by Toby Neal
The depression rose around her like a dark greasy fog, engulfing her as she drove the Lexus to the public parking garage where she stored it, only a few blocks from the doggie daycare. She parked the Lexus and changed inside it into Mary Watson’s flowing sundress, sandals, and pretty straw hat.
Collecting her backpack filled with everything that mattered to her from the back seat, she beeped the SUV locked for the weekend and went two floors down in the garage to Mary Watson’s beater truck. She drove the truck out of the garage, the hat down to shield her face from any cameras, turning out onto busy Kalakaua Avenue.
She picked up Ginger and headed home.
The dog, sitting on the battered, sandy passenger seat beside her, sensed her mood and whined, thick tail lashing. “Yeah, you want a beach walk, don’t you? It’s ‘pau hana’ Friday, as Jake reminded me. We might as well stop at the beach on the way home.”
Maybe a beach walk at sunset in Honolulu, a gorgeous event any day of the week, would head off the crippling malaise swamping her brain.
Driving on autopilot took her to Ala Moana Park. The sunset was indeed a glorious sight, painting the sea and sky with scarlet and gold, touching poufy cumulus clouds with Maxfield Parrish glory.
But walking in sand warm from the day, little waves curling around her feet, Mary’s soft rayon dress blowing around her legs, just emphasized her isolation. Her loneliness. Her emptiness. The futility of all she’d tried to rebuild of her life after Assan Ang—now in prison, but likely to be extradited to Hong Kong for trial if he hadn’t been already.
Assan had judges on speed dial in Hong Kong. But never mind. He, at least, was no longer her problem. She’d paid a high price to make sure of that.
Sophie walked the length of the beach and back. Ginger panted happily as they climbed back in the car and drove “home” to the awful little apartment.
What was she going to do with herself for a whole weekend?
Oh yes. She had a phone conference with her lawyer tomorrow.
And she had a hike-run with Connor Remarkian in the morning.
If she could find the energy for it, which was unlikely. Better to cancel now. The thought of interacting with Connor’s upbeat personality, dragging herself on a strenuous run-hike was almost as repellent an idea as having to see Jake Dunn again any time soon.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at Ginger, currently rolling on her feet, whimpering in bliss that she’d had a walk and was now home with her mistress. Life is good when you’re a dog.
Sophie composed a text to Connor from her burner phone, canceling the hike because she was sick. In a way she was: sick the way that her mother had been. Sick at the heart. Sick to the core. Sick of the fight that was living.
But she didn’t send it. Not yet. Maybe she would feel better in the morning, and exercise always helped her dig out from under the boulder. No. She couldn’t cancel. It would be good for her. Medicinal, like castor oil, or the herbs her aunt used to dose her with in Thailand.
She fed Ginger.
In the shower, she stroked the tattoos in Thai that were a part of her new life, a reminder of what she sought: the inside of one arm reminded her, hope and respect. The other, power and truth. On the exterior of one thigh, freedom. On the other courage. Circling her navel in tiny writing, were love, joy and bliss.
Maybe someday she’d have some semblance of any of those.
Sophie dried off and walked naked into her tiny bedroom. She drew the blackout drapes she’d bought at Target. She fell onto her blow-up mattress, drew up her blanket, and sank into the oblivion of sleep.
Stars spun in her vision, obscuring the man’s face as she tried to break his hold with her good hand, writhing beneath him. He’d landed on top of her, sour breath inches from her face, his fingers squeezing her throat. The razor sliced down toward her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Sophie.” He breathed her name in the voice of nightmare. She opened her eyes. She was looking into her ex Assan Ang’s face, congested with rage and adrenaline, his panting breaths burning her skin, his bloodshot eyes inches from hers.
His hand tightened and her breath shut off. His weight on her body and his practiced grasp on her throat were as effective as ever. A slow grin twisted his full lips.
“My Sophie.” The razor caressed her cheek. “I didn’t dare hope it would be you coming after me. This is just too good.”
Sophie felt blackness closing in. A sense of hopelessness and inevitability rose up and swamped her. It was as if the whole five years between her escape and this moment had never happened.
“You’re mine until I’m done with you,” he breathed into her ear. Goose bumps erupted as she shuddered, gasping in vain for breath. One arm was trapped beneath him, one raised beside her head but still nerveless from the blow. Her heart lurched as his big hand depressed the nerves and veins in her neck, just as he’d done a hundred times in the past.
She was disappearing, conditioned by his assault and smothered by his weight.
He was going to kill her this time. She’d seen that in the exultant certainty in his eyes as he recognized her. Her heart felt like it was bursting. Her vision dimmed as he raised the razor.
Sophie thrashed, and her arm connecting with Ginger’s furry bulk woke her up. She sat upright, bathed in sweat, panting.
She’d survived. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.
She lay back down, and Ginger snuggled close. She draped an arm over the warm, smelly dog.
It was a long time before she fell asleep again.
Chapter Fourteen
Connor Remarkian strode up to Sophie in the parking lot the next morning. Ginger slavishly groveled and wagged at the sight of Anubis, his stately Doberman. The only indication of Anubis’s excitement was the swiveling of his pricked, cropped ears.
“G’day!” Connor’s voice was irritatingly cheerful, as she’d known it would be. Sophie leaned over, tightening the laces of her running shoes. The smell of rain was a metallic tease on the air, along with a faint mustiness from the thick pili grass surrounding the off-limits trail area, clearly marked NO TRESPASSING. “I thought of a perk to your leaving the FBI—you’re just a regular citizen now, if we get popped for trespassing.” He pointed to the sign, smiling.
Connor had dressed for movement in running shorts and a mesh shirt that showed off a near-perfect physique. None of it did a thing for Sophie. He was as annoying as Jake Dunn, and the ragged bits of nightmare still clouded her vision.
She wasn’t in the mood to pretend this morning. The only way she could handle being with him during the hike was to shut him up. Her days of being a quiet, compliant woman were over, and if that left her alone, there were worse things.
“Listen, Connor. I’m only here because I think a run out in nature might be good for me right now. So I’ll take the lead. Not in the mood to chat.” Sophie slipped into a thin nylon daypack holding water for her and Ginger. “Let’s go.”
Connor’s face went still. He gave a stiff nod and tweaked Anubis’s leash. Sophie jumped Ginger over the large cement blocks beside the gate that supposedly kept hikers out, and hit the ground running.
The Catwalk was not a strenuous hike, fairly flat although winding through long, choking grass. At one point they had to crawl through a hole in the fence to run along a closed-off road. Sophie didn’t begin to feel a slight loosening of the darkness on her mind until they crested a rise, and the soaring view of the ocean from thousands of feet up on the ridge broke into her view. She stopped to take it in, hands on her hips. Connor came to stand beside her but said nothing.
Whatever pique he might have initially felt at her brusque words seemed to have gone, and frankly, she didn’t much care. They continued on in silence, and the famous tongue of concrete known as Dead Man’s Catwalk came too soon.
Why was she here on this hike? With him?
Because he’d asked her on the hike, and she needed to get out, interact, exercise—even if that was the last thing she wanted
to do.
Because she felt a mild tingle of attraction to him now and again—objectively, he was a very attractive man—and because he was a connection to Sheldon Hamilton.
But the Ghost, Sheldon, was who she really wanted to have a connection with.
Sophie dropped Ginger’s leash at their destination. She took off her pack and poured water into a portable bowl for Ginger, who flopped in a bit of shade under the long grass around the area as Connor did the same for Anubis. Sophie removed her own water bottle and walked out onto the end of the cement tongue, the stunning backdrop of thousands of social media posts and selfies. She sat on the end, her legs dangling into the vastness of space overlooking a multi-hued sea far below. Connor joined her there, and mercifully, still didn’t speak.
Sophie let the vista, a grand swath of wild blue ocean, turquoise reefs, and steep green cliffs, fill and calm her mind with beauty.
When would she accept her lot in life and not let it get her down? She had done all she could to better her situation. She’d grown up with a clinically depressed mother and a loving but distant diplomat father. She’d had an early and disastrous marriage to a sadistic businessman. She’d had a brief but solid career in the FBI.
Her goal, to hunt down those who would harm others, remained unchanged. Even though she’d had to leave the FBI, she was still hunting perpetrators—just in another way.
A way with fewer restrictions.
A way that had some room to color outside the lines.
She’d win this fight with the FBI over DAVID. And if she didn’t, she’d just build an even better program.
No one could keep her down. Not even Assan Ang.
Sophie turned her head to look at Connor. He didn’t meet her eyes—his gaze was on the far horizon. He had a face like a profile on a coin, timeless and handsome. She liked the sun on his tanned, muscular shoulders. She liked his silence.
“Sorry I’m so negative.”
“Nothing to do with work, I hope?” His glance was reserved. His eyes were more turquoise than blue.
“No. Other things. Personal things.” Sophie shut her eyes a moment, enjoying the swish of the breeze, soaring up from the sea to dry the sweat from her body.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Afraid not. But I really like working for Security Solutions. You’re doing a good thing, with the company. We can help people law enforcement cannot, and I like that.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Do you ever—have contact with Sheldon?” Sophie couldn’t resist asking about the Ghost.
Connor raised his brows in surprise. “You know I do. Why?”
“I just…wonder how he’s doing.” She gestured to Anubis, sitting sphinxlike beside Ginger at the base of the concrete ledge. “He must miss his dog.”
“Yeah, he does.” Connor looked back at Anubis too. “But Sheldon seems happy enough. He’s chasing new endeavors.”
“Like what? Women?” She turned to gaze at the lines of white foam marking wave action over the reef far below.
“I’m sure there’s some of that,” Connor said slowly. “But Sheldon’s a loner, for the most part. I, on the other hand, enjoy female company. Even the negative kind.”
Sophie smiled at him. “Thanks for not talking. I’m working with Jake Dunn, and that man never shuts up.”
Connor laughed. “Jake’s like a rubber ball. You can’t keep him down and he’s liable to bounce in any direction.”
“We’re figuring out how to work together. It’s an adjustment for both of us.”
“Well. I just thought I’d tell you—people care. If you’re going through a hard time, sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
Sophie glanced at him. He was looking away at the horizon. Was he offering friendship? A shoulder to cry on? Connor sounded sincere with his offer, but she couldn’t talk to him. She had Marcella and Lei, and she wasn’t sure she needed any more friends. Friends were a lot of work and often confusing—and in fact, Connor’s behavior was a little confusing, too. She could tell he was attracted to her, but he’d never made a move or asked her out besides these runs. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if he did.
“Thanks, but sometimes it’s just better to keep quiet and wait until things get better.” Sophie stood, walked back to the dogs and prodded Ginger, sprawled and panting, with her toe. “Let’s take the long way back. I need more exercise.” What she needed was more endorphins to fight the depression.
They took the abandoned road back, which led for miles through a residential area. Sophie enjoyed Connor’s silent company. The sound of their shoes on the pavement became a metronome that both soothed and energized her—and slowly, slowly, it pushed the darkness away. By the time they reached the cars again, Sophie felt better—almost back to normal. She’d be able to deal with the call with her lawyer more positively now.
“Thanks for the exercise.” Sophie unlocked the battered Ford.
Connor quirked a brow at her. “What happened to your Lexus?”
“In the shop.” She’d come up with a better story eventually. She put on Mary Watson’s floppy hat.
Connor’s brows rose further. “New look for you.” Sophie filled Ginger’s water bowl, and as the dog lapped, he went on. “Do this again next week? I was thinking maybe really push ourselves and try the Stairway to Heaven.”
She looked up at him with a smile—another famous, illegal hike with stunning views. “Sounds excellent. I’ve been wanting to do that one for a while.”
Connor stepped a little closer as Ginger hopped up into the truck and over to the passenger seat. “I wanted to say something about Sheldon. There are people looking for him. In Hong Kong, and elsewhere. Because of his—activities. He might not ever be able to return to this country or live a normal life.”
Connor knew that Sheldon was the Ghost! Sophie’s eyes widened. “I’m aware of his situation. Why are you saying this to me?”
“I know you want to meet him. But—you shouldn’t count on it ever happening.”
Sophie thought of their online chat. The Ghost had said he wanted to meet her “in real life.” She had no doubt he could do that whenever he wanted to, in spite of being off the grid.
“I don’t expect to meet him unless he finds me. If he can find me.” She got into her truck, slammed the door, and rolled down the window to look into Connor’s changeable eyes. “You think I’m still hunting him, and it’s only fair to tell you that I am. But I don’t know if I have an interest in turning him in, anymore.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“No need. I can tell him myself.” Sophie turned on the truck, and drove away. In the rearview mirror Connor was staring after her, a diminishing shape, the sharp angles and still points of Anubis at his side.
That night, Sophie’s phone pinged with an incoming message to the account she used to communicate with the Ghost. Already lying in bed on her blow-up mattress, she couldn’t resist picking up her phone and opening the email.
She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.
The Ghost was naked in a series of black-and-white photos.
In the first one he hung, arms extended, legs crossed at the ankle, from a pull-up bar. In the next photo, he was halfway to the top, the muscles of his back standing out in stark relief, the wide V of his musculature ending in a pale, chiseled butt. In the third he’d reached the top, his chin over the bar. His legs extended down, the muscles of his shoulders and back tightly contracted in a pleasing topography. In the fourth, he’d lifted himself high above the bar on straight arms, and the line from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet was breathtaking.
Sophie scanned the photos for clues—or so she told herself, as she brought the phone closer to her eyes, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. He was so beautiful.
The Ghost must have put the camera on a timer. The background was pale gray in the photo, likely a white wall. The ceiling of the photo’s setting, his private gym pe
rhaps, was high enough to allow a wide range of motion—the steel rack of the bar had to be ten feet off the ground to allow the full extension of his body. Height was hard to judge with nothing to go by. Hair was dark and cut short, as Sheldon Hamilton’s was from previous photos she’d seen of him.
But was it really the Ghost? Who was this man?
No way to know. She studied every detail she could find. The phone dinged with another incoming email.
“Just so you don’t feel alone in being seen naked.”
Sophie typed a reply with her thumbs. “Yes, you do appear to take your fitness seriously. If that’s you in the photos.”
It was hard not to say more—something about how incredible his body was, to begin with. But she had an agenda—and it was to lure him out of the shadows. Not that she knew what she planned to do with him once she’d caught him.
“You damn me with faint praise, woman.”
“So you thought I’d be impressed? Okay, I am. A little. But mostly, wondering where all this is going, why you’re doing this.” Sophie bit her lip, sucking on that old bruise.
“I enjoy this game we play. I enjoy a worthy adversary who’s on the same team.”
“I’m not on your team. I’m still trying to catch you. That’s where this is going for me.” Sophie tried to calm her rapid breathing. “I spent time with Remarkian today. Told him what I’d tell you…that I still want to capture you. But now I’m not sure what I want to do with you when that happens. I’m no longer an agent, and we already established that proving a case against you would be near impossible. So I don’t know where to go from here.”
He must have been typing at the same time because her phone dinged with his reply. “You’re trying to do good in whatever role you’re in. I’m doing the same. I don’t want to be your enemy. I want to be more than a friend.”
Sophie stroked the glowing surface of the phone with her thumb. More than a friend. Clearly she wasn’t the only one attracted. There was no reason for him to keep pursuing her otherwise. She was dangerous to him.
