It Happens in Threes

by Denise Robbins

  “Well, I couldn’t very well install it with him looking over my shoulder or breathing down my neck. Knowing Nicolas, he’d check everything, especially my work.”

  “You could have waited a couple of days. You didn’t have to do it today.”

  “My way was more expedient.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, which exacerbated his irritation. Something else was up. He read it in her eyes, heard it in her voice.

  “Damn it, Ruby. We agreed to work this job my way. So far you’ve ignored my orders, put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation, changed the strategy, and been careless.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t. I know you want to help. You can. You are.” When her mouth dropped open, he lifted her chin to close it.

  “Yes. By far you are the most capable and talented person. But damn it, you’ve got to work with me, not against me. You have to tell me things so we can decide the appropriate action. Together. If you leave me in the dark or tell me after the fact then the chances are high that everything could backfire. And if that happens, one or both of us could die. I need you to trust me.” Leaning against the building for support, Michael blew out a long sigh, peered into Ruby’s face, at her cat-like eyes, and implored her. “I need to trust you.”

  The intensity of his blue gaze, and his words penetrated first her mind, then her heart. He’d asked for her trust, and offered his in return. Trust was no small feat for Michael. She had to give him what he asked. Wanted to give it.

  She touched him, a simple touch, a light brush of her palm over his day old scruffy bearded cheek, but a touch that signified the depth of her understanding.

  “All right, Mickey. Let’s walk and talk.”

  Michael removed her laptop from her shoulder and placed it over his. They started down the sidewalk toward the office, Ruby walking closest to the buildings. A gesture of protection by Michael. She loved him for it.

  “I installed Illusion like I told you.”

  “Yes.” With a side-glance down at her, he asked, “What else?”

  Her lip curved up on one side. How did he know there was more? She wondered how he did that. How could he read her? No one else had ever done that, not even her ex-fiancé.

  “I also installed my emailHound application. I installed it on your network and Nico’s home network. That way whatever emails come in we can trace to its original IP address, thus its physical address, and owner.”

  “You installed it on my network?” Ruby heard the nervousness in Michael’s voice. It rang like a gong, echoing his words of trust in her ears.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Oh. Nothing. Good idea. That could come in handy.”

  She eyed him, not sure if he told the truth. What was he hiding? She’d find out. That’s what spies did.

  “What else?”

  “That’s it. Then I got spooked when I saw Thomas. How did he know I was here? At that café? It’s creepy.” She shivered. “How do you suppose he found me? I mean, you don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you? Do you think he’s been here long?”

  “It’s not a coincidence.”

  At his matter-of-fact reply, Ruby gripped Michael’s forearm halting their forward movement. As she stared into his blue eyes, she saw a shadow pass through them. He knew something she didn’t. The rat.

  “How do you know it’s not a coincidence?”

  “The guy is stalking you. When you broke things off you ruined his plans. He’s obsessed. His obsession makes him dangerous. He thinks you owe him, your time, attention, admiration, even your body because it benefits him. He’s a psychopath. He only gives a damn about his personal gratification.”

  She heard his words. Even believed them. And he probably knew what he was talking about with his vast experience working with criminals. But he hadn’t told her the truth. He hadn’t answered her question. She glowered at him. The longer she pinned him with her cool gaze the more he fidgeted. Positive he was hiding something, Ruby looked down. Frowning at the cement sidewalk, she contemplated.

  What should she do? Not five minutes ago Michael asked her, no, begged her to trust him. He said he needed to trust her. Yet, here he stood telling her half truths. Why? Did it matter why? Nope. She shook her head. A shallow giggle escaped her lips as she laughed at herself and her naiveté.

  The clearing of Michael’s throat interrupted her deliberation, brought her eyes back to his. One eyebrow cocked, his face showed mild annoyance, and curiosity. Before Ruby could think of a way to wipe the expression off his face and make him fess up to his half-truths, white lies, or just plain bullshit, he reached across with his right hand and firmly grabbed her near the wrist.

  Inadvertently, Michael gave her the opening Ruby needed to figuratively and literally pin him down. She pivoted, facing him. At the same time, she covered his fingers—now clenched on her wrist—with her left hand, so he could not let go. Then, with a deft circling motion of her arm, she gave his wrist a sharp twist, palm down-and-out to his right.

  Almost before the look of shock hit his face, she thrust inward, and down. As he fell to his knees, he let out a yelp. Just where all men should be.

  “You said something about trust.”

  “Ruby, damn it, let me up,” he sneered.

  “Oh, what’s wrong? The big, bad, super agent can’t get himself out of a little twist with little ol’ me?” Sarcasm dripped from her lips like wine from a spilled carafe.

  “Ruby, this is not a game. Cut the crap and let me up.”

  “Cut the crap. You have more information than you’re sharing, and I’m sick of the bullshit. I asked you how Thomas knew where I was. I want the truth and I want it now.” Adding a little more force to his already torqued wrist, Ruby pressed him for the truth.

  “Shit!” Michael cursed a few more unintelligible phrases. “A tracking device. He used a tracking device.”

  “What? Where? How the hell do you know? How long have you known?” She saw him wince and almost released him. Almost. Instead, she urged him a tad more, pushed in on him. “Tell me before I break your wrist. Don’t forget, I can. You taught me.” Michael could get out of the hold at any moment. The only reason he was on his knees was because she’d taken him off guard. But he didn’t fight back. Guilt kept him there.

  Michael blew out a breath.

  “There’s a tracking device in your laptop. I found it when we were in Florida.”

  “You bastard. You never told me. Why?” Before Michael could respond, realization hit. “How could you? You left it. You set me up. You let the bejeezes be scared out of me because you had to play the hero, and let me be the guinea pig for your sick, macho, he-man game. How could you? I thought you gave a damn. And I’m supposed to trust you? It goes both ways, buddy. Except just like in Washington, D.C., this two-way street is now a one way road.”

  As she spit out the last word, she twisted her hips, and her right hand shot forward, palm first, smacking Michael square in the middle of the forehead. She’d aimed a bit higher than where she had practiced—the nose. She didn’t want to kill him. Much. Yet.

  * * * *

  Rubbing at his wrist and his wounded dignity, Michael cursed himself. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Ruby ran away from him. Both times she’d left her mark, physically as well as emotionally. She’d been correct when she called him a rat-bastard as she sprinted back toward the office. She was accurate when she said he was a macho he-man who had used her. Damn straight! And he’d do it again if it kept her safe.

  He wouldn’t risk losing her to some whacked out ex-fiancé who seemed to have disappeared easily, too easily. There was something about Thomas that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but whenever those hairs stood up, Michael took notice. If he didn’t, he’d have been dead more than once.

  His pride recovered, Michael got to his feet, brushed street dust from his ass. As he started to walk in the direction Ruby had gone, he smi
led to himself and shook his head. The girl was good and tougher than she looked. Not only had she deciphered his little white lie, but she’d caught him off-guard and brought him to his knees. Not just any woman could do that. But his woman did.

  A sense of pride washed over him as he delighted in the fact she’d gotten her information and dumped him on his ass. He’d taught her those tricks and he’d taught her well.

  By the time Michael made it back to the office it was empty. Nicolas and Ruby were gone on their date. Damn. Neither of them told him where they were going, but they didn’t need to. At his computer, he tapped a few keys, brought up the tracking application on his screen, and pinpointed Ruby’s location. With a click of a button he sent the information to his mobile device.

  Two minutes later he was out the door, on his way to Paradise Cove.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  She was having a blast. Instead of Greek, Nico decided on a traditional luau. It was the last thing she expected. It was wonderful. When they arrived they were lei’d with the gift of garland made from island flowers and small seashells. Seated at a long table low to the ground they drank Mai Tai cocktails. The poi, a bland paste made from the taro root was nasty, but the pickled cucumber salad called Namasu was to die for.

  The local band was entertaining, but she enjoyed the Imu ceremony more. Big, bulky guys in skirts dug up the Kalua pig from the Imu, an underground oven. When she started to eat it along with other native Hawaiian foods, she’d forgotten they’d slow-roasted the whole pig including the head. Her favorite food, Haupia, a white coconut pudding, came last.

  The food cleared, she and Nico, along with other guests, became entranced by the Polynesian revue.

  She leaned over to whisper in Nicolas’s ear. “The way the women move their hips doing the hula is spellbinding. I wonder how they do that.”

  Nicolas turned his head and smiled down at her. He had a nice smile, one that reached his lavender eyes. “They relax, listen to the beat of the music, and let their hips do all the work. You look like you’re relaxed enough, would you like to learn?” Nico made a quick gesture with his hand, pointing at the stage.

  “That’d be fun but...”

  Before she finished her sentence, gentle hands lifted Ruby at her upper arms from her seat, and carried to the stage. Planted on her bare feet, a short grass skirt wrapped low around her waist. Then Tuika, the dancer who had twirled three knives lit by fire around his body, through his legs, and thrown them into the air during the Samoan Fire Knife Dance stood in front of her.

  Tuika, a dark skin, dark eyed man, looked very solid with broad shoulders, an expansive muscled chest, and tree trunks for legs. And he could move. In that red and white Hawaiian print skirt, he could move. Watching him was like watching a male stripper. He swayed, rotated, and rippled all the right ways. No woman was immune to his dance.

  Nor his charms, Ruby thought as he kissed her hand, bowed, and introduced himself in a deep voice. He took her hand, smiled, and crooked his finger at her to move forward. Following his request, Ruby realized she now stood center stage.

  She stopped biting her lower lip when Tuika asked her name. Then, to her utter amazement and embarrassment, he introduced her to the rest of the guests at the luau. She looked up, snuck a peek at Nicolas. He applauded along with the other guests. A wide smile lit his face. She grinned back.

  “Let’s see if Ruby is a natural hula dancer,” Tuika said into his microphone. The crowd clapped as the drummer played, and Tuika rotated his hips back and forth to the slow rhythmic beat. He beamed at her, waved his hands in a backwards hello gesture, encouraging her to follow his lead.

  Ruby shook her head. She couldn’t do what he was doing. Not in front of all the strangers. He grinned at her, motioned for the drummer to slow down. In the blink of an eye, his hands were on her hips, shifting them back and forth, back and forth in time with the drums. His warm palms still on her, he changed positions so he stood behind her. Her hips swayed with his. It was powerful and sexual and she let herself go.

  He stepped forward and to her right. “Now we do the ‘Ami oniu’. You revolve your hips to form the figure eight and shift your weight like this.”

  Demonstrating it beautifully, Ruby followed Tuika’s instructions. She didn’t know if it was his mastery at the art that made it easy for her to learn, or the way the pounding of the drums flowed through her and into her hips. Before she knew it she swayed and undulated at an even faster pace, the rhythm and movement hypnotic.

  As the sun set, the sky turned a purplish orange haze, and torches burned a heat of bright gold, the Chief announced the end of the luau. The last dance, the Hue, the Chief explained, was more of a challenge between hula dancers than a ceremonial dance. During the Hue, the dancers revolved their hips in time with the drummer who beat as fast as possible to see which dancer could last the longest.

  From the microphone attached to his white floral lei, Tuika announced he wished to dance with Ruby in the Hue. Her heart beat out of her chest, excited by the raw energy that radiated from Tuika and the dance.

  The drums started, slowly. They faced each other, their hips rotating back and forth in a type of foreplay. The beat got faster, stronger, like a heart after a lover’s kiss, long and hard, that takes your breath away. Then the rhythm became raw and pure, hungry, beating out of control until one of the dancers stopped, and reached climax. And the two are out of breath, inhaling deeply, trying to recover. The dance was a mating ritual. Passion and desire tingled on the surface of her skin.

  At the thought, she glanced up. Nicolas stood ten feet away, clapping, lust in his lavender eyes. Clasping the pink stone around her neck, Ruby wished for Michael.

  * * * *

  Just inside the door to Nicolas’s home, Ruby stood, grass skirt in hand, and yawned. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Nicolas, for my first luau, and my first hula lesson. I can’t think of a more fitting experience for my trip to Hawaii.”

  “Tuika was right. You are a natural at the native dance. Everyone was bewitched by you, especially me.”

  At the click of the lock, she looked up. Her heart jolted. Peering at her, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts. Ruby clutched the grass skirt to her chest, a shield against his silent expectation, she yawned again.

  “I better turn in. All that dancing wore me out. Thank you again, Nico.” She pivoted to leave and halted at the clearing of his throat.

  “Don’t you wish for a night cap?”

  “Those Mai Tai cocktails are the only night cap I need. I’m sorry, Nicolas, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Ok, mon petit chat, but you have to promise to go diving with me tomorrow.”

  How could she turn that down? “I’d love to.”

  Nicolas stepped forward, placed his hands on her upper arms and clasped her body tight against his. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he wanted her. His lips brushed against hers as he whispered, “Tomorrow.” His vow sealed with a kiss.

  When he released her, Ruby rushed to her room, bolting herself in, and Nicolas out. Her head resting against the door, she closed her eyes and breathed. She was in deep shit.

  Something clicked in her mind. Her eyes popped open. She smelled musk. Had someone been in her room? As quickly as the thought came it disappeared again. She chided herself for being ridiculous. It was Nicolas. After the way he held her so close, it had to be him.

  She dropped her bags and her skirt on the bed. Flipping the switch to the lamp on, Ruby’s mind froze and she stood motionless as her heart beat a rapid rhythm. Staring straight down at the bedside table, she saw the book. It had been moved.

  As she reached under her dress and unsnapped the lady derringer tied to her garter, she looked around the room for more evidence of an intruder. Had the trespasser come and gone? Was he still in her room? Her two-shot revolver gripped tight in her hand, Ruby approached the closet. Cautious, she opened the door and peered inside, and almost bit through her lower lip when she saw
her shoes.

  The shoes were in total disarray. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about the mess, just what the mess signified. Rather than push on the hanging clothes for confirmation of a body, she crouched, stared down the sight of her weapon, and checked for legs. There weren’t any.

  She checked the bathroom, pushed the door open with a hard thrust hoping to bean anyone that stood behind it. Then she inspected the sitting room. No one. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was a mess from the housekeeper. That didn’t make sense, but she wanted a different answer than the one she felt all the way to her toes. Someone had been in her room and that someone was up to no good.

  Frazzled and frustrated, Ruby blew her blonde hair from her eyes and pushed the other strands behind her ears with her left hand. Her right hand still held the derringer. She had to think. Could it have been Nicolas? When would he have found the time to ransack her room? There was one more place. She could check one more place that didn’t require cleaning.

  Her pulse pounding, Ruby walked briskly, purposefully toward the dresser. Her underwear drawer would clarify whether it was a cleaning fiasco or an unwelcome intruder.

  * * * *

  He thought his eyes had played tricks on him, but rubbing and blinking had not dispelled the image of Ruby in a grass skirt. She’d been on stage, in a grass skirt, doing the hula. She did the hula with the Samoan dancer. She did the Hue with the Samoan dancer.

  He stared, transfixed at the sight of Ruby’s hips swaying back and forth, undulating to the rhythm of the drum. The drum still beat in his head, through his blood.

  The moment she relaxed and the drummer took over was obvious. She hadn’t been thinking, she felt the beat, exhibited it in her movement. Her petite, luscious curves rippled against the backdrop of the music. The wave of energy and desire crashed into him.

  When she danced the challenge of the Hue and met Tuika hip for hip, sway to sway, she took his breath away. Caught in Ruby’s web, every movement of the grass skirt pulled him in deeper and deeper. That was where he wanted to be.