Fire Dancer

by Linsey Lanier

  Miranda didn’t like that grin. Nonchalantly she glanced at his nametag. Cho.

  “Now, I don’t expect to make a sale tonight. You know, never accept the first offer.” Parker winked as if he were letting Cho in on a business secret. “So I’ll be storing the necklace in your safe when we return. Is that acceptable?”

  Again the clerk smiled and nodded. “Whatever you wish, sir. I’m on duty all night. I’ll see to it myself that your valuables are well taken care of.”

  “Thank you. That’s a great relief.” Parker laid a hand over his heart as if Cho had just done him a huge favor. “Uh, while we’re out, they’ll be all right locked in the glove compartment of my BMW until we meet with the appraiser, won’t they?”

  Cho gave him another oily grin. “Oh, they should be just fine, Mr. Parker. This is a very safe area.”

  Taking her cue from Parker, Miranda yawned and wrapped her arm around his, playing the giddy, spoiled wife, too interested in being wined and dined to care about the details of “business.” “C’mon honey,” she pouted. “You promised me a new dress and dinner.”

  Parker chuckled and patted her hand. “Very well, dear. Thank you again for your help,” he said to Cho. “I’ll bring the pearls back in a few hours, then.”

  “You’re very welcome, Mr. Parker. I’ll be waiting.”

  She just bet he would.

  ###

  Two hours later they were sipping Chi Chi’s on the outdoor patio of Beach Café and keeping a watchful eye on the BMW, which was parked in a side alleyway just around the corner. To a casual observer, it looked like they couldn’t see it and weren’t paying attention to it at all. But one shady move from a thief and they’d both be over the guardrail and at the car in two seconds flat.

  Except there hadn’t been a move.

  Miranda leaned over her dessert menu and whispered. “There hasn’t been a nibble.”

  “Patience,” Parker murmured.

  “We strolled up and down Front Street three times and nobody made a move for the glove compartment.”

  “It was a bit crowded, but you have a point.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this, Parker.”

  He considered that a moment. “We could be missing something. Perhaps that wasn’t the clerk who’s working with our suspect.”

  “He looked pretty shady to me.” If she wasn’t reading into those overanxious grins.

  “It may take some time for the information to trickle down—or up—to the person giving the orders.”

  “Ha’aheo.”

  “Or an underling he’s delegated that power to.” He took a sip of his coffee, avoiding the cocktail. It was just for show, since he was driving.

  “Do you think Ha’aheo’s that organized?” Miranda wondered.

  “It’s hard to tell at this point.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s getting late. Didn’t you say we have to get up early tomorrow?”

  “If you still want to check out that sea cave.” His doubtful expression said he still wasn’t sure the trip was worth the risk.

  She caught his drift. “You don’t think we’ll find anything, do you?”

  “I can’t say. But if that is Jonathan’s lair, he also may pay a visit to it early in the morning.” He reached for the check. “Do you want anything else?”

  She shook her head. The beef satay was good, but it was playing havoc with the nerves in her stomach. “Ha’aheo won’t have your pearls to stash in the cave, but maybe his cohorts are busy hitting other cars tonight and he’ll be carrying a big haul. Maybe we’ll catch him in the act.”

  “That would be fortuitous.”

  “Yeah, wouldn’t it, though?”

  “And dangerous.”

  She closed her menu. “So we’d better get some shuteye. Want to be alert.”

  “Very well.” He laid several bills on the table and rose. “We can continue this ruse tomorrow.”

  “If we still need to.” She swallowed the last bit of vodka and got to her feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He opened the small fridge and peered inside, ignoring the food stains and the mold growing in the cheap containers. One fucking bottle of beer left? That was all? Shit. That was what happened when you lived with a drunk. He grabbed it and closed the door.

  He opened the lid and leaned against the counter where the cheese-and-mustard sandwich he’d just made himself sat on a cheap paper plate. He ran the bottle over his brow. The coolness was a relief after eight hours at that damn carwash. He hated coming home to this sweltering box. He liked it better along the beach.

  The sound of the TV coming from the living room set his nerves on edge. As did the mangy yellow cat rubbing against his leg.

  He kicked it off. “Go away, Bugs.”

  He held the bottle to his lips, about to take a swig when he heard the flop, flop of bedroom slippers in the hallway. The old man shuffled into the cramped little kitchen.

  He was in his twenty-four-seven bathrobe and pajamas. Strands of stringy gray hair hung down over his dark, gnarled face and the stubble he rarely shaved. As usual, he smelled of BO and booze.

  Those mean, beady eyes narrowed on him. “Give me that.” He reached for the beer and jerked it out of his hand.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, what?”

  Jonathan licked his dry lips as he watched his grandfather gulp down half the bottle. “Go easy. That’s the last one.”

  He let out a loud belch and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Then you’ll have to go buy me some more.” He looked at the counter. “Is that for me?” He took the sandwich, too.

  “That’s mine.” It was the last piece of cheese. Couldn’t expect the old souse to go shopping.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Give it to me.” He took a step toward the old man, but he raised a threatening arm that halted him.

  He swore if that old man backhanded him one more time, he might end up in a blowhole. And this time he’d make sure the body wouldn’t be found.

  He watched the old man chomp down on the sandwich, crumbs dropping onto the floor. Bugs lapped them up right away.

  Damn, he was sick of living in this hellhole with his grandfather. But he’d get out of here one day soon. He had a plan. He already had his contact in Oahu and his first big delivery.

  And once he was rich and powerful, he’d move to a nice house on the beach with A/C and a lanai with an ocean view where he could feel the tradewinds against his face. He’d leave the old man here to fend for himself.

  His grandfather’s sneer brought him out of his thoughts. The old man’s thin lips parted showing those crooked, yellow teeth. “You no count son of a bitch. You’re no better than your father was. Make yourself useful and do those dishes.” Taking the food and the beer, he waddled back to the living room. Probably to jack off to a rerun of Baywatch.

  He turned and stared at the grimy sink. Dishes, hell. He bent over, picked up the mangy cat and set the thing on the counter. He smirked as he watched the greedy bastard start licking the food off the plates. Bugs could take care of the dishes.

  He grabbed a bag of chips from the cabinet and headed back to his room. He had important work to do.

  After locking the door behind him, he stood and stared into space. It was a small room, but it was his. He had good sheets on the bed that he kept neatly made, a desk with a nice laptop he’d traded for the one Cho had taken from the Ashton-Grand, his workout equipment that he used religiously. He’d always kept things tidy and clean in here, but just now, as the memory of this morning came back to him, he had the urge to tear the room apart in a fit of rage.

  He tossed the bag of chips on the desk and dug his fingers into his scalp.

  He was getting too close. Wade Parker was getting too damn close. He’d been at the blowhole today.

  Calm down. Think.

  He recycled his anger into jogging in place for a few minutes, then lay down on the weight bench and pick
ed up the bar to do his reps as he did every evening. He could press two hundred fifty now. His strength made him powerful.

  Exhaling slowly, he lifted the bar and focused his mind.

  He’d cruised by the site this morning to see if the cops were still there and spotted that fancy red BMW parked on the side of the road with the plates he recognized. He had to stop. He had to get out and see what was going on. His heart pounding, he hid behind a ridge and peeked over it. There was Parker and some frizzy-headed woman poking around the blowhole.

  His place.

  He’d watched them as long as he’d dared. Good thing. He saw them go to the other side and look over the opposite cliff. They’d seen his sea cave.

  He’d panicked then, hurried back to his car, went to work. It was best to act normal, he’d told himself. Not vary his routine. Not raise any suspicions. But the question had pounded in his brain with every fender he’d buffed during his endless shift.

  Did Wade Parker know…everything?

  He was overreacting, he told himself. There’d been nothing on the news about Keola’s death today. Nothing about any stolen goods or anything else. If Parker knew something, the cops would be knocking at the door.

  The rap music ringtone on his cell sounded. It was Cho. He put down the bar, sat up to answer. “Yeah?”

  “You were right. He’s here.”

  Of course, he was right. He’d looked up the BMW’s license plate in a database and learned it was owned by a local rental company. A few inquiries at the office had told him Parker was staying at the Ashford-Grand resort. Just where a stinking rich haole would stay.

  “He’s got a woman with him,” Cho chuckled. “His wife. But she goes by the name Steele. Miranda Steele.”

  He smiled. Cho had done good work. “What’s the room number?”

  Cho rattled it off. He grabbed a notepad and pen off the desk, jotted it down. He already had Parker’s cell number from his online search.

  “And guess what?” Cho said. “They went out tonight and took a little trifle with them. Pearls. Diamonds.”

  His mouth watered. You didn’t usually get really good high-end jewels from tourists. They mostly brought casual things along with their electronic toys.

  “Be easy to nab. The dumb haole is leaving it in the glove compartment of his convertible. He asked me if it was safe. I told him ‘sure.’” Cho snorted a laugh. “You still there?”

  “I’m here.” His mind was buzzing with excitement. So many ways to play it. It was tempting to rob the bastard blind. But that wouldn’t be enough. Not nearly enough.

  “I can boost the goods when they come back. They’re in town shopping and seeing an appraiser. Or I can have Garcia hit them now.” Garcia was a valet at the Ashton-Grand who’d proven to be a loyal underling with nimble fingers.

  “Don’t do anything.” He couldn’t give Parker a hint of his operation. Wait. “Did you say he asked you if it would be safe in his glove compartment?”

  “Sure did, the dumb shit.”

  He didn’t know a lot about him, but he knew Wade Parker was no dumb shit. He smelled a set up.

  “Want me to hit their room while they’re out for some extra bread?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said don’t do anything.” He had to think. Parker had been at the blowhole. He’d seen the sea cave. Did he suspect the truth about Keola? Wait a minute. That’s why the cops weren’t after him. There wasn’t enough proof. Parker was setting him up to get it. That fucking sonofabitch.

  But that meant there was still time to strike first. Visions of a plan came to him. A kidnapping in that fancy hotel room. Take the wife, too. Play with her a little until he got rid of them both.

  He’d need help. Was Cho up to that? What to do with the bodies? No blowholes this time. He’d cruise out in his boat and dump them deep in the ocean himself.

  He snapped out of his thoughts. Cho was babbling like a moron.

  “Okay, okay, man. You know you can trust me.”

  Trust him? As far as he could any man working for him. Cho was a follower, but you could never be sure.

  “I look up to you. You know what you’re doing, man.”

  Now he was kissing his ass. “Don’t. Do. Anything,” he repeated in a low, raspy tone he knew would strike fear in the toady’s heart. “Don’t boost a toothpick. Until I give you the word, you’re a model citizen. Understand?”

  “Yeah. Sure, man. I got it.” There was a pause. “What about my take for this week?” Damn greedy bastard. He’d be losing money, too.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll cover it.” He’d have to pay him out of his stash. It was too risky to deal for money right now.

  “Sure. Whatever you say.” He heard the resentment in his tone. He might have to cut Cho lose. But that could lead to other problems. He had to take care of Parker first.

  “Just stay clean until you hear from me.” He disconnected and stared off into space.

  It would be okay. He’d have enough to pay double for the loss after he started selling a little of the stuff in that sea cave. He just had to bide his time.

  But first, Parker.

  He’d be coming back. He’d be nosing around his place again. Telling the cops what he found. Had to take care of him soon.

  He thought of his father, dying alone in prison from the bullet wound Parker gave him. He thought of his mother, her wrists slit and bleeding all over the bathroom where he’d found her. He’d sworn then to get back at Wade Parker. And now he would.

  It was Fate. Destiny. His Destiny.

  He’d already killed. Killing again wouldn’t be so hard. He just had to cover his tracks.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before the crack of dawn the next morning, Miranda came out of the oblivion of sleep to a low, irritating chirping sound.

  Whoever invented that silly ringtone ought to be horsewhipped. She opened her eyes and found her limbs entangled with Parker’s like a ballpark pretzel.

  Trying not to disturb him, she extracted a leg, an arm. Then she saw he was already awake.

  “Is that Wendy texting you?” he wanted to know.

  “Who else?” She rolled over and grabbed the phone from the nightstand and swiped the screen. Sure enough. Three messages.

  OMG!!! Mackenzie won the Regional!!! First place!!! She’s the most amazing person I know.

  Gee thanks, kid.

  First place!!! Can you believe it? I’m tweeting about it every five minutes.

  Yep, she could believe it.

  Kaylee’s giving Mackenzie a party when she gets home. She says there’ll be boys, but Jordan says her father won’t let her.

  Groaning, Miranda indulged herself by shaking the phone. “Why can’t she obsess over one of these other girls?”

  “Other girls?” Parker got up and went to the closet.

  “Kaylee and Jordan. Her new schoolmates. They seem nice.” She hoped they were. “I’m just afraid Wendy’s getting fixated on Mackenzie Chatham.”

  Parker pulled on a chocolate brown tank top that deliciously set off the well-shaped muscles that formed his chest and arms. “Oliver Chatham’s daughter?”

  She didn’t know the man’s first name. “You mean as in Chatham, Grayson, and McFee?” That was the law firm where Parker’s surrogate son, Antonio Estavez worked.

  “That’s the Oliver Chatham I know.” He slipped into an interestingly tight pair of indigo jeans. Perfect for boating, but she still couldn’t get used to the casual look on him.

  “Guess she’s his daughter. Mackenzie just won a figure skating contest. A Regional.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Wendy’s beside herself.”

  “Girls do have strong emotions at that age.”

  “Yeah, but worshiping a peer can’t be healthy. Mackenzie’s good. Really good. I saw her at the rink a couple of times. No doubt she deserves the awards she’s winning.”

  “But?”

  “But…I don’t know. She’s such a stuck up little snot.
She treats Wendy like crap.”

  Parker came over to the bed, concern on his handsome features. He sat down next to her. “Are you worried this is like last time?”

  When Miranda first came to Atlanta, she discovered Wendy had been mixed up in some very bad business. Partly because of the way some nasty schoolmates had been treating her.

  “No. Mackenzie doesn’t snub Wendy.”

  “Is she mean to her?”

  “Not mean exactly. On the outside, she’s nice. But she uses Wendy. Makes her do menial things for her like Wendy’s her personal slave or something. Now she’s got her cleaning her skates and Wendy acts like it’s an honor. She adores the kid. It’s not good.”

  His brow knit, Parker considered the situation. “Perhaps you could talk to Iris when we get home.”

  Miranda huffed out a breath. “Iris won’t listen to me. I’m not supposed to even be in contact with Wendy.”

  That produced a deeper frown from Parker. “That woman has always irked me.” He didn’t like Wendy’s mother or her golf pro father. “When is Shelby coming back?”

  “Who knows? Wendy hasn’t mentioned him in a while.” Miranda was pretty sure Iris and Shelby’s relationship was on the rocks again.

  “Maybe I’ll have a word with him when he’s back in town.”

  “Yeah, he’ll just jump at the chance to see you.” Parker almost put Shelby Van Aarle in prison once. She sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. It’s like Mackenzie knows how good she is and thinks the other girls should worship her. That kid really needs to be taken down a notch or two.”

  “And are you the one to do that?”

  If Mackenzie were an adult, she wouldn’t hesitate. But she was a kid. And Wendy wasn’t her child. “Maybe not.”

  Parker patted her knee and got to his feet. “We can discuss it more later. We need to get going if we’re going to see that cave.” He disappeared into the next room. To make coffee, she hoped.

  She was exhausted. If only she could sleep just a few more minutes. Or hours. But the memory of pulling her brother out of that blowhole came back to her. She’d deal with Wendy later.