by Toby Neal
Jake’s eyes were fierce as they flashed from the road to meet hers. “Anything I can do.”
“I need that support, thanks. I started pursuing this lead, but am not sure there’s much there. It’s thin. But it could be a connection to Assan here on Maui.” She described her visit to Paradise Treasures. “There was nothing conclusive, but this seems like the kind of thing Assan would do—loan this gallery owner cash so he’s able to hide his money there, and have her provide a cover for him in return. I didn’t find anything concrete, just had a feeling something was off. The owner was…alert, I would say, to any probing. Now I have to go back to pick up my art piece. Going as a couple would throw off anyone looking for me.”
“You got it. When do we go?”
Sophie smiled. “How about tomorrow? If you can get the time off from Miller.”
“It’s a date.”
“No, it’s not, Jake. We are not dating.” Sophie burst out harshly.
He slanted her a look. “Of course. Just a figure of speech.”
“I must be clear. I’m not dating anyone. Ever again.” Sophie’s fists clenched in her lap. “I’m done with men.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time,” Jake said quietly. “It’s not fair and it sucks. I understand why you feel that way.”
Sophie looked out the window at the pretty plantings and open vistas of Wailea, pressing her bruised cheek against the window. The pain felt good.
“I’m so sorry. Your boyfriend. It’s awful.” Antigua gave Sophie a warm hug in the entryway of Miller’s mansion.
“Yes.” Sophie still struggled to find the proper thing to say in a situation like this. “Am I still in the guest room?” Jake strode purposefully down the hall, carrying her bag in that direction. “I guess so.”
“You can have any room in the house that would make you feel better.” Shank Miller descended wide, bleached-wood stairs from his master suite atop the house. “Including mine.”
“That is kind, but it would not make me feel better.” Sophie could tell by Miller’s downcast expression that she should have said something different. “But it is nice of you to offer. I am fine in my usual quarters.”
He reached her. “I felt terrible when I heard what happened.”
“Yes,” Sophie said again. Her response felt inadequate, like she’d been handed a script and a part to play for which she had no proper lines. “You are being compassionate, but I am here to work.”
“Of course you are. But not tonight.” Antigua still had a hold on Sophie’s hand, and squeezed it. “Tonight, Shank and some of his band are going to entertain us. Right, Shank?”
The rocker pushed his long locks back. “We’re just doing a jam session. Practicing. But we wanted to give all of you the evening off to hang out. Drinks and food will be featured, right, Antigua?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Sophie’s words still felt stiff, her body wooden. “I am not in need of entertainment.”
“I wouldn’t think of trying to entertain you. I’m the boss, remember? But I have to keep up my skills, and I require an audience.” Miller had a dimple when he pinched his mouth shut on a smile.
Jake reappeared. “And you are forbidden to work this afternoon because I’ve started a system upgrade on the computers, too. Out to the beach with you, to soak up some rays. It’s a gorgeous day.” He gestured to the glass doors, open to the broad stretch of beach framed by palm trees. Sophie had been anticipating her escape into the cyber world, but she had to admit the beach looked tempting as she walked to the doors.
“I’ll come with you,” Antigua said.
“Me too,” Jesse chimed in from the door. Already clad in surf trunks, a towel over his shoulder, the young security agent grinned. “Security Solutions looks after its own.” Sophie couldn’t miss the bulge of a weapon in the small black bag that Jesse carried. She was carrying protection, too.
Surrounded by the support of co-workers that had become friends, Sophie felt herself finally begin to relax. Taking an afternoon and evening off was maybe not such a bad thing.
Sophie was warm and relaxed from an afternoon at the beach, sitting on the lawn in one of the sun chairs with Antigua’s interpretation of a Blue Hawaiian in her hand. Shank and his bandmates tuned up their equipment on the wraparound deck of the mansion, and Sophie leaned her head back, closing her eyes.
“Sophie!” Her friend Lei’s voice roused Sophie from drowsing.
She shot up off of the low chair to embrace her friend. “Lei! How great to see you. And the family, too!”
Lei had brought her tall, broad-shouldered husband, Michael Stevens, who carried their baby Kiet in his arms, and even Lei’s father, Wayne Texeira, brought up the rear of the little cavalcade, hefting a diaper bag.
“Well, we could hardly ignore an invitation from Shank Miller to come to a home jam session,” Lei said, as the rocker grinned and lifted a hand in greeting from the porch, striking a dramatic chord on his guitar.
Stevens embraced Sophie. “So sorry to hear all you’ve been through.”
“I was just sick when I heard about Todd!” Lei exclaimed.
Sophie’s eyes filled and her throat closed, but baby Kiet, on Stevens’s hip, reached out his little arms for Sophie and provided a great distraction. “Oh my, young man, you are getting so big.” Sophie tightly hugged the beautiful child with his green eyes and black hair. “Come sit here with Aunty Sophie.”
Soon the informal concert was underway, drawing a crowd of beachgoers to cluster around the outside of the clear Plexiglas surround, clapping and cheering. Inside the compound, a warm and festive feeling pervaded the intimate group. Sophie watched, listened, and snuggled Kiet. Jake and Antigua, Lei and Stevens, Wayne and the friends Miller had invited danced on the grass below the deck, while Shank Miller showed them all why he was a superstar.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie looked at the bright, shiny yellow Bentley convertible Jake sat in, parked in the turnaround the next morning. She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you think this is a little flashy?”
Jake pushed a button and the convertible top retracted, settling with a smooth slithery sound into a holding cradle behind the bucket seats. He stroked the leather-bound steering wheel appreciatively.
“Now it’s flashy. Perfect for a rich couple in love to take out for a spin to an art gallery in Lahaina.” Jake hoisted himself out of the low-slung car, trotted around to the passenger side, and opened the door for Sophie. Wearing a white linen shirt and worn, expensive jeans with a pair of broken-in loafers, Jake looked every inch of the successful businessman going somewhere casual. “Shank made me take this car. Said he wants to buff out his favorite pair of security agents. Hop in.”
“This is the first time in months I’ve seen you in anything but work clothing.” Sophie felt a smile tag her lips. The grief over Connor continued to sap her energy and strength, and even her beach afternoon and the wonderful jam session last night had failed to banish the sorrow weighing her down—this was the first minor lift she’d felt since the news. “Well, if Miller authorized it.”
She slid down into the sleek sports car’s buttery leather seat, tweaking Mary Watson’s sundress down over her knees. Jake closed the door with a gentle click. “This dotcom magnate is off to pick up some high-end art with his beautiful girlfriend.” He got in on the driver’s side, starting the Bentley with a push button.
Sophie flipped down the visor mirror to dab red lipstick on her mouth. “I don’t know about beautiful, but we look the part otherwise.” The scar on her face was still hard to see past, pulling her eyes out of alignment, marring her cheek.
“Of course you’re beautiful.” Jake’s voice was rough. “Never doubt it.”
“You don’t have to get that much in character,” Sophie said stiffly, flipping the mirror back up. “No one to see us here but Antigua, and she wouldn’t like you flirting with me.”
“A sincere compliment.
Not flirting.” Jake hit the remote for the gate. He whipped the car out onto the road, driving so fast Sophie had to hold her straw hat on her head.
Sophie’s spirits lifted as they spun through the curving streets of Wailea, sheltered by tall monkeypod trees, and she laughed aloud as Jake really opened the sports car up along the stretch of highway fronting Sugar Beach in Ma‘alaea.
“Driving a Bentley, we can afford a speeding ticket,” Jake shouted over the rush of the wind, his grin back in place.
Sophie smiled, holding her hat, as the car hugged the curves around the cliffs of the Pali.
The ocean was a sparkling cobalt mystery far below, the cliffs above already golden and dry, dotted with black lava rocks. A row of towering white windmills cresting the ridge reminded Sophie of a giant’s playful pinwheel. All of the landscape’s contrasts showcased Maui’s unique features. She was glad to be here.
Way too soon, they pulled up and parked in the tiny lot behind Paradise Treasures Gallery. Sophie ducked her head, allowing Jake to close his door, swagger around the front of the attention-getting car, and open hers. Jake took her hand and lifted her out of the seat. He kept hold of her hand as he closed the door behind her, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Relax. We’re just playing a part.”
“Of course.” Sophie loosened the tight grip she had on her straw bag and allowed Jake to lead her inside and encircle her waist with an arm as they walked into the cool depths of the gallery, heading toward the back area where she planned to pick up her art piece. They browsed slowly, pausing to take in the various sculptures and art on the walls, both of them scanning for any revealing details.
A woman dressed in one of the gallery’s Grecian gowns approached them. “What can I help you with today?”
“We are just looking around. I am here to pick up a piece I was having framed,” Sophie said.
“And I would like to see if we need anything new for the house,” Jake said. “We’re going to be done with the place before you know it, honey.”
Sophie smiled up at Jake. “And you said you would leave the decorating to me. Honey.” She turned back to the saleswoman. “The owner, Magda Kennedy, helped me last time. Is she available?”
“I’m sorry. She isn’t on the floor today. What was your name?”
“Mary Watson.”
“I’ll go fetch your painting.” The woman rustled off.
Sophie moved away from Jake, but he trailed his fingertips down her arm to take her hand again. As she turned to look at a piece on the wall, his warm, solid presence at her side seemed to thaw some of the ice around her heart. She had a friend who was there for her no matter what.
Her mind ticked over his actions and words since she’d arrived—he was being thoughtful and kind, his flirtiness gone. She could trust him. He was involved with Antigua now, and that was a good thing.
The saleswoman brought the painting out. Sophie unwrapped it to check the framing and show it to Jake. He exclaimed enthusiastically over the composition and subject matter, and Sophie was surprised by the acuity of his observations. They rewrapped the painting. “Tell Ms. Kennedy I will be back,” Sophie said.
The saleswoman smiled. “She will be so pleased.”
Settled in the car, still parked between other vehicles, Sophie turned to Jake. “Well, what did you think?”
“I think that gallery has a lot more going on than meets the eye. Art is a great way to launder money, and that place had some big names, really upscale pieces. More than that, it’s very secure. I spotted a service elevator behind the counter. I bet the place has multiple floors that are used by the business.” Jake started the Bentley and began to pull out.
“I agree.” Sophie tilted her head, frowning at a low, persistent hum increasing in volume. As they cleared a large van, backing up to head out of the lot, Sophie’s eyes widened at the sight of a large, helicopter-style drone heading their way. The spider-like device appeared heavy-duty, with six whirling propellers on extended arms zooming it rapidly toward them from behind the building. Weaving slightly, it settled to the rear of them, a targeting light blinking from the metal protrusion at its apex.
“Get us out of here, Jake!” Sophie cried. “That drone is armed!”
Jake hit the accelerator and the Bentley bolted forward so quickly that Sophie’s hat flew off, blowing away across the back of the car as he burned rubber. Sophie fumbled in her bag, her fingers curling around the cool pebbled grip of her Glock.
The ting! of a silenced bullet hitting the back of the Bentley made her scoot down in her seat instinctively, rolling over in the foot well to sight up the back of the seat as Jake whipped a left turn out of the parking lot onto a side street. The drone followed, another ting! hitting the expensive car just behind the convertible cover.
Sophie took aim at the pursuing mechanism and fired. Bam! Bam! Bam! The sound of her weapon was deafening down inside the shell of the car’s body.
The drone stuttered and wove back and forth—she had hit one of the rotors—but it stabilized and fired again.
This time the windshield cracked. Jake jerked the wheel in reaction and cursed. Fortunately, no traffic interfered as Jake floored it, heading for an intersection. “Going right, hang on!”
Sophie fired again. Bam! Bam! just as Jake peeled the vehicle to the right, throwing her against his leg. The drone heeled to one side and zigzagged off, its flight uneven.
“I think I hit it! Let’s go back and try to retrieve it!” Sophie yelled.
Jake hit another right turn, careening around the block, but a tourist bus blocked their way and oncoming traffic prevented any further speeding. It was several moments before they were able to return to the place where Sophie thought she’d hit the drone. Parking the convertible, they both got out, weapons drawn, and walked down the block, searching and alert. The quiet residential street with its overarching mango trees and smell of dusty sunshine contrasted jarringly with their deadly situation.
“Here!” Jake called Sophie from the opposite side of the street from her. Sophie hurried across the road to meet him, glad of the low-heeled, strappy sandals she’d worn with Mary Watson’s halter dress.
Buried deep in the broken branches of an oleander bush, the drone hummed and vibrated like a fly captured in honey. The weapon function clicked, out of ammo. Jake reached in under the device and pushed a button, and the remaining propellers stilled at last.
Jake extricated the twenty-inch round metal contraption. “I think we can assume your ex sent this after us. Unless there’s someone else out there who’s trying to kill us with expensive and hard-to-obtain equipment.”
“I believe you are right.” Sophie took the damaged weapon in her hands and hefted it. Slender arms, each topped with a propeller, branched out from the drone’s central body from which the weapon section protruded. “Looks like police or military grade. Not customized.”
“These can be bought on the black market.” Jake’s eyes were steely with anger. “This perp nearly got us. And he sure as hell got Shank’s Bentley. We need to inform the cops at this point.”
Sophie nodded reluctantly. “Yes. But can you keep my lead on Paradise Treasures quiet a little longer?”
“No. This happened directly after our visit there. No way that’s a coincidence. You need help getting this guy, Sophie.”
She thrust the drone into Jake’s arms. “Or I’ll have to just get him myself.”
“How, exactly? He could have been anywhere in the area operating this thing, or had someone else do it. This kind of drone uses a virtual reality headset paired with hand controls operated on a touchpad. What we need is the cops to get here and canvass the area for anyone who might have had that kind of equipment.”
“Like he’s still here.” Sophie paced back and forth, amped up, her eyes scanning the nearby buildings. “Or ever was. I can’t see Assan leaving his comforts, even to try to gun me down.”
A plan was forming in her mind.
&n
bsp; She would cooperate with the police. And then she would find another way to get to Assan, now that she was sure that Paradise Treasures held the key to his location.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lei frowned at the shot-up Bentley and the mangled drone flyer as Detective Cruz wrestled the unwieldy metal contraption into a large evidence bag. They’d dusted it for prints, but had found none but Sophie’s and Jake’s. “This is a new way to take a shot at someone. Pretty high-end.”
Jake nodded. “These are not easy to come by, even on the black market.”
“First time I’ve even seen one of these on Maui,” Lei agreed.
Officers were already out canvassing, looking for any witnesses who might have seen someone flying the drone, and Sophie and Jake had given their statements. Sophie had also updated Marcella and the Oahu team on the phone.
She leaned against the side of the shot-up Bentley, impatient to get a shower and move on with her plan. “It’s my ex, Assan Ang. No other explanation makes sense.”
“Likely. Though we don’t know if it was Ang or someone working for him. He could be thousands of miles away right now,” Jake said.
“He’s not. He’s here.” Sophie paced in a shallow pool of shade in the parking lot of Paradise Treasures. She had reluctantly shared the tip she had on the gallery, and heard from Lei that MPD had had dealings with the gallery owner, Magda Kennedy, before—but the woman had always come out clean. “Can you bring in the gallery owner?”
“Kennedy’s got a heavy-hitting lawyer. We can’t pull her in for something so thin. Plus, she’s not a talker. We’ve grilled her hard before and never got anything useful,” Lei said.
“I know she ‘came out clean’ as you said, but is she the kind of woman who might get involved with Assan for money?”