The Spy Who Left Me (29 page)

They stood together until Carrie released her and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Come on, girls.” Carrie readjusted the bag over her shoulder, putting up the wall again. “Let’s settle in.”

The girls traipsed after her like the obedient bridal party they were. Treflee followed right along.

Ty caught Treflee’s arm. “What do you think now?” His eyes sparkled.

He’d known about this all along.

“The jury’s still out,” she said. “Are the beds any good?”

“Good question.” His voice was low and sultry. “We could find out.”

Greg came in at a run from the beach, interrupting her retort.
“Aloha!”

Ty waved to him. “There you are, man. Hey, awesome job with the table and flowers. You’ve got a knack. Ever thought of entering the floral business?”

“Don’t get too cocky. You’re in charge of entertainment.” Greg relieved Ty of the cooler and hamper. Ty grabbed Treflee’s bag and showed her to the girls’ tent, lingering in the doorway as she took it in.

Inside six cots were outfitted with fluffy pillows and cotton blankets. An overturned crate with a camp lantern sat beside each. Out back, there was a Porta Potti and a sun shower hung from a tree. All in all, pretty elegant digs.

The only thing worrying Treflee were the canvas walls. Any old machete could whack through them in a swing or two.

The others had already claimed their cots. Ty set her bag down on the empty cot nearest the door.

Ty whispered in her ear, “My tent’s just to the left.”

“Good. Any attacker from the north will get you first.”

He laughed. “Freshen up and dress for dinner, ladies.” He disappeared before Treflee could ask any questions.

Treflee turned to her cousin. “Dress for dinner?”

Carrie shrugged. “I told you to bring a sundress.”

Treflee addressed the other girls. “Anyone have an extra dress I can borrow?”

*   *   *

Ty dropped his gear off in his tent and caught up with Greg.

“Heard you had an adventure up on the mountain,” Greg said to him. “Got some good stuff and had an incident during your ride down.”

Ty nodded. Emmett spread the word quickly.

“Had a little fun on the Hana Highway, too,” Ty said.

“Really?”

Ty filled him in.

When Ty finished, Greg let out a whistle. “So now you owe money to the Fuk Ching. Good to know. The last guy, the one on the Hana Highway, was he Fuk Ching?”

Ty frowned. “He had the tattoo and all the markings. He was out to take out Tref. RIOT has somehow gotten it into their heads that she’s the master spy here.”

Greg laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, I heard a rumor to that effect. RIOT must be desperate. It’s risky and way too flashy to take out a tourist van full of women.”

“Yeah, but they failed with the more subtle bike accident.” Ty frowned in thought.

“Something bothering you?”

Ty sighed. “Yeah. Why an accident? Two to the head is more effective. It’s not hard to evade detection. RIOT could smuggle their killer off the island and back to China before the body’s even been discovered. Plenty of water around here to dump it.”

Though as Ty knew, dumping didn’t always work the way you’d planned.
Damn glass-bottomed boats!

Greg nodded slowly.

“What do they want with Tref?” Ty mused. “What’s their goal?”

“Revenge?” Greg said. “Intel?”

Ty didn’t think it was either. He shook his head. “Accidents can go either way. It’s hard to get intel from a dead body. If they want her out of the action, they kill her. If they want info, they grab her. What else is there?”

Greg took a minute answering. “Just because the accident itself doesn’t kill her doesn’t mean she won’t end up dead.” He paused. “There’s another possibility—they don’t care whether the accident kills her or not.”

Ty felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Of course that was it. Greg’s theory explained why there’d been no gunplay. He’d been so blind. “They’re trying to distract us?”

Greg corrected him. “Her.”

Her
. Ty let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, trying to distract her from a wedding and a live video feed. They don’t know we know about that.” Ty paused. “Which means they’ll strike again and keep striking at Tref until she’s dead or hospitalized, and they’ve got Pinpoint.”

“They won’t get Treflee or Pinpoint.” Greg slapped Ty on the arm. “You and I will stop them.”

Ty appreciated Greg’s confidence. He wished he felt as sure. Worrying about Tref was messing with his self-assurance. “Any news on Hal?”

Greg shook his head. “Nothing new. He seems calm. Looks like he’s just hanging out until Saturday.”

Ty nodded. “I’ve sent everything to HQ. Let’s hope Emmett has a handle on things. In the meantime, I’m not leaving Tref alone.” Ty paused and grinned. “She’ll be sleeping with me tonight.”

Greg laughed. “Making progress on your other mission?”

“I will be.”

*   *   *

Unfortunately, either the other girls hadn’t brought an extra dress or didn’t have one that fit her. Treflee was forced to wear her black beach cover-up to dinner. It was sundresslike, as in, if you used your imagination you could pretend it was a real little black dress, not simply something you throw on over a wet swimsuit. The wooden beaded ties gave it away. But this was Hawaii. Treflee told herself you could get away with almost anything here.

The others changed into their brightly printed cotton sundresses, looking fetchingly coordinated as they cascaded out of the tent and into the tropical evening paradise.

How in the world had she been out of the loop so often on this vacation? She felt a lot like she had at family dinners of old. She and Carrie used to discuss coordinating what to wear to holiday meals with the other girl cousins—jeans, pants, skirts, or dresses. Inevitably, they’d all agree on something. Treflee would show up wearing it and all the others would show up wearing something entirely different. Cousins seemed universally duplicitous where wardrobe was concerned. But this time, the other girls really had tried to help Treflee out.

The sun had set. Greg and Ty had lit the tiki torches and the candles on the table, which put out a delicate coconut scent. An iPod played sensual Hawaiian music over a pair of portable speakers. Ty stood behind a stocked tiki bar, playing bartender.

She needed to sharpen her powers of observation. She hadn’t noticed the bar when they’d first arrived. Now there was no way she’d miss it. Not with her husband at it pouring deep ocean-blue drinks that looked as luscious, tempting, and mysterious as he did.

He wore a tasteful Hawaiian print cotton shirt and linen pants. The flickering torchlight highlighted his artificial blond streaks, the strong set of his jaw, and the planes of his bearded face. He looked handsome, suave, very spylike in a Bond sort of way. Bond could be blond or brunet these days. Ty was a combo.

His eyes met hers. Her pulse leaped. She had to be careful, very careful. She was on a mission herself. She was going to get whatever he palmed on the volcano this morning. No, she hadn’t forgotten. And she hadn’t changed her mind, either—she needed that divorce. For her own sense of peace.

She realized that if she was going to get that little key to her freedom, she was going to have to play very nice to Ty and get up close and personal with him. So close, she might very well get burned.

Most divorcing couples yelled and screamed at each other, traded insults, hid assets, slashed each other’s tires, or devised ways to cheat the other one out of everything.

Just how many divorcing couples pretended to be falling in love with each other? Flirted? Gazed deeply into each other’s eyes as if the mystery were still there and the spark just igniting? Brushed fingertips and shared kisses?

The problem with all this flirtation was that it didn’t exactly breed contempt. In her case, it pushed her to dance a little too close to friendly fire.

And forced an uncomfortable realization—she was still in love with her husband. And she lusted after him with a passion.

It wasn’t an admission she’d make to anyone else. And it wasn’t going to stop her from pursuing her goal. Just because you loved someone didn’t mean they were right for you. Or that you could live happily ever after with them. It didn’t mean that you dealt with the loneliness or jealousy any better. Or the realization that their passions, the things that thrilled you about them, also kept you from them.

She would flirt with him. Sweet-talk him. Even sleep with him if that’s what it took. But she wouldn’t give him control of her heart and life again.

He looked up and caught her staring at him.

Good.
She smiled at him, slowly, letting herself feel the joy that flirting with him brought.

Carrie came up beside her. “It’s an open bar. Drinks are on me until the liquor runs out. Go for it.” She gave Treflee a shove in the bar’s direction.

As Treflee approached, Ty raised the bottle of blue curacao he was holding. “Blue Hawaii?”

Just one for courage.
He’d find her affections more believable if he thought alcohol had loosened her inhibitions. She strolled over and leaned on the bar. “Depends on what’s in it.”

“You’ll love it. Crème de coconut, light rum, vodka, this blue stuff, pineapple juice, and sweet-and-sour mix.”

“You had me at crème de coconut,” she said, eyeing an appetizer platter on the counter.

“Somehow I knew I did.” He handed her a small plate and a napkin and pushed the appetizers toward her. “Pupu?”

“Pupu? These Hawaiians have a different name for everything. Some of them better than others.”

He laughed. “Try the Maui onion dip and taro chips.”

Delicious as the dip looked, onion breath was not going to further her cause. She pointed to another dish on the platter. “What’s this?”

“Another excellent choice. Macadamia-nut hummus. Try it with the macadamia-oil pita chips.”

“Garlicky?”

“Somewhat.”

Hobson’s choice.
“What are you having?”

He picked up a pita chip and dipped it in the hummus, holding it out to her to take a bite. “Both. Eventually. Try it. You’ll like it.”

As long as he was eating it, too. She took a bite and made an appreciative noise. “Hand-feeding the patrons. This really is a full-service bar. I suppose now you’ll expect a big tip?”

“I’d rather use one.” His eyes sparkled with lust.

She felt an unwelcome jolt of excitement. “Just make my drink, will you?”

He made a show of mixing her drink. Then he stabbed a long pineapple spear with a pick and garnished her drink with it. “You like them long.”

He was incorrigible.

“I like them sweet.” She picked up her drink and walked off to join the others.

*   *   *

One drink and her head was buzzing. No doubt Ty had made it extra strong. Greg called them to dinner. Bird-of-paradise place cards designated their seats. Treflee found her place at the table. She’d been seated as far away from Laci as possible. Carrie sat at the head of the table, a bride holding court without her jilted groom. Treflee was seated next to Faye who was next to Carla. Laci and Brandy sat across from them.

Treflee shot a glance at Carrie and smiled, grateful to her cousin for her thoughtful seating assignments. Carrie put on her lei. Everyone else followed suit.

If pleasant smells led to pleasant thoughts, plumeria had definite aphrodisiac properties.

At least Treflee hoped that explained why Ty looked so delicious as he set a second Blue Hawaii in front of her. “Heavy on the crème de coconut. Just for you.”

She smiled at him. “Well, aren’t you sweet?”

He grinned. “I’ve heard you like sweet.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Wait until you see what’s coming.” He disappeared to play waiter.

A few minutes later, Ty and Greg rolled out a family-style Hawaiian feast—char siu, chicken lu‘au, hulu-huli chicken, chicken long rice, taro rolls, fresh fruit, and macaroni salad. A Hawaiian take on the usual rubber-chicken wedding dinner.

As the feasting and conversation wound down, Laci raised her glass to make a toast. “At a wedding reception, it’s customary for the maid of honor to toast the bride and groom, gush about what a perfect couple they make, and wish them a happy life together.

“Since this is an
un
-wedding, a celebration of an escape from couplehood, I’d like to talk about my best friend, Carrie. She’s perfect … all by herself.” Laci’s voice cracked as she smiled at Carrie.

“She’s the best friend any girl could ever have. I’m so lucky she’s mine. She has your back, you know. You can always talk to her and tell her anything. She deserves the same in a man. One day she’ll find him.”

She reached over and gave Carrie’s hand a squeeze. “Until the right guy comes along, wishing you all the happiness there is in the single life.” She raised her glass higher. “To Carrie!”