Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat)

by Titania Ladley

  Jager took another long draw on his beer. The cold and bitter froth slid down his throat and settled into his empty gut. God, he felt sick. He felt empty and cold. Or was he just that hung over?

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out what to do next.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ask her.” Keefer slid back into the pool and chased down the ball. He held his beer up with one hand and did a repeated fist-bump on the volleyball with the other.

  “You know I’ve tried that already. She’s not budging. She’s the most stubborn, irksome woman I’ve ever met.”

  Keefer launched himself up and spiked the ball across the net. “Welcome to The Anjelee Montrose Club.”

  “Huh. Right. Well, you got anymore suggestions?”

  “You could seduce it out of her…” Keefer waded toward the pool deck and reached for his cigarettes and lighter.

  “Seduce it—? Ah, now we’re talking. Get down on Anj’s level.”

  “Exactly.” Keefer cupped the flame and puffed the cigarette to life. He tossed the lighter and cigarette pack out of puddle range and regarded Jager through whorls of smoke...with eyes of obscure, sinful need. “I just bet, knowing her appetite, that if she doesn’t talk when you’re withholding an orgasm from her, nothing’ll make her spill it.”

  Jager chugged the rest of his beer. He looked down at Keefer where he remained standing in the pool with his arms propped on the edge next to Jager’s hip. Cigarette smoke wafted up between them. Normally, Jager detested smoke, but it’d grown on him, the flavor, the faint scent in Keefer’s clothes...when he had them on, at least. From now on, when Jager caught the pungent odor of smoke, he’d forever think of Karibu and what the three of them had shared here.

  His mind moved from smoke, to Anjelee and tempting her with sexual release. His cock tingled at the fantasy of it. “Hm, that just might work. Where’d she go?”

  When Keefer didn’t answer, Jager groaned, “Don’t tell me she didn’t... No, s-she didn’t pack up and leave to who-knows-where, did she? Oh shit, did she—did she go back to L.A.?”

  “Nope. She did storm out the door after she came back from the salon appointment, though—they didn’t give her the correct shade of purple, which really pissed her off. But I do know where she went. Shopping at the downtown Karibu historic district.”

  Jager laughed. “Shopping? At a time like this?”

  “It’s how she relieves stress.” Keefer flicked ashes into a nearby empty champagne bottle. He eased his free hand onto Jager’s thigh and an instant surge of electricity traveled up Jager’s leg and settled like a flame in his groin. It mixed in a vortex of desire with his previous thoughts of Anj. “Spending money—that is, during the rare times she has any.”

  “Oh, believe me, she should have plenty of money. When will she be back?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Keefer grinned up at Jager, and the rugged expression took Jager’s breath away. “She said by noon, but she’s always later than she says. I like to call her a chronoptimist, even though it pisses her the hell off when I do.”

  “Huh, I bet.”

  Keefer’s smile faded. He massaged Jager’s leg and let the edge of his fingers graze over Jager’s cock. “Anyway, about her money, I’m not privy to her checkbook. And I don’t wanna hear anymore of your extortion shit. But if she is strapped, she just window-shops, or puts things in layaway that she usually ends up canceling because she can’t afford the payments.”

  “That does it.” It took all the discipline he had to get to his feet. Even though his loins ached, Jager knew it wasn’t the time to get sidetracked. “Something’s not right here about her. And I’m going to find out exactly what it is.”

  With the cigarette clamped in his teeth, Keefer dragged himself out of the pool and snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair. “Not without me you’re not.”

  “Well, c’mon, then.” Jager started toward the suite and gathered up his clothes.

  “Wait. On second thought, I do want to know about the supposed extortion. What the hell do you know?” Keefer scrubbed his back with the towel then slung it around his neck.

  Sonofabitch, he looked so damn hot.

  “You sure you want to know the real truth about our little nympho?”

  Keefer jammed on some swim trunks. Jager did the same. They left the suite and took the stairs toward the shopping center.

  “Yes and no. Aw, hell. Yes. Just give me the whole damn story before I get conversational blue balls waiting for either me to decide if I wanna hear it, or you to just fucking tell me.”

  “All right,” Jager warned, “but you’re never going to believe it...”

  ~*~*~*~

  Islanders manned the shoreline of quaint souvenir shops, catering to resort guests and tourists just now filtering in off the main pier where their cruise liner had docked. Seagulls squawked and vied for meager crumbs left over from the outdoor, seaside pubs. A young Jamaican couple sold homemade jewelry and ganja pipes near a bustling scuba shop.

  “Where the hell’d she go?” Jager asked. “I didn’t see one pink- or purple-headed woman in the entire mall.”

  Keefer shrugged, but Jager caught the gleam of worry in his eyes. “Don’t know. Maybe she went back to the suite.”

  “We have until two before we have to check back into our other rooms. Maybe we can catch her there.” He winked and gave Keefer a slap on the back. “Get in a massage session before they kick us out.”

  They took the cobbled walkway toward the hotel. Jager inhaled and caught the scent of hibiscus and brine. Palms lined the path and swayed in the thick, humid air. The sun was hot and high in the azure sky, the perfect day for an outing...maybe charter a romantic, private, half-day dinner cruise on one of those cool yachts? His mood soared. He ignored that nagging sense of duty to Mitch.

  That phone call last night had complicated things even further. Mitch was getting anxious. He wanted something done now. Like yesterday.

  And Jager, after pleading his case that he needed a few more days to fix the problem, had promised Mitch he’d see to Anjelee Montrose’s demise.

  But not until he’d had his fill of her and Keefer first.

  “Mmm,” Keefer said on a moan, “I’d rather get her back in that swing. Damn, it was like bobbing for a candied apple. That dangling thing sure has some interesting potential.”

  They hadn’t gotten far when a dark-skinned young man emerged from a cluster of foliage beyond the ganja-pipe vending stand. “Eh, mon, everything okay?”

  “Yeah, of course, we’re fine. Why do you—?”

  Keefer nudged Jager’s ribs and spoke under his breath. “Um, that’s code for, ‘Do you need any drugs?’”

  “Oh...uh, no thanks. Our drug of choice has pink-striped hair and a compact, hot little bod.”

  “Purple,” Keefer corrected.

  “Purple hair? Oh yeah, mon. That chick is some fine piece, no?”

  “You saw her?” Jager asked.

  The man’s smile was like a row of polished white tile. “Mm-hmm. Can’t miss that foxy lady. Well, I guess you can miss her now,” he added with a shake of the head. “Cuz my buddy, one of the resort’s shuttle drivers, just took her to the...”

  The islander held out a hand, wiggled his fingers.

  “To the—?” Keefer dug a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it in the man’s open palm.

  “The airport?” Jager broke in to Keefer’s question. Both of their voices had shrieked with panic and disbelief.

  “Ya, mon, she head back to...” He scratched his head and held out another hand. “Let’s see. Where was it?”

  Jager cursed under his breath and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He chose a twenty, slapped it into the native’s hand.

  The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yeah, yeah. I do remember now. She mentioned taking a flight to Miami.”

  “But that’s a standard layover from here,” Keefer pointed out.

  Jager already
had the greed headed off by digging out a fifty. That was nothing compared to what he’d pay to get his hands on her again. He’d do anything to find out just where his sneaky little gorgeous lover had gone.

  “Mm, irie, irie. Yes, sir, seems I do recall now, she mentioned something about going back to L.A., to her mom.” He pinched the bill between two fingers and slowly tugged it from Jager’s hold.

  An ironic tune played in Jager’s head, Bob Seger. Crap, here comes a head splinter. It’d be playing like a broken CD in his head all day. Something about a sunspot baby taking off down the road. Ah, yes, the clever thief had left him stranded, all right. With Wulfrum’s wrath. She’d charged—no, bribed—a fortune out of Wulfrum.

  Well, he wouldn’t stop. He’d look in Karibu, Miami, look all the fucking way around the world. L.A., too.

  I’ll find you. I’ll find you, my hot little “Sunspot Baby”. And you sure ain’t gonna have a good time when I close my hands around your tasty neck.

  Chapter Nine

  “He owes me the money.”

  “No. He doesn’t.”

  “Yes. He does. Well, not me really, and not him really, either. Technically.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She noted how Jager’s voice hit a level of alarm. Things were closing in on him, and whether she cared to admit it or not, the truth was, she had caused it.

  Which made her want to crawl in a grave and just get the hell buried alive.

  She took a long sip of her steamy latte, yanked open her apartment door and jammed a thumb over her shoulder toward the hallway. “Look, fellas, I’m running latte, so can you just let me pencil you in at another date? Like, oh, maybe in the year twenty fifty?”

  Jager raised a questioning brow and looked to Keefer for translation.

  “Means she’s running late. Late equals latte—get it?” Keefer tipped his head to the side. “Because she opted, as usual, to make a detour through Coffee Hut’s drive-through.”

  “Figures,” Jager muttered with an eye-roll.

  Keefer followed her to the open door. She could smell his faint, woodsy cologne over the scent of mocha steam. He’d made a subtle change. He didn’t used to wear cologne. Yes, lots of things had changed...

  “Hey, baby, c’mon. What’s going on here? Jager told me what really happened in Kabana, anyway. Do you know how much trouble you’re going to be in?”

  A huge wave of affection assailed her. She tried to ignore the dismay and concern that edged Keefer’s voice, tried harder still to resist touching his whiskered face and kissing him silly. She raised her hand, let it drop. Ali and Mom flashed in her head. No, it wasn’t the time for emotions, not selfish ones, at least. And there probably never would be time again.

  Ha. Actually, she was going to have all the time in the world sitting on her ass in prison.

  “Uh, yeah. Do I look like an idiot? And thanks, Manning, for your confidence. I thought we’d gotten to a place of trust, but I guess that, ‘what happens in Karibu, stays in Karibu’ was just an excuse to get yourself some bi-sex.”

  “I’d be inclined to say it’s looking that way—like you’re an idiot, that is. But something tells me there’s more going on here than meets the eyes and ears.” Jager strode forward, gripped her elbow. His hand felt big, warm and oddly comforting. “Tell me, goddamn it. Tell me what the hell’s going on in that pretty striped head of yours.”

  “No.” She ripped her arm free, immediately regretting the loss of his touch.

  He took both of her arms this time, and shook her. He spoke through gritted teeth. She saw the same concern—or was that...was that love?—in his eyes that still gleamed in Keefer’s. “I swear, if you don’t tell me now, I’m dragging you back to Hawaii right this minute.”

  Her stomach did a nauseous flip. Oh, no. God, no. He wouldn’t—would he? “Over my big ass.” She tried to snarl it, but it came out in a mousy squeak.

  Keefer snickered. “That’s the farthest statement from the truth I’ve ever heard you say.”

  Anjelee shot him a withering look. “Shut it, Keef.”

  A reluctant grin spread across Jager’s face. He twisted her around to “assess” the situation, and replied, “I agree with him. It’s the smallest, hottest ass I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you,” she said with honeyed sarcasm, allowing Jager to keep his hold on her. “But it’s not getting either of you what you want. I’m sworn to secrecy. So this is pretty much a nonversation in my book. Might as well back off.”

  “Well, damn sam, she’s got her own language book, too? And what in hell is ‘nonversation’?”

  Keefer pulled them both away from the door, kicked it shut with his boot and led them into her tiny kitchen. “For Christ’s sake, Jager, it’s true I’ve known her longer than you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got her all figured out. Context, man, keep her shit in context and it’ll all come to you eventually.”

  “Right, context,” Jager said flatly, letting go of her arms.

  She took a sip of coffee and regarded them over the lid. What should she do, where should she go? And why in tarnation hadn’t she stopped off in St. Kitts, or some remote island in Indonesia or something, instead of coming back to L.A.? She slammed her head against the refrigerator. Because, she loved Ali and Mom too much to leave them worrying and wondering what had happened to her, and because they needed the money, like yesterday.

  “What’s this secrecy deal, Anj? Who’s it with?” Keefer demanded.

  “None ya. And Jager, if you can’t figure nonversation out, you’re lame.”

  His eyes widened. “Lame? You’re going to wish I was lame when Wulfrum finds everything out.”

  She groaned. A knot tightened in her stomach. Her hand shook as she slid the latte onto the countertop. She pushed past them, skirted around the short breakfast bar and collapsed on her worn but comfy sofa...a comfy feeling she wouldn’t be getting in prison.

  She clunked her Nikes on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest. “So help me, if you utter one word to that egotistical movie star about where I am, or anything I’ve already told you—or if you have me put in jail—I swear I’ll tell his wife’s father, Heloki, that you planned Wulfrum’s, Kiona’s and Kol’s three-way marriage behind Heloki’s back and that Wulfrum—the man his precious daughter married—is bisexual.”

  Jager took the three steps required to be classified as being in her living room, and folded his arms, too. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Her feet dropped to the floor. She sat up ramrod straight. “Oh, I wouldn’t? Well, don’t you forget Heloki is one of your clients, too. Hmm, might start a mass hysteria of your clientele dumping you, once they hear how you betrayed two of your highest-esteemed clients. One a Hollywood icon, even, and the other, a rich, Hawaiian sugar-cane plantation owner.”

  Why did her voice sound so weak and shaky? And why didn’t she feel the conviction behind her own words like she usually did, or delight in their power?

  “What?” Keefer plopped into the lounge chair opposite the TV. “Holy stinkin’ shit, this is all getting way too complicated.”

  Jager ignored Keefer. He took a couple of steps until he towered over her. His scent of high-end cologne drifted between them. He looked good, real good. Yummy, in fact. But she’d be a fool to fall for her jailer again.

  “You swore not to reveal any of their marriage arrangements to Heloki,” Jager growled.

  She shot to her feet, but she had to tip her head back to glare at him. “Did not.”

  “Did too. You signed a contract promising to keep everything confidential, even from Heloki.”

  “Do you think I really give a turd about our stupid ‘contract’? You wouldn’t dare sue me over it, because it just so happens I also have a copy of that secret contract that Mitch, Kiona and Kol drew up between them stating they were a three-way married couple and equally devoted to each other.”

  Her words came out hollow. Could he tell she didn’t believ
e her own bull, that she’d just admitted to herself that she could never carry any of this through to completion, not even accepting more of Wulfrum’s money?

  An image swam through her head of Ali in the hospital, pale and exhausted, hooked up to machines and tubes. She sniffled against the sting and wetness forming in her nose and eyes. What was she going to do?

  Keefer perked up. “Really? You can do that in Hawaii? Three-way marriages? Hmm...”

  Jager held his own head like a vise. “How did you get that contract?”

  She dropped back on the sofa and presented what she hoped was her smuggest grin. It was getting more and more difficult by the minute to keep up the brave farce and confidence in her words.

  “The same way I got the job from you to photograph their wedding, the same way I got my ass up on their roof and was able to take pictures of them doing their thing, and the same way I planned the next round of money.” She tapped her temple. “With my freakin’ brain.”

  Jager kneeled in front of her, took her hands in his. His eyes were pleading pools of confusion. Oh, wow, she could so relate. “Anj, babe, I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

  Babe? She swallowed. Please, please don’t call me that, not at a time like this. Tears stung her eyes. She tugged her hands from his.

  He rose with a sigh and sat on the arm of the chair next to Keefer. Mmm, they looked so hot together.

  “How can you do this, to Heloki, to Mitch Wulfrum—his career will be over—to sweet Kiona and Kol, to me, for fucking sake? The money’s simply not yours.”

  “Is too.” It was nothing but a whisper. She fixed her gaze on her twiddling thumbs in her lap. “Well...not me technically.”

  “No. I know you well. You’re bluffing, you’ve always been bluffing with Jager.” Keefer unfolded himself from the chair and came to sit next to her. Jager followed, sitting on Keefer’s other side. Keefer cupped her jaw and tipped it up so she had no choice but to look into his handsome face. “Haven’t you, sweetheart?”