Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  “I wanted…Damn it, Sophie, I wanted something good for you. And Todd seemed like a good thing. But then we got some new intel, and I thought the news—and the questions—would be better coming from Lei, in person, than from me on the phone.”

  Sophie sat abruptly on the end of the bed, her legs giving out. “You really think he killed an agent?”

  A long pause. Finally, “Not necessarily. But I think Remarkian’s involved with that Ghost character we uncovered during that first Security Solutions case we worked.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “I can’t.” Ken’s voice was laden with regret. “You know I have nothing but respect for you, Sophie. But we can’t disclose an ongoing investigation to a possible witness. You know that as much as anyone.”

  “We’re dating. I’ve slept with him!” Sophie exclaimed, balling a fist and pressing it against her aching stomach. She and Ken had forged a bond over their cases together; she knew about his orientation and trusted his quiet integrity. “Tell me I didn’t just make the hugest mistake of my life.”

  “I wish I could say for sure, Soph.” His gentle tone made tears prickle her eyes. “But I’m pretty sure your biggest mistake was marrying Assan Ang.”

  “Ha. You are correct on that one.” Sophie shook her head, stood up. Paced. She returned to rolling a pair of yoga pants and stuffing them into her bag. “Assan’s still trying to get to me.”

  “I know. Lei informed the office. And we’re looking for him, as I’m sure you know. I wish I could come over and search for him there on Maui myself, but I’m stuck here on a case. We want Ang in custody as much as you do.”

  “He’s off the grid. Which is where I need to go also.” Sophie rattled off the burner phone number. “I’m returning to my Mary Watson identity and I’ll be offline, except for this phone, until he’s captured.”

  “That’s not a good idea, Sophie. You should stay where you are, make use of your secure and reinforced location.” Ken paused. “I’m sure your partners at Security Solutions would agree.”

  “I don’t much care what anyone thinks right now.” Sophie’s neck felt hot. “I was attacked by professionals within a hundred yards of this supposedly secure location, where we have continued to receive objects harassing our client. Very disturbing objects, with threatening messages. So, you’ll pardon me if I don’t feel very secure here. I may actually be adding risk to our client, as well. I’ll do better on my own.” She ended the call.

  The cash-only hostel in the little beachfront town of Paia on Maui’s north shore was just a place to throw her duffel down and crash while she worked on finding Assan. She’d stayed in Ma`alea on her last job, but varying patterns were important in escaping detection.

  Jake, of course, had not agreed with her plan. “I can keep you safe. I can make sure he doesn’t come after you again. That’s what we’re doing for Shank Miller. How could hiding by yourself be better?”

  “Jake, I’m not going to discuss this with you. I’m a liability to your surveillance detail here. I might actually bring danger to Miller in his home, and that’s the last thing he needs.” Sophie had faced Jake as he blocked the exit of the mansion, ripped and intimidating in a workout tee with the neck and sleeves torn off. Even in casual clothes he was wearing a weapon in a shoulder holster.

  “I need you here.” Gray eyes burned holes in her.

  “No, you don’t. I’ve prepped a report and left it for you. The AI software is as trained as I can get it without Miller in residence. The next phase begins when he is here for at least a week, and the cameras can record his activity for analysis. I am leaving, and here’s the only number where you can reach me. Call if you need anything for work.” She pressed a Post-it note into his hand and brushed by him, out the door.

  For a second, she thought he was actually going to try to physically stop her, but the moment passed. She could still hear his voice, low and forceful. “Be careful. Please.”

  She was being careful. She knew how to spot a tail, and hadn’t detected one when she left Miller’s—but to make sure he hadn’t tracked her out of the compound, she’d returned the rental car and taken a cab to Paia. She’d go back and pick up another rental tomorrow.

  Sophie looked around the bare room with its sturdy, handmade queen bed built of two-by-fours. The plinking sound of a dripping faucet echoed from the tiny bathroom. The palms outside rushed and sang in the ever-present Maui wind as Sophie set up some of her own security measures: a detachable extra lock, and a tiny motion-activated security cam that fed to her phone.

  At the sink, Sophie cut off most of her hair with her nail scissors. Soon the sink was full of fluffy, dark brown curls, hair she’d tried to grow out for months to hide the scar on her face and up into her hairline. A vain effort—it had never worked, anyway. She eyed her stark reflection in the mirror with a grimace.

  With her hair shortened, she was able to fit on a long black wig. She put on some makeup and red lipstick.

  Wearing hair to her waist, a pretty feminine dress, and modish black-framed glasses, Sophie Ang disappeared and Mary Watson took her place.

  Deepening shadow seeped into the luminous evening sky as Sophie donned a pair of sturdy sandals and a sun hat. Her laptop in a jute bag under her arm, she headed out into the festive little town with its brightly colored shops and warm, crowded streets.

  Trapped sunlight from the waning day radiated heat from the sidewalk up her legs, but Sophie was well-covered by a pair of exercise shorts under her dress. Nothing got in the way of her mobility. Wearing a swirly skirt had almost lost her a fight with a deadly perpetrator while dressed in her Mary Watson disguise.

  Sophie walked to her favorite Maui coffee and crêpe restaurant, Café des Amis. Seated at one of the bamboo tables, an iced tea at her elbow, she booted up the secure satellite hookup on her laptop and routed her connection through a series of Virtual Private Network nodes, assuring her online anonymity. Her back to the corner of the restaurant, the brim of her sun hat down, Sophie left her earbuds in place but turned off, staying alert to the ebb and flow of people around her.

  She didn’t think Assan would try anything in a crowded venue like this, but she’d already learned it didn’t pay to get complacent.

  Sophie activated her rogue software program and combed the Internet using DAVID’s powerful search engine, looking for any trace of information on the case involving the Ghost that had brought the FBI out to interview Connor. There was nothing new in the cache she’d had gathering intel on him for the last month. Perhaps their talks had made a difference, and Connor was rethinking his vigilante role.

  But more likely, he had gotten wind of the FBI’s investigation and was lying low until things blew over. He’d told her he was not going to stop his mission for her, or for anyone.

  Sophie had uncovered his secret some time ago, and shelved her reservations about it in the face of their overwhelming attraction to each other. She’d always worried, though, that the Ghost vigilante carried the seeds of destruction for their relationship.

  Sophie found a small story, almost buried, referring to the death of a twice-decorated Washington FBI agent— “under circumstances that the agency has refused to comment on.” Neither name nor photo identified the agent in question. She dragged and dropped the snippet of news into a new cache file, labeled to monitor that specific case.

  DAVID operated on search terms, so she generated several trackable ones to watch for online activity on the case.

  Now to look for Assan. Sophie switched to the search caches she’d set up to troll for online trace of her ex, and her brows snapped together to see a digital footprint from one of Assan’s financial accounts associated with an art gallery in Lahaina.

  One of Assan’s favorite access codes had been used to facilitate a large money transfer from a Hong Kong account to the upscale art gallery. Assan was on the FBI’s most wanted list, and the only reason DAVID had twigged to this clue was that Sophie had input all the codes she
remembered his using as part of DAVID’s search keywords protocol.

  Even as she looked, the digital trace erased itself.

  Sophie pulled up the Paradise Treasures Gallery website, a chill sensation tripping fingers up her spine.

  Assan’s assets were supposed to be frozen as part of the crackdown on his drug smuggling, but Sophie was not so naïve that she believed the FBI and Interpol had been able to find all of his accounts.

  But she had this one clue, not one the FBI or Interpol would have been able to intercept, and it tied Assan to a location right here on Maui. And there was only one reason Assan would be here, out of all the places in the world where he could hide: he was still trying to capture her.

  But not if she got to him first.

  Could this be a trap? But if so, there was no way to know without checking it out, since the access code was the only lead she had. It was a pretty subtle clue, and Assan didn’t know about DAVID’s abilities unless he had a mole in the FBI or Security Solutions.

  But no. She had to operate as if Ang knew about DAVID, knew what she would know, and might be setting up a trap. But this was also the first solid clue she’d had since his escape from federal custody.

  She had to act on it, and she would. Tomorrow.

  Twilight brought a waitress to light a candle on Sophie’s table. “Do you want to order something to eat?”

  Sophie indulged in a savory crêpe, finished her tea, and walked back through the streets to the hostel. Her eyes scanned everywhere for threats as her hand rested on Mary Watson’s straw bag containing the laptop—and her Glock.

  But she saw no one but happy tourists and preoccupied locals, and heard nothing but the swish of cars, barking of dogs, and shushing of coconut palms. The chatter of mynahs in a mango tree as they prepared to sleep caught her attention briefly, but her mind was preoccupied.

  She was ready to talk to Connor. She needed to talk to him.

  Sophie unlocked the humble hostel’s room, her hand already on the new burner phone she was using. She called Connor’s private cell. The phone rang and rang, ending in a mechanical voice mail. He wouldn’t answer because he didn’t recognize the number. Neither of them ever answered unknown numbers.

  Sophie cleared her throat, deepened her voice, and covered her mouth with her hand to distort it further, broadening her British accent. “This is Mary Watson. You can reach me at this number regarding that matter we discussed.”

  Connor would be home in his well-appointed Pendragon Arches apartment. He’d probably be on his computers, or maybe he was practicing his violin. Maybe he was running on the beach with Anubis, or doing overhead presses on the home gym he kept in his hidden office.

  Sophie felt a pulse of desire, thinking of him, of what he was doing. She hated the Ghost and its hold on Connor, but she loved that it was him, too.

  And now the Ghost had come back to haunt them, as she’d always feared it would.

  Chapter Seven

  The burner rang, vibrating on the cheap pressboard nightstand like a bug in a bottle as she unloaded the straw bag, and she answered it. “Connor! Thanks for calling me back.”

  “Where are you?” His voice was tense, pressured.

  “Somewhere safe.” She glanced around the unprepossessing room of the hostel. “I hope.”

  “I’m still on Maui. Let me come to you.” His voice softened. “Please. I need to see you.”

  “Yes,” she breathed out a tension she hadn’t known she held. “Watch for surveillance, okay? And …look like someone else.”

  “Of course.” That being asked to wear a disguise didn’t faze him a bit almost made Sophie smile. They were certainly two of a kind in some ways. She gave a location to meet in case their transmission was picked up.

  Sophie walked the short distance to the beach park at Paia Bay, a moth-eaten patch of sunblasted grass marked by a colorfully painted cinder block bathroom and a basketball court. The nearby youth center was lit up for a skateboard event, and cars clustered willy-nilly around the area, all good camouflage for a clandestine meeting.

  Sophie walked across the expanse of the park, and up a slight berm crowned with ironwood trees, alert to any followers. She took a spot in the shadow under the trees to watch the comings and goings in the park, glancing down onto the beach leading into the shallow bay. Moonlight glittered on waves beating on the sand, expending themselves over and over, a heartbeat that filled the background along with tinny rock music from the youth event.

  Sophie scanned for Connor. They’d made a game of this before, in less serious circumstances, trying to sneak up on each other in some public place or tail each other. She spotted him, a slouching figure with a ball cap pulled low, walking with a group of teens—and then he jumped on one of the other kids’ boards at the sidewalk and skated off.

  No, that was him, the bent-over, bearded tourist…but under the streetlamp, the disguise held up.

  “Sophie.”

  She jumped and whirled. Connor had come up from the sea, wearing a wetsuit, a board under his arm, his face hidden by a blond beard.

  “Night surfing.” Sophie smiled. “Good one. You surprised me.”

  “I have to work hard to beat the best.” Connor reached her and lifted the short-brimmed straw hat she wore to kiss her. The beard tickled wet on her cheeks.

  She laughed, giving the whiskers a gentle tug. “No one would identify you in this.”

  “Nor you, Mary Watson. You look very ‘Hawaii girl on a date.’ I like it.” Connor pressed a handful of her wig’s long black tresses to his nose. “Even smells real. Will you keep it on for me…later?” He wiggled his brows.

  “Ha. We need to talk.”

  “Women. Always with the talking.” His chuckle was strained.

  “Not really a joking matter, Connor. We can go to my hostel.”

  He fell in step with her and they walked the couple of blocks through the warm, plumeria-scented night, holding hands, blending perfectly in the casual beach town atmosphere. Connor stowed his surfboard outside the room’s door, and once in her unit, he unzipped a waterproof fanny pack to show a change of clothes—and the Walther PPK he favored. “I’ll shower and change, if you don’t mind.”

  “Please do. I’ll fix some tea.” There was nothing else to eat or drink in the bare space.

  Sophie had the tea ready in a pair of paper cups when Connor came out, toweling his short blond hair. She enjoyed the way he moved in the lightweight, upscale trousers he wore with a silk polo shirt that showcased his muscular torso. The fact that he’d come in from the ocean with those clothes to change into—so James Bond it was ridiculous.

  Connor sat beside her on the bed since there was no other furniture, and took the tea. “Thanks. Can’t help wishing this was something stronger.” They sipped. “So. You wanted to talk.” He patted the bed. “I have something else in mind.”

  Sophie smiled, his words igniting a warmth that sang along her nerve endings in spite of everything. She had to focus to remember their difficult conversation, his agitation, the uncomfortable questions from Lei and Pono. “You’re wrong about Jake and me, and our relationship. He’s my partner. Nothing more.”

  Connor’s sea-blue eyes were intent as he toyed with the realistic-looking scruff on his cheeks. “I’d still like to move one of you off-site.”

  “I’m off-site. And not interested in him, as you have occasion to know.” She scooted closer. Their knees brushed. “Don’t tarnish my good opinion of you with petty jealousy. It doesn’t become you.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I know that, and I can’t seem to help myself.” He leaned toward her. Their shoulders touched. The hairs on her arms lifted and her nipples tightened. “I don’t feel entirely in control around you. And that troubles me,” he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “I know it does. Marcella would call you a control freak.” Sophie moved away from his magnetic pull by standing. She paced. “We have to talk about the Ghost.”


  “Damn it.” Connor leaned back on the bed against the pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. His body filled the bed, radiating unsettling power. “Whatever they told you—it’s a lie.”

  “Tell me what’s going on. How did they link the Ghost with this agent’s death?”

  “I’m looking into that and I smell a rat—someone fed intel to the Bureau, setting me up. The Ghost didn’t target that agent. There are plenty of other bad fish to fry without tackling any in the Bureau. Until you came across the Ghost’s existence on that case last year, no one was aware of its activities.”

  “It’s strange that you talk about yourself in the third person.” Sophie put her hands on her hips. “I hope you know that.”

  “That’s how the Ghost is. Separate, in its own little black box. A necessary evil for good.”

  “That is only a coping mechanism for justifying what it is that the Ghost does. What you do.” Sophie’s breath came fast, anger flushing her body and tightening her muscles. “Deny it however you like—you kill people.”

  “But I don’t. I provide information to evil people and they do what they do to each other. Very different from pulling a trigger.”

  “But you are judge and jury, deciding who knows what, manipulating these people. And now the Bureau is on to you. They’ve got something on you, and it could put you away forever.”

  “You say that like you care.”

  “Of course, I care! Son of a two-headed poxy goat! Way more than I ever wanted to!” Sophie’s hands balled into fists. “You’re endangering us!”

  “What I am and what I’ve done as the Ghost was in play long before I met you. Even if I’d stopped the day we got together, it wouldn’t make a difference from all that went before.” Connor’s eyes were dusky blue in the low light.