“No, I suppose you can’t,” he conceded, and backed himself into the hallway. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
A little less than an hour later, I’d changed into a pair of worn jeans shorts and a faded gray T-shirt. With my hair in a simple ponytail, I found myself sitting across from Pete at his favorite 24-hour diner in Waikiki.
Even after downing two mugs of coffee and a healthy serving of eggs, he was still scowling.
“I wish you had come to me first.” He pushed a wad of cash over toward me.
I stared at the money, not sure what to say.
“Go on, take it.” He sighed. “It’s not going to bite you, and it doesn’t come with any expectations.”
By now I was thoroughly confused. “I don’t want your money.” Okay, that was a lie. I desperately needed to pay some bills, and that wad of cash would make my life a helluva lot easier, especially considering I was spending the bulk of my time on a non-paying client.
But why was Pete so angry with me? And why was he showering me with money? When I continued to stare at the pile of bills on the table, Pete growled at me and shoved the cash into my hand, forcibly curling my fingers around it.
“I know what you did last night.” His voice tightened. “I heard it from a beat cop who picked up several so-called ladies.”
I stiffened. I had to be cautious. I remembered only too clearly his promise to lock me away if he discovered I was still private detecting without a license.
“What exactly did you hear I was doing?”
His tan cheeks turned a funny shade of pink and he whispered, “Don’t make me say it.”
“If you want me to accept this money, you’re going to have to tell me what you heard about me.” I wasn’t worried only about my detective business. I was genuinely curious what people out on the street were saying about me. And I suppose I was too tired to figure it out for myself.
He swallowed hard. “I heard you sold your body.”
I started to deny it—
“If you’re in trouble, come to me. I want to help you.” His hand closed over mine. “Let me help you.”
All I could do was nod. A lump had landed in my throat. I was touched, truly touched by the thought that Pete cared. God, I had to tell him the truth. He was worried about me. Me! I couldn’t let him think that I had...
“You saved my life. Took a bullet for me. I owe you, Kyra.”
“Right. You owed me a debt.” I pushed away from the table and stuffed the money into my pocket. “Consider it paid.”
Chapter 2
LAST NIGHT ANOTHER GIRL WENT MISSING. When I heard about it, my determination to find Tina kicked up a notch.
About an hour before sunset, I strolled down the palm-lined boulevards of Waikiki, across the canal, and toward the downtown of Honolulu. Tucked in the middle of an industrial area is a small house with a paper sign on the window that simply reads, “Mr. Fu.”
I jogged up the concrete steps and knocked on the wooden door. Almost immediately the door opened a crack. A rheumy eye peered out.
“What you want?” an ancient voice scraped.
“I need to talk with Mr. Fu.”
“He not here.” The door started to close.
I’d walked a long way and was hot and not in the mood to play games with the man’s housekeeper. I thrust my foot between the door and the jamb—a stupid move when wearing flip-flops. However painful, I stopped the door from closing.
“Tell him Kyra Grainger has come to collect on a debt,” I said through gritted teeth. My foot throbbed like the devil.
Certainly Mr. Fu would welcome me with open arms. I’d kept him out of jail about a year ago when some young street whelp was trying to frame the old man for murder. He’d paid me handsomely, but still, he’d said himself that no amount of money could repay the debt he’d owed me. Actually, Pete’s early morning visit had put the idea in my head. Mr. Fu owed me. And even though he never left this house, he had his finger on the pulse of the city.
“He not here,” the she-dragon said. “Move your foot or I’ll squish it.”
“What?” Mr. Fu never left his house. Never. As in never-ever. Not even for a stroll in his back yard. “Is he—? Is he still alive?”
“He alive, but won’t be seeing you, missy. Move that foot.”
My foot barely made it out of the way before Mr. Fu’s housekeeper slammed the door into the jamb with a thunderous bang.
So much for everlasting gratitude...
I turned around and saw the man who’d been following me standing across the street. He tipped his white hat and smiled.
“Hey!” I called. This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to confront my shadow. And just like all the other times, he took off running. I tried to follow him, limping on the foot that was still throbbing. By the time I’d chased him a block, he was nowhere to be found. Gone. Poof. Like a freaking phantom.
I couldn’t help but wonder if my shadow in white was the reason for Mr. Fu’s refusal to see me. But no... That would be impossible. Mr. Fu was as old as the volcanoes. And tough. Not even the devil himself would be able to scare him.
This sudden change had to do with something else. But what?
In order to find out, I would have to work my way up the Fu hierarchy. And that would take days—days the missing Tina didn’t have.
After hoofing it back to the hotel and washing a load of towels that Mamma Jo had dropped into my arms as soon as she’d spotted me, I changed into a black leather miniskirt that looked downright modest compared to last night’s spandex number and pulled on a tiny white T-shirt that hugged my generous curves. A pair of FM shoes with heels higher than the Empire State Building made up for the fact that I left off the piles of makeup tonight. I pulled my hair into a ponytail—it made me look younger—and set out for the back streets with Tina’s picture tucked into my purse.
My shadow had either found someone more interesting or was doing a better job at keeping hidden. But the damage was done. Every few steps I found myself glancing over my shoulder, watching for him.
Before I could find anyone to question, six men, all reeking of too much drink and too little finesse, encircled me and offered to show me what a real man could do. I was tempted—oh, so tempted—to ask them where they were hiding the “real man” they wanted me to meet. But I bit my tongue and pulled out the photograph of Tina instead.
Only one seemed interested and actually took a look at the photo. He then had to balls to ask for a two-for-one. I patted him on the shoulder and told him that he couldn’t handle it.
Wrong move on my part. But, in my defense, it was late, I was tired, and those creeps didn’t deserve my respect.
Before I could get two steps away from him, he grabbed my arm, spun me around with that crazy strength drunks sometimes get and slugged me. Hard.
Damn. It hurt. Tears sprang to my eyes. And I was weaving.
The jerk wasted no time putting his hands exactly where they had no business going. The collar of my tiny T-shirt ripped as he tried to strip me right there in the middle of the sidewalk. I suppose he figured I owed him a freebie.
Even if I were that kind of girl, I wouldn’t be giving it up to this creep for free. Double the fee, perhaps. No, all the money in the world wouldn’t be worth it. His breath stank like the bottom of an over-ripe trash bin.
He grabbed my ponytail and jammed his tongue into my mouth. This sucked. If this was what the women on the street had to put up with, my heart went out to them. I was grateful I didn’t have to make a living by putting up with such immature cretins. And with that happy thought, I promptly kneed him in the groin.
“Shit, woman,” he wheezed and crumpled to the ground.
I WAS SHAKEN. My eye ached. My clothes were torn. And all I wanted to do was get back to my room at Mamma Jo’s and lock the door behind me. Maybe put a chair in front of it. Or perhaps the dresser.
But Tina was missing. Kidnapped perhaps. Perhaps she was being forced to be with a man
like my heavy-handed attacker. For her sake, I ignored my watery knees and shaky hands and stayed out until dawn, asking every woman I could find about Tina and what was happening in these forgotten back streets.
The women, especially the younger girls, were nervous and unusually chatty. They all had similar stories. Business was slow. Guys were jerks. And thanks to the missing women, the pressure from the police was mounting, especially from Officer Kevin Blakely. Blakely was Pete’s former partner. He’d remained pounding the streets while Pete had moved up the ranks.
According to the upset women I’d interviewed, Blakely had been pestering them to tell him everything they knew about the missing girls. Perhaps he’d finally developed a case of ambition. Or perhaps he just got his jollies from harassing scantily dressed young women. Either way, none of the women seemed to have any idea what had happened to Tina or the three other girls who’d vanished from the streets. If anyone had seen anything, they weren’t talking to me...or to Blakely. Most assumed the missing girls were dead by now. For Tina and her sister’s sake, I prayed they were wrong.
THE DEEP RED SUN HAD JUST BEGUN to peek over the high-rise hotels that lined the beach by the time I reached Mamma Jo’s. Pete, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a white button-up shirt was waiting for me outside my door. His arms were crossed, and he looked as if he’d been chewing on nails.
“Hi Pete,” I said, dredging up a cheery tone, one I didn’t feel. My heart was still sore from yesterday morning’s encounter with him. “Do you have another wad of cash for me?”
His gaze narrowed as he took in my ripped shirt and bruised eye. He treated me to one of his stony silences. I shrugged and unlocked my door. “I’m bushed,” I told him. “Good ni—”
He moved with fluid grace as he herded me inside my room and kicked the door closed behind him. He backed me up until I was pressed against the far wall...and his body was pressed against mine. Our lips were nearly touching and I had a giddy desire to gasp or sigh or laugh.
I’d missed a night of sleep and was hurt and confused, which tended to make my brain not work quite right. Not to mention that it appeared that the man whom I’d long harbored an elephant-sized crush was about to kiss me.
I think I closed my eyes and parted my lips, while dreams of princes and white knights tripped though my fuzzy head.
“What the hell kind of trouble are you in, Kyra?” he demanded without kissing me. Instead he was inspecting my blackened eye.
“Trouble?” I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t kissing me. I twined my fingers behind his neck and tried to pull him closer.
“If you insist on selling your body—I’m buying.” He grabbed my chin. “And I’m the only one buying.”
I felt his willingness to fulfill that promise pressing against me. Obviously I’d caught the attention of his buddies walking the beat again tonight—most likely Blakely—and it had gotten back to Pete. I sighed. If only his offer hadn’t been based on a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding I couldn’t honestly explain away without risking jail time. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t let him think he needed to pay me for...
“I-I—” I stammered. He slammed his lips against mine with an urgent hunger that stunned and quite honestly made me forget everything else.
Aloha Pete tasted every bit as good as I’d imagined he would. I tugged up his shirt and ran my hands over his bare chest. His muscles rippled beneath my touch.
With a growl he lifted me into his arms and tossed me onto the bed. I know I should have said something to stop what was going to happen. But who was I kidding? This was exactly what I’d wanted to happen ever since we first met. He climbed in the bed with me and, with a predatory gleam brightening his eyes, parted my legs. There was no way in this side of hell I was going to tell him to stop.
Chapter 3
SEVERAL HOURS LATER I found myself drifting in and out of sleep while Pete snored softly beside me. I felt drowsy and sated and confused. My head was spinning, and I didn’t want to think about why Pete had pushed his way into my bed last night. This was something I wanted to savor while it lasted. I propped myself up on one elbow and started tracing little circles around his flat nipple.
He jerked awake and, after giving me a disgusted look, dragged himself out of the bed.
“Pack your things,” he said with a deadly chill to his voice as he moved in quick bursts, pulling on his shorts and then his shirt.
“What? Why?”
“If I’m paying for this, I’ll want you close at hand. Where I can keep an eye on you.” He tossed open the door. “I’ll tell Mamma Jo you’ll be moving out. Be ready to leave by the time I get back.”
I started to protest. But he slammed the door and was gone.
HE DIDN’T COME BACK.
Mamma Jo came into the room without knocking. I’d showered and had put on shorts and a baby blue T-shirt, but by no means had I packed my things. I wasn’t going with Aloha Pete. He’d have to drag me from this room before I’d let him bully me into moving in with him. Stupid me.
Mamma Jo, a woman who could carry off a muumuu with flare, looked me up and down and crossed her arms over her wide bosom. “What have you done?” she asked, her kindly gaze falling on the condom wrappers that were still littering the floor beside the bed. She shook her head. “My keiki is stomping around the office, grumbling how he had no choice but to buy you. What does he mean that he’s bought you, Kyra?”
I almost wished someone was trying to kill Pete again. I’d much rather take another bullet for him than untangle this mess I’d made for myself. At best, he’d toss me into jail once I explained how I was investigating Tina’s disappearance, without a PI license—and was not selling my body. This misunderstanding would more likely end our friendship. Forever. Which made me feel miserable.
“Oh, Mamma Jo...” I sank down onto the bed and dropped my head into my hands while fat, noisy tears spilled down my cheeks. “He’s going to hate me.”
The mattress sagged as Mamma Jo sat down next to me. “You have him twisted up into knots,” she said. “You’re his pet project—the young girl he can keep safe. You know he stops by just about every night to ask about you?”
“He does?”
She patted my leg. “He’s a good boy. He wants to save everyone, but he can’t. His job takes a terrible toll on him. You’re his anchor. If he can protect you, I think it makes everything else okay. Sleeping with him...that was a mistake.”
I nodded. She was right and admitting it only made me feel even more miserable. He’d taken me to bed out of pity, or perhaps he’d felt panicked about my safety and thought that sleeping with me was the only way he could protect me from myself. A blush stung my cheeks.
“I love him, you know,” I whispered.
“I know,” she said. “But that still doesn’t make it right.”
“No.” And if I saw him right now, I would probably make some God-awful confession that would only embarrass the both of us. He needed me to be safe. He didn’t need me to love him. “I have to go, Mamma Jo,” I said as I scooped up my purse and darted for the door. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
WHEN I FLED MAMMA JO’S, I had planned to leave and never return. It would be easier that way. I’d never have to look Pete in the eye again...never have to discuss what had happened last night. I could set up shop in some other hotel. Maybe even be able to work out another deal where I could work on the staff instead of paying rent. Sure it would be tough, but I still had the wad of cash Pete had given me and if I pounded the pavement, I could probably win a few paying clients for my private investigator service by the end of the week. No more Ms. Nice Girl. All new clients would have to be able to pay. Up front.
Which brought me back to the missing Tina. Anna, her sister, had no way to pay me, but I couldn’t give up on either of them. Even though all my efforts had so far led to dead ends, I couldn’t help feel that I was getting close to uncovering the truth. Go ahead. Call me an eternal optimist. Delusional, even. I don’
t mind. My gut was humming like it always did right before I stumbled on some important clue. I slapped my cheeks. I needed to be alert and ready for anything. Clues rarely dropped from the sky. A person could run in circles in a forest for days and never find her way out. It took careful observation and planning to find whatever was out there waiting to be found.
I sat down on a bench and gazed out over the bright blue ocean. A breeze played in the palms all around me while dolphins danced in the waves. Seeing them, I relaxed and started to sort through what I’d learned so far.
Four women missing. All prostitutes. All young. All new. The prostitutes on the street were scared. And business was slow. The police were tightening their fist and, according to the women I’d talked to, were arresting dozens a night.
Add to that, Mr. Fu’s strange behavior. He’d refused to see me. Why? My instincts prickling, I couldn’t help but think that there had to be a connection. But what?
“You look as if you haven’t slept in a week,” a friendly voice said, and pushed a cup of coffee into my hand.
“Hello Brandi,” I said, as the bleached blonde settled down on the bench beside me and lit a cigarette. “My soul doesn’t need saving, at least not this morning.”
Brandi laughed. It was a deep, throaty sound. Sexy. I could see why she’d been popular among her clients. “I assure you that you’re wrong. Your soul is crying out for someone to find you. Unlike the girls peddling their bodies, you’re much more complex and troubled.”
“Wow, Brandi, you can see all that just by looking at me?” I forced a bitter laugh. She was getting too personal. And after what happened between Pete and me this morning, I wasn’t feeling strong enough to do any deep soul-searching. So I struck out at her instead. “No wonder you spent more time on your back than walking the streets.”
Birds in Paradise Page 2