The Spy Who Left Me (14 page)

Carrie tilted her head and frowned as if in thought as she studied him. “I’ve only seen a few photos of her Ty. You bear a passing resemblance to him.”

Ty’s mouth went dry as he fought to stay in character, hoping Carrie didn’t make the connection that he
was
Tref’s Ty.

“Which probably explains part of the reason she’s attracted to you,” Carrie continued.

He tried not to let his relief show. “You’re saying she doesn’t just like me for me?”

“I’m just telling you, if she wants to have a fling with you while she’s here, if that’s what she needs to realize how foolish she is, that’s fine by me.”

Carrie pointed her finger at him. “Just don’t hurt her or you’ll answer to me.”

He held up his hands and protested. “Hey, no worries—”

“Can it,” Carrie said. “I know what I see. And while you’re at it, I wouldn’t lose out to that Hal character. I don’t like him.”

Just then there was a commotion at Zulu’s table and he rose to leave. Fortunately, the door to the ladies’ room was down the hall just beyond where Zulu sat.

Carrie followed Ty’s gaze and laughed. Damn, that woman was good. He’d have to be careful around her and remember she had the instincts of both a warrior and a cop.

“You’re itching to escape before Laci gets back.” She didn’t pose it as a question. She waved her hand at him. “Go! Make your escape. I’ll get the girls back to the bus on time.”

He smiled back at her. Tref had always complained about her cousin, but Ty liked her. Maybe someday he’d tell Tref what a gem she had in Carrie. “You sure? It doesn’t take much for these bruddahs to go aggro.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him an “oh, please” look. “Go, surfer boy. You may have brawn, but I can take grown men down and cuff them before they know what hits them. I can handle things here.”

He believed her. He pointed at her and smiled. “I owe you.” He turned to leave and make his escape.

“Damn right!” she called to his retreating back. “I’ll make your excuses.”

Outside the bar, he waited in the shadows to follow Zulu.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Treflee ate only half her pineapple cheeseburger. Ty’s shenanigans and having to fend off Hal while not totally offending him had killed her appetite, though nothing seemed to dull Hal’s ardor. Not even revealing that she was going through a messy divorce and was an emotional wreck right now. He evidently liked a good chase. Or maybe he was relishing some hot sex as the rebound guy.

She glanced at her watch. Just half an hour until the van left. If she wasn’t on it, Ty would come looking for her. She didn’t have much time.

Hal smiled at her. “Time flies!”

She nodded, trying to sound mildly disappointed. “It’s almost time to catch the bus.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll drive you home.”

No way was she going anywhere alone with this guy. Not even to his car.

She smiled coyly at Hal. “That’s sweet of you. But I
have
to be on that van. If I’m not, my cousin Carrie will kill me.” She pretended to pout. “She’s paying for this vacation and expects us all to do exactly what she wants, when she wants.” She’d told him about Carrie while they ate.

Just then Hal’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and then looked at her apologetically. “I have to take this.”

He excused himself and walked to the end of the terrace to take the call.

Treflee seized the opportunity and flagged the waitress. She showed her the address she had for the lawyer’s office. “Do you know where this is?”

“Sure. It’s just a few blocks up the street off the waterfront.” She gave Treflee quick directions.

Luckily it’s close by.

Hal returned to the table.

Treflee stood before he could sit. She pulled a twenty from her purse and tossed it on the table. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got to go. Hell hath no fury like my cousin.”

As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. “Wait! Don’t forget this.” He handed her the pineapple mug and pressed her crumpled bill into her hand, running his hand over her bare arm. “I had a great time today. Lunch is on me.”

His touch gave her the creeps. She shuddered and dropped the bill and the mug into her bag, eager to break away from him.

Hal misread her shudder as a sign of sexual interest, goose bumps of delight. “When can I see you again?”

“Carrie has a full schedule planned.” She tried to sound helpless, like not being able to see him was beyond her control, a gentle brush-off. She didn’t want to ever see him again, but she didn’t want him trying to strangle her for dissing him, either.

“We can work around that.” He gave her arm a squeeze and released her. “I’ll call.”

She smiled, relieved he didn’t have her number. “Thanks for lunch.” She turned and started walking.

“Hey! What’s your number?” he called after her a second too late.

She acted as if she didn’t hear and kept walking, trying hard not to break into a run.

*   *   *

Treflee raced up the street. By the time she reached the Ailaini Building, she’d broken into a nervous sweat. Fortunately, Hal hadn’t followed her. Espionage was the pits! She was so going to give Ty a piece of her mind when she saw him.

Speaking of Ty, she had another problem. If he had a tracking device on her, he’d know exactly where she was. And if he’d planted a bug on her, he’d hear her ask for her divorce papers. The thought gave her almost as much anxiety as having lunch with Hal, the probable bad guy.

Unfortunately, she had no debugging equipment on her and would have had no idea how to use it if she had. Her best bet was to think up a good cover story—quickly. She spotted a souvenir shop and dashed in to buy a few postcards. She could always claim that’s what she’d been up to.

Back on the street, she decided the most likely place to plant a bug was in her bag. Just outside the store, she dumped the contents of the bag onto a bench and quickly riffled through her stuff. No obvious bits of tracking electronics stood out to her.

She dumped her stuff back in her bag. She’d just have to keep her fingers crossed.

She hurried to the law office. What exactly was she going to say when she got there that wouldn’t give her away if Ty was listening in?

A middle-aged woman sat at the receptionist desk. Treflee introduced herself, still wondering what to say.

“Treflee Miller, you say?” The woman smiled and pulled a sheaf of papers covered in the traditional blue lawyer’s folder from her out-box. “I suppose you want these?” She opened the papers and handed Treflee a pen. “I’ll be your witness.”

The receptionist pointed to indicate where to sign. When Treflee was finished, the receptionist took out her notary seal and made her official mark. “His needs to be notarized, too.”

Treflee nodded, hoping that if Ty was listening in, he hadn’t heard the words “his” and “notarized.” If he had, he’d be sure to figure out what she was up to.

The receptionist scooped the papers up and handed them to her.

Treflee thanked her. “What do I owe you?”

“It’s taken care of.”

“Great!” She stuffed the sheaf into her beach bag next to the pineapple mug and slid the bag over her shoulder.

In her hurry to get back to the van, she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. As she burst out of the law office into the hall, she bumped into a tourist wearing a straw hat. Or maybe he bumped into her. Hard to tell.

He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Excuse me!”

“Sorry! My fault,” she said.

He nodded and they moved on.

One of the straps of her beach bag had slid off her shoulder. She pushed it back up as she headed out to catch the van.

Well, that went amazingly smoothly!
She smiled to herself.
Order me not to send for them—right! As if Ty could stop me. He isn’t quite as smart a spy boy as he thought.

When
was
the best time to spring these babies on her imperious, spying husband? Probably just before she disappeared through airport security. She smiled to herself.

*   *   *

The others were already loaded up and waiting as Treflee approached.

Ty shot her a grim look and jumped out of the driver’s seat to hold the door open for her.

Gee, what a gentleman.

“What happened to your date?”

She shot him a deadpan look. The last thing she needed was him taunting her right now. But it was so like him to poke at her when she couldn’t retaliate. “As if you don’t know. I’ll deal with you later.”

“I hope so,” he said.

Treflee climbed in the van and Ty slammed the door closed behind her. Safely buckled in her seat, she patted her beach bag next to her.

Mission accomplished.

*   *   *

As the van pulled up to Big Auau, they were greeted by a Chinese explosion—suitcases, trunks, purses, boxes, and bags, and milling people covered the lanai and the lawn halfway to the beach. Tita stood on the lanai trying to shoo the Chinese away as if they were gulls who’d come begging for bread.

Ty and Greg jumped out to investigate. Treflee and the girls followed them.

“What’s the problem, Tita?” Ty yelled.

“
Haole!
Thank goodness!” She waved over the crowd as she used her girth to block the door. “They won’t go away. I can’t make them understand there’s been a mistake. We’re booked.”

She waved some papers at him. “They keep shoving these at me and pointing. But they’re all written in Chinese.” She threw up her hands.

Ty ran up, took the papers from her, and scanned them.

Treflee frowned at him.
Of course he can read Chinese! But will he give himself away?

He pointed at a line on one of them. “Here’s the problem. Someone typed the wrong address.”

Tita squinted where he pointed and nodded, looking relieved.

Oh, good cover,
Treflee thought, impressed. Her husband was a pro for sure. He’d found the one bit of English on the page. She was certain he could read every Chinese word.

“I’m guessing they belong with Mrs. Ho. Why don’t you go give her a call?”

“You block the door,” Tita commanded. “Don’t let them in. They’re pushy and rude. I’ll never get rid of them.” She frowned as she relinquished her position and waddled off to phone Mrs. Ho.

Then for some unknown reason, call it post-traumatic shock, at the sight of all those Chinese people, Treflee began to shake uncontrollably. First a hooded Chinese man had tried to strangle her, then a Chinese teenager nearly drowned her, then her lunch date had a Chinese connection. What if this crowd of innocent-looking Chinese tourists hid another killer?

Greg appeared at her elbow. “You look pale. Are you feeling okay? Is your head bothering you?” He took her arm. “You look like you could use a lie-down. Let me take you to your room.”

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Ho arrived, shouting, “
”
[zhe shi zen me hui shier?]

Ty understood quite clearly.
What’s the problem here?

He’d also read the travel documents and seen the coded message he’d been looking for—there was a Chinese agent among the newly arrived tourists.

He listened in on Mrs. Ho’s conversations with the tourists, playing as if he couldn’t understand, as he and Greg unloaded the women’s gear from the van. Unfortunately, the woman didn’t let anything slip.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Ho had rounded up her guests and whisked them off to Sugar Love.

Five minutes after that, Ty rendezvoused with Greg on the beach. “The Chinese agent is in place at Sugar Love. We’re to await word from her.” He told Greg the code words to expect.

“Excellent,” Greg said, but he didn’t sound as enthusiastic as he should have.