Relapse in Paradise

by Roxanne Smith

  Hani was going to shit bricks.

  Emily was going to berate him all the way back to The Canopy.

  As for Jordan, this might be the trick to getting her to disappear once and for all. Why bother with a dead man?

  * * * *

  Boston’s grip on the steering wheel turned whiter with each of Emily’s dodges at conversation. She said nothing but gazed from the passenger side window of the van with a steely silence Boston had no defense against. He’d told her what he’d done for Kale, and her response had been no response. Total shut down.

  She jumped from the van at the first opportunity and made for the jewelry shop.

  Boston stopped her before she’d crossed the street. “See you later?”

  Her lowered gaze met the asphalt at his feet. “I’m staying in for the night. I’ll grab a plate from Hani later if I get hungry.”

  “I can bring one up if you like.”

  “No.” A bloated pause, filled with something Boston couldn’t understand, let alone put a name to. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He watched her go, the short skirt of yet another little dress trying to drive him nuts with the hem flitting and dancing across the back of her thighs as she bounded across the road in a sort of half-walk, half-run to beat an oncoming car.

  Boston let it pass. In truth, he was in no hurry to take on Hani in what promised to be an epic battle of wills. Hani believed in helping people when possible. But he believed even more in keeping The Canopy alive.

  And Boston might’ve just done it in.

  The dining hall practically burst at the seams with an early dinner crowd. It happened for two reasons under normal circumstances. One, the weather had turned. Monsoon season pushed the beach park panhandlers to The Canopy in droves. Given the nice blue skies outside, Boston guessed reason two—Hani had served up something besides Spam for lunch. His educated guess proved correct as he wove through the room, waving and smiling at a few of the men who took note of his presence.

  Thompson sat closest to the hallway leading to the kitchen with a plate of stir-fry.

  “Hot damn, someone got their hands on some peppers.” Emily might be impressed if it didn’t still come with a side of rice. “Thompson, do me a favor. Keep the hallway clear, will you? I need a word with Hani. It might be a loud one.”

  The mute nodded and scanned the crowd, simultaneously forking another mound of rice and green pepper into his mouth.

  Boston patted his shoulder as he walked by. “Good man.”

  Hani had the kitchen working like a machine. Steam rose from several pots on back burners, and woks sizzled with the hiss and crackle of hot oil. The sweet smell of fried onion and pepper permeated the air.

  His stomach growled. The ice cream cone had been a damn poor substitute for lunch. He helped himself to a plate and let Hani do his Jedi thing with the food. No chance of talking to the guy now. He’d have to wait until the rush passed.

  He settled into the nook of his office desk and ate while he caught up on admin tasks he’d avoided the last week. He had a stack of messages to return, most of which were the longhand letters preferred by several of their older benefactors. Not that Boston could operate by e-mail if he wanted to. The bills, one for gas and two for light, he flung into the trash without opening.

  No point. Without a sizeable donation—as in several grand—there’d be no paying the bills.

  Emily had stayed the two extra weeks. The money Quinn sent had already been spent on last month’s bills and the usual stock—rice, Spam, fuel for the van, various outings with Emily. None of it came free. Everything cost something. The small amount he’d held back to help Kale with his debt seemed like a sad joke. Boston pushed his half-eaten plate aside and dropped his head onto the desk. He stayed there until Hani prodded him in the ribs.

  He came to with a start and rubbed his eyes.

  “Hey, man.” Hani poked him again. “Ain’t Emily waiting for you?”

  “No, she’s taking the night off. Finally got tired of my lesser company.”

  Hani crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb with a sly smile. “You’re wrong about her, I keep telling you. She’s always watching you. Calm and cool. Not looking like she does at me or Thompson. Watching. She’s hung up on you, and I bet the pretty little thing don’t even know why.” He shook his head like it was some great shame.

  And he’d be right if it were true. A damn shame. Boston blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up. “And I suppose you know why? You got some kind of ancient Hawaiian fable to explain it?”

  “Nah. Intuition, my man. You’re both dancing around this crush like you’re gonna live forever or something. I wish one of you would pony up. The denial has to be exhausting.”

  “Yeah, well, we have better things to argue about than Emily’s imaginary crush on a loser beach bum.” His hand shot up to cut Hani’s smart reply. “I’m serious. I found Kale.”

  A deep V formed in Hani’s thick black eyebrows, and his compressed lips gave away his anxiety. He waited.

  Boston wished for once he had good news.

  One day, he’d like to walk in The Canopy and say they’d received a five-figure government grant, or some rich dude discovered their worthy cause and donated half his fortune. Or a real estate guru with a big heart had taken pity on their dilapidated home base and given them a bigger building to operate from, one not built before the 1930s.

  He rubbed his cheek like he always did when things got uncomfortable. “Money, money, money, like always. Kale got into gambling, lost to a local. Ryder, being the friendly, helpful dude he is, offered to buy out the debt. Kale, being the dumb kid he is, decided he isn’t paying anyone. Then he ended up not having the money anyway because he gave it to his mom when she lost her job.”

  “I guess it was too much to hope we had it wrong.”

  Boston sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Here’s the thing, Hani. Kale’s a kid. He’s, what, twenty? He’s on the brink of getting himself thrown in jail, which will do a lot more than destroy his military career. He’s going to mess up his whole life over this. Compared to him, I’m practically a geezer. I’ve got no big future riding on the line. Hell, I’ll be forty this year—”

  Hani stood erect. He tilted his head to the side like a dog straining to hear a high-pitched whistle. His dark eyes narrowed and burrowed into Boston. “Nah,” he said, slowly. “You ain’t gonna say what I think you’re gonna say, haole. See, because I know you’d never do anything to jeopardize The Canopy.”

  Nothing like menace from a giant Hawaiian to get the hairs on one’s neck to do a jig, but if Boston let fear dictate his actions, he’d have never gotten sober. “You mean I’d never take on Kale’s debt and urge him to turn himself in before shit got real? I damn sure would. I’ll pay Ryder, okay? Somehow.”

  With a slow shake of his head, Hani took a step back. “I can’t believe this. I said we’d try to help, but you might as well burn this place to the damn ground. We struggle every day for the things we need to fulfill our purpose, which is to give these people something to eat daily, man. You think Ryder’s gonna send you a pink slip in the mail when you miss a payment like he’s the damn phone company or something? He’ll come after you like he hunted down Kale. Tell me, haole, where the hell are you gonna hide?”

  Boston came to his feet in such a rush, he hardly registered Akela entered the kitchen and came to a dead halt with a tray of dirty plates.

  Disappointment stirred with anger and lack of sleep. “You’d have let him ruin his own life? Why’d we bother finding him?”

  Akela set down the tray and backed out of the room. Probably for the best.

  Hani pointed a meaty finger at Boston’s face. “Kale has means. These people don’t. We don’t.” He went back to the counter and moved Akela’s stack to the sink. Then he gazed around the room like he’d never see it again.

  It might be the case if Boston d
idn’t come up with a plan for paying Ryder. “Hani, c’mon, man. We’ll come up with something. We always do.”

  “No.” He shook his head, resolute. “Bail money ain’t the same as a real debt, Bos. A guy like Ryder doesn’t track down an AWOL soldier—something the freakin’ Army can’t be bothered to do—for a couple bucks.”

  “I’m telling you, Hani—”

  “No, Bos. I’m telling you. I quit.” He breathed in, and his nostrils flared. “Monday I’m looking for a real job. A real, paying job. You wanna risk your future, you go right ahead. I didn’t drag my ass off the streets only to be homeless again when Ryder takes this place right out from under us to satisfy Kale’s debt.”

  The floor came out from under Boston. He gripped the desk to keep himself steady. Shock made it impossible for him get a proper breath. “Hani…”

  “Thompson loves to cook. He’s always bugging me to plan the menu. You ain’t even got to look for my replacement.” He strode past Boston.

  “You’re just quitting?”

  He kept his back to Boston. “Nah, man. I ain’t no quitter. But I ain’t no captain, either. I’m a rat like the rest of them, and I can’t go back to the streets. Not even for you, Bos.”

  Boston caught up to him as he plowed down the narrow hallway and tugged on his shoulder. “Don’t do this. Don’t walk away from me.”

  A grunt was the only acknowledgement of his efforts.

  A desperate laugh escaped Boston as he scrambled after his friend. His big, stupid friend. “You won’t even wait for me to fail? You’re gonna walk out before the movie’s over because you know how it ends, huh?”

  They’d made it into the dining hall when Hani turned around. Thank God, it had cleared. Dinner was over, and their drama could play out in privacy. Hani bumped into one of the long tables as he whirled on Boston. “You’re asking me to wait until I’m homeless to look for a job? As if we don’t both have personal experience with how impossible that is? I can’t afford the risk.” A thick finger jabbed Boston in the chest. “Neither can you.”

  Boston had expected anger. Hell, he’d expected Hani to be livid. Maybe hurl some shit, throw a tantrum, and stomp away with dire warnings and steam shooting from his ears in plumes. But he’d also counted on his support. If Hani didn’t have his back, no one did. He was doomed to fail.

  Why did the most important people in his life, the people he needed, always think it was okay to walk away when it suited them? To abandon him when he needed them most?

  He studied Hani’s face. Beads of sweat collected at his temples. “You’re no different from Jordan at the end of the goddamn day. Shit gets tough, money’s gone, hard times ahead.” He shrugged. “You bail.”

  He stalked away from Hani’s stunned face. The overgrown bear wasn’t the only one who could turn his back.

  “Boston, that ain’t fair—”

  Boston kept moving. “This is why people like me get drunk. Because people like you and Jordan leave us nothing else to fall back on.”

  He walked out of The Canopy and into a storm he hadn’t known was brewing. Gotta love Paradise.

  He turned first in the direction of Emily’s apartment. He stopped abruptly upon recalling her sudden disassociation. She’d made it clear she didn’t want him around. He started in the opposite direction, toward home, and stopped a second time.

  He didn’t want to go home.

  Nothing there. No one waiting.

  He let the rain pelt him. Why did humans have emotions without any good way to iron them out? He couldn’t outrun his fear of the future, the hurt of Hani’s decision, his anxiety over Jordan’s return, or his weird mixed-up feelings about Emily.

  In times like these, only one thing had ever done the trick.

  Chapter 12

  Emily did her best to hide her anxiety as she tossed her purse onto the dresser. She affected a careless bearing and a bored tone. “How’d you get past my landlady?”

  Ryder didn’t grin. Not his style. “It should offer you some measure of comfort. Wendy knows you aren’t alone up here. I’m sure if you yell loud enough, she’ll come running. Maybe even bring over your boyfriend from next door.”

  “A small measure, yeah.” No harm in admitting she didn’t appreciate a position of vulnerability. “I’m glad you got my text message, but you’re not so great at following instructions.”

  He shrugged and moved away from the bed, where he’d been sitting in waiting for her. “I’m better at issuing directives than obeying them.”

  Her nerves danced. Knowing Ryder’s true identity as an enforcer poked some holes in her armor. She had no experience with negotiation outside of her office, let alone with someone potentially dangerous and as silky-smooth as his wrinkle-free slacks and glossy black hair.

  A smart man. A smart criminal.

  I can work with smart. “You have something against meeting publicly?” The text she’d discreetly sent after Boston confessed his intention of taking on Kale’s debt had suggested they meet at the outdoor mall near the Alo Moana beach park.

  He gazed around the room, doing a much better job of appearing bored than she did. “I like you, Emily. We’d make great partners.”

  That surprised her. She kicked off her sandals, again going for relaxed and unconcerned. “You’re not my type, Ryder. My job involves helping people and their businesses become successful. You, on the other hand, prey on people who’ve made mistakes.”

  He tsked and gave her a sad smile. “Prey isn’t the right way to think of them. I don’t put them in debt. I don’t make them borrow money they can’t pay back. I didn’t force that young soldier to take my loan and the added interest. And I certainly have no hand in his inability to repay me. See, my specialty is handling communications.”

  She quirked a brow. “Communications?”

  His dark eyes and lashes looked the same as ever, but she no longer dismissed the granite beneath them. The night they met, he’d reminded her of a lion. She’d been wrong and right—Ryder was neither strong nor noble, but definitely a predator.

  “I’m very good at sending messages. Clear and precise.”

  She made a show of studying her fingernails. She had what Ryder wanted. His attempts to intimidate her grated, but she didn’t want to push her luck, either. “Since you’re here, I have to assume you never went to Kalihi.”

  “Do give Akela her dues. She did a wonderful job. I nearly fell for it. However, I’ve noticed Boston’s distrust. He read through me, and I knew he’d try to hide it from me if he ever had contact from Kale. So, I stuck to Boston. I watched your little meeting on the beach today.” His dark eyebrows came together, and he cupped his chin. “Then Kale did the most astonishing thing. He went to a nearby policeman on patrol and turned himself in. Unfortunately, getting rid of the debtor doesn’t vanquish the debt. You have the misconception the money I loaned Kale came from my personal store. Like you, I answer to someone.”

  She smirked. “So, what? You’re going after Boston for the money?”

  “No, actually, though I owe him a thank you for flushing my mark down the drain. Our pal, Boston, is a hell of a guy. So noble. He’s got scruples, but you know what he doesn’t have?”

  Money. Of course she knew. It was why she’d texted Ryder in the first place.

  Emily sighed and dug through her suitcase for a pair of pajamas. Silk or cotton? She dropped the silk gown and folded the cotton one over her arm. “Did you know Boston duped me to get you out of jail? He used my money. Well, my sister’s money.”

  Ryder didn’t feign interest in her story. He sauntered closer to her with his hands at rest in his pants pockets. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Quiet but intense. “You’re intelligent. Most intelligent people wouldn’t put themselves so blatantly in the path of trouble. I’m here because…” He paused, and though she knew it was for effect, chills still broke out over her flesh. “Well, I was here when I got your message, Emily. Waiting for
you. You do the math.”

  She closed her eyes. It had been one hell of a day.

  Jordan’s spiteful words at the deli this morning hadn’t given Emily a moment’s rest.

  You really think he likes you?

  No, she didn’t. He’d like someone similar to Emily. But not Emily. Never Emily. She’d been entertaining a tiny, niggling iota of hope because she was human, after all, but those words only grew louder and louder in her mind until they were an angry shout.

  Angry and familiar.

  No one ever wanted Emily.

  Blake wanted Quinn. Boston wanted Jordan—he wouldn’t be so terrified of losing his grip on sobriety if he didn’t. A part of him believed she was worth the trouble and the pain. A part of him wanted Jordan more than he wanted clarity. A small but powerful part.

  Emily scowled at Ryder. Someone to take it out on. How convenient. “I’ve had one hell of a long day, and your company is wearing thin. You’re no more frightening than one of my office pages, deathly afraid of pissing off someone a few floors higher. You’re an errand boy, and I’m the one with the goods. Drop the intimidation act or I can make your job a lot harder.”

  Ryder backed up slowly. He did everything slow, as if he needed time to think about each move before he made it. “Be careful, Emily. Be very careful with the next words you say to me.”

  “Yeah?” She stalked to where she’d dumped her purse on the dresser upon entering her apartment and dug around inside. “Can I assume ‘Do you accept out of town checks?’ works for you?”

  * * * *

  Emily returned to her room late. Too late for Akela to be sitting on the steps in front of the jewelry shop, with her legs crossed at the ankles and her arms gently folded in a Zen-like pose.

  “It’s an odd hour for yoga.” She paused in front of her, blocked from the shop’s front door.

  Akela’s eyes popped open. She didn’t bother checking the wristwatch she wore as she clambered to her feet and allowed Emily access to the door. “It’s an odd hour for you to be out on the town.”