Karma by the Sea (4 page)

She challenged his apathy. Made him feel something besides resentment.

The least he could do was take the dog for a walk while she was in the shower.

He found the collar, the kind that spiked inward and allowed a pet owner some control over a larger animal, and a leash. Princey danced around him, excited to go out. Joe grabbed about six plastic trash bags. He had no clue the damage this dog could do, but he wanted to be prepared for the worst.

Princey led the way to the elevator, then once out on the main floor, greeted the doorman and the woman at the desk he’d already checked in with.

“Officer Porter,” the woman called. “I found out that Ms. Hartley is at Holy Family.”

“Thank you.” He paused as Princey sniffed a potted palm. “Did you talk to her?”

“Oh no, sir. But if you see her? Would you tell her we’re thinking about her?”

“Sure.” Joe looked at the doorman. “Ms. Hartley does this? Every day?”

The doorman looked down at his feet. “She tries, sir, she does. But usually one of the boys or myself will help her.”

“Why did she get such a big dog?” Joe didn’t understand people. Condo living was not meant for huge furry beasts.

“She saw an ad that he was going to be put down.”

Princey whined.

“Oh.”
Well.
“How long has she had him?”

“Less than a year. But they are sweet together. Sitting on the bench, side by side. Like he knows she saved him.”

Princey nudged the doorman in the knee and the man scratched Princey’s ears. “Just go out back there. I’m sure he’ll show you where to go. He’s a smart one.”

“Thank you.”  Joe realized he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Like judge another person without getting the facts. His therapist would have something to say about that—if he told her, which he doubted he would. But he would remember the lesson.

That was the point, anyway, right?

He gave Princey a good fifteen minutes outside to do his business, most of which was sniffing other dog’s business.

Totally chill, the large beige, white and brown Saint Bernard leaned against Joe as if to let him know he was done.
Thanks
.

“No prob, buddy.” They went upstairs and Joe was wrong again. Not something he was used to.

Kay stood in the mirrored foyer in snug jeans, a loose blouse that bared sections of skin as she moved, and heels. She’d knotted her wet hair into a bun centered at the back of her head, with loose strands framing her face. Her brown oval eyes gave her an Asian cast, despite the platinum blonde hair. Petite in height and frame, she packed a punch.

“You didn’t have to take Princey out!” She applied a swipe of red gloss in the mirror, smacking her lips together. “But I’m glad you did. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Joe’s problem was swallowing as he tried not to follow the curve of her ass as she tossed the glimmering tube into her purse. She smelled like jasmine.

“Marge called from the front desk. Confirmed the room number you told me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I already knew.” She smiled.

Not good
.

“I feel like I should have showered,” he said.

Her face closed expression. Nothing bad, or good, just neutral. “You can here, but Rita doesn’t have any clean clothes. Unless you want a linen Ann Taylor sheath. Your legs aren’t bad, either.”

“Thanks.” He ran, too. He missed being needed. The adrenalin of setting up the bad guy, occasionally winning one for the underdog. It was difficult being a street cop when he’d been trained for high stakes.

“Want to go home?” she asked. “I can take a cab to the hospital.”

“No, no. It’s just that you look, great, and I look like I went for a swim.”

“Saving me from drowning. Which if you knew the story behind that, you’d die laughing.”

“Tell.”

“Only because we agreed no lies.” She flirtatiously tossed her head. “So, I’m named after the Hawaiian Sea Goddess.”

“I never pegged you as…Hawaiian.” Blonde, trim.

“Yeah. My dad is a native. My SoCal mother moved to Molokai to ‘find herself’—I guess she’s still looking.”

He could tell she used humor as a defense against hurt. Act like it didn’t matter, and nobody would realize it was a deep wound. All of the therapy he’d been in over the years had to count for something, even if it was recognizing other people’s pain. He knew his own flaws backward and forward. Upside down, too.

“Kay? I never heard of that goddess.” He waited to see if she would offer more information but she was busy checking her smart phone. “Did you grow up there?”

“Yes.” She looked up, powering the phone off before tossing it into her purse after her lip gloss.

“How did you go from legendary chill Hawaii native to cutthroat divorce lawyer from Chicago?”

“I am not cut-throat,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “I just know how to get my clients what they want. Are we going, or what?”

“Why did Rita attempt suicide?”

“Your cop is coming out to play. We don’t know that she did this on purpose.”

“No lies,” Joe prompted.

Kay hesitated. Princey left Joe’s side to walk to hers, putting his head under her hand. She scratched his ears. “Turns out she still loves her husband.” Her eyes glimmered but she blinked away the hint of tears. “Not anything she ever told me about during the entire divorce process. Trust me, I would have remembered.”

Joe had a hard time believing that a woman wouldn’t share her feelings about the man she was divorcing. “You just said you gave her what she wanted.”

“She wanted more than half of his fortune. She got it.” Kay stiffened. “Wait a minute, Joe. Are you suggesting that Rita’s overdose is
my
fault?”

K went from calm to furious in two seconds. His suggestion that she might be responsible rankled. While in the shower, she’d mentally gone over every email, phone call and text. Not once had Rita hinted at anything other than loathing and wanting to get what she deserved from the husband who had wronged her so badly.

“No!” Joe said, backing up toward the door, which was still open from returning Princey from his walk. “I don’t think that. Nobody can be responsible for somebody else’s action.”

“Exactly.” Her tone was deliberately curt.

“I just was curious at how she’d managed to avoid her feelings.”

The tattooed boy-toy wanted to talk feelings? “She was
angry.
She’d been disrespected. By the man she thought would honor her forever. Instead he sets up a floozy three blocks down! Poor Rita thinks he’s taking his morning run, but he’s having his morning screw instead.” K had it all on film. “Back home in time for Rita to make him bacon and eggs.”

Joe winced. “I’m sorry.”

K sighed, forcing a deep breath. “Me too.” It made her so mad, watching women believe in their spouses, only to be let down. Women needed to be able to stand alone! To take care of themselves. But those men weren’t Joe, so she kept her voice light. “I mean it; you’re welcome to take a shower here if you want. Or you can go home, and I can call a cab.”

“I’m curious how Rita is doing,” he said. “I know you brought stuff for overnight, but how about food?”

“I checked the fridge. Rita is stocked for Armageddon. The dog, the bird and I can all live happily for years.” The woman was organized down to labeling and dating her spices.

“Okay. Let’s go to the hospital, then.”

“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 of 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.