Relapse in Paradise

by Roxanne Smith

  I could say the same of Emily. He clapped Hani on the shoulder. “I’m going home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Hani sniffed. “No so fast, brother. Jordan ain’t our only problem. C’mon, let’s move this party to the back.”

  Oh, right. Because they hadn’t hashed out some personal history mere moments ago for anyone paying attention to notice? Boston followed Hani down the hallway.

  Hani didn’t quite make it to the kitchen before he stopped, leaving Boston to skid to a halt or crash into his massive form. He put a meaty arm around Boston’s shoulder. “While you been busy with Miss Emily, I’ve been asking questions. Quiet-like. I ain’t trying to draw attention. I got my ear on something, man. And it ain’t good.”

  “Well?”

  “I hear Kale owes money. Don’t know who he owes, why he owes, or what he owes. But that’s a damn good reason to hide out, ain’t it?”

  Ryder. Boston bit the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Especially if the collector got wind of your home address.” He raised a brow and waited for Hani to catch on.

  “You saying Ryder’s appearance right around the time of Kale’s disappearance just got a lot fishier?”

  “Yeah. I’m also not surprised money’s involved. The one thing already promising to get my ass in trouble. Because I know what comes next, don’t I? You think we should pay off Kale’s debt.”

  Hani’s expression turned horrified. “No way, man. You crazy? Kid wouldn’t run from a twenty dollar debt, would he? Nah, he owes real money if he’s hiding from it. If there’s one thing we never have around here, Bos, it’s real money. But maybe we can come up with some kind of…payment? Enough to buy him some time.”

  Hani’s heart rivaled his belly in size. It’d be nice if his wallet would catch up.

  Boston pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Discreetly look into who Kale owes and how much. I’ll see what I can find out about Ryder.”

  Hani’s brows came together. “How you gonna learn anything about a guy who popped up out of nowhere?”

  Boston didn’t bother hiding his weary sigh. “I’m going to ask the woman he’s dating.”

  * * * *

  Boston gave a small shrug of concession. “I’m not saying she doesn’t make me nervous.”

  Hani grunted. “Well, how you gonna be mad at us for being nervous, too?”

  “I’m not mad, I’m… Shit, I don’t know what I am. Offended, maybe.”

  The entryway of The Canopy afforded a small opening up to the dining hall, exactly the right size for concealing a person from view. Emily decided she better make her entrance now. If the conversation between Boston and Hani got any more personal, she’d have to retreat back to her apartment rather than announce herself. And she didn’t want to because Ryder’s idea of dinner last night had been sushi—more rice—and Emily had an immediate need of a plate of Hani’s eggs.

  Emily whisked around the corner as if she’d just entered the building. “Good morning, fellas. How does one offend you, Boston? I’ve wondered.”

  Her sudden emergence didn’t hamper his seamless comeback. “Suggest a hair product.”

  Actually, his hair looked sort of nice today. He had it pulled back into a low ponytail, much like how he’d worn it the day they met. Even in the dim morning light, it had the gleaming quality of blond only the sun had the power to bestow.

  She joined the two men at one of the long picnic tables and pointed a finger at Boston, pistol-style. “Did Hani recommend conditioner? Because I was going to but didn’t want to seem forward.”

  Boston appeared to fight the grin before it stole over his mouth. “Somehow, I don’t think seeming forward is an issue for you.”

  “Actually, we were talking about Jordan.”

  The hard set to Hani’s jaw caught Emily off guard. She’d never seen him so serious. Almost angry.

  Well, except last night when he’d been in a deep hush-hush conference with Boston, Akela, and Thompson. Their little group huddle had practically hummed with tension, and she’d jumped on Ryder’s offer to take her to dinner. She needed to spend time with him, anyway, if she was ever going to sort out his motives.

  She slowly started to rise from the table. “I’ll go get myself some breakfast and—”

  Hani’s dark gaze landed on her. “Nah, you should stay, Emily. Boston’s ex-wife has some nasty habits. One of them is showing up out of the blue and messing his life up every time he has it together.”

  Boston’s pale blue eyes lit up like the sun hitting the surface of a pool. “What the hell is your problem, Hani? Emily—”

  “Is already involved, brother.” Hani sat back, sniffed, and readjusted the long braid lying over his shoulder. “You’d do better warning her about Jordan instead of pretending they ain’t coming face to face at some point. Because you know what Jordan’s gonna think.” He grumbled unintelligibly and started to stand. “You know what, Bos? Ain’t my job to sit here and be your damn conscience. I got breakfast to cook. Place’ll fill up in another hour.”

  Emily’s stomach grumbled. She had to escape somehow. She’d counted on the two of them moving on to a safer subject, not bringing her into the fold. Not that she didn’t already have an idea about Jordan, but it hadn’t been made her business until now.

  In fact, she recalled Boston’s explicit advice against mentioning Jordan.

  Before she came up with the perfect excuse to get away, Boston pinned her with an annoyed expression. “Ryder left early this morning. Can’t tell you where he went, but I can take a message for him.”

  His eyes got bigger and bluer every day. What did they remind her of? Something had danced in the back of her mind for days, and it finally hit her.

  Light-washed denim. Not the searing white-blue of acid-washed, or the dark blue of unwashed denim, but middle-of-the-road light denim she’d get on a pair of Levi’s. No hint of green to turn them aquamarine or teal—just a pure light blue.

  She refused to smile. He might ask her to explain herself. “Last I checked my sister hadn’t paid Ryder a handsome fee to escort me around the island.”

  “Yeah, well, last I checked, I told you I had a plan for dinner last night.”

  Guilt swamped her, along with some mild surprise. Was he hurt? “You were having a heated discussion I didn’t want to intrude upon.”

  He peered at her. “Have you noticed your speech turns oh-so-proper when you’re on the defensive? When you’re relaxed, you speak like a regular human. Once your back’s up against a wall, you turn into a damn English major. It’s the darnedest thing.”

  What a bright, florid mind he possessed to be so utterly observant. Yes, she was aware of the quirk. “Perhaps I expect intelligence to aid me in explaining myself. However, as noted early on in our acquaintance, big words are wasted on you.” She leaned in. “But I’ll get on your level, bro. Like, you were arguing with your friends, and I totally didn’t want a piece of that, know what I’m saying? So, like, when Ryder asked if I wanted dinner, I was all like, yeah.”

  She had other reasons for wanting to spend time with Ryder, but Boston wouldn’t approve if he cared.

  Boston rolled his eyes, but an apology was coming. She saw it in the lines of his mouth. “I’m—”

  She held up a palm to stop him. “Don’t. I’ll explain in my uppity terms if you can follow. I decided I want to help your friend, Kale. You’ve been wondering about Ryder.” She shrugged. It seemed rather childish out loud. “He likes me. I’m in a unique position to learn more about him.”

  Boston froze and contemplated her through wide eyes. “You’re undercover?”

  “Something along those lines. Maybe.” Leave it to Boston to make a great idea sound stupid. “So far, Ryder’s been friendly but boring. He asks a lot of questions about you, like what you’re doing to find Kale. Sometimes he seems convinced you know more than you’re telling him. He’s desperate to find his cousin, but the urgency is different than you’d expect f
rom family. There’s a lack of concern, a lack of fear.”

  Boston ran a hand over his face. “You’re a double-agent. That’s great. You know, I was going to suggest the idea myself.”

  “Why do you always have to be such a smartass? I want to help, and this is what I can offer.” How did every conversation with Boston turn into some kind of battle? And why did she kind of enjoy it? “You and I are one misunderstanding after another. Let’s try an upfront approach and maybe we can come to some kind of…”

  She made a rolling motion with her hands, words bouncing around her head and refusing to stick.

  Boston quirked a brow. “Understanding?”

  “Accord. A permanent one. We need to ‘get’ each other. I’ll go first.” She cleared her throat. “Boston, I want to go to the beach. Waikiki Beach, specifically.”

  He didn’t roll his eyes or seem disappointed at her request to visit such a commercialized spot despite his endeavors to avoid them. Rather, he chewed his lip and blinked at her.

  She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “What’s your weird frown supposed to mean? I didn’t ask to swim to Maui. It’s such a famous spot, I’d hate to come all this way and not at least stroll the beach. And don’t you surf? What can you possibly have against swimming?”

  He squirmed in his seat. Scratched his head. Checked his watch. Cleared his throat. “Sure, I surf. I guess if you want, we can hit the beach today.”

  All resignation, no enthusiasm.

  Fine with her. He didn’t have to like it. Today there’d be no long vans rides, no miscommunications, no Spam, and not so much as a single grain of rice. Besides, her muscles ached from yesterday’s hike, but she didn’t want to admit it to Boston. He’d think her stuck-up and a wimp.

  “Your turn. Tell me about Jordan.” As his eyes went hooded, she held up her hands in defense. “I’m not being nosy”—a small lie—“but I’d like to know what I’m dealing with. I assume Hani meant she’ll suspect we’re involved? If she pops up out of nowhere, how do I handle it?”

  With a sigh, he yanked the elastic tie from his hair. The ends swung forward over his shoulders, and he brushed the strands back from his face. “If there’s opposition, Jordan eliminates it. To her, you’re a roadblock on her path and she’ll do whatever to remove you, whether you’re my girlfriend or my client, so it kind of doesn’t matter. She’ll assume we’re together because you’re hot, but we should still try to explain you’re a client.”

  Emily squirmed. He thinks I’m hot?

  She wasn’t hot. She had dowdy hair, wide hips, and a pretentious sense of style. “What exactly does she want with you, anyhow?”

  “She went through a bad breakup recently. She needs someone to take care of her while she licks her wounds.”

  “You mean someone to party with while she drinks to forget?”

  “Probably, yeah.”

  “Okay, what can I do?”

  He rested his elbows on the tabletop. “Help me stay sober, I guess. That’s her in. That’s how she gets to me. First, she takes something away and gives me a reason to suffer with her.” His gaze slid sideways to Emily. He blinked like coming to terms with this for the first time. “Then she offers the cure.”

  And down the rabbit hole they went. Astoundingly calculated.

  Emily patted his shoulder. “I’m an extremely positive influence. You’ll hardly be tempted in my company. I’ll also remind you, should you be enticed to have a drink, of the people here at The Canopy who care about you and count on you to do the right thing.” Damn, emotion really did make her wordy.

  Boston covered his face with both hands. “I’m going to need a beer just from hearing you talk.”

  Chapter 8

  Have I lost my mind? It has to be the heat.

  Emily grimaced at the skimpy, pale blue string-tie bikini and went over her options.

  She wanted to swim.

  They were going swimming.

  Maybe she should tell Boston she forgot to buy a bathing suit during her shopping excursion. They’d make a side trip to the mall, and she’d purchase one of those full-bodied contraptions with the wrap-around flouncy skirt and thick supportive shoulder straps.

  She frowned at her image in the mirror.

  Or a wet suit. That wouldn’t be strange, would it? She’d always wanted to snorkel.

  She leaned in closer to study her reflection. Her dull brown eyes seemed dimmer and more lifeless than usual next to the brilliance of the gorgeous bikini. Flat, boring, and dull, dull, dull. Like her. Brown and more brown but with none of the glowing olive tones that made it seem striking and exotic on ethnic women.

  Akela might not be pretty in a conventional sense, but she had soft, luminous skin Emily envied, and her nearly black eyes were like onyx pools.

  The reason for choosing a light blue bathing suit eluded her now. It washed out her fair skin. She ran a hand over the fabric. It was lovely, though, the exact shade of—

  Oh, no.

  Had she really picked out a bathing suit that matched Boston’s eyes? What if he noticed?

  Akela burst into her room without giving notice, a floppy straw hat in one hand. She stopped in the doorway. “Oh, my. I thought you were the conservative type, Emily.”

  “I am, but I think I had this idea of trying to fit in. I’m so pale and starched, I stick out here like a donut at a farmer’s market.”

  Akela’s bright smile seemed genuine. No doubt she laughed heartily on the inside. “Forget fitting in. You’re gonna stand out. Whew, girl. I wish I had me some legs like yours.” She bit her lip and tilted her head to one side. “Boston’s gonna have a hard time concentrating.”

  She brightened. “I ought to cover up then. I’ll get something new at the mall. Maybe a suit a little more my speed.” She glanced from her cleavage to her hip, bare except for a frail little bow of material. Shiny silver beads threaded onto the ends of the strings made a gentle tinkling noise when she moved, like a wind chime in the distance. “This isn’t me. It’s the wrong color, on top of everything else.”

  Akela shut the door with a giggle. “You aren’t what you wear, girl. You look amazing. I didn’t expect it, you know, because your other clothes are kinda plain. Anyway, I brought you some stuff.”

  She walked a circle around Emily and stopped to pull away the clip holding her hair in place.

  Waves of untamed partially curled brown hair flopped onto Emily’s shoulders.

  “Hey!”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to swim with your hair up. The salt in the ocean water will make it stiff and crusty and create a big tangled mess. Leaving it down makes it easier to comb through. Now.” She plopped the floppy hat onto Emily’s head and gave her a quizzical appraisal. “You might be from California, but I take it you don’t go to the beach much?”

  Emily responded with a petulant sniff. “Not sure why you’re bothering to phrase it like a question.”

  “I’ve been wrong before.”

  “Fine. Never, okay? I never go to the beach. The water is brown and gross, and there are always a million people.”

  Akela nodded. “Sunblock. Boston better have some in the van. If not, you make sure he stops to get some, okay? Hawaii is a lot closer to the equator than California. Even if it doesn’t feel hot, you’re getting tons more UV rays than you’re used to on the mainland.” She stood back and examined Emily from head to foot. “As for your bikini, you chose the perfect shade. You got a real eye for color. The light blue on your pale skin is almost angelic.”

  Emily blinked at her. Angelic. Sure.

  Next, she held up a small red silk bag held closed by a drawstring. Emily hadn’t noticed it in her hand. “Now, we’re gonna pick out jewelry.”

  Emily crinkled her nose. “Who wears jewelry to the beach?”

  “Everybody.” At Emily’s doubtfully raised eyebrows, Akela paused and searched the ceiling with an air of concentration. “Imagine a swimsuit a
s another outfit you gotta accessorize. Those little beads on the end of your ties are silver, so we’ll go with that. Oh, and the white sandals you had on the other day are perfect.” She handed over small, glittery silver hoop earrings the same circumference as a dime.

  Not so bad. Emily hooked them through her ears.

  “Last thing. Did you buy yourself a cover-up?”

  Shoulders drooping, Emily pulled a wadded plastic bag from the top drawer of the dresser and removed from it the sheer white mini-dress that was supposed to act as a bathing suit cover. She handed the ball of material to Akela. “I tried it on this morning and decided I’d wear shorts and a tank top instead. This thing is almost inappropriate.”

  Akela sighed. “For the office, maybe, but the people where you’re going will have on thong bikinis, their butt cheeks out for everyone to see.” She shook out the garment, tsked at the few wrinkles, and handed it back. “Go on. Let’s see.”

  After five minutes of adjusting the sheer jersey-style cover, Akela put an end to Emily’s fussing and stood back to admire her handiwork. “You look like a model.”

  Emily gushed. “Oh, Akela. You’re a sweet girl.”

  “It’s the legs. I’m telling you. You have the longest legs I’ve ever seen. And so muscular. You work out?”

  She twisted her knee to one side to study her calf. “Uh, no. I wear heels on Fridays, though. I guess they do more than make me taller, huh?”

  Akela smiled like a mother sending her daughter off to prom. “Your chariot awaits. Boston’s in the van.”

  Oh, great. She’d been playing dress-up for a half hour while he waited. She pulled Akela into a quick hug. “Thank you. I mean it, I’d be lost without you.” She ran for the stairs, conscious of the fact she didn’t have a beach towel.

  She needn’t have worried. A stack of towels were piled next to a large handwoven basket in the backseat of the van when she crawled into the passenger seat. She buckled her seat belt and hooked a thumb at the covered basket. “What’s in there?”