by Mimi Barbour
“What’s that got to do with your father?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Which case was it?”
“Kroller. I think there’s a tie-in between him and Tommy’s death.”
Intensely interested, Jack leaned forward. “No shit? You’re telling me you believe they were linked? We’ve been hitting dead-ends with Kroller for years now; every time we get close, the bastard shuts us down. I’d give my left nut to get something on that slimeball. If you think you have some pertinent info, give it to us and let us run with it.”
“Nope. It can’t happen that way. I need to be in on this one. Look, I just found out I have an uncle on my mother’s side who works for Kroller, has done for years. Tommy called him the day he died and they had words. I need to look into what happened.”
“How the hell can you do that? What about Relatives, and the fact that you’ll be having some of your own visiting you the day after tomorrow?”
Sloan groaned and swept his hair back. “Shit!”
Jack stood and began pacing. “Look, Booker, we need that operation to go smooth as fucking lake water on a still day. No screw-ups, nothing. Intelligence has intercepted some communications that there’s a lot of underhand activity happening on the island. The details they’ve collected so far allude to some form of an attack here in the holiday capital; we’re thinking bombs.”
“Crap! You’re kidding me?”
“Not at all. We both know that ISIS wants the US to quiver in fright; and to that extent, the fear mongers have done their job well. We all understand the cold, hard facts; they have people everywhere who are willing to die for Allah. And what better place for them to hit than the city where everyone comes to have their vacations free from danger.”
“And no doubt, like every other state in the union, Hawaii has given sanctuary to their share of new supporters to the cause.”
“Exactly. Knowing what we do, we can’t afford to mess up with these neighbors of yours and their visitors.”
“You’ve managed to attain proof against the Amans’ relatives?”
“That’s just it. They aren’t relatives, no more than Hawkins is your fucking sister. We’ve been able to ascertain that much. As far as we’re concerned, they’re strangers who have somehow forced their way into the Amans’ lives by pretending a relationship to Janna’s brother.”
“Crissakes. You’re serious.”
“Like prostate cancer. We have other leads we’re following, but the people planning to visit Samir Aman have shady shit in their background, enough for us to keep a close eye on all their activities. That’s why we need you and Agent Hawkins totally focussed on that family. There has to be someone watching their house all the time.”
“Seriously?” Sloan moaned. “How the hell—?
Interrupting, Jack waved him quiet. “Look, I know you have commitments at the garage and we’ve taken care of that for you. One of the other agents has a brother who took his mechanic’s ticket and needs a job. I was going to tell you about him today. We’ll pay his wages if you put him to work and free yourself so you can help Al in the stakeout. With her kid around, she won’t be able to man the binoculars and other equipment all the time. Either you or Agent Howard will sub for her when she needs assistance. I’ll leave you to work out the details.”
“What about Kroller?”
“With your reinstatement, you’ll have access through the computers into most of the files, and in time, I’ll make sure you have total clearance on that case. But for now, we expect you to do the job you’ve been assigned to.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Sloan left Jack’s office and slumped against the wall. Jack’s secretary had left and he grabbed this moment of privacy to gnaw on the inside of his mouth while he let his screaming nerves settle to a dull roar.
Every instinct in his body said he should search for Tadeo Kealoha and beat the truth outta him. Find out for sure if his dad had been messed with, if he needed to arrest his killer.
Unfortunately, training had a way of messing with a guy’s intentions. Plus his respect for Jack held him from acting crazy and following his instincts to get to the bottom of the mystery.
He’d always taken his career seriously, respected the badge and played by the rules, like he’d been taught by the three men he loved. But, he wouldn’t let this go. Even after eight months, the grief of missing his father ate at him.
Unlike the cliché, the pain hadn’t lessened with time. It was as raw today as the day he’d returned from his undercover case and found out he’d missed the funeral. That horrible, gut-wrenching despair of not being there when he should have been fueled this need for revenge.
Breathing deeply, he unclenched his hands. Through the glass walls, he scanned the main office and noticed Alia Hawkins at her desk, head down, light-brown hair gathered on top of her head.
As if she sensed being watched, she looked up and found him instantly. They made eye contact and a question appeared in her expression. She started to rise. Then others in a roomful of workers walked between them and he lost her. The following irritation loomed way out of proportion. Damned if his crazy-assed heart had kicked into overdrive and that left him reeling. Jesus! Why would his body react just from seeing the woman at a distance?
He rubbed his hands over his face.
“You looking for me?”
Straightening, he tried to grin but it fell short. “Now why would you automatically think I came here to see you?”
“Maybe because you were staring at me and I had the feeling you wanted to talk. My bad.” She turned to walk away, her back stiff and her attitude kinda sour.
Sloan had seen her expression, wariness mixed with concern and knew his stupid remark had bothered her, and that bothered him. Shit! Women! Who knew what would turn them off?
He made sure he softened his tone and added the appropriate amount of remorse. “Well, thanks for checking.” Roy had told him years ago that women liked to be appreciated for any little thing they did, and he’d earned many favors, including sexual, applying this rule.
She stopped. When she looked at him, questions loomed in her stunning blue eyes and she hesitated.
He’d noticed before that she wore a lot of makeup; false eyelashes and intense colors applied generously. Her face appeared satin smooth, her skin covered with creams and powders that made him think of a magazine model rather than an ordinary working girl. To him, she didn’t seem fake as one might think, just untouchable… a poor, sad soul hiding behind a mask. Now where in the hell had that thought come from? You’re losing it, bud.
“Did you want to talk? I can grab a coffee.” She leaned on the wall next to him, her hands tucked in the pockets of her short black skirt. Worn with a white shirt-blouse, open at the top and tantalizingly revealing, she looked efficient and sexy as hell. It was probably her black shoes with three-inch heels at the end of those gorgeous legs that changed her outfit from mouth-watering to fantasy-creating.
He cleared his voice and straightened. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
“Just so you know, I’m not nice. In fact, I think nice is truly overrated. But we’ll be working together for a while and I make one hell of a good partner.”
He searched her gaze, holding it until she finally looked down. She’s also a liar. Hmm!!
“Then we make a good pair.” He smiled his winning grin that had gotten him a lot of tail over the years. “Rain check on the coffee. I have to get back to the garage. I’m winding up as much of the work there as I can so I’ll be free to assist you in the stakeout. Jack just promised he’d send over a mechanic to take on most of my smaller jobs.”
As if she didn’t want to let him go, she added. “We talked earlier and Jack mentioned he was going to contact you. They’re really concerned about the Amans’ visitors. I think the bombings on the mainland aren’t helping to calm worried politicians. Those bigshot power-mongers are applying a lot of pressure to the various agencies to get on
top of the threats.”
“Well, we’ll do our best. But you’ve never met these people, so I’ll wait to see your thoughts about them after tomorrow.”
She studied him more intently. “I can tell by the tone of your voice, you don’t believe them capable of terrorism.”
“I don’t.”
“Right! It’s funny how the neighbors of extremists always tell the reporters, they were so normal… so nice.” Her grin invited his.
He picked up on her taunt and liked her way of mocking him. He chuckled. “True. I get what you’re saying. These people are all that, but they’re also honest and caring. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I guess I will. Later…”
He watched her saunter away, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, and every male hormone in his body stood to attention, including the mister down below that should have known better at his age. For fuck’s sake.
Chapter Twenty-three
Kean wouldn’t stop asking questions. The next morning, all the way back from taking Ruby to the airport, he hounded her. “This guy owns a garage, right? And he’s my uncle?”
Alia had tried to tell Kean it was make-believe, but the boy had glommed onto one word, uncle, and he wouldn’t let it go. Believing he had a male relative had made all the difference, so that even Ruby’s leaving had taken second place.
Sure, he’d held on to his nanny at the departure gate, but there hadn’t been the expected tears. Not like Alia, who had disgraced herself. She and Ruby had hugged tight, swaying back and forth, unexpected emotion making it impossible for her to say the calm good-bye she’d planned.
Once the door closed behind the last passenger, Ruby… Kean had taken Alia’s hand and dragged her to the car, excitement making his eyes glow. “We get our bags now and go to the barbecue, right? My uncle will be expecting me.”
“Kean, remember what I told you? He kinda knows we’re coming but not when. He’ll be surprised to see us today.”
“I know. He just wants us to live with him for a while so he can get to know us. And you decided with Ruby leaving, now was a good time. Right?”
“Right.” The kid had almost verbatim what she’d told him the night before. She’d wanted to stop his tears, take away the sadness he’d suffered ever since he’d found out his nanny would be leaving him, and her news had worked like a charm.
“You don’t know him, right? You didn’t live together. He had another mommy and daddy who brought him up. That’s what you said.”
“That’s right. I never really got to know him. So now that workers are renovating our house, I decided we’ll surprise him today. You and me. We’ll get the gear we packed yesterday, call a taxi and away we go.”
“What about your car?”
“My car?”
“Why aren’t we taking your car instead of using a taxi?”
Thinking fast, Alia answered, “Because it’s the agency’s car and they’re going to pick it up. I’ll get another one later. But for now, we won’t have any wheels.”
“You’re not working for the FBI anymore?”
Okay, now what should she say? This lying stuff was hard, something she never did, so she hadn’t realized how one lie could lead to another and before a person knew it, the bullshit was so deep, they’d better stay upright.
“Remember, I warned you. We can’t tell anyone I used to work for the FBI. It’s our secret. We’ll surprise your uncle and I can also spend more time with you.”
“And get to know Uncle Booker too. That’s a weird name…. Booker.”
“I told you, his name is Sloan Booker. You can call him Mr. Booker.”
He giggled. “Mom… you don’t call an uncle mister. Maybe my uncle can buy you some.”
Lost in the labyrinth of his boy-mind, she asked. “Buy me some what?”
“You know – wheels.”
Yeah, like that’s going to happen!
“So you can pick me up at school like Ruby does.”
“Right. Pick you up.” How could she have forgotten? Her son needed to get back and forth from his school every day, and it was up to her to get him there and back home again. Circulate among all those other mothers and pretend like she knew what the hell she was doing. As if the mother role came naturally.
Oh God!
***
Later, shutting up the house, locking doors and windows, gave Alia a jolt she never expected. Between her and Ruby’s efforts, the house had become a home. Lime green pillows decorated the gray sofa and chairs, and there were lots of sparkling glass vases usually full of garden flowers.
Most of the artwork was from local artists who loved the islands and focussed their paintings on where they lived. She’d slowly invested herself into these surroundings, so much so, that it felt like a real home.
As she went from room to room, making sure she hadn’t missed anything, she stopped at the arch in the hallway to the kitchen and fingered the dated cut mark she’d made when they first arrived. It was to be Kean’s new monitor which would show him that he really was growing.
The phone in her pocket rang and her heart dropped. Not now. No way!
“Hey, Cassie, you’re messing with me, right?”
“Don’t get your panties twisted, kiddo. We’re cool. I just wanted to let you know we’re thinking aboutcha. Ruby said this new assignment you’re on will be tough, and that you were nervous as a chicken being chased by a hungry farmer with a cleaver.”
Shocked that Ruby said anything about her at all, she bristled. “What did Ruby tell you?”
“Calm down, missy, she only said you’d be staying with relatives and you needed a break, warned us not to pester you unless we were desperate. I’ve got a couple of others carrying phones so you’ll be my last resort. I promise. We’ve got you covered. Go and have some fun.”
Tension released too sudden made Alia drop to the kitchen stool and hold her head in one hand, her loose hair fanning over the counter in a cascade of waves. “Shit, Cassie. Don’t mess with me like this. I figured you had a call for me.”
“Nope, just sending some sisterly love your way, and telling you if you need anything from those of us in the group, we’re here for ya. Bye now, chickie. Love ya.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bye. And thanks.” Alia threaded her fingers though the soft mass of golden-brown strands, lowered her forehead to the counter and took a few deep breaths. Then she gazed around her lovely kitchen, which had been mostly Ruby’s domain, and stood to gather the cookbook and the other articles Ruby had insisted she’d need if she was to look after Kean properly.
The list of directions that sat on top of the pile gave her pause and she quickly scanned them to see her son’s favorite snacks for school, his best friend’s phone number and loads of other information she didn’t know. What kind of a mother didn’t know her own kid needed his soccer shorts clean for Mondays and Thursdays, and that he preferred the white ones with the red stripes rather than the red ones with white stripes?
And… that he hated fresh bananas but loved banana muffins, recipe on page 102. OMG! There were more instructions here than in the FBI Manual on self-defense.
How the hell was she going to cope with this besides keeping Sloan from having a breakdown with a strange kid around and still do her job?
“Mom. The taxi’s here.”
“I’m coming. Just locking up in here.” Before she left, she snagged a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Time to toughen up… chickie! This won’t be that bad. Good lord, girl. You’ve stood up to men twice your size and never thought to back down. Now you’re just being a wuss.
She grabbed another tissue.
Chapter Twenty-four
Just as the taxi pulled out of the driveway, Alia spotted a familiar blonde head in a strange car parked up the street. The woman looked like Libby, the same PI she’d stopped a few days ago.
Not having believed any of the lies that’d slid out of the woman’s mouth, she’d done a search on the firm and on its owne
r, Libby Holt. Turned out, Libby had a good reputation, was older than the mid-forties Alia had thought she was, and had a decent clientele. Paul would have chosen the best; she’d never underestimate him in that way.
But right now, the last thing Alia wanted was for Miss Libby Holt to know her destination.
Alia leaned over to talk to the large Hawaiian fellow behind the steering wheel. He was all dreads, big-ass sunglasses and sporting a loud, orange-flowered shirt that brightened up the interior of the older model taxi. Making sure that Kean had his earphones on and connected with his iPad, she took a hundred from her purse and slipped it in front of the driver.
“There’s a blue car following us, my husband’s PI. She’s blonde with big hair and driving the Focus. Look, the jerk wants to take away my kid. This money’s for you if you can lose her.”
Brown eyes checked her out in the rear-view and he grinned. “You got it, wahine.” Suddenly he took the corner on the left and, going against the traffic for a short distance, he sped up the street. Then he veered into a gas station that led to another intersection. He did a u-turn halfway down that street and ended up driving through a yard where a driveway was accessible from the back and a garage sat in the middle.
As they approached, he pushed a button and the garage door magically opened and shut, enclosing them into the small area.
Alia laughed. “Whose house is this?”
“Mine.” The driver grinned back, and she noticed Kean was now looking shocked and slightly worried. “No problem, keiki, I just have to pick up something from my house. Your mama’s okay with it. I’ll be right back.”
Kean’s eyes were huge. “Mo-om!”
“It’s like he says, babe. He’s got to pick up something, and I told him we weren’t in a hurry. Personally, I figure he has to hit the bathroom and knew he was so close to home, he decided to come here.” She winked, and Kean picked up her lack of tension and relaxed.