“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked over the top of the door. “You’re next.”
“Oh, no,” she declined. “I already own several. You saw me in one the night your plane landed on Midway.”
She decided to get while the getting was good and left the lieutenant in the dressing room while she went to pay for her purchases. She put two fresh gardenia leis around her neck and picked out a dozen postcards at random. He lined up behind her to pay for his gifts, grumbling about horses and water.
But the real awkward moment came when they left the store loaded down with all of the day’s purchases. The sun had already set and she suggested they catch a bus to her hotel on Waikiki Beach.
“There are something like twenty restaurants to choose from and we could drop off this stuff in my room.”
“Perfect, but let’s stop by an ATM so I can get cash and we’ll take a taxi.”
“That’s just male pride talking,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with public transportation.”
“There is on a date.”
“It’s not like this is a real date,” she said, trying to qualify it. “We’re just—” But she couldn’t think how to finish that sentence.
“Not on a date, eating, shopping and taking the bus together?”
“Exactly.”
Leading the way toward the bus stop, he tried to take more bags, but she wouldn’t let him. He carried enough already.
At the well-lit bus stop she unburdened herself. And thinking to appease him, she removed one of the leis she’d bought. She offered it to him, and he dipped his head so she could reach around his neck.
“Now we really look like a couple…of tourists,” she added in haste, feeling bright spots burning her cheeks.
“Doesn’t a kiss come with that lei?” he asked. And not in that teasing tone she’d become comfortable with.
“I don’t know. Does it?” She pretended ignorance, looking up and down the street for signs of a bus. Any bus!
“It’s tradition.” He stood there loaded down with shopping bags and expectations. He wanted her to make that move. She wanted to run.
She could already feel the Big Island getting smaller. What would happen when he came to her little sandbar in the ocean?
“And you’re a traditional kind of guy?”
“I am.”
Fate had brought him to her for the here and now, not for keeps. She should consider it her good fortune and just ask for his help. First she needed to ask herself to trust him.
She decided to take a hesitant step. “I think we have more in common than I first realized.”
“I hope so,” he said, putting his bags on the bench with hers.
“We’re both military brats,” she confessed. “The difference is you know your father and I don’t know mine. My mother was fifteen when he got her pregnant…and left us behind in Vietnam.”
His once-smiling lips were now in a firm line.
“I need…” The huskiness of her voice betrayed her raw emotions, and she struggled for control. “I need your help,” she expelled on an anxious breath.
“You know, there are whole organizations that reunite veterans and their families?”
“That route hasn’t worked so far.”
He crossed his arms. “Why me?”
It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting from her white knight. Shouldn’t he be mounting his trusty steed? Swooping her up in his arms for a kiss? Riding off into the night to slay her dragons? This is why she’d never believed in fairy-tale endings.
“Forget I asked.”
And she’d forget she just shared the most intimate details of her life with a total stranger.
She backed away from the wariness in his eyes.
But he stopped her by reaching for her arm. “Just humor me. Why do you think I can help?”
She looked at his hand, then his face. “I think our fathers served together in Vietnam.”
Her words worked like a stun gun. He dropped his hand immediately.
“I have a picture—” she dug into her briefcase for the proof. “It’s water-stained, or rather tea-stained, but there’s your father, right? And here’s mine. The one with the tattoo.”
He took the photograph from her.
“His name’s Skully, that’s all I know.”
Deep furrows of concentration formed above his brow. He neither confirmed nor denied his father’s presence in the picture.
She found it hard to catch her breath when he didn’t say anything. Too big a favor? “I don’t expect you to help me beyond information, of course,” she said, letting him off the hook, before he started to wriggle and she lost him. “I just thought that if you could tell me the name of the unit, it would be something to go on at least. Or maybe you could put me in touch with your father?”
He handed back the photo and met her uncertain gaze.
“Are you sure that man is your father?”
“Of course!” She felt outraged that he’d even asked. “Do you think my mother would lie to me about something like that?”
“I wasn’t accusing your mother of anything,” he said with quiet calm. Too quiet. “I’ll see what I can do. You have to understand, these men are legends to me. They’re Navy SEALs. I’ve always looked up to them—”
“And now you’re afraid to knock one of these legends from his pedestal?” Her spine became rigid. “You’re embarrassed for him, his family. He should be ashamed to have a daughter like me, right?”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. As a man I’d want to know. And I’d want to do the right thing. I’m shocked, that’s an honest reaction.”
“You know him,” she accused.
“I can honestly say I don’t know the man at all.” He worked gravel loose from a crack in the sidewalk with the toe of his polished shoe. “I don’t know if you can understand this—it’s going to sound like a bunch of bull when I say it out loud—but there’s an unwritten code between military men. What happens on the road stays on the road. You have to be able to trust each other with your life and that includes keeping one another’s dirty laundry a secret.”
He finally looked at her.
And she glared in righteous indignation. Now she was some man’s dirty laundry? “Like I said, forget I ever asked.”
Tam scooped up her bags from the bench. As the bus rolled to a squeaky stop, she rushed the opening doors.
“I never said I wouldn’t help.” He followed her on board, loaded down with bags and patting his pockets for change.
“All you had to say was that you would. As for your macho military code, you’re right. I think it’s bullshit!” She paid her fare and had the satisfaction of witnessing the driver kick him off the bus.
CHAPTER FIVE
2000 Friday
THE HILTON HAWAIIAN VILLAGE
Honolulu, Hawaii
“DON’T HANG UP. I’m in the lobby, holding your macadamia nuts hostage until you give me your room number.”
“If I was going to hang up on you, Lieutenant, I simply wouldn’t have bothered to pick up the phone,” Tam countered without the same humor as his request. She’d known it had to be him and thought about not answering, but realized she’d have to face him again sooner or later. And not just because she had half the man’s wardrobe in her hotel room. “I’m in the Kalia Tower,” she said, then rattled off her room number and hung up.
She prepared to wait by raiding the minibar.
It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t want to help her. But she’d seen the conflict in his eyes. Did he think she didn’t know that lives would be affected, even changed, if she did find her father?
Including her own.
Because she’d been unable to reach her mother, she had her own uncertainty to deal with. She didn’t need his as well. Or did he simply not want to get involved?
She rarely touched hard liquor, but she believed this occasion called for a good stiff drink. She twisted the cap off
the small bottle of gin. “Bottoms up.”
Not bothering with a glass, she simply poured back the contents. The bitterness matched her mood, stinging the backs of her throat and eyes.
It was less than five minutes before she heard that first tentative knock on her door. She’d managed three different shots in that time. But if courage could be found in a bottle, she hadn’t managed to find the right mix.
She tossed the empties into the trash and swept up his shopping bags on the way to the door. She opened it feeling nothing at all. He stood there in his uniform and her lei, leaning into the door frame with those soft, sympathetic eyes and that hard, heartless body.
He offered her bags without a word.
And she dropped his at his feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine, not that it’s any concern of yours.” She had her hand on the door, but couldn’t bring herself to close it in his face.
“Despite what you must think,” he said, “chivalry is not dead, just AWOL. But I’m here now and I want to help you. Forgive me?”
She broke eye contact first. Her chest felt tight, the back of her throat burned, and when she raised her eyes they were on fire.
“No,” she said dispassionately. But the single tear-drop rolling down her cheek gave her away.
He brushed it away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, honey. I’m the right man for this mission. But you have to trust me to do it my way.”
She sniffled. “I’m not crying, I have allergies. As for trusting you, we’ll see.”
BOWIE HAD CONVINCED HER to have dinner with him, but they had to wait for their table so they were seated in a nearby open-air lounge. He really didn’t know if he was the right man for this mission. He sure as hell didn’t think he’d escape unscathed.
He’d recognized his father. Her father. And every man in that photo. But he had to handle things his way.
With as little collateral damage as possible.
Her defenses were back up after he’d spent all day working to tear them down. So he resorted to small talk.
“So this is how the other half lives,” he said, looking around. They were far enough away from the waterfall that he didn’t have to talk above it.
“Per diem doesn’t even begin to cover it, and I can’t really afford it on my salary,” she admitted. “But I like to splurge when I get a chance to come to the Big Island.”
“How long have you been warden of Midway?” He took a sip of his beer.
“Three years. With another three to go on my new contract. And while I’m not the Crocodile Hunter, I do have a cyber classroom series that’s taken off. Who knows where that will lead.”
She absently stroked his bottle when he set it down. She’d ordered a diet cola. So it surprised him to see her taking a nip of his beer. He wondered if she realized how much of a sexual charge that was for him.
“Watch yourself,” he warned.
She glanced across the table at him, then at the bottle in her hand, as if she just realized what she’d done. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing it back toward him.
“I just meant it has a bite. Swore I’d never touch the stuff again, yet here I am.” He took a swig, imagining what she would taste like on his tongue instead of the beer. Flagging their server, he ordered them both one this time, along with an appetizer to stave off his hunger.
He nudged their shared bottle toward her.
“It’s an acquired taste,” she admitted before taking another sip.
“I figured you for the fruity-umbrella-drink type. But you’re full of surprises. Take the Paper Tiger for instance—”
“I just stopped in to use the pay phone,” she said, anticipating his question. “I’ve been trying to reach my mother.”
He didn’t believe it for a minute.
“Aside from the fact there are other pay phones in this city, you’d been in there before. Cadeo and Ginger both knew you. And from what I gathered, Cadeo at least doesn’t want you hanging around.”
She shrugged. “You caught me—”
He had to wait through the arrival and departure of their server before he could get to the bottom of that answer. “Care to explain?”
He dipped a tortilla chip into the pineapple salsa.
Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms across the table and leaned in before she started. “Cadeo doesn’t like me coming around because I try to talk the girls into another line of work. And Ginger is…a sad story, really.”
“Is that why you gave her money for whatever was on that piece of paper she gave you?”
Her hand stilled around the bottle. “Information. Nothing that concerns you.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied the tilt of her chin and the challenge in her eyes. “Tam, if you want me to help you, then you have to come clean with me.”
“My business with Ginger is just that, my business.” She washed down her words with beer.
“Let me be the judge of that.” Getting to know her would help him decide how best to break the news about her father when the time came. Besides, he had the ulterior motive of being interested.
“Ginger had information on a flower auction,” she offered with more defiance than grace.
“Don’t tell me you two belong to the same garden club?” He took another swig, trying to decipher her code.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you.” She looked smug. “That precious flower known as virginity?”
He sputtered, then pounded his chest.
She handed him a series of napkins until he regained control. “And here I thought you were a man of the world, Lieutenant.”
“Maybe you’d better start from the beginning.”
“When I handed over your knife, I spoke with an agent friend of mine in Customs. We got to talking and compared notes. It seems a large shipment of opium arrived Wednesday via military transport, then vanished. All traces of the flight, the manifest, the drugs, gone. Nothing but a memory. And all they’re being told is it’s in the right government hands. Except word on the street is supply is up.”
The pounding in his chest almost drummed out her words. Drugs didn’t just vanish. Into government hands? Stevens came to mind.
“What was in the cargo hold of your plane, Lieutenant?”
He put on his best poker face. “That’s classified. And what, if anything, does all this have to do with the auction?”
They were both leaning forward, speaking in low tones. “Opium and ba moui lam go hand in hand.” She tapped the label of her beer for emphasis.
“Butterflies?”
She took a deep breath and removed her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. “It’s another word for—”
“I know what it means.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’ve never paid for sex,” he said, offended that she’d even think it.
Her lips compressed to a thin line. “I make it my business to keep on top of things. And I’ve noticed a pattern over the years. An auction usually follows a large shipment. Ginger hears things. I pay her for the information. Then I place anonymous calls to the proper authorities. Sometimes we get lucky.”
“Except you haven’t explained what this has to do with you or even Ginger.”
She put her glasses back on. If they were playing poker he’d call it a “tell.” She was hiding something. So he listened very carefully.
“Like I said, it’s a sad story. We met a little over three years ago. I did my graduate work here at the University of Hawaii.” She picked at the label on her bottle. “Ginger worked the streets. I helped her get clean.”
“She’s a pro?” He sat back, stunned.
“Not anymore. Every once in a while I’ll get her thinking about college and a career. Unfortunately her self-esteem is so low that even though she got herself off the streets, she doesn’t believe she’s got more to offer than her body. But she’s managed to stay clean so I
can’t fault her on that.” She stopped picking and cradled the bottle in her hands.
While his brain processed the information, he dipped another chip. She reached for one and pulled back when she brushed his hand. He devoured the chip like the starving man he’d become.
“It wasn’t her fault.”
“It never is.”
“In this case she really was the victim. Ginger’s from Vietnam. At fifteen her father sold her to a drug warlord to pay off his opium debt. She was shipped to the U.S., her virginity sold to the highest bidder. Then she was introduced to opium to keep her manageable so she would ply her new trade for a very exclusive clientele. She had the courage to run, but wound up on the streets making a living the only way she knew how.”
“Does this drug warlord have a name?” He was almost afraid to ask, afraid he already knew.
“Xang.”
Information overload set his mind reeling.
“You transported opium from Thailand, didn’t you?” she accused. “Did you even think to ask why?”
“I’m not going to justify that with a comment.”
Tennyson had long been his favorite poet because the man knew a soldier’s mind. Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die… A code he lived by.
But suddenly he was asking himself why.
Armed with Tam’s revelation and his knowledge, Bowie had every reason to protect her from the truth. At least until all questions had been answered to his satisfaction.
“My 1-800-TATTLE-TALE calls may not seem like much to you, but at least I’m trying to do something—”
“Your table’s ready,” the hostess interrupted. “I can seat you now and get you another round of drinks if you like?”
“Do you mind if we skip dinner?” Tam asked him. “I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
THEY ATE IN RELATIVE silence. Tam picked at her surf and turf. She’d expected the lieutenant’s polite consensus, not his high-handedness. Never mind he’d been starving and she merely sulking because she’d been unable to force an admission about the shipment from him. She still didn’t know how it all connected to her islands and the footprint in the sand.
Midway Between You and Me (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 9