“I know, sounds great. We can’t wait to get there.”
“Lots of my clients reserve it when they need to get away without worry of the media prying—even stars as famous as you. So you won’t have to worry about being photographed or spied on while you’re swimming or walking the beach or whatever. Enjoy your freedom while you can.”
“Will do. Thanks, man.” Mitch smiled, and Jager thought for the first time since he’d known him, it was a genuine, relaxed expression.
“You’re welcome. Now go back to bed.” Jager heard the door close behind him as he made his way down the front steps to his car.
The sun wasn’t up yet, and the sky was still a black expanse speckled by white diamonds. The moon had been brighter earlier that night, but now it hung low and dull near the craggy, palm-lined horizon. He caught that scent of ginger again, this time sharp and heady…
Like her.
No. He wasn’t going to go there, not ever. He climbed into his expensive rental sedan and started the engine.
Okay, he would admit there was something fascinating about her. She could even be classified as beautiful…in her own impish way. She smelled like the kinkiest of sex, and he imagined she probably tasted like sin. But she’d schemed and extorted and even hit him below the belt in more ways than one. The woman was trouble with a capital T. She’d nearly cost him one of his biggest clients, perhaps two if he included Heloki, and she’d been ballsy enough to steal fifty thousand dollars without even blinking an eye.
No, not the woman for him. Not at all. Never, ever.
Good fucking riddance.
Jager was just getting ready to slide the gearshift into reverse when he glanced up and saw a star shoot across the pre-dawn sky. Its white fire blazed in a diagonal path across his vision, and he could swear he saw faint streaks of pink in the long tail. He blinked, but the pink disappeared. In a split second, the whole damn star was gone leaving only the expanse of dark ocean below it, and darker space above. Mysterious and intriguing.
Like Anjelee.
“Yeah, good riddance,” he said aloud this time. Jager raced the engine and shot out of the driveway. He followed the ribbon of the coast road, thanking that lucky shooting star she was out of his life for good.
Anjelee crisscrossed the strap of the overnight bag across her chest. Limping down the hotel hallway—her knee still hurt like hell, but it had been worth it—she rolled her suitcase behind her. It was almost six a.m. and she’d been successful in rebooking an earlier flight.
It was time to go home.
She punched the elevator button, soaring on elation. Finally, things would calm down! She now had the money to fix all her problems in her sorry life back in California. Stepping into the elevator, she let her mind wander, thinking of the family she’d left behind, of all their bad luck and how she would now be able to come to their rescue. No more piled up bills, no more collection agencies, no more scrimping for crumbs.
Maybe life would go on after all.
“God, I’m so glad I came here!” The bell sounded, indicating she’d arrived on the ground level. She shot out of the elevator, grumbling when her cell phone buzzed on her hip. Stopping in the main corridor, she snatched it off her belt and glanced at the caller ID.
“Shit, it’s Heloki.”
Maybe she should ignore it? She didn’t owe him a thing. She’d taken and delivered wedding pictures as instructed—minus the incriminating ones—already having attached and emailed them to Heloki well before visiting Jager and scoring that hefty supplement from Wulfrum. True, the first check Heloki had given her was more than enough to cover her fee for the regular, innocent wedding shots. But hadn’t it been an unusual wedding in that it was celebrity in nature? Hadn’t she dropped all her obligations back home and come running as soon as Jager had called and offered her the job for Heloki? Besides, what was wrong with getting money from both Heloki and Mitch? God knew she needed every penny, and they sure could spare it. And Heloki would never know about the hush-money she’d accepted from Mitch…
Probably. Hopefully.
The phone continued to ring. Anjelee pondered answering it, still unable to believe her good fortune. She knew she wouldn’t be receiving any more money from Heloki simply because, due to the agreement she’d signed with Jager, she’d withheld the juicy photos Heloki had been after. They would have netted her the other half and a possible bonus from him, but fifty thousand clearly outnumbered Heloki’s smaller payment. Little did Heloki know she now could do without his filthy money because the star had outbid him. Yep, his payment had been raised fivefold by Wulfrum.
And Anjelee may not be a genius, but she knew the difference between the two amounts of money would be life-altering for her. It hadn’t taken a mastermind to decide which offer to go with.
Besides, there had been no signed agreement between Anjelee and Heloki like there’d been between her and Mitch Wulfrum. All there had been was a private conversation where she’d verbally agreed to turn over the wedding pictures to him. Oh, he was probably disappointed that she’d gotten him no dirt to dish, there was no doubt about that. For some reason, he’d been banking on having something to hold over his son-in-law and daughter’s heads. Why, Anjelee didn’t know. But he was a controlling bastard who apparently had his reasons, reasons she’d love to be privy to.
But no one understood such motivational factors when a person was desperate, more than Anjelee did.
Well, she was out of the picture now. She’d earned her pay, and her aching knee could attest to that.
She grinned, poising her thumb over the connect button. No sweat. She had plenty of pay now.
Anjelee pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Montrose?” His voice was a gruff bark that told her he wasn’t in the best of moods this early in the morning.
“Yeah.”
“I just opened your email. Why aren’t there any pictures of Mr. Nakolo Huaka?”
“There are, but—” Shit, Heloki had caught her off guard. She didn’t mean to let that slip, not now that she’d signed Jager’s agreement to keep things to herself. For now.
“Ah-ha. Then where are they? The file you sent me contains none of him, or them all together.”
“I…I didn’t mean there were shots of him available. I just meant I’d taken some, but several of the photos didn’t turn out.” Damn she was such a good liar. “I guess it was the wonky terrace lighting under that tent or something.”
“’Û!” He made a growling sound before replying, “You’re supposed to be a professional photographer. Lighting and camera adjustments should be elementary to you by now.”
“Right. So sue me.”
“Do you think I’m lôlô? I can tell when some gold-digging malihini’s trying to pull one over on me.” There was a rustling noise accompanied by heavy breathing. She could just picture His Rotundness sweating like a pig, his coal-black eyes glittering with fury as he dug for an antacid tablet. Well, too bad. “Now give me the rest of the pictures, damn you. You either get over here now, or email them to me this instant.”
Crap, here we go. “First of all, lôlô and malihini whatever you said, those words don’t mean a thing to me, so you might as well just talk English. Second of all, you’re flat-out wrong. Nakolo just wasn’t around that much. He sat in the back row during most of the ceremony and reception, then he suddenly up and left. I never saw him again.” Except in the tub, ass-shagging Wulfrum. “And like I already told you, the few snapshots of him I did get didn’t turn out.”
She really was a fantastic actress. Maybe she should try out for a part in one of Mitch Wulfrum’s movies.
“You’re lying to me, you little bitch.”
She sighed, playing the role well. “No, sir, I’m not.”
“There has to be more pictures than just those of the bride and groom cutting the damn cake,” he replied with incensed sarcasm, “or dancing together, or hugging on the terrace like two lovebirds who’ve known each other for years.
But we all know that’s bullshit, especially after what I saw.”
Hmm, interesting. I wonder what he saw. Maybe a man-on-man liplock?
Her pussy flooded with sudden desire. What the fuck, Anj?
Heloki’s tone brought her out of her horny mental flash. His voice changed abruptly from terse to deadly. “Send me the damn pictures, Ms. Montrose. Or you will pay dearly.”
The prick is threatening me? “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to make it any clearer. How can I send you something I don’t have? I sent them all to you, I swear it.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear when he growled, “Ahahana! You’re a liar!”
“For the last time, no, I’m not.”
“I’ll put a stop-payment on your check.”
She snorted. “Too late, I already cashed it.” Thank God.
“I can still put a stop-payment on it.”
“It already cleared both our banks. Believe me, I checked.”
He barked his frustration. “What about the key, then? If you don’t turn it over to me, I’ll have you arrested.”
She headed toward the lobby. “Arrested? For what? I already dropped it in the mail to you.”
“Did you use it?”
“I-I…” she stammered, but quickly got her tongue under control. “Yes, and all I saw was the bride and groom, then I got the hell out of there. Would you like details of what I saw them doing?”
“No!”
“Well, then, that’s all I have to say on the matter.” She paced in the tiled atrium of the soaring, fancy lobby. “You got what I got.”
“There had to be more, you lôlô little bitch. The three of them weren’t hanging out at the pool together half-naked just to discuss the weather.”
Ah-ha. Interesting. Now that would have been some great shots.
“Something’s going on between them all, and you were supposed to get pictures of whatever it is.”
Oh-ho-ho, you have no idea just how much is going on.
She approached the front desk. “I can’t photograph what’s not there, sir. If you’re saying you want me to manufacture something, maybe do a little…hmm, like cropping and doctoring, now that’s a different job-for-hire entirely.” With her free hand, she gestured her room number to the clerk. The woman nodded and began closing out the bill on Heloki’s credit card account.
“You know damn well I want real photos and real evidence.”
“Well then, I’m sorry, but—”
“All right. You don’t get the other half of your fee, then.”
She shrugged, reached for her receipt and stuffed it into her bag. She’d already expected he’d withhold the second payment from her. But fifty-thousand sure helped ease the sting.
“Look, I’m pau. Done.” She had picked up on that one little Hawaiian word during her stay. Kind of easy to remember, and it felt good rolling off her tongue. “I did what you hired me for. I got some nice pictures of your daughter’s marriage to a celebrity. And lots of them, but that’s all there was to be had. Take it or leave it, Mr. ’Alohi. Be glad you got some memorable snapshots of your daughter’s first marriage, and to such a famous idol, at that. Not every father in America can claim that.”
“He was there, wasn’t he? More so than you claim.”
She dragged her roller-suitcase across the lobby and made her way to the bellhop’s station. “Who?”
“You know who! Nakolo Huaka. She was with him last night, not her husband. Am I not right? This whole wedding was a scam just so she can get her hands on my trust fund. It allows Mitch to cover up the gay rumors you mentioned, while she gets to keep her damned lowlife lover. ’Ea? Isn’t that what you saw?”
If you only knew the half of it.
Anjelee climbed into the shuttle van and let the bellhop load her luggage. Heloki’s words intrigued her. She hadn’t known about a trust fund, but now the whole hasty engagement and subsequent wedding was starting to come together and make sense. Clever, very clever. God, she wished she’d have known all the gory details before signing the agreement. It would have been worth ten times what she’d gotten.
“Speak to me, you conniving little malihini. I will pay you your other half if you just tell me the truth and turn over the evidence.”
Don’t tempt me.
“Look, God knows I could use the money, but I’ve told you all I know, and I gave you all I got. I tried, I snooped, but nothing came of it. What more do you want from me?”
Heloki let out a deep, exaggerated sigh. “Why are you being so pa’akiki?”
She mouthed the words “the docks” to the driver and said to Heloki, “Um, I don’t know what that means.”
“Hard-headed, stubborn.”
“Okay, I’m done with this conversation, Mr. ’Alohi.” She watched as the orange arc of the sun started to peep over the horizon. Sugar cane swayed in the early morning breeze, and tiny white glitters of dew shone on their stalks. It was no doubt a beautiful place, but Anjelee was ready to go home.
“While I appreciate the assignment opportunity you gave me,” she went on, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I can’t conjure up pictures that just don’t exist. I can’t go put them in bed together and shout ‘cheese!’ while I take their picture, just so you have proof you plan to use for who knows what. And I can’t confirm your bizarre suspicions if I saw nothing to substantiate them. Now I really need to be going.”
“You better remember…all I did was pay you to photograph a wedding, nothing more. You will keep your mouth shut about any further issues.” It was an order, not a question.
“Of course I will.” They swung onto the coast road toward the docks. A charter boat would take her to Oahu where she would catch her flight. She watched the magenta and purple streaks glaze across the sky and reflect on the choppy sea. She had the window down a crack and could smell the sharp scent of sea salt, as well as that of coconut and something floral she couldn’t quite place. “And in exchange for my loyalty, I’d hope you might consider keeping me in mind for your future needs.”
“Ha. You didn’t deliver this time. Why would I hire you again?”
She rolled her eyes, but her breath caught when she saw three dolphins break the ocean’s rippled surf in a choreographed display. “Whatever.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Montrose. And remember, silence is your friend in regard to our original agreement. I happen to know people in high places—right there in your own hometown, in fact—who could make your pathetic life hell.”
“Really? Well you can just—” She started to tell him just what he could do with those people, but he hung up on her before she could tear into him. “Asshole.”
She flipped her phone shut and shifted her eyes to the curve of the road ahead. He might know people in high places, but it was Anjelee who had some really naughty pictures she’d copied to her inbox…a second email box that Jager didn’t know about.
Pictures of Heloki’s precious daughter and her two bisexual lovers. Yes, no doubt Heloki was worried their possible torrid affair just might destroy his beloved sugar cane empire if it were to be revealed. And she assumed he also wanted some sort of blackmailing leverage to hold over their heads just so he could continue to run his daughter’s life.
Fuck that. Anjelee was the one with the control now. She held the proof, and she’d let it out of the bag without a second thought if Heloki chose to sic his people in high places on her. Damn right. The lovers’ shocking ménage a trois would be front-page news in a second if he so much as looked at her wrong. And to hell with contracts.
You threaten Anjelee Montrose, you pay dearly.
Anjelee cackled. She might be without the financial resources Mitch Wulfrum and Heloki ’Alohi had, but she was no fool. It was always a good idea to have a back-up plan. Insurance, just in case those moles of Heloki’s started coming out of the woodwork in the future. Or just in case she ran out of money again.
Chapter Thirteen
“Papa, what are you doing here
at this time of…?” Kiona’s words trailed off as her father pushed his way through the front door into the foyer. He wore crisp white pants and his usual floral, button-down shirt, but clearly he was anything but calm and cool. He was so agitated she could practically cut the tension with a knife. Sweat dribbled down his chubby cheeks and soaked the fabric of his shirt. His dark eyes gleamed with unmistakable fury, and his silver-streaked, midnight hair was tousled as if he’d raced over here without bothering to roll up the windows in his car.
She clamped her eyes shut and drew in a cleansing breath. Her forehead briefly touched the closed door before she gathered her bravery and spun back around to face him. But she didn’t even have time to speak again before Kol entered the foyer shirtless and in boxers.
“Hey, babe, who was that at the—” his bare feet skidded to an abrupt halt on the marble floor, and his eyes widened at the sight of Heloki, “—door,” he finished softly.
Heloki’s big body trembled with his booming voice. “I knew it!” He jabbed a finger in Kol’s direction, then at Kiona. “You’re still seeing him. Your marriage was a farce after all, just like I suspected.”
“Now, Father, let me explain the—”
“Don’t you ‘Father’ me,” he roared, jamming his fists onto his round hips. “I see what’s going on here. I knew it. You’re all going to ruin me.” He snarled at Kol. “What a lapuwale you are, you pathetic, worthless scoundrel.”
“Papa!”
“Hâmau!” He rounded on Kiona and leaned down, thrusting his face into hers. He must have been stewing over this for some time, because she got a strong whiff of antacids on his breath. “I don’t want to hear your scolding or your excuses. What you’re doing is kapu. Forbidden and shameful! You are nothing but a milimili whore for these two men.”
Kabana Heat Page 21
