rest of the group, keeping them between him and Ty until he reached the van.
Ty cursed as Tref’s assailant tossed his bike in the back of the van and jumped in. The van peeled out, scattering the rest of the group of riders, somehow managing to avoid hitting any of them.
The van would have to come past Ty. He hoped to take a shot at it and disable it. But, as bike tours go, some riders are fast and some slow. The line spreads out. And some are hotheads who want revenge for nearly being blown off the road. The lead two newcomers took off beside the van as it passed them and crossed in front of Ty.
Those two idiots biked between Ty and the van, obscuring his shot. He took a deep breath and cursed again as the van driver hit the accelerator and blew past him and the cyclists.
Ty watched the van careen down the hill, waiting to see if it would come back for another shot at him or Tref. It wasn’t stopping.
Farther down the mountain, now tiny specks of yellow, Tref’s cousin and her friends continued on their merry way. Oblivious until the van bore down on them and they scattered to the shoulder like pepper in water, escaping unscathed. Unaware even then of what had happened to Tref. Maybe that was for the best.
Ty turned around and scanned the volcano for her.
Oh, baby. Where are you?
All he saw was barren mountain. The woman had disappeared into thin air.
Up the mountain, Keoni was slowly driving downhill, caught behind this latest wave of cyclists. Ty jumped the rail again and flagged him down.
* * *
Treflee cowered undercover in her bush. Any idiot villain worth his evil reputation should spot the bike and bright yellow arrow of a windbreaker nearby and have a look around for her.
Unfortunately, this bush was covered in flowers. And flowers attract bees. Bees scared Treflee almost as much as bike-pump-wielding maniacs. She was allergic, though not in the anaphylactic way. Just major swelling around the sting and a case of blood poisoning the last time a wasp got her. Arm the size of a tree trunk. Bright red streaks up it. The doc said she just barely got treatment in time. Another few hours and she might have lost the arm. Or her life.
She’d just escaped death at the hands of a mad, villainous biker and a too-steep switchback turn. It would have been downright embarrassing, to say the least, to be taken out by a mere bee now.
She lay very still, not wanting to madden the increasing number of bees in the bush, and frankly too scared to move, as she weighed her options.
“Tref! Treflee, baby!”
Ty! Thank goodness.
She scrambled out of the bush on her hands and knees and popped to her feet, waving. “Here! Over here!”
He spotted her and waved to someone behind him. “Found her!”
Unfortunately, springing out of the bush upset a bee. It buzzed her. She screamed. Ty swung around, drew his gun, and looked for a villain.
Despite the trauma, she almost laughed. What he really needed was a fly swatter.
He relaxed as he spotted the bee. He ran to her and smacked the bee down with his bare hands.
Relieved, Treflee threw herself into Ty’s arms and snuggled against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Why did he have to feel so safe?
“Baby,” he said. “Baby, thank God you’re all right.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tight.
“Did you get him?” She couldn’t believe the venom in her voice as she spoke into his chest.
“He won’t be flying home to the hive.”
“Not the bee!” She teetered on the ragged edge of hysteria. “Did you get the bastard who tried to kill me?”
She had no doubt Ty’d gone after him. She wrapped her arms around her husband, sticking her hands into his back pants pockets. Just like she used to do all the time. But she was looking for something more than reassurance this time. She wanted that drop. She hated the regular Mata Hari she was becoming. But, damn it! She was scared.
She wriggled her hands deeper into his pockets and cupped his butt. The man had a tight, grabable ass. But except for a nice, new condom in its wrapper, his pockets were empty!
Did he really think he was going to get lucky with her out here on the mountainside? Or was he planning on using his French tickler on somebody else?
She didn’t know which thought upset her more. He shouldn’t be carrying a condom around like an optimistic frat guy at a party.
Ty kissed her head again. “No. The bastard got away.”
She removed her hands from his pockets, struggling in the process. She shook her head, dismayed. This wasn’t like Ty. “I can’t believe the bad guy gave you the slip. No one ever gives you the slip.”
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her roughly to him again. “I was rattled.”
Rattled? Ty? Over me?
She waited for him to say more. Admit something deeper.
Instead, he rested his chin on her head. “Don’t worry. I snapped a picture of him and texted it to HQ. They’ll make an ID and put out an APB. We’ll get him.”
She tried to pull away, but Ty held firm. “He was in disguise, all in black. There’s no way—”
Just then Keoni came puffing up, out of breath from his uphill run to them. “What’s going on?”
He bent over, his hands on his knees, looking up at them in their clench as he caught his breath. “How is she?”
You’d think a cycle tour guide would be in better shape. It was pretty clear now why Keoni drove the van.
“I’m fine,” Treflee said into Ty’s chest. “Except some guy tried to—”
Ty squeezed her. Hard. Tight enough to silence her and remind her of their cover.
“Dude!” he said, falling back into that cover character she hated. He spoke to Keoni. “She got going too fast. Lost it. Some guy cut her off. She flew off the road at the corner.” He gave her a playful chuck under her chin. “She’s tough. She’ll live.”
Treflee squirmed around to get a look at Keoni. He stared at them, obviously wondering about their intimate stance.
“Hysterical,” Ty said before Keoni asked the question. “Trying to calm her down.”
Which was almost the truth.
Keoni nodded, but he was still frowning. Probably not sure this was the kind of calming down she needed.
“You going to be okay?” Ty said to Treflee.
“Sure.” She wiggled in his arms. “You can let go now. I won’t freak out. Thanks.”
Ty released her and ran his hand through his bleached hair as he studied her. “Looks lik
e we dodged the bullet.”
It may have only been Treflee’s imagination, but she thought he was being tongue-in-cheek. It would have been just like him. Dodged the bullet, indeed!
Ty smiled that vacant, beach-bum smile at Keoni. “She’s got a few scratches and bruises.” He shrugged. “Don’t know what I would have told Tita if I’d lost a guest. She’d kill me.”
Keoni nodded his agreement, looking just as relieved to see Treflee on her feet and talking. She imagined visions of lawsuits were fading.
“Yeah,” Keoni said. “We haven’t lost a guest yet, either. This is the first, uh, off-road”—he cleared his throat—“incident we’ve had.” He paused and looked worriedly at Treflee. “Not our fault, you understand. We’re not liable for other bikers’ reckless behavior. Now, if we could find him—”
“I’m not going to sue,” she said straight-out.
Keoni nodded automatically, but didn’t seem to be listening. “We could go after him.”
Ty shrugged. “Dude dressed all in black. Wearing sunglasses.”
“We’ll call it in,” Keoni said, continuing to brighten up as he pinned the blame firmly elsewhere.
“No!” Treflee said. “No calling it in.”
Ty shot her a grateful look. For obvious reasons, he didn’t want the authorities involved. And neither did she.
Keoni gave her a questioning look. “But—”
“No calling it in. I’m fine. I’m not spending a precious minute of my vacation filling out forms in a police station.”
Keoni chewed on the corner of his mouth. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor, just in case—”
“No!” she said again, shaking her head. “Carla, one of our girls, is a nurse. She can look me over. But really, I’m fine.”
Keoni looked at once relieved and doubtful. But who was he to argue with a paying guest?
“Let’s get out of here and catch up with the others.” Ty nodded toward the brush. “The bike and the windbreaker are over there on the other side of those bushes.”
Keoni went after the bike and jacket. They waited as he stuffed the torn jacket under his arm and rolled the bike over to them.
“You’re not going to charge me for damage to those.” Treflee addressed Keoni.
“No, no, of course not,” Keoni hurried to reassure her.
“Good.” Treflee felt suddenly exhausted.
She stumbled as they started back toward the van.
Ty shot her a concerned look. He swung her up into his arms.
This time she didn’t struggle. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Whether she liked to admit it to herself or not, she wanted to rest in his arms for a while. Just until the shaky fear in her subsided.
* * *
At the van, Treflee dusted herself off and picked the leaves out of her hair. Ty doused her with antiseptic from the first-aid kit and bandaged the worst of her wounds. Keoni threw the bikes in the trailer. Each absorbed in their own thoughts, no one spoke. After a few minutes, Keoni jumped in the driver’s seat and they were off.
Used to following slowpoke cyclists and living on Hawaiian time, Keoni wasn’t exactly a speed demon behind the wheel, but he knew the roads and drove smoothly. Slow and steady, no surprises, no sudden stops, was just fine with Treflee.
She closed her eyes and sprawled across the seat, leaning her head against the window, glad to be alive. Just how many more surviving-the-spy-life days was she going to have to endure until she was safely home on the mainland and alone, spyless, in her own queen-sized bed? And how bruised, scratched, bitten, battered, and sore would she be by then?
Sleeping alone used to scare her. She used to worry about being jumped by an enemy agent looking for Ty. No more. No one, not even the neighbor’s annoyingly neurotic three-legged dog, had had the temerity to attack her on her own property.
What did scare her was the fact that the mad biker had come after her. Her! There was no mistake about it. But why? What had she done? Who did they think she was?
In the seat behind her, Ty was playing with his cell phone. Putting out the spy equivalent of an APB, no doubt. How long would it take NCS to bring that nefarious biker in?
The three of them made good time and caught up with the others at the protea farm lunch stop with plenty of time left to eat and still stick to the schedule. The girls’ bicycles were parked outside the general store and conscientiously locked in place just as Keoni had instructed at the top of the mountain.
“I need a beer,” Keoni said, as he jumped out of the van.
Ty nodded and slapped Keoni on the back. “I hear you, bro. The first one’s on me.”
Treflee scanned the area for dangerous pump-wielding assassins. Shouldn’t that have been Ty’s job? Then she stared at her two macho-men protectors—nearly ex-husband, beach bum, spy, and big former football-playing half Samoan, half Hawaiian bicycle guy. “Hold it right there, bros. One of you two is going to be driving to the beach park after lunch.”
And the other one is supposed to be fully alert so he can fend off killers, she might have added.
Keoni shrugged. “I weigh three hundred pounds naked. Before breakfast. One beer isn’t even going to register on a Breathalyzer.”
Ty nodded his agreement as she tried to pin him with a look and convey he was on spy duty. “What?” he said in a tone that was way too innocent. “I’m not driving.”
With that reassuring confrontation under her belt, they entered the crowded store. Tourists and lunching bicycle-tour-takers lay every way Treflee looked. Most of them were clad in black of some kind. Black shorts seemed particularly chic among this crowd. Not what she needed to see. She wasn’t particularly fond of cyclists right now. She felt jumpy and skittish.
“Relax!” Ty whispered in her ear. “No way our guy just stopped by for a bite of Hawaiian barbecue on his way out. If we haven’t picked him up by now, he’s trying like hell to get off the island.”
How very reassuring.
The Chinese tour group occupied half a dozen tables in the corner. Terror and apprehension every way she looked. How could she be sure it wasn’t one of these guys who’d tried to rip her spokes out?
Three times is a charm, as they say. Twice already, she’d been attacked by someone of Chinese descent. She couldn’t be sure about the biker in black. But judging by his build, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was Chinese. That made three. Maybe now that she’d survived her third she was safe?
No, much as she’d like to, she didn’t believe that.
The Chinese group hardly noticed her. They laughed and spoke in their singsong tones as they ate with disposable chopsticks they’d brought with them, gesturing at each other with them as they spoke. Abi caught her eye and smiled.
Treflee forced herself to smile back.
“Don’t worry about them, either,” Ty whispered. “What you need is some food to perk you up.”
They found the girls huddled at a table near the lunch counter. Even as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, it was clear to Treflee that there was trouble in paradise with the Carrie clan. Ty and Keoni seemed aware of it, as well.
Ty turned to her. “I’ll order you something from the lunch counter. What do you want?”
His tone and stance telegraphed he wasn’t going near those girls with a ten-foot surf paddle. Coward!
“Coconut ice cream,” Treflee answered without hesitating. Boy, did she need ice cream. In spades.
His gaze darted between Treflee and Carrie and company. “You need protein.”
“Ice cream is protein.”
Ty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real well balanced. How about some carbs and fruit and veggies?”
“Ask for a cookie with it. Coconut counts as fruit.”
He shook his head in a way that left it clear he wondered why he bothered. “I’ll pick something,” he whispered.
Then chivalry disappeared. The two men hightailed it to the counter, bypassing the ladies. For her p
art, Treflee wondered what all the excitement was about as she walked up to Carrie’s table. Maybe they’d heard about her accident and were indignant on her part. Maybe there’d been a horrible crash. Something along the lines of a speeding van full of bad guys bursting into flame on the road to Haleakala would have been nice. One could hope! And pyrotechnics always made for a good story.
Laci looked up at her, eyes snapping with jealousy. “Look what the boys finally dragged in.”
Faye was a little more observant and astute. “Whoa! What happened to you?”
Treflee shrugged. “Some dude cut me off at the corner. I took a tumble down the hill.”
Carla sighed. She reached over and pulled a leaf off Treflee’s bike jersey as Treflee sat down. “You missed one.” Her expert gaze flicked over the bandaging job Ty had done. “Cleaned those good and used plenty of antibiotic ointment, I hope?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Carla looked skeptical. “Want me to take a look?”
“Later,” Treflee said, shuddering at the thought of Carla ripping off her bandages. “What’s going on here?” She scooted up to the table.
“Kane.” Faye looked horrified just speaking the name.
Carrie stared at the table. She looked worried, too. And scared. Treflee couldn’t remember ever seeing Carrie scared.
“Kane?” Treflee repeated. At least this had nothing to do with her. The pressure was off.
Carrie’s ex-fiancé, Kane, was a big bear of a guy, but solid muscle. The kind of guy who’d probably been a chunky kid. No one messed with the burly cop now. And it was no use verbally sparring with him, either. He wasn’t the kind of guy who ever had a word to spare.
“What about Kane?” Treflee asked, fearing the worst.
“He wants Carrie back.” Brandy sounded as if she were issuing a death sentence.
Now? Just days before the wedding Carrie had called off?
Good thing Treflee was already sitting because her legs went weak as her anger rose. Though maybe the weak legs were the aftereffect of actually having had to pedal down the mountain for more than her allotted two hundred yards.
The Spy Who Left Me Page 16