Birds in Paradise (3 page)

“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.

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.”

“I’ve been watching you for years now. I know you’ve been struggling.” She flicked away some ashes before patting my leg. “But you’re a good girl, so I won’t give you a sermon.”

“Thanks.” I sipped the coffee she’d handed me. It was rich and filled with flavors. “Kona coffee,” I said, impressed that she’d spend her money on me.

“Only the best,” she said as she stared out over the ocean. “It’s beautiful here. Paradise. People come from all over the world with high expectations, don’t they?”

I nodded. I’d stayed in Oahu, despite my empty pockets, because I’d fallen in love with the land, the people, and their relaxed pace. Both my parents were overachievers. Type A plus-plus personalities with a shot of espresso added into the mix. They strove to be the best at everything. And since I was their daughter, I was expected to be the best by default. Between the soccer, the girl scouts, the softball, the basketball, the knitting, the theater, the swim team, the debate team, piano lessons, and academic perfection—my childhood had been exhausting.

But my childhood had taught me one thing—never to give up.

“What do you think is happening to these women, Brandi?”

She shrugged and tightened her lips. “I hate to think about it. They’re lost souls, each one of them.”

“Do you think they’re alive?”

Brandi shrugged again.

“I visited Mr. Fu yesterday,” I said, trying to learn something, anything new. “He refused to see me. Have you heard anything about him lately?”

She chewed on her bottom lip.

“What?” I pressed.

“I—I don’t know.” She was lying of course. And I needed to know what she knew. It could be important. Even if it wasn’t important, I still needed to know. Or else I’d keep thinking about it, wondering about it, and I’d be distracted from finding the missing women.

“Just between you and me, Brandi. You know I can be trusted with a secret.”

“It’s nothing,” she said and waved her hand in the air. “Some of the girls say he’s been acting strangely, that’s all.”

“How so?”

She leaned forward and whispered, “He’s been interviewing some of the new ones.”

“For what?”

“Who knows? He hasn’t been able to enjoy a woman for several years now. I was one of his last. And even back then nothing happened.”

“Did he interview the missing girls?”

“I don’t know.” She drew a quick breath. “I’m sure it’s not related.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but to be on the safe side, I’d like to talk to one of the girls he’s interviewed lately. Can you give me a name?”

“No,” she said too quickly.

“Come on, Brandi. I won’t make trouble for you. I’ll be subtle.”

“No one is supposed to talk about the interviews. I shouldn’t know about them, and neither should you. The girls could get into trouble if Mr. Fu found out that one of them was talking when she should be keeping her mouth shut. And you don’t want to cross Mr. Fu.”

I’d always assumed that Mr. Fu’s reputation was far worse than what everyone said. Fear gave him power, and I’d witnessed firsthand his compassion. He wasn’t a violent man.

But what if he was behind the kidnappings?

“This is important, Brandi. I need a name.”

She shook her head.

“Those women could die,” I pressed. “They might already be dead. We need to stop whoever’s taking them.”

Brandi rose. She looked nervous. “Find Sally Porter. She might talk.”

IT WAS WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT
and I was still searching for Sally Porter—a woman none of the prostitutes seemed to know—when I noticed that my shadow had returned. Not wanting anyone to witness my meeting with this mysterious Sally Porter—I was still confident I could find her—I gave my shadow the slip at the Ala Wai Canal by climbing into a thick growth of mangrove trees on the bank of the canal. Their web-like roots and limbs swallowed me into their darkness, making me as invisible as the native plants the alien mangrove trees were displacing.