Birds in Paradise (7 page)

Which meant the earth should be trembling.

Mr. Fu was wrong
.

Pete must have come to the same conclusion. As soon as the four of us stepped into the bright sunlight outside of Mr. Fu’s house, he handed the slip of paper Mr. Fu had given us to Blakely. “Pick him up.”

“On what charge?” Blakely asked, scowling now at the paper instead of me.

“Attempted murder. He attacked Kyra.”

Blakely glanced at me and folded his arms over his chest. Grant mirrored him. “You think I’m going to make an arrest based solely on information given to us by known mobster?”

“No, you’re going to arrest this bastard because I’m telling you to arrest him.”

I was proud of myself for knowing well enough to keep my mouth shut. I might have been the root cause of the power struggle between Blakely and Pete, but that didn’t mean it was any of my business. Adding my two cents into the mix would only make the two men growl at me.

And I didn’t have time to waste. “Those four missing women need us to stay focused,” I found myself shouting.

“Six,” Grant corrected.

“
Six
?”

“You’ve been in the hospital for nearly two weeks,” Grant reminded me. “And a sixteen-year-old blonde went missing just last night.”

I felt the blood drain from my head. “A sixteen year old?”

Grant nodded gravely.

“What the hell are you doing?” Blakely snapped at Grant.

“Bringing her up to speed.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Pete—” I fought for a smooth breath as both rage and fear for those women simmered in my chest. “Why...didn’t...you...tell...me? Why...didn’t...you...tell...me...about...the...?”

“Because it isn’t your business, Kyra.” He grabbed my arm. “I’m taking her home. Call me when you get the bastard who stabbed her in custody. I’ll want to question him.”

“
Not my business
?”

He gave me a gentle push toward his car.

“
Not my business
?”

I planted my feet on the sidewalk and refused to move.

“Don’t make me toss you over my shoulder,” Pete warned. “I’m taking you home. I’m keeping you safe.”

“I don’t think so.”

He grabbed both my arms. “Those missing women aren’t your responsibility. Hell, you almost got yourself killed by playing detective when you damn well know you aren’t qualified. I won’t let that happen again. You’re my ‘
ohana
, my responsibility. I won’t let you get hurt.”

His ‘
ohana
. His family. Like a goofy little sister.

When would he figure out that he was the only person who had the power to hurt me? No one else could pull apart my heart like he could.

“I can take care of myself,” I think I forced through my gritted teeth. Okay, I also added something vicious, something I’m too embarrassed to repeat. In my defense, I was furious with him—and, worse, frustrated that he didn’t see me as a lover.

Pete jerked away as if I’d slapped him.

“I’ve been doing a damn good job on my own,” I said, lowering my voice. Blakely had paused at his patrol car and was watching us with too much interest. “I wish you could see that. I wish you could see that I’m not helpless.”

“You were nearly killed,” Pete protested.

“I was stabbed, but I didn’t die. And I’m going to be okay. Please, Pete, I don’t know how to put this nicely. I don’t want or need your protection. Either help me or get out of my way.”

“I can’t do that, Kyra.”

“And I can’t let you lock me away like I’m a china doll. Those six women need protection, not me.” My determination fueled my resolve, giving me more energy than a person fresh out of the hospital should have had. I was going to find those missing women. And I was going to find them before the sun set behind the city’s lush mountains.

Pete and I glared at each other, neither willing to budge.

“Don’t do this,” Pete whispered, his expression raw with emotion.

This was where our relationship ended.

To Pete I would always be that skinny college kid stealing wallets from the tourists. There was nothing I could say to get him to understand how much I’d changed over the years, how much I had grown. So instead of throwing myself against that prickly brick wall, I shook my head and walked away from my beloved Aloha Pete.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?”
Brandi demanded. I’d been wallowing in my misery over what had happened between Pete and me when I had, literally, bumped into her in downtown Waikiki. She had taken one look at me and dragged me to the closest restaurant, an outside café overlooking the Pacific, to buy me lunch. A light breeze was blowing off the water. It was another perfect day in paradise.

If she had been a man, I would have been suspicious. First coffee and now a hot lunch. And she seemed to pop up whenever I was at my lowest. I mentioned that to her and she turned her head heavenward and called it divine intervention. I wasn’t sure about that, but I did appreciate her willingness to listen.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea. I can’t imagine that you’ve thought this through, Kyra.”

“I won’t be throwing her to the wolves. I’ll be there with her,” I argued even though she was right, I hadn’t thought it through. In fact, I was telling her my plan as it was taking shape. “Tina’s sister, Anna, is young and beautiful. I think she would work as the perfect lure.”

“What about the police? Blakely has been arresting pretty much everyone you’ve interviewed, you know.”

I didn’t know that, but it didn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me around, hoping I would lead him to the kidnapper. He never was known for doing his own work. I remember several incidences when he worked with Pete, where he’d tried to steal all the credit. Pete never let him get away with it. Instead, he would laugh off Blakely’s efforts to discredit him. I never understood their relationship. If it were me, I wouldn’t have been as forgiving.

“If Blakely sees you with Anna, she’ll end up in jail,” Brandi warned.

“I’ll be careful. I won’t let him see her.”

“And will you let her sell her body?”

“Of course not.”

Brandi sat back and gave me an indulgent smile. “Then how will you identify the kidnapper? Do you think he sees a prostitute he likes and, risking exposure, drags her off the street right then and there.”

“No, of course he—”

“He would employ her for the night and take her back to his place. So, how are you going to decide which big bad wolf to let this sweet little Anna of yours go home with?”

“I-I—” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I need a different plan, I suppose.” I shook my head trying to organize my cluttered thoughts. “I was poisoned, you know. I think it’s muddled my brain.”

Brandi bit her lower lip and smiled indulgently.

Okay. What did I have to work with? I was smart and clever. I should have been able to puzzle this out.

“Mr. Fu was interviewing new prostitutes, looking for a mother for his future child,” I said, thinking aloud. “One of those women has gone missing. But not all of them. So that’s not the common thread. The girls were all new to the street, though.”

Brandi nodded.

“The women are getting stress from all sides. New imported Asian girls are flooding the indoor establishments. The police are harassing the girls working the streets, especially Blakely.”
Blakely with the thousand dollar shoes
. “I should have asked Pete if he gave Blakely those shoes.”

“What shoes?” Brandi asked.

“Nothing. I’m sure it’s not related. Mr. Fu has to be wrong about that.”

“Mr. Fu is never wrong,” Brandi said, echoing the same thought I’d already had. “He might not leave that house of his, but he knows what’s going on in this city more than anyone else.”

“Perhaps not anymore. He looked bad, Brandi.”

Brandi shrugged and then tapped her carton of cigarettes on the bench. “Hell, I’m down to my last one. I get these from an importer who used to be one of my regular customers. We’re friends now, and he still supplies me with the best handmade cigarettes out of Vietnam. But because I’m no longer giving out, he’s no longer saving cartons for me. So he runs out. He won’t make another import run until he’s filled his boat with goods that he exports to Vietnam.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, annoyed that she was interrupting my train of thought.

“It means I’m out of good cigarettes after I smoke this one.”

“You should give it up. It’s an unhealthy habit, anyhow,” I scolded.

“What? Are you preaching to me now?” She chuckled.

What a strange world I lived in. Brandi was worried about imported cigarettes from Asia while the other girls were fighting mad about the new imported prostitutes coming in from Asia.

“What does he export?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. I’m sure whatever he’s doing, it’s not legal. I’ve been telling him that he needs to change his ways. But if he did, he’d have to stop bringing me my cigs.”

“I wonder,” I said tapping my finger against the wooden slat on the bench as some of the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. “What if you’re right, Brandi? What if Mr. Fu
is
never wrong?”

I told her what I was thinking, expecting her to laugh and call me crazy.

Her eyes grew wide with concern, not laughter. She reached over the table and gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “I think I might be able to help you out.”

IT WAS DARK
in the narrow alleyway a few blocks away from where the cruise ships dock and in the thick of an area crowded with newly opened massage parlors and escort services. Only the stars and the glow of the city lit my path. I should have brought a flashlight. I’m not sure I owned one, though. Most places in the city are nearly as bright at night as they are during daylight hours. But this place, with its illicit businesses, embraced the darkness.

“Brandi?” I called out in a hoarse whisper. “Are you there?”

No one answered.

She’d told me to meet her at eleven. And to come alone. Since I always worked alone, I didn’t think twice about agreeing to her terms. But that had been in the light of day. With the soothing sound of the ocean and a full stomach lulling me into trusting her. Standing in the dark in an alleyway that ended with a deeply shadowed brick wall, I was beginning to question whether I’d made a mistake.

I heard a scratching from a doorway. The hair on my neck stood up as I whirled on my heel in the direction of the sound. “Brandi?” I called again, louder this time.

Still, nothing.

A church bell rang softly in the distance. It was eleven. And there was no sign that Brandi was going to show up. I should have gotten more information from her before agreeing to meet her. I didn’t even know how she thought she could help me.

She’d asked me to dress appropriately—like a hooker. She’d been specific. Short skirt. Tight shirt. High heels. No underwear.

I’d balked at that last request. It wasn’t as if I was going to let anyone take a peek at what I had on under my clothes.

Like the other night, I’d applied a generous amount of makeup and had pulled my hair up into a ponytail. Now all I needed was to find out what Brandi had planned for the night.

I was beginning to suspect that she knew more about the kidnappings than she’d been letting on. After all, she was on the streets night after night from dusk until dawn, preaching the gospel. She had to have seen
something
suspicious.

As I stood in the darkened alleyway, I went over every word she and the other women had said to me. She’d acted so innocent, so above what had been happening. But there had to be something else going on,
something
...

And then it hit me. This neighborhood with its indoor sex trade and everyone I’d talked to so far—I suddenly knew who I needed to be questioning. I needed to confront the one man who had been arresting anyone who could possibly implicate him. I raced toward the mouth of the alleyway, my heels clomping loudly on the pavement, when an immovable arm closed around my chest. My heart jumped up into my throat.

I fought my attacker like a wildcat, but the hands on my body only tightened. When I tried to scream for help, the man holding me slammed his hand across my mouth.

“Shhh,” he hissed in my ear. And grabbed both my arms and whirled me around so I could stare into his cold eyes.

“Pete,” I said and whooshed out a breath. “Thank god. I thought you were the kidnapper.”

“
PETE
?”
HE DRAGGED ME
out of the alleyway and pushed me against the wall of a surf shop. The shop’s yellowy security light blared down on his face. His gaze, hard and dark as volcanic rock, burned into my skin.

“
Pete
?” I said again, not sure what to make of his odd behavior. He pulled my arms above my head while his free hand traveled over my hip and fingered the edge of my short skirt. “What—what are you doing?”

“Brandi told me I’d find you out here risking your neck again.” His voice was low, husky. The sound of it caressing against my cheek reminded me of that night we’d spent in my hotel room and woke up parts of my body that I didn’t need to be worrying about right now.

“B-Brandi?” I muttered. Why would Brandi tell Pete about—?

That conniving romantic
. That had been her plan. She set me up, dressing me inappropriately and putting me in a dangerous part of town in the middle of the night. She knew Pete would come running.

“Do you know how many people have been murdered in this neighborhood?” he asked as he pressed his body against mine. “How many brushes with death will it take for you to learn to think before you act?”

“B-but—but—”

His lips were on mine. It was more than a kiss. The way his mouth moved against my lips spoke of promises I hadn’t dared let myself dream. And his tongue, so gentle, parted my lips and pulled me deeper into his world. I was his for the taking. He released my arms and, with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes, caressed my cheeks with both his hands.