The Spy Who Left Me: An Agent Ex Novel

by Gina Robinson

  So Carrie hadn’t been too drunk to catch that. And she knew who the gang was. She was a cop, after all.

  The other girls had formed a ring around them and were leaning in, listening with interest. Treflee felt sick, and not just because of the wild ride.

  Ty shrugged. “I may owe them some protection money.”

  Carrie arched a brow. “That’s generally their racket. What do you owe for?”

  “A little business I have on the side.” Ty ran his hand through his hair, suddenly looking nervous for the first time.

  He was faking it and doing a darn convincing job.

  He lowered his voice. “Look, don’t tell Tita. She’d can my ass.” He blew out a breath. “I need the cash and a place to lay low right now.”

  Carrie assessed him. “How deep are you in?”

  The hand through his gorgeous thick hair again. Definitely trying to manufacture a nervous gesture.

  “Nothing I can’t dig out of in a few days. I got a few dudes who owe me. Soon as they pay up, I’m golden.”

  Carrie leveled her cop stare at him, slightly blurry eyed from drink, but still effective enough that it would have driven the truth out of Treflee. Then again, Ty wasn’t a wimp like she was.

  “Chill. Really. That dude was just toying with me. Giving me a warning. If he’d been serious, I’d be dead. The Fuk Ching know how to use guns.” He grinned at Carrie with just a hint of nervous twitch.

  The acting classes had obviously paid off.

  Carrie tapped her fingers on her crossed arms. “These dudes of yours will pay?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He crossed his heart.

  “Soon?”

  “Definitely.”

  “You’re not selling drugs?”

  “No way.”

  “You should call the cops and tell them you’ve been threatened,” Carrie said.

  “Yeah? Why? What are they going to do? Charge in and yell, ‘Book ’em, Dano’?” Ty bounced on the balls of his feet and fidgeted with his hands. He played the nervous surfer very convincingly.

  “You don’t like cops? Don’t trust them?” Carrie persisted.

  Ty grinned. “Pretty cop tourists are okay.”

  Carrie raised a brow.

  Ty grew serious. “I’m saying—what are the cops going to do? Issue a restraining order? The Fuk Ching aren’t going down because I complained, you know? Better to just pay them off and keep my mouth shut.”

  Carrie shook her head. Finally, she let out a sigh. “Not my problem. I never heard anything. You never told me anything. I’m on vacation.” She paused and looked Ty in the eye. “From now on, I carry my gun.” She waved to the girls. “Let’s get some banana bread.”

  * * *

  The group took their bread and iced coffee and headed to the lava rock beach. Treflee sat on a large boulder at the edge of the water, well apart from the others. She munched her sweet, macadamia-nut-studded bread and stared at the rhythmic waves washing in, listening to the pounding of the surf and feeling the mist off the incoming water. She took off her shoes and dangled her toes in the little pools of water near her. Palm trees swayed on shore in the sea breeze. It was a pleasant, tropically pastoral scene.

  Ty pulled up a rock beside her. “You okay?”

  “I’ll live. I think. Thanks to Dramamine.” To emphasize the point, she finished the last of her banana bread and brushed the crumbs off her hands and shorts.

  He grinned. “And my expert, smooth driving.”

  She shook her head. “Your smooth moves almost drove us right over the edge of a volcano.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Give me another chance and I’ll show you some moves that will definitely drive you over the edge.”

  Treflee sputtered on a sip of iced coffee and turned to stare at him. “Shut up, smooth mover!”

  The man was incorrigible. He was teasing. Partly. She recognized a lusty sparkle in his eye when she saw it. Her toes tingled in response. She cleared her throat and took another sip of coffee, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction to him. He claimed her neck flushed when she was getting aroused and her breasts got bigger. The last thing she needed was him staring at her breasts right now.

  Oh, shoot! Guess where his gaze is focused?

  She cleared her throat, ostensibly to get the coffee out of the wrong pipe. Really, she wanted to draw his gaze upward. “Nice thinking back at the banana bread shack. I thought our cover was done for.”

  His eyes danced. “Never project your deficiencies onto others. You never could lie worth shit.”

  “You, on the other hand…” She set her cup down beside her and crossed her arms over her breasts. Yes, they were budding and she couldn’t even blame a cool breeze. Maybe the mist …

  He laughed again. Too bad it reminded her of better times. Safe, homey times. Memories were like that, floating up unbidden when you didn’t want them.

  She arched a brow. “Of course, now we have another thread to add to our cover bible. Another story to keep straight. And you’ll have Carrie playing with shadows and watching your every move.”

  He nodded. “Good. I need ex-bridezilla and her lady warriors to be alert and aware of danger. The more eyes on our side, the better.”

  He was staring at her neck. She fought the urge to uncross her arms and put a hand to her neck. Damn him! He knew how to rattle her.

  He picked up a rock and skipped it into the water.

  Treflee bit her lip, not wanting to say what was on her mind, but feeling she had to. “We can’t keep putting the others in danger.”

  Ty slid onto her rock, put his arm around her, tucked her hair behind her ear, and whispered in her ear with his hot breath and sultriest voice, “Are you suggesting we run away together?”

  She should have pushed him away, right off the rock onto his butt in the lava bed. But he had a hold on her. He’d either take her down with him or hold steady and make a fool out of her. For the moment, she relaxed into him, hoping to give him a false sense of security. And enjoying the smell of his aftershave and the coconut lotion on his skin. Coconut really was her weakness. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  He sat with his legs spread wide, feet planted in the lava rock, his thigh brushing hers as the waves inched toward them. It’s funny how something as simple as the sight of a leg can be so familiar, so comforting, and so sexy. No one had legs like Ty—firm and strong, covered with dark, curly, coarse hair that was springy to the touch.

  Two can play games. She ran her hands lightly over the hair on his leg and watched him shudder with a shiver of pleasure. He liked a light touch. She knew everything he liked and to what degree. She knew too well.

  His lips brushed the top of her head, just as a wave crashed near them.

  The gentle touch of his lips on her hair and the warm rush of his breath on her part sent a shiver of desire through her. This was a dangerous game, indeed.

  “Run away together? Away from this life altogether? Just start a new cover life of our own?” She paused, stunned by the emotion that had leaked out with her words and the temptation she felt to do just that, run away. She cleared her throat to cover the raw feelings she hadn’t expected. “I was thinking divorce court.”

  He took her chin and tilted her face up to his. “Divorce court is out.” His voice cracked. “I love you, Tref.”

  She felt a big but coming. Before she could protest or make him define it, he leaned down and kissed her. Softly. Sweetly. Insistently.

  She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to him, pulling him closer as a wave brushed her toes and another round of ocean mist cooled her, but not her ardor.

  She welcomed his tongue into her mouth. She’d missed him. Oh, how she’d missed him. She stopped thinking at all. If she had been thinking, she wouldn’t have wrapped her arms around him, slid her legs into his lap, and pressed against him, wanting to feel. All of him.

  She wouldn’t have made out with him like a teenager with too many hormones coursing through her. She would
n’t have gone on the offensive and groped him. Or stuck her tongue in his mouth and kissed him back so hard and passionately she might be bruising his lips.

  A wave roared and crashed over her. Unfortunately, it was not a wave of desire, but a real ocean wave that drenched them and brought her sputtering back to her senses.

  She pulled away, pushing her dripping hair out of her eyes. Leave it to Mother Nature to douse her ardor for her.

  Next to her, Ty wiped the water out of his eyes. “Damn.”

  Exactly.

  He coughed and squinted out to sea, pointing. “Are those your shoes?”

  She turned to look. “Shoot!” She bounded out of his lap after them.

  He caught her hand and pulled her back. “They’re gone, babe.” He was no longer staring after her shoes, but at her wet, white T-shirt, which had gone transparent, along with her white sports bra.

  She stared down at herself. A thousand curses on white! Her breasts had budded in the cool water bath and now her nipples stood out pink and pert. And growing more erect by the minute as Ty stared at them. She covered them with her hands, which only encouraged his leer.

  Ty’s yellow T-shirt had gone nearly transparent, too, and was molded against his muscular form. Looking at him, even scowling at him, only made matters worse. For both of them. His wet shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination, either.

  Only he didn’t seem embarrassed by it.

  She looked at the stretch of rough lava rock between her and the van. And then back at Ty. Oh, boy! Big trouble.

  He laughed. “What’s up, tenderfoot?”

  “You know very well what’s up!”

  He reached out to her. “Let me carry you.”

  She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes above waist level and her voice from going all breathy with lust. “No, thanks. It’s … too far. Go to the van and bring me back the spare pair of sandals from my overnight bag.”

  He raised a brow. “Too far? You don’t think I can carry a girl across a beach?” He crossed his arms. “I’m insulted.”

  “Come on, Ty. Don’t tease me. Go get my shoes.”

  “I’m not your errand boy.”

  She pointed to the stretch of beach. “I can’t walk across that.”

  He made a show of studying the beach. “I don’t know about that. If people can walk across hot coals, you should be able to walk across a few sharp rocks. Power of positive thinking.”

  “Ty!”

  He grinned and looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. We’d better get going if we’re going to make it to camp before dark. You don’t want to be on the road to Hana after dark. Very treacherous. Especially for people prone to motion sickness and gang attacks.” He turned to leave.

  “Ty!” She sounded pitiful. “Don’t leave me…”

  He turned back to her wearing a wry, hopeful expression and a grin.

  “… here. Don’t leave me here,” she finished, smiling sweetly, helplessly.

  “Well, well, look who’s at my mercy now. It’s the old ‘keep them barefoot’ trick.” His eyes danced.

  But not pregnant, she thought with regret and sadness.

  “Please,” she said.

  He took several steps back and swung her up into his arms. “Keep up the cover. Act like you like it. And help out a bit, would you? It’s a long way to the van.”

  She wanted to slug him. Instead, she put her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, molding herself to him like his wet shirt. At least this way her breasts were mostly covered, even if they did rub up against his chest in a most erotic way. “Better?”

  “Much.” He kissed her on the nose.

  She hated it when he kissed her on the nose and he knew it.

  But she refused to show it. Instead, she laughed and kept smiling, leaning up and brushing his lips with a light kiss.

  “I hope the girls didn’t throw all the beach towels out the window,” she said, pretending to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

  He looked her in the eye. “I kind of hope they did.”

  “That wouldn’t leave us much ammo for the next round.” She was teasing, but with the reminder of danger, she became serious again. “Ty, when are you going to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

  “When I have no other choice.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They arrived at their private campsite a few miles outside Hana just before dark. Treflee hated roughing it in any form. She grumbled to herself about having to sleep in a bag on a hard patch of ground. She’d probably be kept awake all night by a lava rock beneath her back, the thought of her husband sleeping not far enough away, and the fear of being attacked in her sleep. Tent doors weren’t much protection on that front. Nothing sounded better right now than the fluffy bed and stout, locked doors at Big Auau.

  Had it really only been this morning that she’d seen the sun come up over Haleakala and an enemy spy had tried to murder her with a bike pump?

  Now the dusky shadows were long, the colors vibrant. It was the kind of lighting that made even an avowed nonphotographer reach for a camera.

  They climbed out of the van and Ty opened the back. They each grabbed their own gear. Ty had repacked the picnic basket back at Keanae and salvaged most of their dinner. He tossed his bag over his shoulder, set the picnic hamper on top of the cooler, and picked them both up.

  Carrie slammed the door shut for him. Ty locked it with the remote and they were off through the jungle to their home away from home away from home.

  Ty fell into step with Treflee. She really should have offered to help him carry something. But he was being paid to be their packhorse. She decided to let him earn his keep and keep her distance.

  “I bet you’ve been looking forward to this,” Ty said with a touch of taunt in his voice.

  It galled her that he seemed to enjoy baiting her so much. He knew very well how much she “loved” camping. It was right up there with the way tourists felt about eating poi.

  They trudged down a heavily vegetated path. Just when Treflee thought her bag was going to cut through her shoulder, they rounded a corner and came upon a campsite on the edge of both beach and jungle. The scene looked as if it had leaped from the pages of a Hawaiian style magazine—live like a star in total luxury.

  Ty laughed. “Good man. Greg’s been busy.” He looked around camp and called out for Greg. “Aloha! Anybody home?”

  Treflee gasped. A large, elegant white tent stood flanked by a smaller one on each side. Tall tiki torches rimmed the perimeter of the camp and stood ready to light the entrance to each tent. A banquet table, laid out with porcelain bird-of-paradise dishes, linen napkins, beautifully carved wooden serving bowls, and snowy white candles, stood in front of the large tent. A centerpiece of proteas dominated the middle of the table and a fresh plumeria lei and white-wrapped package with bougainvillea-pink ribbon lay beside each place setting.

  The other girls came to a halt around Treflee. Carrie stood next to her.

  Treflee looked at the main tent again. And then it struck her. This wasn’t Hawaiian Style nice. This was Hawaiian Bride beautiful. She turned to Carrie. “Is that a wedding tent?”

  Carrie’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of buck-up defiance and tears. “Couldn’t get my money back. It was either use it or lose it. Same with the flowers and catering. Kiss my deposit good-bye or apply it to a smaller affair.”

  Carrie sounded so practical it was scary. What was next for her cousin who was in denial and trying to pretend everything was all right? Tear up and retool the wedding dress into a gown for the annual policeman’s ball? Turn the veil into a pair of curtains or maybe use it as mosquito netting?

  Treflee had to give her cousin credit, though. If the scene before her was any indication of what the wedding would have been like, it would have been beautiful. Who knew Carrie was so romantic and girly? She’d been wrong to imagine Carrie having a cop version of a redneck wedding.

  Treflee wished she could protect her cous
in from the heartache she was going through. Wished she could convince Carrie she didn’t have to put on a brave face, that she could let go and have a good cry, or rail at the world if she wanted to. Whatever made her feel better. Whatever helped her heal. She was among friends, people who loved her. Treflee put her arm around Carrie and gave her a heartfelt hug.

  Seeing her, the other girls crowded around and joined in a group hug. As they stood together hugging in that beautiful bridal scene, Treflee felt close to them, really close to them all, even the tiniest bit to Laci. After all, Laci didn’t know Ty was her husband. For the first time, Treflee was part of their circle.

  To Treflee’s surprise, Carrie squeezed back.

  They stood together until Carrie released her and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Come on, girls.” Carrie readjusted the bag over her shoulder, putting up the wall again. “Let’s settle in.”

  The girls traipsed after her like the obedient bridal party they were. Treflee followed right along.

  Ty caught Treflee’s arm. “What do you think now?” His eyes sparkled.

  He’d known about this all along.

  “The jury’s still out,” she said. “Are the beds any good?”

  “Good question.” His voice was low and sultry. “We could find out.”

  Greg came in at a run from the beach, interrupting her retort. “Aloha!”

  Ty waved to him. “There you are, man. Hey, awesome job with the table and flowers. You’ve got a knack. Ever thought of entering the floral business?”

  “Don’t get too cocky. You’re in charge of entertainment.” Greg relieved Ty of the cooler and hamper. Ty grabbed Treflee’s bag and showed her to the girls’ tent, lingering in the doorway as she took it in.

  Inside six cots were outfitted with fluffy pillows and cotton blankets. An overturned crate with a camp lantern sat beside each. Out back, there was a Porta Potti and a sun shower hung from a tree. All in all, pretty elegant digs.

  The only thing worrying Treflee were the canvas walls. Any old machete could whack through them in a swing or two.

  The others had already claimed their cots. Ty set her bag down on the empty cot nearest the door.