I tried to keep my face expressionless as I read, because a twinge of suspicion niggled in the back of my mind. It wasn’t but a few months ago that I’d learned my mother had hidden a box containing a toxic substance, had left it for safe keeping with Mitch’s brother-in-law's mother. It was a convoluted trail, but one that might well trace back to Pierce's invasion of my space.
No matter what, I couldn’t allow the doubt to show, not with so much as the flicker of an eyelash. I tucked the papers back into the folder and set it aside, then met Pierce’s gaze. "The bottom line, as I understand it, you want me to lead you to my grandmother."
He nodded. "To insure her safety, El."
I held up my hand, done with words. Especially with anything a government agent had to say. "We’ll discuss it tomorrow. Go away. I’m going to bed."
I woke to the sound of the surf, and had a moment of fuzzy panic before my brain cells registered my location, and I was able to kick free from the heavy terry robe trapping my legs. I made a pass through the bathroom, and then wandered outside to watch my first Hawaiian sunrise.
It must have been too early for the beach crowd because the shore was empty except for a few dedicated walkers. I leaned against the wall and soaked up the sun beating down, warming my face. Pierce had thrown a volley of curve balls at me, and if I had any chance of leading him—make that The Government—away from my grandmother, I was going to need all my strength.
Best to start with breakfast. For two. I pushed away from the support of the wall, phoned for room service, grabbed some clothes, and headed for the shower.
Pierce strolled into my room as I stepped out of the bathroom. He was dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and… "Are those flip flops on your feet?" I pointed to the brown leather sandals.
"Slippahs. You’re in the islands now, yah."
"You seem to be right at home."
"I’ve done some time here."
I raised my brows.
He gave me a shrug and headed for the door. "Breakfast?"
"Done. Should be here any minute."
"What’s next on your list?" His gaze trailed over my body.
Hormone rush.
"You’re gonna be hot unless you lose the jeans."
A rap on the door signaled the arrival of breakfast and gave me time to think.
"Food first, then shopping," I said, tipping the waiter.
Pierce caught my arm, and then wheeled the room service cart back into the hall. "I’ll treat you to a Hawaiian breakfast, and your first cup of Kona coffee. The hotels on Waikiki serve tourist food. It’ll kill you."
I figured he probably knew about the food since he had first-hand knowledge of the local dress code, and in this case it was probably best for me to follow along. He led me to a hole-in-the-wall cafe around the corner from the hotel, and ordered fresh fruit and steamed rice for two.
They’d put a couple hunks of unidentified meat alongside the fruit. I wrinkled my nose, pushing it aside. "What?"
He grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Spam. Island staple."
"Seriously? Now that stuff will kill you."
And then I took my first sip of the coffee. Rich. Decadent. "It’s almost perfect," I said.
Pierce frowned. "Almost? It's Kona."
"It needs a dash of cinnamon."
He groaned. Pierce never says much of anything, and I’m so not good with quiet, but I managed to remain silent throughout the rest of the meal. It would be stupid to blurt out all the random thoughts careening through my head. No telling what I might say that would interest the government. Indigestion loomed.
He slid his hand into mine as we left the restaurant and intertwined our fingers. I started to tug free, but when images began to paint my internal video screen, I changed my mind. There were bits and pieces from his last job. Looked like it was in a jungle. "Central America?" I asked, trying to gage why he was deliberately offering me this invasion of his privacy.
He nodded, easing his hand free. "Not what I thought you’d pick up."
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and faced him. "You thought I’d see a specific image? It doesn’t work that way, Pierce. The touch-ee can’t decide what my fingers will see. They can influence it, maybe, if there's a strong emotional connection, but even I can’t decide what my fingers will pick up from someone."
I turned to cross the street, and there it was.
Staring me in the face.
Cinnamon Girl.
Four
I’d woven through four lanes of traffic to reach the shop, and was thumbing through racks of clothes before Pierce caught up with me. Cinnamon was my all-time favorite flavor, and a clothing store named Cinnamon Girl had to be the best thing ever.
Made my toes curl.
And that made me think of Mitch. My guy. Who wasn’t around much, and probably the reason I allowed Pierce to get too close. He was safe in an odd sort of way. Unlike Mitch, who wanted a relationship, Pierce wouldn’t even consider getting emotionally involved with a woman. Too risky. Too dangerous. Which made him a good guy to hang out with while Mitch and I decided what to do about our relationship. But it was difficult, being so conflicted about the men in my life.
I clung to the pang of loneliness that came with missing Mitch, then shook it off and whipped out my phone. I sent him a text message while I sorted through a rack of dresses. No way could I afford to dwell on the emptiness he left behind when he traveled on assignments. Photography was a big part of his life, and loving him included accepting the downside of his work.
I babbled on with the sales girl as I selected a few dresses, shirts, and skirts to try on. The shop was about as big as a minute and Pierce didn’t fit. He'd stuck his head in once, and then backed out quicker than a gecko nabbing a mosquito.
Every once in a while I checked on him, standing in front of the shop, arms crossed, watching the world through his shades—a poster bad boy. I was going to need a hell of a plan to find my grandmother while successfully keeping him as far away from her as possible. I did a philosophical mental shrug. There wasn’t a convenient way to lose him while I was in the Cinnamon Girl shop—not with my arms full of clothes and no back door.
I was definitely going to need help with this. First, I’d need to lure him into a comfortable mental place that would quiet his super spy instincts. That part I could do alone. Step two would be dicey and required reinforcements. I slipped my cell out of my pocket and pushed speed dial for Annie.
She gave me a typical greeting. "Where the hell are you?"
"Honolulu."
Dead silence. Guess I’d surprised her. That almost never happened, and I had a moment of pure thrill that I’d slipped something through the Annie radar.
"Right." The steel in her voice could have sliced through a stack of bricks. "Keep talking."
"I found a letter—" My throat clogged with tears.
"Well, hell. Must be connected to your folks. You need me to catch a flight?"
"Yeah. Pierce is here," I whispered, sliding a look to where he stood. His cell was cradled next to his ear and he wasn’t watching me. Hmm. Reporting on what I was doing, maybe? Nope. His attention would still be focused on me, no matter what else was going on, unless…had he…?
"Well, shit." Annie’s voice cut through my thoughts. No one knew the amount of trouble Pierce could cause better than Annie.
"Yeah," I agreed. "That about sums it up."
"I’ll see what kind of transport I can pull. You would have to be half way around the world. It’s going to take some sweet talkin’ for me to grab a military flight."
"Wouldn’t commercial be faster?"
"Did Pierce beat you there?" she asked. It was a statement more than a question.
"Yeah. I wondered how he did that."
"The government. Sneaky organization." Having confirmed my thoughts on the subject, she rang off.
I strolled out of the shop in a white sundress with a pale green design. It suited my mood with its full, swishy sk
irt and spaghetti straps, plus the breeze floated under the fabric and cooled my legs. Next stop would be a shoe store so I could arm myself with several pairs of slippahs. It was definitely time to go native.
An hour later, big, bad Pierce ushered me into my room at the Ma Kai and watched while I stored my purchases. It was good to have Hawaiian clothes, but I hadn’t made any progress on a plan to slide under his radar and find my grandmother.
Time to throw him off balance. I picked up the room phone and made an appointment at the hotel spa for a manicure and pedicure. Pierce’s expression remained bland. Not even a flash of annoyance escaped those azure eyes as he listened to me arrange the details.
"They can take me right now." It was an unnecessary announcement since he’d been listening, but I couldn’t resist the extra dig.
He led the way to the elevator and pressed the down button with a gentle tap.
I slipped him a corner-of-eye glance. "You, um, go to spas on a regular basis?"
"No." Pierce’s voice came out more bark than brogue.
My inner imp did a silent huzzah. It was a big deal to annoy Pierce, especially when he had to work at controlling it. I hadn’t made a single move toward finding my grandmother and he should have been prodding me. And then I figured it out. Of course he was calm. Patience to a super spy must be like cinnamon to apple pie. Necessary.
Pierce held the door for me, and then trailed behind as the attendant, a petite Asian woman, led me to a pedicure station. Her gaze dipped to Pierce’s feet and with a flick of her chin, she motioned to the chair next to mine.
He nodded, then added a full out, eyes sparkling, laugh lines crinkling grin as he slid out of his slippahs and planted his feet in the tub of warm, soapy water.
The attendant took our beverage requests—mint lemonade for both of us—while I scrambled in my handbag for my cell, flicked it on and aimed the camera at Pierce.
He snatched it from my grasp. "Not a good idea, Belisama." His bark was back.
I made a gimme gesture at Pierce, allowing the syllables of the Irish goddess’s name to linger in my mind. Pierce had started calling me Belisama some time ago. The coincidence of it meaning summer bright, and Mitch calling me Sunshine, well, it rattled me. Probably it had to do with my red hair, but still… I inhaled, pushing all sunny thoughts out of my head. "Got it," I said, wiggling my fingers in another gimme gesture. "I promise no picture taking in the future."
He tucked my cell in his front pants pocket.
I leaned toward him, one foot braced on the edge of the tub for balance, and l reached for it. No way was he confiscating my phone. Not when it stored secrets. Like my call to Annie. Or was that a secret?
His eyebrows hiked up a notch. "There’s more in that pocket than you can handle, Everly Gray."
Anger simmered, stung the back of my throat, and my arm moved into a Hapkido position.
Pierce’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. "Not the time or place to practice your new defense techniques."
The attendant chose that moment to sidle up to him with a frosty glass of pale liquid that was topped with a sprig of mint. Reality snapped into focus. Fight Pierce? A totally insane move. It’d be a hell of a lot smarter to steal my phone from him when he was in the shower. Or sleeping. Anything but hand-to-hand combat.
My anger slipped into determination as I settled both feet back into the fragrant water, and jiggled my toes, releasing the sweet scent of jasmine. Might as well enjoy the pedi while I worked on a plan to lure Pierce into a less vigilant behavior pattern so I could retrieve my phone without unnecessary complications.
The attendant stepped between his chair and mine. Ice cubes clinked against glass as she arranged a slip of paper on the bamboo tray. "Sign here, please, Miss. Gray."
I picked up the pen and glanced at the…not a bill. A folded sheet of heavy linen paper rested on the tray—my Hawaiian name scrawled across the surface in a shaky script. I glanced at the attendant. She blinked, shifting slightly to better hide my movements from Pierce. I slipped the note into my pocket, and quickly scribbled thanks on the thin sheet of paper that lined the serving tray.
The awareness of the note weighed heavy against my thigh and held my complete attention, even during the foot massage. I decided to slip into the ladies' room between my pedicure and manicure to read the secret missive.
Maybe.
Pierce would probably follow me in there too. Absolutely nothing embarrassed him. Besides, it wasn’t a good time to antagonize him—not with his feet in a tub of water and barely constrained impatience rolling off him in waves.
His pedicure was finished before mine.
No polish.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched, my phone a distinct rectangular outline in his front pocket.
"Bathroom," I said, turning away from him.
He followed, stepped in front of me, rapped on the door and looked around. Yes! I slid my fingers into his pocket and nabbed my phone, but he caught my wrist before I pulled it free.
"No pictures. Not ever." The shadows behind his eyes left an ache in my chest.
"No one knows what you look like. Is that it? There can’t be any links between your name and your face?"
He nodded, dropping my wrist, and then he slid his hands down my body. Heat shot through my veins, and fear trapped my breath somewhere between my belly and my lungs. The note crackled as he pressed the paper against my thigh.
"Let’s see it," he said, flicking his finger against my pocket, making the note crackle again. I pulled it out, opened it and read the few words that were written in pale blue ink.
Your grandmother is here.
It was followed by an address.
I offered the note to Pierce, confused. "No one knows I’m in this hotel getting my nails done. Well, except you, and the government."
He took the note from my limp fingers. "There’s a complex underground in Hawaii," he said, reading. "Let’s go."
"Nails first," I said, tossing the words over my shoulder as I pushed through the door into the ladies’ room. Normally, I’d have been hailing a cab instead of getting a manicure, but I needed time to plan before blindly following directions from a secret note. It was too easy, and my grandmother’s life could be at stake. The way the note was delivered told me I was supposed to go alone, but there wasn’t a chance in hell Pierce would let me out of his sight.
"The underground?" I asked him when I came out of the bathroom. "Is that why they assigned you to this detail? Because you know how to work within the internal structure?"
"Partly. I had the required skill set, so requested the assignment." A shiver of finality hitched on Pierce’s last word that told me the topic was permanently closed.
When we left the spa forty-five minutes later, I had a French manicure and pale pink toenails. The technician who worked on my hands was young and without much personal baggage, so I didn’t have to sweat through any negative images. I rarely had manicures—for obvious reasons—but it was worth the possible bombardment of horrid images to keep Pierce off guard.
When we got back to our rooms, I set my handbag and the note on the desk and opened my closet, trying to decide if I should change for our expedition. "Do I need different clothes for this?"
Pierce snatched the letter off the desk, gripped my arm, and steered me toward the door.
"Guess not," I said, making a grab for my handbag as he marched me out of the room.
He’d called for a rental car while my fingernails were drying, and by the time we reached the front door of the Ma Kai, the valet had it parked by the entrance.
He’d rented a Porsche. A dark blue Boxster with the top down. I took one look at it and reached for both a scrunchie and a clip. The valet barely had me settled in the passenger side before Pierce peeled out of the porte cochere.
"Hey," I snapped. "It’s my grandmother. How about you chill?"
He shot me a look. "The price on her head doesn’t give us a lot of time."
Five
A chill slapped the base of my neck and catapulted down my spine. "Did you say the price on her head?"
He nodded, his jaw set.
"That’s not possible." Fear hit my chest, hard and sharp. I curled around the pain, and rubbed the diamond nestled in my navel. There was nothing wrong with hoping for a bit of Irish luck.
Pierce reached over the console and squeezed my hand. "Your grandmother is a valuable commodity."
I shook my head. "No. I read the papers. I get that the government thinks she has…had, access to my…" I stopped, needing a minute to wrap my mind around the possibility that my mother was involved in potential criminal activity.
Pierce focused on me, his gaze intense.
"You’re driving." I pointed to the road. "I’d like to live long enough to meet my grandmother and get to know her. Maybe take her to lunch and try to make up for the years she's spent in hiding. Oh, damn. She might not know her daughter was killed."
An uncomfortable foreboding lingered in the back of my thoughts. What if I had to be the one to tell her?
Pierce tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. What had I been saying? Oh, yeah. "I know the government thinks my grandmother has Mom’s—" I dragged in a breath— "has Loyria Gray’s notes and formulas, may even be protecting her in some way. But it’s been years. Someone would have found her by now, would have done whatever it took to get that information, so she must not know anything."
Cold crept deep into my bones. I had to remember that Loyria Gray was more than my mother, and that I needed to distance myself from our relationship until I had some answers. Less emotion would help to keep my brain sharp.
Pierce turned his attention back to the road. "Your grandmother has been well-hidden."
My stomach landed somewhere around my feet. "Until I started to look for her, you mean?"
He nodded. "Yeah. That opened a secondary investigation."
a Touch of the Past (An Everly Gray Adventure) Page 3
