Karma by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  “I would appreciate that.” Joe tempted her to sit down and have a conversation over drinks to get to know one another better. His hazel eyes saw everything, she bet. She’d felt them on her body earlier, which had wakened her senses. K wasn’t going to stick around long enough to go there. It was best to ignore the pull of attraction and focus on getting what she needed.

  Rita home with check in hand.

  She looked at him, and he stared right back at her. Sensual awareness started at the base of her spine and, like gentle fingers, played its way up her back, spreading across her shoulders and down again to her belly. She remembered the jolt from his eyes when she’d first looked into them earlier at the beach and the strength in his body as he’d pulled her from death.

  Joe’s phone rang, startling them both. He pulled the device from his pocket, breaking the spell. “Hello?”

  He nodded, his dark brown brows forming an inverted vee above his nose. “Uh huh.”

  K watched him, his features smooth as a sheet of glass, giving nothing away. What would it have been like, working undercover? Constantly having to live a lie?

  “Sure,” he said. He’d been right, saying they were on a level playing field when it came to masking the truth. That alone intrigued her. Add in his husky voice? Muscled abs? Down, girl.

  He hung up. “Ready?”

  “Who was that?” She tapped his shoulder, swirling her finger down his arm and what looked like a dragon tail. “Remember the rules. No lying.”

  He tilted his head, giving her a slow grin. “Right.” Joe cleared his throat. “That was my boss.”

  This could be fun, K thought. Like Truth or Dare, without any of the dares. “And what did he say?”

  Joe’s jaw tightened, but other than that, his body language stayed confident. “I didn’t get the transfer I requested.”

  K felt like an asshole. She briefly closed her eyes, then touched his hand. His skin was warm, as it had been when he pulled her from the beach earlier. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.” His neutral expression hid his feelings well.

  “Why are you trying to transfer?” She pointed to the picture windows and the panoramic view of the tranquil ocean. “This is a lot of people’s paradise.”

  “I’m dying of boredom.”

  She lifted her brow. “Really? Not enough action? This is where folks sail, fish, swim, snorkel and jet ski.”

  “I’ve been living off adrenalin for twelve years.” He hefted his chin, as if daring her to say anything about it.

  K, unfortunately, could imagine exactly what that was like. She’d been running toward salvation for eleven. No time to smell the proverbial roses.

  “Let me put Princey back in his room. We’ll visit Rita at the hospital. And then I will get out of your way. I have enough to get me through the next day or two.”

  “It’s no big deal.” He scruffed the top of his hair. “I’m a cop. We protect and serve.”

  “Your services, Officer Porter, are above the call of duty. My hope is that Rita will be home tomorrow, and I can fly back to Chicago.” With a big, fat check.

  “No fuss?”

  “No muss,” K finished, pulling Princey toward his room. “Behave,” she told the dog, who settled down on his three inch foam mat with a chew toy. He really was a good, if giant, animal. She couldn’t imagine the Rita she worked for having such a beast.

  K left the front door unlocked since she didn’t have a key. She doubted anybody would get past the downstairs security. If they did, they’d meet Princey. Joe led the way to the elevator and the lobby. She was willing to let him take the lead since she didn’t know where they were going.

  “My car is parked in the lot,” he said. “A block over. Want me to come pick you up?” he pointed at her shoes.

  “I can walk. Police car? Believe it or not, I’ve never ridden in one.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Joe teased. “You have trouble written all over you.”

  “Is it the heels?” She put her hand on her hip and pouted ala Marilyn Monroe.

  Joe laughed. “The entire package, Ms. Aneko.”

  She warmed at the compliment. “I threw up on you. Why are you being so damn nice?”

  “Is it odd that I can’t seem to remember that?” Joe tapped the side of his head.

  “Selective memory.” She kept pace with him on the uneven sidewalk. “It’s awesome. I use it all the time in court.”

  “Figures.” He put his hands in his pockets.

  “What?” She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

  “You take something good and twist it.” He pulled one hand out and made a circular motion, like screwing in a light bulb.

  “Me, personally?” she asked in disbelief. “I work for justice.”

  “You are a lawyer.” He didn’t walk as fast as they neared the corner. “Turn here.”

  “I have integrity, you know,” K said, borderline offended.

  “I do know,” Joe answered, his hazel eyes unreadable. “Otherwise you would have left already.”

  K stopped short. She’d be long gone, but she had no money until Rita paid her. If Rita paid her.

  “What am I looking for?” she asked as they reached the lot. “Black and white patrol car?”

  “Nope.” He jingled his keys. “Honda Civic. Basic.” He gave her heels another cursory glance. She was pretty sure he liked them. “Nothing fancy, like you’re used to.”

  She was used to the bus. “Undercover doesn’t pay?”

  “Sure. But I’ve been transferred so much that it doesn’t make sense to put money into a car.”

  Practical nature–another thing to admire. “I get that. I don’t have a car at all. Chicago is a big city, and the train makes it easy to get around.”

  “Really? I figured you for a sleek Jaguar.”

  I wish. “Public transportation.” She shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Joe chuckled. “Next to the red pickup.”

  She stayed at his side as they reached the row of cars. His was two door, black. Nondescript. Under the radar. Like him. “What did you do, undercover?”

  He unlocked the car via a remote on his key chain, making a two-beep sound. “I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to talk about it, either.” Joe opened her car door for her, then went around to the driver’s side.

  “Smooth answer.” K slid into the passenger seat. Her jeans and heels were more appropriate for a night out, but when she’d packed, she’d assumed she’d need them during the evening for a celebratory dinner. Her other options were pajama pants and a tank top or her running shorts and sneakers.

  She loved the way shoes set the mood. Boots, sandals, heels, or loafers. Each choice told a story. These particular pumps she’d found at a vintage shop. Thin, stiletto heels, sexy spaghetti straps across the foot and around the ankle. She’d talked the owner down to twenty bucks and gladly ate tuna for the rest of the week.

  The payoff? Watching Joe admire her feet in the sexiest heels ever made.

  The five minute drive to the hospital was quiet, and K stared out the window at the tropical landscape. Like the home she’d been born in, but so different from the one she’d chosen. Being here brought back old memories she’d thought she buried. Affecting her enough to temporarily lose her mind and scream at Namaka—as if it would help. Paolo was dead. Rita maybe dying, but it was out of her control. Joe probably thought she was insane.

  They pulled into a giant parking garage next to the hospital. Joe asked, “Are you giving me the silent treatment because you’re mad I didn’t answer your question?”

  What? K waited until he parked and took the key from the ignition so he could look at her. “I am not mad. I respect your privacy. You don’t know me, you don’t owe me anything. Your past is your business.”

  “No lie?” He studied her face.

  “Nope.” She held up her hand like a witness taking the stand. “It’s been a long day, and there’s a lot on my mind.” Only some o
f the time had she been thinking about him.

  “Okay.” Joe nodded. A quiet man with tolerant energy, she imagined people told him all sorts of confessions. She’d have to be on her guard and keep things simple.

  “Have you met Rita before? I mean, this community is so small, everybody just might know everybody else.”

  He shook his head. “No. But I keep to myself.”

  K opened to the door and got out of the car. Would Rita be embarrassed about the overdose? Ashamed? “Listen, Joe, it might be best if you wait for me while I go visit her.”

  “Sure. I’ll watch some bad television in the waiting room.”

  “Thanks,” she said. Joe seemed to be a really decent guy. Not too full of himself, which cops tended to be. He looked like an underwear model in a clothes catalogue—until you got a look at all of the tattoos. Sexy. And that moment they’d had between them before his phone rang? What was that?

  Nothing. She checked in at the nurse’s desk then found Rita’s room. She poked her head in the partially open door. Rita appeared to be sleeping but roused in the dimness.

  “I smell your perfume, K,” Rita said in a hoarse voice. “Come in. Open the drapes a little, would you?”

  “Sure.” She crossed the linoleum floor that seemed to be the universal style for hospitals, her heels clicking. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Rita grabbed the rail by her bed and searched for the button to elevate the mattress. Her hands trembled. “I guess I took my prank a little too far.”

  “Prank?” K crossed her arms at her waist, hoping that her client hadn’t actually meant to die.

  Rita licked dry lips. “You don’t think I was really trying to commit suicide, do you?”

  K poured some water from the plastic pitcher on the table into a cup, put in a bendy straw and handed it over to Rita. “I don’t know what you were doing.” She’d said she’d loved her husband, and K had sort of gotten stuck on that before having to resuscitate her.

  “Just having a little pity party for one.”

  K saw fear in the older woman’s face. “I’m not trying to be mean here, but why would you play a trick like that? Did you want me to find you dead?”

  Rita winced. “No.”

  “As payback to your ex-husband?” K was good at digging out the truth—she hadn’t thought to look at her own client.

  The woman’s chin quivered and she looked out the window. Late afternoon was melding to evening, creating purplish pink clouds in the sky. “No. I think I called him. He lives in New York.”

  “Oh, Rita.” K took a deep breath and studied the woman in the hospital bed. “Why were you drinking and taking pills, then?” K’s fear made her tone sharp, and she pinched the inside of her wrist to remind herself to chill out.

  Rita was not under cross-examination.

  “I…I’ve been depressed, so the doctor gave me a prescription for Prozac. No big deal.”

  “It is when you take the whole bottle at one time. With a bottle of red wine.”

  Rita swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I love him, still. While we were fighting, at least I had him in my life. Now? What do I have?” She opened her bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing.”

  A couple million dollars, K thought, is not chump change. She leaned across the tubes Rita was hooked up to and gave her a gentle hug. “I’m sorry, Rita.” K wasn’t sure how she felt about this revelation, and knew she’d need time to sort it out in her mind.

  “No, I am. You came all this way to celebrate.”

  “You started without me.” The plan was a glass of wine, a fancy lunch and home to Chicago. Second plan was a fancy dinner, a nice hotel and room service. There was never a plan to hang out in her client’s apartment with enough underwear for one day.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Her eyes closed as if the conversation was too much. “I didn’t mean to…”

  The older woman drifted off, leaving K wondering what to do next. There had been no opportunity to ask about her check. No chance to find someone else to take care of her pets. K walked out to the nurse’s station.

  “Hi. I’m K Aneko.”

  A dark haired nurse with the hint of a mustache looked up from the chart she was filing. “Hello. How was Ms. Hartley?”

  “She fell back asleep. Listen,” K said, shifting weight from one foot to the other. “I was wondering if Rita would be coming home tomorrow?”

  “I sure don’t know.” The nurse picked up a clipboard as if she could find the answers among the codes. “She has you listed as a contact number, so we can call when she’s ready to be released.”

  “So I’m just supposed to wait?”

  The nurse blinked.

  “I’m sorry. Not to be rude, but I live in Chicago. This was going to be a quick meeting. I have appointments to keep.”

  The nurse drew herself up. “Ms. Hartley’s mental state needs to be evaluated before she will be allowed home.”

  “She just told me she didn’t mean to overdose.”

  “Aren’t you her lawyer?” She tapped at the clipboard with all of the secret information.

  Chastised, K hitched her bag up her arm to her shoulder. “Yes.”

  The nurse relented an inch. “We’ll know more tomorrow, but if the doctor feels she is in any way a harm to herself or others, she won’t be released.”

  K left with a nod. “Thank you.”

  Now what?

  She met Joe in the waiting room.

  “How is she?” he asked, getting to his feet.

  “Sleeping. Joe, she told me just now that she didn’t mean to OD, but the nurse said she won’t be released until they’re sure she’s got her shit together.”

  “That’s fair. She must have good insurance. Usually hospitals boot you out the door.”

  “I don’t know…” she felt funny about it, as if they weren’t disclosing something. “If she came in as a suicide attempt, they have seventy-two hours to hold her. But if I tell them that it was accidental, that has to mean something right? She can be released and come home.” She had to be home in five days. Jamal needed her for the court date hearing. There wasn’t enough room on her credit card to buy a ticket back to Chicago.

  “Come on. Let me treat you to a burger at Aruba. You look worried, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  K put her hand over her uneasy stomach. “I don’t know…” How was she going to fix this?

  “What else are you going to do tonight?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Talk with the parrot?”

  “I have work.” She didn’t have any court appearances for the rest of the week, but Jamal’s hearing was Monday. K had to be back in Chicago to plea in defense of the teenager, or he’d just get lost in the system.

  “Take a few hours off. This little town by the sea isn’t too bad.”

  “I grew up in a village by the sea,” she muttered.

  “Like you said earlier, it’s paradise.”

  “No, Joe. It was awful.”

  Chapter Five

  Joe watched her as she reasoned her way through agreeing to get a bite to eat. She tapped her heel against the linoleum and tugged at the platinum wave falling over her ear. He could guess what was going through her mind, but he’d rather sit down with her and get to know firsthand what she was thinking.

  “All right. I can take care of things from here in the morning.” She exhaled and shook out her hands. “I would love a hamburger.”

  Joe offered his arm, and she looped hers through his. He felt a dart of recognition, as if she fit him. They walked to the garage. “A part of me was afraid you were going to be vegetarian.”

  “I went through a phase,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But I like meat too much. Pork, chicken, steak, veal, duck. I like it all.”

  “We don’t have to get a burger. You look really great—we could go somewhere nicer, once I change.” She was the kind of woman that turned heads. Kay had style, charisma. And damn if she didn’t have sexy d
own to an art. A strong, confidant woman totally at odds from the one he’d yanked from the ocean.

  Or was she? She’d been furious, fighting something primal. He recognized it, having faced his own personal demons for years.

  “No, no,” she said, shaking her blonde mane. “A medium rare burger is just the thing. With a dark beer.”

  “My kind of woman,” Joe said. She was nothing like the ones he’d dated while undercover. They’d been rough and tumble, like him. And now, traveling between safe place and safe place, he’d had few intimate liaisons that lasted more than a month.

  His fault, he knew, but it was difficult to trust someone else when you couldn’t trust yourself.

  Joe opened the car door for her, liking the way she slid in with her knees tucked to show off her legs to advantage. The skinny jeans were molded to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  No, Joe corrected himself, his imagination was on overdrive. Forget the jeans, and just have her naked. In those heels. He closed the door and muttered toward the sky, “Get a grip, Porter.”

  This time Kay found a radio station she liked, so they listened to music on the way to the restaurant. She sang off-key, but with enthusiasm. “I just discovered a place in Chicago where they have karaoke,” she said. “I took some of the ki, some friends, there and we rented a booth for twenty dollars for two hours. Soundproof, of course. It was fun. Do you sing?”

  Joe pulled into a parking spot across the street. “In the shower? I’m the next American Idol.”

  “Yeah, me too. That’s why it’s so cool that those rooms are sound proof!” She opened the door once they parked, not waiting for him to come around.

  They walked to the crowded restaurant, where people milled about outside with drinks while listening to the one-man band or waiting for a reservation.

  “Want to sit in the bar?” Joe asked.

  “If we can find a table,” Kay agreed. She scrunched her nose as she breathed in. “I can smell the salt in the air.”

  “I smelled grilled meat. You have to tell me why you hate the ocean.”

  “It’s a long story.” She released her hair from the knot at the back and it fell to her shoulders.