Wired Ghost: Vigilante Justice Thriller Series (Paradise Crime Thriller Book 11)

by Toby Neal

  Monica’s bright red lips drew into a thin line. “He’s going to be fine. But you need to get gone. You’re the reason he’s in this bed in the first place.”

  Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes. “He chose this line of work. He chose to push me to safety,” she whispered hoarsely. “I would have happily traded places with him.”

  Two pairs of gray eyes glared at her across Jake’s broad chest as she lay her cheek over his heart. At least they knew better than to try to touch her; that would not have ended well.

  The door opened. Two bulky men in security uniforms entered. “You need to come with us, miss.”

  Sophie turned her head to assess them. She could take these doughy rental cops out, no problem. It wouldn’t take five minutes to knock them out of commission. Her mind ran through the punches, jabs, and flips she could use.

  But then what? The police would be called. She would eventually be overpowered and end up in jail. And how could she help Jake from there?

  Sophie turned her head and applied her mouth to Jake’s in a deep kiss.

  His lips felt flaccid beneath hers; the vital spark that was such a part of him was missing. But his skin was so hot . . .

  And she couldn’t hear his heartbeat any longer.

  The security guards grabbed her arms and bodily lifted her off of her fiancé. Sophie struggled with the urge to fight but went limp in their arms instead, sliding to the floor so that they had to physically drag her out of the room.

  “Something is wrong,” she called. “Jake, I love you.”

  Jake’s vitals alarm went off suddenly; a loud, terrible beeping. The security guards dragged Sophie into the hall as Monica and Janice shrieked for help.

  The medical response team rushed into Jake’s room from their stations.

  Sophie couldn’t let herself be hauled off and not even know what was happening.

  She burst up from the floor and broke the guards’ hold in an arc of pure, powerful movement, and rushed back to the doorway.

  But she couldn’t approach the bed, because even Monica and Janice had been forced out into the hall as Jake’s team assessed the situation.

  The three women stood with their faces plastered to the window that offered a view of the life-and-death battle taking place in the room.

  With a DNR order in place, there was nothing the team could do for him. The grim-faced doctor faced a hysterical Janice as she screamed at them to resuscitate him. “Jake’s wishes were made clear in legally binding terms. He was on a ventilator for four days, but with little brain activity. With that support removed, he fell back into a coma with the complication of this secondary infection, which has invaded his organs. There’s no way to bring him back from this. I’m very sorry, but you must accept the fact that he’s gone.”

  At 8:05 p.m. Hawaii time, Jacob Sean Overstreet Dunn was pronounced dead.

  Sophie stared at her fiancé’s lifeless body as his mother and sister clung to each other, sobbing, and his medical team slowly and soberly cleared up equipment.

  Jake probably wouldn’t even be able to be an organ donor with that infection.

  He’d have been so disappointed about that.

  Jake’s heart had stopped beating even before the alarms on the monitors went off.

  Thoughts blew across her mind in irrelevant bubbles. Everything seemed very far away. Sophie had been the one closest to him when he took his final breath.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, holding onto that thought.

  The security guards, who had been standing back from the drama, approached Sophie. “Miss, you need to come with us. It’s all over now. He’s in a better place,” one of them said.

  “Are you sure about that better place?” Sophie cocked her head and squinted her eyes at the man thoughtfully. “I hope so, because Jake believed in that.”

  “I’m sure it’s true,” the man said. “Our bodies die, but our spirits live on.”

  Sophie turned back to stare through the window. Jake’s skin looked almost translucent and his mouth hung slack. He was gone and had left an empty husk posed on the bed.

  “Come with us, miss.” The security guard touched her arm.

  But Sophie didn’t move. She couldn’t. It was too hard to take in.

  Janice lifted her streaming face from Monica’s shoulder. Her visage was contorted with grief, her eyes wild. “Get out of here!” She screamed. “You’re the reason he’s dead! You killed my son!”

  It was time to go.

  “Goodbye, my kun dii.” Sophie whispered.

  She turned and walked woodenly down the hall, a security guard on either side.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sophie

  Two weeks later

  Three days after arriving on Phi Ni, Sophie woke in her familiar bed in the guest suite she used at Connor’s house. She lay still on the silky white sheets, staring up at the thick teak beams and woven matting that lined the interior of the roof. A brightly colored green gecko with red spots on its tail ran across the ceiling, chirping cheerfully.

  For a long moment in that gray space between asleep and awake, Sophie savored the sensations of the soft bed and top quality sheets. This was her favorite place in the world to be. Why did she feel so achy and exhausted?

  She stretched her arms and legs. Was she injured?

  Oh. Yes.

  Jake was dead.

  She treasured those few moments when she first woke up, before her body, with its bone deep sorrow, reminded her of her loss. The grief lived in her flesh, weighing it down, sapping her vitality. It owned her physical self, while her mind couldn’t seem to hold onto the fact that Jake was gone, even though she’d attended his memorial with all of their mutual friends.

  Every minute of that beautiful, bittersweet gathering was etched on her brain, much as she longed to forget or deny it. Janice had tried to bar Sophie’s attendance, but Patty had taken Sophie’s side and sat with her through the brief, moving service at Ala Moana Beach Park under one of the banyan trees.

  She’d found a little comfort in hearing from Patty that several of Jake’s vital organs had been infection free, and had been donated.

  “He was adamant that anything useful left of his body be given to someone who might need it,” Patty had said at the memorial. The sweet blonde woman had shaken her head. “Jake never believed he’d live to be a ripe old age.”

  Maybe, given how he had made his living, that had once been true. But in those precious moments Sophie had shared in his arms underground, she knew that they’d both hoped for much more than they’d been given.

  After the memorial, Connor had urged her to go to Phi Ni. With Momi and Armita back with Sophie for her custody month, unable to sleep or eat, Sophie had packed up her household and taken the Security Solutions jet to Thailand for the month, hoping the island paradise could work its healing magic one more time.

  The gecko skittered away. The chatter of mynahs came in through the wooden louvers that shaded the room from Thailand’s heat during the day. In the three days they’d been on the island, Sophie could already feel peace beginning to massage her battered soul.

  Momi loved Phi Ni, playing all day with Sophie and Armita on the pristine half-moon of beach below Connor’s clifftop mansion, paddling in the calm turquoise water, and building sandcastles.

  Another day without Jake stretched before her, but Momi deserved her full attention and Sophie would do what she had to, keeping to their simple daily routine. Sophie tossed the light coverlet aside and sat up. She stretched her arms overhead, and then opened the louvers further. Sunlight poured in like honey.

  Ginger and Anubis raised their heads from their dog beds across the room, their ears pricked. “Hey, pups. It’s good to be with you again.” The two got up and padded over; they knew better than to get on the bed with her, but she took a moment to pet Ginger’s silky head and play with her soft ears, and scratch dignified Anubis’s chest.

  Momi poked her curly head up from the t
rundle bed beside Sophie’s. “Mama!” Her large, light brown eyes sparkled up at Sophie. “Momi come up!”

  “Of course, darling.” Sophie caught the toddler under the armpits and lifted her onto the bed. Momi, at two and a half, had become aware of herself as a separate person from her parents or Armita this month. She declared her intentions loudly in the third person, and “no” was currently her favorite word.

  With her daughter around, there was little time for Sophie to get deep into sadness. Not only was Momi lively, energetic, and good-natured, she was demanding.

  Her daughter was the very antidote to grief and depression, but even so, Sophie had increased her dose of medication. No matter how down she got, she would not allow a low mood to color the relationship with her child, as her mother Pim Wat had done with her.

  That didn’t mean being upbeat was easy.

  “Peek-a-boo!” Momi yelled, lifting up Sophie’s cover and ducking under it.

  Sophie snapped the coverlet up and down, hiding intermittently, as Momi shrieked and giggled with delight at her favorite game.

  Armita appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face. Sophie’s favorite childhood nanny provided the consistency that Momi needed in moving between two different households on a monthly basis. “Little Bean, your breakfast is ready. Time to come with Auntie Armita.”

  “No!” Momi said.

  “Would you like eggs, or fruit?” Armita advanced calmly, and plucked Momi out of the bedclothes. Momi kicked her plump legs and shrieked “No!” but Armita continued on down the hall with the toddler tucked under her arm.

  Sophie was left in blessed peace. She collapsed back onto the bed and picked up her phone on the side table. She set an alarm for five minutes.

  Five minutes a day was all the time she gave herself to grieve for Jake.

  To cry for how much she had loved him, and he her.

  To weep over how much time they had lost to pride and stubbornness.

  To wail for the future they would never have together.

  Sophie let go of all of the emotions she’d held locked down. She buried her face in her pillow and howled, beating it with her fists. She choked with sobs, blew her nose on a fistful of tissues, and cried some more, until her throat was raw and her eyes puffed up into slits.

  Thank God for Armita. She and the nanny had discussed how to handle things going forward; Armita had suggested that five minutes of unrestrained crying would help Sophie get through the days without being derailed too often.

  When the phone alarm went off, Sophie hit the button, got up, made her bed, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. She cried a little more under the fall of water, but it was okay because her tears washed away as soon as they fell.

  Sophie was dressed and heading for the dining room where Connor’s houseman Nam served them breakfast, when she heard the thrum of a helicopter approaching.

  “Connor!” Her numb heart gave its first bump of excitement since Jake’s death. She hurried down the hallway. One wall was made of glass panels that looked out at a courtyard with a statue of Kuan Yin, a fountain, and exotic flowers and plants. The flagstone floor was cool on Sophie’s bare feet as she opened one side of the large double doors in front, and stepped out onto the top step with its exotic bronze dragons flanking massive teak doors.

  The chopper settled gently onto the helipad directly in front of the barn that doubled as a garage and storage area. Sophie held up a hand to shield her eyes from the strong breeze generated by the rotors, and her lightweight dress plastered back against her body.

  The rotors slowed, the door slid back, and Connor jumped out and walked toward her. His blond hair and aqua eyes contrasted with a tan that spoke of hours of drilling practice in the hot Thai sun. He did not smile, and neither did Sophie, as she descended the steps to meet him.

  Connor’s arms encircled her in a powerful hug. One of his hands caressed the back of her head, encouraging her to lay its weight on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. Jake was a good man. The best.”

  Sophie nodded, shutting her eyes against the sting of quick tears. “That he was.”

  The other door of the chopper slid open and banged shut, but she didn’t raise her head. She clung to Connor, drawing strength from the man who had been both lover and friend.

  “I’m sorry. I had to bring them. I hope you will forgive me,” Connor whispered in her ear. “Keep an open mind. This could be a good thing.”

  Sophie stiffened and pulled back.

  Standing behind Connor, compellingly handsome in his white gi, stood the Master. Beside him, dwarfed by his height, was Sophie’s tiny, deadly mother, Pim Wat.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Sophie

  Pim Wat’s arms and legs reminded Sophie of those of a starving child. Her once-beautiful face, a face that had opened doors worldwide to do her deadly work as an assassin, was distorted: one cheekbone was higher than the other, and one eye was half-hidden by a droopy lid. Her long, black, silky hair, once her pride and joy, had gone completely white. Shorn tufts surrounded her skull like dandelion fluff.

  Sophie switched her gaze to the Master. The leader of Thailand’s clandestine national security organization had not changed a bit. Tall for a Thai man, he stood straight as bamboo in a snowy white martial arts outfit, his deep purple eyes a dark mystery in his amber-skinned face.

  “What do you want?” Sophie saw no point in social niceties.

  Pim Wat stepped forward. “I forgive you. And I want you to forgive me. I want peace between us.”

  “I don’t care what you want.” Anger was armor. Releasing its hot power felt good, energizing. Anything to break the numbness.

  The Master turned to Pim Wat. “You asked for this meeting, Beautiful One. Now you have it. Number One will show me his house while you speak to your daughter.” The man walked toward the mansion with unhurried grace as Connor strode to catch up.

  Sophie clenched her fists. Connor had told her his house on Phi Ni was his refuge, that he had done his best to hide its existence from the Master. She had felt safe here; she’d thought he did too. Clearly, all of that had been an illusion. The Master had probably known about it for years.

  Sophie redirected her gaze to her mother. “You stole my child from me when she was twelve hours old. You then beheaded six good men, including Thom, a man Connor and I cared for greatly. You tried to strangle your own sister right in front of me. And we won’t even get into the kind of mother you were when I was growing up, something that hurts even more now that I’m a mother myself. Those are only the beginning of your crimes.”

  “I expected you would want to have your say.”

  “This will achieve nothing,” Sophie said. “I hate the very sight of you.”

  Pim Wat turned and walked down the drive, entering the grounds surrounding the house. The mansion was built in a beautiful combination of eastern and western styles, cantilevered out over a hundred-foot limestone cliff. Sophie trailed after her mother—she didn’t want to speak to Connor or the Master, either. She hoped like hell Armita had the sense to hide away with Momi.

  Pim Wat paused next to one of the neatly trimmed coconut trees. Its fronds waved overhead in the soft, gentle breeze. They had reached the edge of the property. Decorative ornamental plants and shrubs marked the edges of the lawn along the sides, but the sheer cliff that overlooked the half-moon of beach below was bordered only by a wire fence erected as a precaution against Momi’s wanderings.

  Nam had placed a wooden bench there, and Pim Wat walked over and seated herself on one end of it. “I want us to work things out. I want to see my granddaughter.”

  “When hell freezes over. You may not see my daughter, nor Armita. You cannot be trusted with either of them.” Sophie made an effort to calm her racing heart, to lower her voice; visible anger only showed Pim Wat that she still had emotional power over Sophie.

  Armita had served Pim Wat for more than twenty years, suffering abuse as her handmaiden. Armita was
the one who had taken Momi back to Sophie. If the nanny had not done that, Sophie might never have seen her daughter again, and Pim Wat had sworn to kill Armita for it.

  Pim Wat turned her ravaged face toward Sophie, facing her unflinchingly. “If it’s an apology you want, then I’m sorry. I’ve had ample time to reflect on my choices while in Guantánamo. Thanks to you.” Her gaze pierced Sophie. “Let’s not forget who put me there for years, to be tortured for information about the Yām Khûmkạn.”

  “No more than you deserved.”

  “And the push down the stairs that ruined my face?”

  “You threw yourself down those steps, and you know it.” Sophie turned away to look out at the view. It was breathtaking to gaze over that cliff. “You can’t make me feel guilty about what happened at our old house. I won’t let you.”

  “I acknowledge that. I wanted you to feel guilty. I’m sorry for that, too.” Pim Wat’s voice was small. “I was wrong. About so many things.”

  Sheer limestone in soft shades of buff and pale yellow fell away below them. Gentle, translucent turquoise waves lapped against the white beach far below. Atolls crowned in tropical plants studded the bay like chess pieces. Far out on the horizon, cumulus clouds floated by in the shape of fantastical creatures, riding the light breezes like something out of a reverie.

  Time went by.

  They didn’t speak. What was there to say?

  The gulf between Sophie and her mother seemed unbridgeable and beyond repairing.

  And yet . . .

  Pim Wat was here. Alive, and apologizing. Anyone could die, even the strongest among them, at any time. Sophie had never known that truth in such a deep way as she had since Jake’s passing. All of this was a choice. She could make peace with her mother, or she could live with a sword of rage stabbed through her own heart.

  She turned to her mother. “I don’t trust you, and I never will. You don’t deserve forgiveness, and you never will. But because you’re my mother, and because I want to live in harmony, for my own health and for the sake of my daughter, I accept your apology.”