by Toby Neal
Raveaux had been braced for that. He didn’t react. He’d never believed all this effort and manpower were being deployed to capture only Connor, no matter how effective a cyber vigilante he was. “Who are the associates you’re after?”
“That’s classified,” Beckett said.
Voise softened the CIA man’s comment with an affable shrug. “Suffice to say, Connor is a big fish, but we’re after even bigger ones.”
Raveaux sat forward and placed his wrists together in a ‘you got me’ gesture. “What do you want me to do?”
They proposed that Raveaux lure Sophie back to the United States with an excuse, so that they could track where she was hiding and likely “consorting” (according to Beckett) with Connor at a hidden location in Thailand. “She visits him at that location and uses the Security Solutions jet on her trips. All we need are the coordinates, verification that the man’s there, and we can scoop him up. Our contact in Thailand has already agreed to his extradition.”
“Extradition where?” Raveaux’s brows raised.
“Where we take all traitors like him. Guantánamo, of course.”
“All right.” Raveaux had no choice but to agree in this moment. “But I can’t contact Sophie for at least a full month since she went on leave. She won’t come in before then. She has her daughter with her, and she’s grieving. If I push too hard, she’ll check with Bix at Security Solutions, find out it’s a hoax, and this whole trap will fall apart.”
They’d agreed, reluctantly, to push back their timetable.
At last Raveaux was left in peace. He shut the door and locked it behind them, a vain gesture. He had to try to work out some kind of plan—but at least, for the moment, he’d bought a couple of weeks’ time.
Raveaux hurried to change and go for a swim so he could sort through this latest challenge.
He dove into the cool dark water. His goggles protected his eyes, but there was no point in opening them—the moon hadn’t risen, and there was nothing to see but the reflected lights of the hotels dancing on the waves and faint starlight overhead. He breathed on every other stroke as his arms scythed through the water in a smooth overhand crawl, his feet kicking up a foamy wake.
Raveaux’s heart rate, jacked up by the unwelcome visit to his apartment, finally began to calm as he swam—but the toehold he had on his new life had never felt more tenuous.
He reached the end of the curve of Waikiki Beach, marked by a stone jetty. He executed a flip turn before he reached the rocky area and headed back, mulling over the events of the evening.
He was trapped. His apartment had to be bugged. Everything he did was likely under surveillance, and as a foreign citizen on a work visa, he had few rights.
Raveaux paused, taking a moment to tread water and rest. He put his goggles atop his head and tipped it back to gaze at the starry sky. A few silvery wisps of cloud floated by; off in the distance he heard a plane approaching the nearby airport. But when he submerged his ears, all he heard was the swish of water, and off in the distance, the haunting song of whales.
If he called Sophie back to Hawaii with the trumped-up story they’d given him to tell her, he’d be betraying her in the worst way, and for what? There were elements in play of which he had little idea, such as this clandestine Yām Khûmkạn organization.
The ambassador probably thought he was protecting his daughter by cooperating with law enforcement on this operation—but there were larger forces at work. Sophie and Armita could too easily become collateral damage in a clash between the “criminal associates” and the international agencies—or handy scapegoats if things didn’t go as planned and someone had to take the fall.
Raveaux slid his goggles back down over his eyes, turned, and resumed his crawl stroke. He swam and swam through the dark water, wrestling with the situation, trying to find a way out—for himself, and for Sophie.
Chapter Forty-One
Sophie
Two weeks after Raveaux’s visit from the agents
Sophie’s custody month with Momi on the island had passed, one week blending into the next like a dream. Each day, Sophie slept a little better, ate a little more, and cried a little less. Long walks on the beach, teaching Momi to swim, picking flowers, playing in the sand, and chasing the active toddler around the island seemed to be working their healing magic.
On one of her daughter’s daily video calls, she asked to speak to Momi’s father.
“How are you doing?” Alika asked, his brows drawn together in concern. Their longtime friendship had only been strengthened by co-parenting Momi.
“One day at a time, as they say.” Sophie ran her fingers through her daughter’s ringlets as Momi played nearby on the floor with her favorite truck, making rumbling noises as she pushed it back and forth. “I hate to ask this of you, and I never have since she was born, but . . . can I keep Little Bean for another month? I don’t know how I’m going to do without her once she leaves.” Sophie bit her lip. “I’m holding off the depression, but—Momi is a wonderful distraction.”
“Sure. I understand. I’ll miss her, but if Sandy had died, I’d be asking for the same thing.” Alika had married the physical therapist who’d helped him adjust to having only one arm, and they seemed very happy together. “We both know Momi’s pure joy to be around—with a few temper tantrums thrown in.” He smiled fondly at his daughter across the miles.
“Thanks, Alika. I’m on leave from work, and this island is a healing place for me.”
“Keep me posted on how things are going, how you’re doing. Are you working out?”
“Not much, actually.” Sophie shook her head. “Dr. Wilson calls it anhedonia—loss of interest in activities you usually enjoy. I’ve been lying around, playing with Momi, or taking swims in the ocean. The water’s even warmer and calmer here than Hawaii.”
“Speaking as your former coach here—I think you need to hit the weights and add cardio to your routine. I know you, Sophie, and if you aren’t getting those endorphins, the depression could get worse.”
“At this point, I can’t tell how much of feeling so lethargic is grief, or depression. Maybe they’re the same right now.” Sophie’s smile was forced. “But thanks for the encouragement. I’ll give it a try, because as usual, I know you’re right.” She told Momi to say goodbye to her daddy, and they ended the call.
Armita came to the door, waving a towel in each hand. “It’s bath time, Little Bean. You get the red towel, or the blue one. Which do you want?”
“No bath! No towel!” shrieked Momi, jumping up to run away. Armita made growling noises and flapped the towels like wings, and Momi’s temper turned to giggles as they ran toward the bathroom.
Sophie remained where she sat, cross-legged on the woven matting that covered the teak floor.
She had her daughter for another month. A reprieve.
She stood up and swayed at the rush of blood from her head. She grabbed the edge of the dresser until the wooziness passed. Even as it did, she continued to cling to the dresser, needing its support.
“No,” she said aloud. “No, it can’t be.” But the last time she remembered feeling faint was when she was pregnant with Momi. “No,” she said again, and fumbled over to the bed to collapse upon it, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Oh, no.”
She had to force herself to think the situation through and count the weeks backward.
She and Jake had made love in that lava tube close to eight weeks ago. She’d begun to take a pill prior to that, but it must not have been up to effective strength, and she’d been so distracted by grief she hadn’t noticed missing her period.
Sophie slid her hands up her flat belly to cup her breasts. They were plump and tender to the touch, even though she’d had no appetite and lost weight since Jake died.
She didn’t need a pregnancy test to know—all the signs were there.
“How could this have happened to me?” Sophie whispered aloud, speaking to the spotted gecko who really liked the beam above
her bed. “I can’t have another child with no partner.” Her cheeks heated at the shame—two children by different men, and no ring on her finger!
And yet.
This was Jake’s child. He would have been so happy. He would have been ecstatic.
Her hand slid down to rest over the apple-sized hardness of her uterus, resting in the cradle of her pelvis. She palpated the area gently, closing her eyes.
She could almost feel Jake’s arms around her, his tender kiss on that spot where the baby grew. He’d lavished kisses on Momi, there too, while Sophie was pregnant; once he decided she was his, she had been—in all but name.
And if this baby lived, something more of Jake than a few organs donated to strangers would remain. The child would always remind her of her kun dii, and of the love and passion they’d shared. He or she would be a living epitaph.
That Jake wasn’t alive to share this moment with her made tears rush to Sophie’s eyes.
She wrapped both arms over her face to stifle them. “Five minutes. That’s all I get. Five minutes,” she muttered. She breathed through the urge to cry, and uncovered her face.
Connor came to the door. He frowned at the sight of her lying flat on the bed. “It’s dinnertime and Nam has some great stir fry going. You feeling okay?”
Sophie sat up quickly, hiding her dizziness at the abrupt motion. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind having us for longer—Alika said it’s okay for me to keep Momi another month.”
A grin broke across Connor’s tanned face. Unlike Sophie, he spent long hours working out in his gym, running around the island, meditating in precipitous locations, and drilling with his collection of weapons. He was as hard and chiseled as he’d been the day he joined her from the compound. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to stay the whole time, but I hope so. I could get used to this relaxed life.”
“Ha! You? Relaxed?” Sophie slid an arm through Connor’s as she walked toward the dining room, firmly shutting a mental door on the thought of her pregnancy. “I’m going to join you in the gym tomorrow.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Sophie
Sophie lay on the bench and pushed a barbell loaded with half of her usual weight. She was shocked by how much muscle tone she’d lost, between the ordeal in the lava tube and a couple of months of wallowing in grief. But Sophie’d meant what she said to Connor the day before; pregnant or not, she was getting back in shape.
Across from her, Connor pistoned his body up and down on a pullup bar set in the doorway of the open-air gym, a space she was very familiar with from the time she’d spent in it more than two years ago, getting fit after Momi’s birth and preparing to retrieve her from her mother.
Sophie’s ears were covered by a pair of cordless headphones, and the heavy beat of rock music kept her moving even as her arms trembled with strain. Finally, she dropped the bar back into its cradle, and took her time sitting back up. She lifted a water bottle to drink, though it made her queasy. Staying hydrated was important.
She hadn’t wanted to get up that morning at all. The days ahead had seemed entirely overwhelming when she’d woken up and remembered that, not only was Jake dead, she was pregnant with his baby.
But then Momi had climbed up for her wake-up game of peek-a-boo, and Sophie had suddenly seen how it could be: two little heads popping up beside her bed, instead of one. Two pairs of arms to hug, two little bodies to hold, two little people to love.
And one of them she’d have with her all the time, and not have to share with anyone.
But she’d still needed every one of her five minutes of cry time to vent her self-pity over this new mountain to climb, alone, when she wasn’t in shape for it on any level—until Connor had shown up at the door with a handful of spandex, and told her it was time to work out.
“Want to spar later?” Connor’s voice was fuzzy with her headphones on.
Sophie turned the music off to hear his question repeated as he walked over to her, sweat gleaming on his tanned muscles, wearing only a pair of nylon shorts. Sophie eyed him up and down—he’d always been in good shape, but he was at a whole new level since he became the Master’s Number One. Handsome as he was, she felt nothing for him but friendship—and broken trust. He’d demonstrated where his loyalties lay, and she couldn’t forget it.
“I’ll pass on that for now. As you can see, I’ve got a way to go to get back in shape.” Sophie set the water bottle down. Her phone beeped, a loud toning in her headphones. She got so few calls here that she hit the Receive button automatically. “This is Sophie.”
“Sophie? It’s Pierre Raveaux.” The Frenchman’s voice was smooth as a good cognac.
She’d always liked his voice—but she didn’t want to like it.
“Hello, Pierre,” Sophie said coolly. “I’m on leave. What’s so urgent that you had to call me at my private residence?” No, she didn’t want to hear this man’s voice. Or speak to him. Or see him, especially now that she knew about the baby. Maybe she could get away with never seeing him again . . .
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sophie. But the girl we brought in—Lia Ayabe, remember her? She is suing Security Solutions for wrongful action. Emotional and physical pain and suffering.”
“What?” Sophie stood up too fast and had to grab the weight bench for support. “She’s a minor with no resources. How can she do that?”
“We didn’t know when we got the case that she had declared herself an emancipated minor, and apparently, she’s quite wealthy. Her mother left her money, and Mr. Ayabe neglected to tell us that.” Sophie could almost see Raveaux’s Gallic shrug. “I’m sure this will eventually resolve in our favor, but the Security Solutions lawyers are asking you to come back to Hawaii to give a deposition. A formal statement in question and answer form about your activities on the case.”
“I know what a deposition is. Maggots crawling on a scurvy corpse,” Sophie swore. She began to pace. “Just when I was getting back into the gym.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Connor teased. He lay down on a slant board and began sit-ups.
“I don’t see why I have to come all the way back for the deposition,” Sophie complained to Raveaux. “Can’t we record my statement remotely?”
“Unfortunately, they insist it has to be done in person.” Raveaux was getting tired of her testiness; she could tell by his extra calm, deliberate tone. “Everyone regrets disturbing you in your time of grief.”
“Son of a two-headed dog,” Sophie snapped. “Tell Bix he should be the one to call me for this kind of thing in the future, and tell him to send the corporate jet ASAP.”
“Send the jet where?” The inquiry hung in the air. “Are you even in the United States? Bix is on vacation.”
“Fine. I’ll call for the plane.” Sophie hit the End button.
“Wow, you’re salty.” Connor swiveled around and mopped his streaming face with a thin cotton towel. “Who was that?”
“Raveaux. Summoning me back to the office on Oahu for a deposition.” Sophie got on the elliptical trainer in the corner of the room. “Is it okay to leave Momi and Armita here with you for a few days? I won’t be gone long. But I want you to stay here and make sure they’re safe.”
“Of course.” Connor smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course I worry. The Master and my mother know where my daughter and her nanny are, and you’re the one that led them here.”
Connor narrowed his eyes right back at her. “Do you really think they didn’t know about this place all along? Given that, if they wanted to take Momi and Armita, they already would have done so.”
Sophie had no answer for that. She pumped her arms and circled her legs, quickly getting out of breath on the elliptical.
“Your mother wants to bury the hatchet,” Connor said, getting on a bike alongside her.
“I’m not familiar with that phrase.”
“It means make peace. End the warfare. It comes from a Native
American custom dating back several centuries.”
“I accepted her apology. Doesn’t mean I plan to let her get any closer to me or mine.”
“Fair enough—but don’t lose sleep over Pim Wat making some kind of move on Momi. You saw the woman; she’s a wreck.”
“I know who and what she is. What she’s capable of. I’ll never trust her around my child. Or Armita, given their history. Period.”
Connor nodded. “And I agree. But I trust the Master, and I don’t believe he’d let her do you any harm.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sophie got off the elliptical. “And now I have to go get ready to fly back to Honolulu. Just watch over them, will you?”
“You know I will.” Connor leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Like they were my own.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Sophie
Twenty-four hours later
Sophie walked to her office at Security Solutions after greeting Paula, her assistant, who’d been reassigned to man the front desk in her absence.
Sophie’d slept for most of the thirteen-hour flight from Phi Ni to Honolulu. She then had taken the time to shop for food. At her Pendragon Arches apartment, she showered, dressed carefully, and put on makeup, keeping an eye on the time—and she’d arrived at the Security Solutions building early. Time enough to review her email, and see if anything required her immediate attention before the deposition was scheduled.
Her underlying grief and the pregnancy continued to sap her energy, and she looked forward to a few minutes alone as she pressed down the door handle of her office—and found it unlocked.
Sophie frowned as she pushed the portal open and stepped inside.
Seated in a chair in front of her desk, an ankle propped on a knee and a paperback open in his hands in his characteristic pose, was Raveaux.