by Toby Neal
“I did call Cruz, and he said they’d try to throw a few more patrols our way. Cruz said that there’s really not much they can do. Certainly not more than we can do as a professional team on the premises. But let me get you up to speed on some leads we have, and I’ll give you the final psych report to read.” Jake unlocked a metal cabinet and withdrew a file. “For you to take back to your room. Dr. Kinoshita wants hard copy only, as a security measure—this report should not get circulated.”
“Of course.” Sophie took the file as Jake lifted a magnetized felt cover off of a hidden white board on the wall. Various theories were brainstormed off of a cartoon drawing of Shank. Ex-Girlfriend or Sex Partner was the biggest offshoot, with names and dates branching off of the topic. Additional categories included Former Employee, Concert groupie/Fan, Someone from Early Life. A small new branch, dated today in a different color, was labeled Tattoo Artist Connection?
“This reminds me of my FBI days.” Sophie said. “This is more than a standard security firm would do.”
“Of course. If we find the perp, we’ll provide the best security for our client, especially given the constraints of local law enforcement.” Jake said. “Besides, we’re Security Solutions, not some cheesy rent-a-cop outfit.”
“Yes.” Sophie looked down at the folder in front of her. “Well, I have some reading here to do. But as for the bodyguards, I think we should warn Miller that Butch Callahan has a debt issue and is vulnerable—though I didn’t see any payments coming in to deal with his current debt load. Likely he’d try to conceal that.” She filled Jake in on what DAVID had uncovered. “Did you decide when we’re going to try to capture Blondie?”
“Tomorrow night. You’re to stay inside the compound and monitor via electronic security.” His statement was terse and flat.
“I heard the plan in the den.” Sophie suppressed a wave of irritation. He was always trying to bully her into a passive role. “As soon as it’s executed, I’ll be leaving. Anything else?”
Jake turned away from the board, an abrupt movement. His biceps bulged as he jammed the lid onto his pen with unnecessary force, his face stoic. “No, nothing. Since you’re in such a hurry to be on your way.”
Sophie felt an answering flare of anger, a hot coal that melted some of the chill around her heart. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Something you’ve never been willing to give.”
Sophie’s nostrils flared. “You’re sleeping with Antigua, and you’re acting like I owe you something?” She stood up, smacking the folder down on the table like a rifle shot. “Son of a poxy whore!”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Cuss me out in English, if you’re going to insult me. I just meant friendship. Honesty. You’re always shutting me out, and I don’t know why.”
“Because I don’t like you, Jake Dunn. You’re a loud, type A, annoying alpha male who’s always getting in my space, both physically and emotionally, and trying to bully and protect me when I don’t need it.” Sophie’s pulse hammered in her veins and her hands had drawn into fists. “How’s that for honesty?”
Jake waited a beat. “Antigua must have told you we were banging. Are you jealous?” He cocked his head. “Is that why you’re so pissed off?”
“Banging? That’s your word for it? Oh, my God.” Sophie slammed back the chair and headed for the door. “Preening peacock! Foul breath of an infidel! You’re disgusting!”
“Sorry for irritating you with my personal life,” Jake called after her as Sophie slammed the door of the cottage.
She strode back to her room.
Was she jealous? No! She was infuriated by Jake’s demeaning attitude toward Antigua—a capable, skilled, beautiful woman who deserved more, probably hoped for more, and was going to get her heart broken.
Sophie was too agitated to read the psychologist’s report. She changed into exercise clothes and went to the state-of-the-art gym off the back of the house.
Shank Miller was sitting on a reclining bike, pedaling in a desultory way, doodling on a pad of paper. Headphones cradled long hair pulled back in a ponytail. His narrow, tattooed white torso was eerily familiar to Sophie because of the montage of skin art she’d memorized through examining the plastic figures—but a buff, tan Ken doll he was not. At the sight of her, Miller sped up and set the notebook aside.
Sophie picked up a weighted jump rope from a neat stack of gear on a shelf in one corner of the room. “If you are looking for bulk, the bike probably isn’t the best choice.”
“I need stamina just as much,” Miller said. “I burn a lot of calories during a concert, and I need to keep my energy up for several hours at a time.”
“Well then, disregard. I’m sure Jake has taken everything you need in your routine into consideration.” Sophie found a spot on the padded mat and began jumping, warming up.
“Jake was in Special Forces. Imagine those guys faced every kind of threat.” Miller resumed pedaling, and for a while they worked out in companionable silence, the slap of Sophie’s weighted rope a counterpoint to the smooth whirring of Miller’s machine.
After twenty minutes, Sophie’s muscles were sufficiently warmed up and she switched to her free weight routine. Miller got off the bike and lay down on the bench press. He had too much weight on his bar, but Sophie didn’t comment until the rocker was stuck, pinned beneath and struggling to lift it.
She walked over behind his head and hefted the bar back into the cradle. “I’m sure it’s hard to keep up with your workouts when you’re on the road. You should ease into it now that you’re home for a while.”
Miller sat up, mopping his face with a towel. “I feel like I have to do everything I can, considering what’s going on with the stalker.”
“That’s what you have our team for,” Sophie said. “Jake and the men have everything under control. And I will have an open line to law enforcement throughout tomorrow night’s operation.”
Miller’s dark eyes were intent. “Do you think this is the right way to go about things? Trying to flush Blondie out?”
“Jake is in charge of your security. I have a limited role,” Sophie hedged. She leaned over and picked up a twenty-pound kettlebell. “I’m just the tech support.”
“That tells me you aren’t really confident in this operation.”
“Not at all.” Sophie did a dead lift with the weight, feeling the strain through her back, hips, glutes, and the back of her legs. “I’m just a little more conservative than Jake. But aren’t you sick of waiting to see what the stalker will do next? I know your team is, and flushing the unsub out into the open will at least try to bring things to a head.”
Miller watched Sophie lift with an appreciative gleam in his eye. “You dating anybody?”
Sophie set the weight down. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
Miller sighed, and resumed lifting the barbell Sophie had lightened. “All the good ones are already taken.”
She couldn’t think of how to respond, so kept silent.
“Has Jake shown you any self-defense moves?” Sophie eventually asked.
“He has, but I’m a little rusty. Butch and Andy were after me to practice while we were on tour, but I just didn’t have the energy.”
“There is an American phrase for that: ‘putting your head in the sand.’ I’m not sure what the phrase relates to, exactly, but it seems to mean that you’re ignoring something, hoping it will go away. The stalker is not going away, and you might need to defend yourself. I have reason to know. I was attacked just off of your estate, on the beach.”
Miller sat up in alarm. “No one told me. Was it related to my case?”
“We don’t think so. Turns out I have my own enemies.” Sophie’s mouth felt tight with suppressed anger and pain. “Come practice some moves with me. It will be good for both of us to have a little refresher.”
Miller got off the weight bench quickly and joined Sophie in the small padded sparring ring set up in the middle of the workout area.
/> They reviewed holds and ways to break them. Miller was attempting to gouge Sophie’s eyes with his thumbs when Jake came in. “Giving our boy a self-defense skills review?”
“Indeed, I was.” Sophie stepped back from Miller and dropped her arms. “But now that you’re here, you can take over.”
“Hey!” Miller tried to follow Sophie out through the padded ropes defining the space. “We were just getting started!”
“And that’s why we should continue,” Jake said smoothly, sliding into the ring past her. He winked at Sophie, an acknowledgment of their mutual role in motivating and protecting Miller.
Sophie was still annoyed with him, and turned away. “I will see you gentlemen later.”
Sophie’s phone rang as she was heading back to her quarters. “Hey, Sophie! I’m off in a few minutes and Stevens is home with the baby. Want to meet for a drink and some live music?” Lei’s voice was upbeat, and Sophie’s spirits rose immediately.
“That would be excellent. I need to get out of this testosterone-filled area.”
Lei laughed. “Getting sick of the man-splaining, eh? Meet me at the Tiki Lounge in Kihei in twenty minutes. Wear something pretty.”
Wailea was beautiful at any time of day, and early evening was no exception. Driving through manicured, winding streets beneath arching shade trees on her way to the nearby town of Kihei, Sophie mulled over her reaction to Antigua’s news and her argument with Jake. Her mind returned to the hours spent in Paia with Connor, to their passion and closeness. For better or for worse, their relationship was progressing.
Was she doing the right thing, being with him? Not just the right thing for her body—but the right thing for her heart, emotions, and career? Having to hold secrets from her friends caused a tightness in Sophie’s chest that never really went away, even though he’d promised to give up his activities.
She pulled into the South Shore Tiki Lounge, a kitschy bar tucked beneath shading bamboo and banyan trees. The sides were open to stands of torch ginger and the outdoors, and Sophie felt right at home weaving among the casual tables past a musician playing slack-key guitar.
Lei was already at the bar, looking slim and pretty in a short black skirt and tank top. A sunrise shell necklace gleamed against her lightly freckled, bronzy skin. She stood when she saw Sophie, holding two drinks: a beer, and Sophie’s favorite foamy concoction. “Got you a Blue Hawaiian. Heard this monstrosity is your favorite.”
“I love these awful things,” Sophie admitted. She took the drink and sipped from the straw. “You must have changed into that outfit. You look very nice.”
“No sense going to girls’ night out looking like a cop,” Lei said, evaluating Sophie’s appearance. “I like that girly-girl thing you’ve got going on, too.”
“I have a feminine side.” Sophie smoothed the coral-colored halter dress from her alter ego Mary Watson’s closet. She liked how the bare back displayed her musculature, and the color set off her tawny brown skin. “I hope this evening’s memory will replace the one from the last time I went to a bar for a drink. It ended with me sick on the side of the road, and almost sleeping with Jake.”
“Ooh, fate worse than death!” Lei teased. “I remember that debacle. How is Jake?”
They sat at a table in the corner, and took menus from a waiter wearing a hula skirt over his shorts. “He is as usual.”
“As usual? What does that mean?” Lei leaned in toward Sophie, squinting. “You look like you’re sucking a lemon.”
“He is, and I quote, ‘banging’ Antigua, the lovely chef and property manager at Shank Miller’s.”
“Hmm.” Lei’s mouth disappeared into the head of foam on her beer, but it looked like she was smiling.
Sophie frowned. “You are wondering why I care.”
“You said it, not me.” Lei dabbed at the foam on her lips as the waiter returned. They ordered buffalo wings, mini tacos, and a plate of vegetables that would suffice for dinner.
“What I object to is him trivializing sexual activities with a worthy woman,” Sophie said, plucking the umbrella off her drink.
“You like her. And you think he should treat her better.”
“That’s it exactly.” But that wasn’t it exactly. A niggling bad feeling lingered in Sophie’s gut. “It makes me not respect him that he is treating her like that—it disappoints me that he’s taking advantage of her. Because she really likes him more than he does her.”
“And how do you know that?”
Sophie scowled. “I just know.” She shut her eyes to savor a big draft of the sweet, creamy drink. She so seldom allowed herself these indulgences.
“Maybe it’s just ‘banging’ for both of them. They’re both sexually liberated single adults, living in a close proximity situation.”
“That’s all it is for him. But not for her.”
“And how is that your problem?” Lei’s large brown eyes sparkled. She seemed to be hinting at something, but Sophie was never sure of these social nuances.
“It isn’t my problem. I already have a boyfriend.”
“Ah. So, you’ve finally graduated to calling him that.”
The food arrived, giving Sophie a moment to think through her conflicted feelings. She picked up a spear of sliced raw zucchini and dipped it in hummus on the vegetable platter. “Todd and I are a couple now.”
“You’re trying to say that like you mean it, but you still aren’t sure about him.” Lei bit into a buffalo wing and sighed happily. “Been ages since I’ve had these.”
“How do you know I’m not sure about him? I am sure about him!” Sophie’s voice was too loud and she moderated. “He is an amazing man, one in a million. Statistically, one in a billion is more likely. If that.”
“I’m not disagreeing. Todd Remarkian seems like the total package. I just know you, and I can tell you’re not sure about him.” Lei picked up another piece of chicken. “Kiet would make such a mess if he got his little hands on these wings, with this sauce.”
Sophie looked around the bright, busy bar at the other patrons, disturbed by her friend’s insight. All she couldn’t tell Lei about Connor and his secrets stuck in her throat as if she’d ingested a bone from one of the buffalo wings. Lei was right. She wasn’t sure about Connor, on a number of levels, and she couldn’t tell Lei anything about why. Time to change the subject. “How did you know when you and Michael were meant to be together? You seem so happy.”
Lei laughed. “I took way too long with that. I’m the last person you should ask for love life advice—we have had a bumpy road, to say the least. But there was just something between us that neither of us could ever give up.”
Sophie swallowed the last of her drink and waved at the waiter for another. “I really want Jake to be happy. I don’t know why I care what he does, with Antigua or anyone else. I hated how he used to flirt with me.”
“Well, do you want me to tell you why you’re so twisted up?” Lei had a dimple when she smiled a certain way.
“If you must.” Sophie straightened stiffly in her chair and picked up a mini taco for something to do with her hands. “I have a feeling I will not like your opinion.”
“See, look at you. Got your back up like a wet cat.” Lei set her beer down. “This is my one shot to lay it out as I see it, so here goes. It’s obvious you and Jake are attracted to each other, and you’ve become attached to him in spite of yourself, in spite of how irritating he can be. If you gave yourself half a chance, you’d fall for him like a bag of hammers, and he’s already gone on you, which is how you know he isn’t really into Antigua. But you’ve got more baggage than a 747, my friend, and because of it you’ve hitched your wagon to a guy who will never really be there for you.”
A long pause as Sophie made herself take a bite of the taco and chew, trying not to instantly repudiate Lei’s words. She wiped her hands on her napkin and frowned. “There were too many metaphors in that speech. And I don’t know why you would say that about Todd. He’s told me he lov
es me. And I love him.”
Lei shrugged. “Then I’m totally wrong. Forget I ever said anything.”
“But you must tell me why you don’t think Todd will ‘be there’ for me. He already was there when I was injured!”
“There’s just something about him that’s not quite…I don’t know. Maybe he’s just too perfect, and that’s what bothers me.” Lei’s smile was brilliant. “But don’t forget who you’re talking to. If you have a 747 worth of personal baggage, mine would fill a cruise ship.”
Chapter Twelve
The next night, Sophie sat in the command center, a prickle of perspiration gathering in the groove of her spine as she watched the monitors.
Darkness had dropped a black velvet cloak over the mansion as Miller paced around the perimeter of the estate, giving every indication of restlessness and having difficulty sleeping. He held a small digital tape recorder in one hand, muttering into it, his favorite method of composition. Blondie likely knew that, because Miller had described his process in numerous interviews.
Out of view but positioned nearby outside the compound, Jake and their team waited, hidden amid the shrubbery. When they were setting up earlier, dressing in night camouflage outfits and face paint, the preparations had seemed a little ridiculous—but now, if Sophie hadn’t known where they were, she would not have been able to see them.
With a frustrated gesture that looked entirely genuine, Miller scowled at the house and then turned and opened the Plexiglas gate, pushing it open and walking out onto the starlit beach. Sophie frowned, trying to see, but the range of the surveillance cams was limited.
Her earbud crackled with Jake’s voice as she listened in to what was piped into Miller’s earpiece. “Keep going, out into the open. Walk back and forth like we discussed, in front of the building. Sophie, call Shank on his cell and direct him to come back.”
All these things had been rehearsed. “Roger that.” Sophie speed dialed Miller’s cell phone.
At the edge of visibility in the grainy feed, Miller picked up, his voice sharp and annoyed. “What? I’m tired of being babysat!”
