Ty could have resisted. He was her husband. He had a right to be by Treflee’s side. Instead, he glanced down at Laci and gave her a flirty smile. It hurt watching him jump back into character so quickly after her near-death experience.
Yeah, she knew it was his job.
As the others moved off, Hal plunked to a sit next to her in the sand. He looked embarrassed. “Sorry I didn’t get there first.” He glanced at Ty.
Treflee shot Ty a quick glance as a swell of jealousy overcame her. “You’re here now.” She smiled at Hal, trying to quell her surge of anger at Ty for deserting her for the job. “Don’t feel bad. It’s his job to look after me. Us. He’s one of our tour guides while we’re here on vacation this week. I’m sure there are liability issues.”
“Ah,” Hal said, sounding amused and somewhat reassured he hadn’t lost her interest. “I suppose you’ll want to take a rain check on lunch?”
She glanced at Ty and his beach barnacle Laci, and the others who had started gathering up the equipment from the beach. “I’m feeling better.”
“What you need is a little one-on-one attention.” Hal turned around.
“Hey, tour guide,” Hal called out to Ty. “Mind if I take this one off your hands for a while and feed her lunch? I promise to watch her closely.” He reached over and squeezed Treflee’s hand. “At the first sign of head trauma or concussion, I’ll rush her to emergency. Scout’s honor.” He laughed.
Ty studied Hal and shrugged. “Whatever our guest wants. The van leaves for the plantation from King Street at one sharp.” He turned back to Laci as if he hadn’t a care in the world about what Treflee did or who she saw.
Treflee stared after him, her heart in her stomach, fighting back against her hurt feelings.
“Well?” Hal asked, hope and anticipation dancing in his eyes.
Damn Ty! She thought they’d been reconnecting. She’d thought …
Well, she was a stupid little fool for considering putting off the divorce for one second. What could she say? She needed an excuse to get to that lawyer’s office.
She smiled at Hal. “I’d love to. Where do you have in mind?”
* * *
Ty watched the spark fade from Treflee’s eyes as he gave Hal the okay to take her to lunch. The moment was over. He’d killed it. He cursed his job and its conflicting missions. He’d blown it. For now. He’d make it up to Tref later, rekindle the moment. Find some way to explain.
She wasn’t over him. He’d seen her eyes light up when he’d mentioned sunny weather. It had just been a quick spark. There and gone. But he’d caught it and it gave him hope. She still wanted him, no matter how much she protested. She hated the spy lifestyle as much as he loved it, but she was as trapped in it as he was.
He’d get the mood back. But right now, he needed Treflee to play spy for him.
He caught up with Greg in the surf shop’s men’s changing room, the only place totally safe from Laci. He hoped. He wouldn’t put it past Laci to “accidentally” wander in for an eyeful.
Greg, his spying NCS cohort in crime, was just stepping into the communal shower.
Ty got out of his wet trunks. He stepped up to the showerhead next to Greg and lathered up. Despite the pretense, surfing wasn’t Ty’s favorite thing. He liked riding the waves, but hated the sticky feeling of dried saltwater and sand on his skin, which itched and stung.
With the white noise of running water for cover, he filled Greg in. “Tail Treflee. I’d do it myself, but I can’t take the chance of either Hal or her spotting me.”
Greg shook his head as he soaped up. “Dude, I can’t believe you sent your wife off to have lunch with that traitor. I thought I was supposed to be her nonthreatening escort while she’s here?”
Ty shrugged and rinsed his hair. “It was the opportunity of a mission.”
“You’re a stronger man than I am.” Greg turned his shower off and reached for a towel.
“Just don’t let her out of your sight, Mr. Master of Disguise.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Later at the van as Greg helped him load up the gear, Ty dropped a bug and tracking device into Treflee’s beach bag.
If that slimebag Hal tried to take any liberties at all, Ty would be on him before he knew what hit him.
* * *
Hal drove a red Porsche Boxster convertible, accelerating away from the clunky plantation van as they pulled away from the surf shop. If the car makes the man, we’re off to an excellent start, Treflee thought, trying to console herself and move on from Ty.
Hal drove the short distance into the heart of town with the roof down and pulled to a smooth stop in front of a cheeseburger joint on the waterfront.
He came around and opened her door for her, offering her a hand out of the ground-hugging car. “They make the best grilled pineapple cheeseburger on the island and serve their famous tropical salsa as fry sauce.” He leaned in and whispered into her windswept hair, “You’ll love it!”
Treflee smiled back at him and ran her fingers through her hair. After icing her bump, she’d showered and changed into a tank, shorts, and rhinestone-studded flip-flops at the surf shop.
Hal was almost too good to be true. He’d picked the perfect restaurant for the way she felt and was dressed. “I’m starving. A burger sounds like heaven.”
He took her hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “In that case, welcome to the Pearly Gates.”
She liked his sense of humor and couldn’t help smiling. Funny how smiling can make you feel better all by itself.
Inside, the hostess led them through the kitschy bamboo-walled interior to the back terrace overlooking the ocean. She seated them in the shade of an awning where the pop music that blared inside provided a pleasant background ambience and allowed them to talk without shouting.
Hal held Treflee’s chair out for her, an endearing, chivalrous move in such a low-key establishment. One thing Treflee was definitely looking for in husband number two was a man who took care of her.
“Wow! Look at the view. So crystal clear today. You can see Lanai as if it were right next door.” She sat and stared at the view a second longer, trying to get a grip on her emotions and forget about Ty. “I like this place already. Do you eat here often?”
“Whenever I can.” Hal went around the table and took a seat.
The hostess handed them each a large, laminated menu complete with cartoon drawings, and disappeared.
Treflee smiled at him as sexily as she knew how, testing her rusty flirting skills—anything to reassure herself she was still attractive and desirable, even if Ty had pawned her off on another guy.
She gazed at Hal with what she hoped was a totally enthralled look, imagining the way she used to look at Ty before things went sour. “You know, I know absolutely nothing about you. Other than you look great in board shorts and can surf a four-foot wave like a pro.”
He laughed, obviously flattered. “Hey, I have skills. I can ride way bigger waves than that. I can even create a few.” His tone nearly made her blush. She had the feeling he wasn’t speaking strictly of ocean waves.
“Oh, I bet you can,” she said, still staring at him as if he were pure beefcake. “Are you here on vacation? Or are you a local?”
“Neither and both. I was born and raised here on Maui,” he said, studying her in the intense way of a man who’s interested and admiring. “I live on the mainland now. Virginia. I’m here on business. Seeing an important client.”
“Important client, huh?” Treflee picked up her menu and pretended to study it. “Is she young and beautiful?”
“Would you be jealous if she was?”
She lowered her menu just enough to peek over the very top of it at him. “Maybe.”
He grinned, looking pleased. “Old. Definitely not blond and gorgeous like you.”
She liked the way calling her “gorgeous” rolled off his tongue. Treflee looked down at her menu and smiled as the waitress brought them water and took the
ir drink order. Hal ordered them each a Maui mai tai and asked for hers in a pineapple mug.
When Treflee shot him a quizzical look, he answered, “You look like you could use a souvenir, a reminder of your surfing victory.” He winked. “The glass comes with the drink. The mai tai will clear your head and mellow you out.”
A clear head sounded like a terrific idea, but alcohol usually had the opposite effect on her. Worse, even as she smiled at Hal, her initial ire and jealousy of Laci were starting to wear off. Never a good thing when you’re a married woman out on a revenge date with an attractive, interested guy. Too easy for guilt to creep in. Like she was the cheater, here.
Maybe that ice pack had really worked. As she studied the menu, she began to think more clearly. She was suddenly suspicious—why had Ty been so eager for her to go to lunch with Hal in the first place? How was he so sure no lei strangler would get hold of her? Or that Hal wasn’t some modern-day Ted Bundy or an enemy agent out to kill her?
Could it be Ty wanted her out of the way while he was off playing spy games?
Palming her off on a date, who’d gladly play guard unawares, probably seemed like a good way to keep her occupied, out of trouble, and out of his hair.
It also wouldn’t surprise her if Ty had planted a tracking device or a bug or both on her somewhere. She knew good and well that after the attack last night he wouldn’t leave her totally unprotected. And she’d lived with him long enough to suspect him of any spy trick.
In case Ty was listening, she’d have to be careful not to mention anything that would give away her plan to pick up the divorce papers.
“Have you decided?” Hal asked her.
She looked up.
He laughed. “You look perplexed. Too many choices?”
She smiled. She’d have to be more careful about letting her thoughts bleed onto her face. “Everything looks good.” She set the menu down. “I think I’ll have to go with that pineapple cheeseburger you mentioned.”
“Good plan.”
She put her napkin in her lap and smiled into Hal’s eyes as she brushed a strand of breeze-blown hair out of her face. “Now that that’s settled, I want to know everything about you, Surfer Dude.”
“Everything?” He arched a brow. “You sure? That’s a tall order.”
She shrugged and teased back. “Well then, just start with the icebreaking essentials. Tell me about your job. What are you doing for this client of yours?”
“Oh, that’s top secret.” His tone was joking and flirtatious.
He’d probably fallen prey to that old adage about a bit of mystery being good for a relationship. How could he know how much she hated top secret business?
“Seriously!” she said. “What business are you in?”
“I work for the government.”
“Ah.” She nodded. Government workers weren’t high on her list right now, especially the kind with high-level clearances and a license to kill.
He picked up on her lack of enthusiasm. “But I run a small consulting firm on the side. I’m a geopolitical analyst.”
As she stared at him, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A government geopolitical analyst from Virginia, as in right down the street from CIA headquarters at Langley? Too much coincidence. Seriously, what were the odds?
Her smile felt frozen in place. All the enjoyment of flirting and having Hal drool over her faded away.
Ty had set her up and prostituted her out to spy for him. Who was Hal really—a traitor, a mole, an enemy agent, a terrorist?
She tried to cover the shock she’d let slip on her face by playing dumb. “A geopolitical analyst?” She frowned, trying to look confused. “What is that—like a red state, blue state determination kind of thing?”
Hal laughed. His eyes lit up with excitement. “Hardly. Think global.”
What she really thought was that she could kill Ty with her bare hands. No way was she doing his spying for him. Bastard! At the first opportunity, she was out of here. Date over.
Hal kept talking, trying to impress her. “Geopolitics covers a wide scope—everything from determining where war is most likely to break out to how to use cultural norms and politics to penetrate a new market opportunity.”
She said the first reasonable thing that popped into her head that she thought would shut him down from telling her anything more about what he did. “You must travel a lot.”
Now she was certain Ty was listening in. Maybe even watching her from behind a palm somewhere. If he’d managed to ditch Laci. She’d have to be very careful about picking up the divorce papers now.
Just what did Ty want to know from this guy? Whatever it was, she was determined not to find out.
Hal smiled, oblivious to her new lack of enthusiasm, or maybe trying to rekindle it. “I’ve been to Hong Kong and Taiwan. Earlier this year I spent several months in Beijing.”
China? A cold shiver crept up her back. Way, way, way too much coincidence. Think dead Chinese waiter.
“How interesting.” Her tone was flat.
“It was. Fascinating culture.” He paused, probably sensing her waning interest. “Are you interested in the Orient?”
She shrugged. “I’ve always been more of a Western enthusiast.”
He studied her, confusion creeping into his face about what he’d done and where he’d gone wrong. She could see he was beginning to worry he was losing that loving feeling.
She had a moment of doubt. What if he was just an ordinary guy? And if he wasn’t? Just what kind of a dastardly fiend was she dealing with? She’d have to be careful. She couldn’t upset him or tip him off to her connection to Langley. She channeled her limited high school drama skills and changed tack, putting a smile in her voice. “Tell me about this client of yours—not part of your government work, is she?”
His smile brightened. He looked relieved he’d piqued her interest again. “No, no! She’s one of my private sector clients. I’ve been consulting with her, giving her the advantage of my analysis skills. I’ve developed a special software tool for her.
“In fact, I’m delivering it on Saturday. Getting a big payoff and then I’m partying.” He reached for her hand. “How about joining me?”
* * *
Ty sat in a Lahaina surfer bar that should have been featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives in the dives category. The food was cheap, plentiful, and tasty. The bar was crowded with tattooed, well-built surfers, both male and female, eye candy as far as the eye could see, all hitting on each other. The guys were mostly shirtless. The girls wore skimpy bikini tops. The place smelled of beer, sweat, and coconut oil. The perfect spot to take Carrie and company for lunch to continue the surfer fantasy–themed day after their lesson.
Greg begged off to tail Treflee, which left Ty in charge of the henhouse, most of whom he hoped would be diverted by the surfer dudes around him and leave him alone to do his job. Zulu Fong, Fuk Ching gang leader, extortionist, suspected arms dealer, and rumored to have been Lin’s boss, just happened to frequent this particular dive. In fact, he currently sat in a corner booth, shirtless, displaying an elaborate flying red dragon tattoo that covered his chest and curled around to his back as he held court. The Hawaiian Fuk Ching gang symbol was tattooed on his forearm.
Zulu was young, no more than thirty, taller than your average Chinese man, and taut with stringy muscles and sharp eyes. He was also arrogant.
Before leaving the surf shop, Ty had received a message from Langley. Their informants said Zulu ordered the hit on Shen Lin at Woo Ming’s. He’d wanted it bloody and served up midday. He was sending a message. But just what that message was eluded Ty and NCS. Why had Zulu put a hit out on his own man? Just how had Shen Lin screwed up? Like RIOT, the Fuk Ching didn’t tolerate failure. Failure to do the job resulted in death.
Laci sat next to Ty at the round table. Carrie sat on his left. The other girls circulated. Laci made a lame attempt to get him to take off his rashie and blend in.
“Ah, come o
n,” Laci coaxed. “This place is really more of a ‘no shoes, no shirt, plenty of service’ type of place. Don’t be so stuffy! Maybe our waitress would actually bring out our order if you flashed a little skin.” She pouted. “I’m starving.”
“A shirt’s considered stuffy now?” He only listened to Laci with one ear. He tried not to frown as he listened to his wife flirt with that scumbag Hal through the earpiece in his other ear.
Carrie took a swig of her beer. “Leave him alone, Lace. Personally, I like a modest man. Anyway, he deserves his peace after saving my cousin from certain drowning.” She smiled at him, a wan, tired smile that stopped just short of her eyes.
He noticed she didn’t smile a whole lot.
“You saved my ass,” she said to Ty. “Mom would kill me if I didn’t bring her favorite niece home in one piece.”
Hal’s attempts at hitting on his wife floated through the earbud. Ty was used to this split personality, “living two lives at once,” kind of existence. He still felt like taking a slug at the guy. It took all his acting skills not to let his anger show in his face.
If he’d had any sympathy, he would have told Laci to take a hike. Her cause was lost. And old Hal needed a few pointers in seduction. The guy should know upfront that intrigue did not turn Tref on. And when it came to the intrinsic sexiness of top secret work, Ty had the idiot beat hands down.
Instead, he joined Carrie and took a long pull of his beer, shifting in his chair to face her when he was finished. “Your mom’s favorite niece, huh? Is that why you brought Treflee along?”
Carrie arched a brow and shook her head. “What are you saying, big guy?”
He chuckled as he moved his foot out of a sticky patch of spilled beer on the concrete floor. “You two don’t seem that close. I’m just wondering why you chose her to be one of your bridesmaids and invited her here. Family obligation?”
Laci snorted and scooted her chair back. “I’m going to the ladies’ room while you two discuss Carrie’s wack-job of a family. Please be done with this conversation by the time I get back.” She stood and strode off.
The Spy Who Left Me: An Agent Ex Novel Page 9
