The Spy Who Left Me (23 page)

At the van, Treflee dusted herself off and picked the leaves out of her hair. Ty doused her with antiseptic from the first-aid kit and bandaged the worst of her wounds. Keoni threw the bikes in the trailer. Each absorbed in their own thoughts, no one spoke. After a few minutes, Keoni jumped in the driver’s seat and they were off.

Used to following slowpoke cyclists and living on Hawaiian time, Keoni wasn’t exactly a speed demon behind the wheel, but he knew the roads and drove smoothly. Slow and steady, no surprises, no sudden stops, was just fine with Treflee.

She closed her eyes and sprawled across the seat, leaning her head against the window, glad to be alive. Just how many more surviving-the-spy-life days was she going to have to endure until she was safely home on the mainland and alone, spyless, in her own queen-sized bed? And how bruised, scratched, bitten, battered, and sore would she be by then?

Sleeping alone used to scare her. She used to worry about being jumped by an enemy agent looking for Ty. No more. No one, not even the neighbor’s annoyingly neurotic three-legged dog, had had the temerity to attack her on her own property.

What did scare her was the fact that the mad biker had come after her. Her! There was no mistake about it. But why? What had she done? Who did they think she was?

In the seat behind her, Ty was playing with his cell phone. Putting out the spy equivalent of an APB, no doubt. How long would it take NCS to bring that nefarious biker in?

The three of them made good time and caught up with the others at the protea farm lunch stop with plenty of time left to eat and still stick to the schedule. The girls’ bicycles were parked outside the general store and conscientiously locked in place just as Keoni had instructed at the top of the mountain.

“I need a beer,” Keoni said, as he jumped out of the van.

Ty nodded and slapped Keoni on the back. “I hear you, bro. The first one’s on me.”

Treflee scanned the area for dangerous pump-wielding assassins. Shouldn’t that have been Ty’s job? Then she stared at her two macho-men protectors—nearly ex-husband, beach bum, spy, and big former football-playing half Samoan, half Hawaiian bicycle guy. “Hold it right there,
bros
. One of you two is going to be driving to the beach park after lunch.”

And the other one is supposed to be fully alert so he can fend off killers,
she might have added.

Keoni shrugged. “I weigh three hundred pounds naked. Before breakfast. One beer isn’t even going to register on a Breathalyzer.”

Ty nodded his agreement as she tried to pin him with a look and convey he was on spy duty. “What?” he said in a tone that was way too innocent. “I’m not driving.”

With that reassuring confrontation under her belt, they entered the crowded store. Tourists and lunching bicycle-tour-takers lay every way Treflee looked. Most of them were clad in black of some kind. Black shorts seemed particularly chic among this crowd. Not what she needed to see. She wasn’t particularly fond of cyclists right now. She felt jumpy and skittish.

“Relax!” Ty whispered in her ear. “No way our guy just stopped by for a bite of Hawaiian barbecue on his way out. If we haven’t picked him up by now, he’s trying like hell to get off the island.”

How very reassuring.

The Chinese tour group occupied half a dozen tables in the corner. Terror and apprehension every way she looked. How could she be sure it wasn’t one of these guys who’d tried to rip her spokes out?

Three times is a charm, as they say. Twice already, she’d been attacked by someone of Chinese descent. She couldn’t be sure about the biker in black. But judging by his build, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was Chinese. That made three. Maybe now that she’d survived her third she was safe?

No, much as she’d like to, she didn’t believe that.

The Chinese group hardly noticed her. They laughed and spoke in their singsong tones as they ate with disposable chopsticks they’d brought with them, gesturing at each other with them as they spoke. Abi caught her eye and smiled.

Treflee forced herself to smile back.

“Don’t worry about them, either,” Ty whispered. “What you need is some food to perk you up.”

They found the girls huddled at a table near the lunch counter. Even as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, it was clear to Treflee that there was trouble in paradise with the Carrie clan. Ty and Keoni seemed aware of it, as well.

Ty turned to her. “I’ll order you something from the lunch counter. What do you want?”

His tone and stance telegraphed he wasn’t going near those girls with a ten-foot surf paddle.
Coward!

“Coconut ice cream,” Treflee answered without hesitating. Boy, did she need ice cream. In spades.

His gaze darted between Treflee and Carrie and company. “You need protein.”

“Ice cream is protein.”

Ty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real well balanced. How about some carbs and fruit and veggies?”

“Ask for a cookie with it. Coconut counts as fruit.”

He shook his head in a way that left it clear he wondered why he bothered. “I’ll pick something,” he whispered.

Then chivalry disappeared. The two men hightailed it to the counter, bypassing the ladies. For her part, Treflee wondered what all the excitement was about as she walked up to Carrie’s table. Maybe they’d heard about her accident and were indignant on her part. Maybe there’d been a horrible crash. Something along the lines of a speeding van full of bad guys bursting into flame on the road to Haleakala would have been nice. One could hope! And pyrotechnics always made for a good story.

Laci looked up at her, eyes snapping with jealousy. “Look what the boys finally dragged in.”

Faye was a little more observant and astute. “Whoa! What happened to you?”

Treflee shrugged. “Some dude cut me off at the corner. I took a tumble down the hill.”

Carla sighed. She reached over and pulled a leaf off Treflee’s bike jersey as Treflee sat down. “You missed one.” Her expert gaze flicked over the bandaging job Ty had done. “Cleaned those good and used plenty of antibiotic ointment, I hope?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Carla looked skeptical. “Want me to take a look?”

“Later,” Treflee said, shuddering at the thought of Carla ripping off her bandages. “What’s going on here?” She scooted up to the table.

“Kane.” Faye looked horrified just speaking the name.

Carrie stared at the table. She looked worried, too. And scared. Treflee couldn’t remember ever seeing Carrie scared.

“Kane?” Treflee repeated. At least this had nothing to do with her. The pressure was off.

Carrie’s ex-fiancé, Kane, was a big bear of a guy, but solid muscle. The kind of guy who’d probably been a chunky kid. No one messed with the burly cop now. And it was no use verbally sparring with him, either. He wasn’t the kind of guy who ever had a word to spare.

“What about Kane?” Treflee asked, fearing the worst.

“He wants Carrie back.” Brandy sounded as if she were issuing a death sentence.

Now? Just days before the wedding Carrie had called off?

Good thing Treflee was already sitting because her legs went weak as her anger rose. Though maybe the weak legs were the aftereffect of actually having had to pedal down the mountain for more than her allotted two hundred yards.

“What? How do you know? When did this happen?” Treflee took a deep breath as she tried to digest the news.

“He texted her as we were coming down the mountain.” Brandy flicked a glance in Carrie’s direction. “Texted her!” She sounded amazed at Kane’s audacity.

“He’s coming to Maui.” Faye’s eyes were round.

Brandy ignored Faye’s interjection. “Upset her so much she just took off down the mountain. We had a hard time keeping up with her.”

At least Kane’s text explained why they’d all taken off and left Treflee to the mercy of a man in black spandex.

Carrie mutely stared at the table as if she weren’t the center of the conversation.

“When will he be here?” It seemed like a logical question.

Brandy nearly bit her head off for asking. “He didn’t say.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Treflee saw Ty approaching with her ice cream and a plated lunch.

Treflee reached across the table and squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Do you want to see him?”

Carrie shook her head, pulled her hand away, and burst into tears.

Treflee started so badly she nearly jumped out of her chair. She hadn’t seen Carrie cry since they were kids. The sight tugged at her heart. She shot her cousin a sympathetic look, feeling genuinely sorry for her, wanting to comfort her somehow, but having no idea how. “Don’t cry, Carrie. We’re here for you.”

Ty slid the plate in front of her—two mounds of rice, a scoop of macaroni salad, and chicken katsu. Then he turned right back around and darted off, taking her ice cream with him.

Judging by the way men reacted to tears, Treflee wondered if the most effective weapon on the battlefield wouldn’t be a great big female cry-fest.

She ignored the yummy-looking macaroni salad in front of her and addressed the group. “We’ll just have to protect Carrie and keep Kane away from her, then, won’t we?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After lunch, Ty helped Keoni load the bikes into the trailer for the drive to Paia. Just as he loaded the last one in, his phone made the distinctive ping of an incoming encrypted text message from headquarters.

“Hey, dude, I’ll be right back. I gotta respond to this.”

“A la-dy?” Keoni strung the last word out suggestively.

Ty glanced at Tref.

“Ah, a one-woman man, huh?”

Ty grinned and shook his phone. “This is just business.” And he was off to go use his top-secret decoder ring to read his text. Playing spy was like the best boyhood game there was.

Ty walked away from the group and logged on to his secure phone. Emmett wanted him to call.

Ty made sure he couldn’t be overheard and dialed. “Hey, boss,” he said when Emmett picked up.

Emmett launched straight into business. “Got your message about the video feed and basement. We’re on it.

“The guy who attacked Treflee has no record. He’s an astronomy professor at the University of Hawaii. Regularly does research at the Haleakala Observatory as part of a grant. From time to time he works on the university’s joint ventures with the air force on Haleakala at AMOS.”

Ty sighed. So that’s where he came from—an observatory. Just like Ty’s contact. A shiver ran down his back.

“Our guy’s a Chinese immigrant. Married. Lives on the Big Island with a wife and two kids. Wife and he were naturalized ten years ago.”

“Who does he work for?” Ty tried to keep his end of the conversation cryptic, just in case.

“RIOT. The getaway driver was his wife.”

Good. We’ve rooted out two terrorists.

“We have them in custody.”

Heart pounding, Ty asked a question he knew Emmett would understand. “And me?”

Damn Tref again! If my cover is blown and I’m kicked off the mission … or worse, out of the Agency …

He owed it to George and his country to complete the mission. He had to stop RIOT from obtaining the Pinpoint Project. And he had to win Tref back. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

“You’re good. In the clear,” Emmett said. “We picked the mad biker and his getaway driver up at the bottom of the mountain before they could communicate with anyone. We checked their equipment. We’re confident they didn’t get any messages off.”

Excellent.
Ty had really been sweating that one.

“We’ll interrogate them,” Emmett said. “But I doubt we’ll get much. They’re low-level operatives.”

Ty had a terrible thought. “Why did they go after Tref?”

“RIOT and their associates, the Fuk Ching, are under the misapprehension that your wife is our master spy.”

“What!” Ty cursed beneath his breath. “How in the hell did they get that idea?”

Emmett laughed. “Seems Treflee’s always where the action is. They were particularly suspicious when a woman staying next door to Sugar Love Plantation showed up at lunch with Hal.”

Ty cursed some more. He’d put Tref in even more danger.

“One more thing,” Emmett said. “Word on the street is some dumb, blond beach bum has been fawning all over Treflee. That would be you?”

Ty pictured Emmett swilling a whiskey and having a good laugh over that one with the boys at Langley. Ty scowled. “Yes.”

“Always working hard,” Emmett said. “Humint proof you’re making progress on Mission Reconciliation?”

“Absolutely,” Ty said. He refused to admit failure yet. He’d get there in the end.

Emmett gave him instructions. “Let them continue to think Treflee is the spy. The less they suspect you and Greg, the better.”

Ty argued with him. “Damn it, Emmett! No. This is too dangerous.”