DEVON TRIED HARD to keep her reluctance out of her voice. “I’d be grateful if Rory could take care of Zach. I’d pay—”
“Forget paying Rory. I pay him to look after the house, which is a total no-brainer. He’ll take care of Zach for nothing. He’s crazy about the dog.”
This was exactly what she feared. She needed Zach in her life in a way she couldn’t explain to anyone who’d never been all alone in the world—except for a dog. Now that animal, who had no idea how much he meant to her, was about to be taken away by a young guy with surfing and babes and God-only-knew-what else on his mind.
Zach was all she had, but she needed to be willing to let him go—for his sake. If she had to run, or was killed, she wanted to know he was safe and loved.
“Steak or fish?” Chad asked.
She hadn’t noticed him approach the refrigerator. “Fish, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No problem. I have fresh opakapaka. Pink snapper native to the islands. Ever tried it?”
“No, but I’m game.” She tried to sound casual and friendly, but not too friendly. For her plan to work, she needed him to trust her. So far she hadn’t done anything but give him the cold shoulder. He’d be even more suspicious than he already was, if she did an abrupt about-face.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“The dishes are in the cabinet to the right of the sink. The silver is in the middle drawer. Set the table out on the terrace.”
She did as she was told, thankful to have something to do other than look at him. There was a small terrace off the kitchen with a round table and four chairs. From this angle Devon couldn’t see the pool, but there was a spectacular view of the sea and Diamond Head.
Chad brushed the barbecue grill with olive oil. “So the fish won’t stick,” he explained over his shoulder to Devon as she set the table. “If you’re not careful opakapaka falls apart.”
“I’ve seen it on menus, but I’ve never had it.”
“Do you eat out a lot?”
“No, not really.” She could have added that she couldn’t afford it, but she suspected Chad already knew she was broke.
Rory came around the corner with Zach. “He’s all clean, but I think I should blow him dry.”
“That isn’t necessary,” she said, but Rory was already headed inside.
“Let him,” Chad said. “It’ll keep him off the Internet for a while.”
Devon laughed. “Table’s set. What else can I do?”
He put on the fish and checked his wristwatch. “Five minutes per side should be just right. I’m sure we’ve got veggies.”
She followed him to a huge refrigerator. He swung the door open and she saw it was more than just well-stocked. It would have taken some major rearranging to wedge in anything else. She thought of the minifridge in her studio apartment. It was full, too, but it was loaded with yogurt and cottage cheese. Chad’s seemed to have lots of junk food.
He pulled open a lower compartment and took out a bag of broccoli. “You can see who does the shopping.”
“Rory.”
“Yeah. He would live on macaroni and cheese and frozen pizza, if I let him.”
She took the bag. “Let me wash this.”
“Good idea. I’ll get the wine.”
He disappeared down the short hall off the kitchen. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had a real wine cellar. After all, he could fit two hundred people in his living room. She rinsed the broccoli under the tap, wondering if she could pull this off.
“Far Niethe or Chalk Hill?” Chad asked from behind her.
“Either is fine.”
Being in his kitchen and preparing a meal had an intimate feel to it Devon hadn’t anticipated. What she was going to do made her ashamed of herself, but she had no choice. If she didn’t come up with a reasonable explanation to satisfy Chad, Warren would relocate her.
“Here’s a bowl for the broccoli.” Chad handed her a ceramic bowl with a lid.
His arm brushed hers. She heard her own quick intake of breath and instantly looked away, torn by conflicting emotions. Why did she have to be so attracted to a man who was dangerous to her?
“Why are blond jokes so short?” she asked, going for her old fallback, a joke to relieve tension.
“I give.”
“So men can remember them.”
Chad chuckled, a deep husky sound. Again she looked away, praying she could pull this off.
“Time to flip the fish,” he told her. “Zap the broccoli in the microwave. Two minutes max.”
“Yessir!” She saluted.
Chad smiled to himself. He doubted Devon was after the DARPA gadget. She’d been here all day. If she’d looked, she would have found it. In military mode now, well aware one man had died, he’d put the device in his safe. And he was watching his back.
A few minutes later, they were seated at the table. Chad poured them both a glass of the Far Niethe chardonnay. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“You know what I find interesting about the menehunes?”
Devon’s question took him by surprise. Had she been here long enough to know much about the menehunes?
“They’re little people like the leprechauns in Ireland.”
“Is that right?” He’d heard of leprechauns, sure, but he wasn’t that familiar with Irish myths.
“Leprechauns and menehunes are pranksters. Imagine two islands halfway around the world from each other. Hawaiians couldn’t have known about Ireland’s ‘little people’ yet a lore evolved that’s surprisingly similar.”
“Interesting.” He drank a little wine, studying her. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d been here long enough to know much about the menehunes.”
She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek in a way he found incredibly provocative. “I couldn’t sleep one night. I went online and read several articles.”
“Not much you can’t find on the Internet.”
“So true. God bless the Internet.”
Chad saw Devon had almost finished her fish. Unless he missed his bet, she was going to plead a busy schedule and be out of here soon. Here goes nothing. “When you didn’t come back to work, I decided to go by your place and see if I could put Zach in your yard or something.”
“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she said without a flicker of hesitation.
“The address on your application is Mailboxes in Paradise.”
She arched one delicate brow. “It is?”
Chad let her words linger in the balmy air. Damn she was good. Her expression was convincingly puzzled.
“I must have transposed a digit when I wrote it down.”
He honestly couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. He usually had a feel, a sixth sense about these things. Not this time, not with this woman.
“I don’t have a yard. It’s a tiny studio no bigger than this terrace. That’s why it’s so great to be able to take Zach to work with me.”
Interesting, Chad thought. She managed to casually toss some info at him without telling him where she lived.
“Did you have a bigger place in Chicago?” he asked, deciding not to press her and see what happened.
“There was a courtyard, but mostly I walked him. If I was having a busy day, I called Pawsabilities, and they walked him.”
It was odd really and quite disturbing, Devon thought. Lies fell from her lips with awesome ease. The lies would become second nature. Derek, her first handler, had assured her of this. The ability to blithely lie had finally kicked in.
Self-preservation.
If she didn’t lie, they would get her. And Rutherford and Ames would win. Her parents had taught her good triumphed over evil. Those two were not getting away with cheating the government and killing people.
“Do you have family back there?” he asked an assessing glint in his eyes.
“My parents are dead.” She might have said this a little too brightly because it was the truth. “My sister lives in Florida. She has a little girl, Ariel, who is seven.”
She listened as he told her with obvious pride about his three sisters and their children. She could tell he sincerely loved them. It made her long even more to see her sister. She’d been very close to Tina even though they’d lived in different states. What she wouldn’t give to see Tina and Ariel.
When he finished, she stood up, saying, “Let me help you clear up. Then I’ve gotta run. Tomorrow will be crazy with all the last-minute details. You have no idea how hysterical brides can get.”
He didn’t say anything until they’d cleared the table. His piercing blue eyes leveled at her, he asked, “How long were you in Hawaii before you found a job?”
She’d been asked this question during the interview. She had told what Derek had called an “unnecessary lie.” The fewer lies you tell, the less likely you’ll get caught. He’d given her this advice many times, but an unnecessary lie had slipped from her lips. She could have blamed it on Chad’s distracting presence, but she didn’t. She was the one responsible.
Chad must know the truth from her DMV application. She had to handle this very carefully. She kept her voice level despite his inquisitive stare.
“I came here two months ago. I needed some downtime. I found an apartment I could afford and a car that runs most of the time. I just hung out, testing various beaches.”
“Which was your favorite?”
Boy oh boy, this guy simply never gave up.
“Punaluu. It’s not crowded and the swimming is fantastic,” she replied. She hadn’t really lazed her days away on the inviting sand. She’d familiarized herself with the island, keeping in mind that she’d had to run once. She might need to again.
“Why did you tell Eddie you’d only been here a month?”
She tried for a contrite look. “I didn’t want him to think I was a loser who’d been hunting for a job for weeks and weeks.”
His brows drew together. “Weren’t you offered a job at one of the big hotels?”
“I didn’t apply to any of the large resorts,” she replied truthfully.
“Why not? With your experience—”
“I’ve worked for the Four Seasons. Too corporate.” She mustered the smile that usually worked wonders on men. “Everything is by the book. No room for creativity.”
Now this was an utter lie. She hadn’t applied to any of the large hotels because Warren had been concerned some visitor might be a person she’d known in the past. She doubted anyone would recognize her now, but Warren had insisted. Also larger offices were likely to be on higher floors with only one way out—a death trap.
“Bury yourself in working class Honolulu,” had been Warren’s order. She’d taken the extra precaution of selecting a ground floor office with two exits.
Three beats of silence. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She decided if she added anything more, she would sound defensive.
“Do you have a home phone?” he asked.
Her green eyes fixed him with a somber gaze. “No. I just use my cell. Later, you know, when I’m making more money, I guess I’ll get a regular phone.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Do you live alone?”
She’d anticipated this question. Anyone who’d bothered to check her DMV application and knew she didn’t have a home phone number must have checked to see if she’d applied for electrical service. She had but she’d used another name.
“I have a roommate,” she hedged, thinking of Zach. She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better go. Zach must be dry by now.”
He stared at her for a long moment. One finger under her chin, he lifted her face to the light, taking her by surprise. Her heart seemed to soar into her throat. Only a scant inch separated their lips.
“Devon, just where do you live?”
She gazed into his eyes without wavering. “I prefer not to discuss this.”
“Why not?”
“Let’s just say I moved here to get away from certain things. I want to maintain a very low profile.”
Chad measured her for a moment, wondering just what she meant. Her explanations for his other questions had seemed reasonable. He thought she was telling the truth, but why wouldn’t she give her address?
“Okay, I respect your right to privacy. Just answer one question.”
She nodded a bit tentatively, he thought.
“Are you wanted for some type of criminal activity?”
“Of course not!”
The mortified expression on her face convinced him in a second. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help wondering. Why else would you be so secretive?”
“It’s personal,” she told him in a tremulous voice. “I haven’t done anything illegal. There’s someone I would rather never see again.”
“Gotcha.” He should have guessed. A lover, an ex—there was a man in Devon’s life who’d made her miserable enough to leave her home and move thousands of miles away.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
His finger roamed the curve of her cheek. She wanted to pull away, but too much was at stake. She told him, “I’d like to be friends.”
He rolled his shoulders as if stretching a tight muscle. The snug-fitting T-shirt pulled taut across the well-defined contours of his chest. She would bet her life no woman had asked to be just his friend.
He was standing so close that she had to fight the urge to run. His hand slipped under her chin, forcing her to look directly into his eyes again. Even in the muted light on the terrace, it was impossible to miss the raw sensuality in his gaze.
Friends. Chad groaned inwardly. Just what Keke had suggested. The hyena theory. S’okay, it might work for some guys, but it wasn’t his style. He’d been trying but it made him as frustrated as hell.
“Sweetheart, I’ve got three sisters and all their friends. I don’t need another friend.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but before a word could slip out, he lowered his mouth to hers. He slid his strong fingers into the hair at the base of her neck and held her head in place. His tongue touched hers, and an unexpected surge of pleasure nearly buckled her knees.
He pulled her close, his powerful body molding against her smaller frame with shocking sensuality. She allowed herself to be thoroughly kissed. It was part of the plan, wasn’t it? Get him to like her, believe her.
He moved back as if to say something. Instead his lips brushed her ear, and she had to stifle a moan of pleasure. He tickled the soft lobe with his tongue.
“I understand you’re trying to put a bad relationship behind you. I can wait. Just don’t think of me as a friend.”
Suddenly her body seemed weak, and a strange excitement was building within her despite knowing this was wrong, dangerous. What he could do to her without half trying was amazing.
His lips met hers again. The caress of his mouth, the solid feel of his body, pressing into softness stoked a primal urge to kiss him back. His hands scaled down her ribs, slid to her waist for a moment, and came to rest on her buttocks. He held her firmly against his erection.
“Here’s Zach,” Rory called as he bounded out of the house, the retriever at his side.
Devon pulled away, grateful for the interruption. Mission accomplished, she told herself. Chad had bought her explanation.
She would have to hold him at bay. With luck, someone else would capture his interest. She would need to be careful. She couldn’t afford to let him get close. She was already responsible for one man’s death. She refused to cause another senseless murder.
BROCK LEANED CLOSER to Jordan Walsh. They were in a booth at Tuscan Steak, his favorite restaurant in fun house Miami. Others might be trendier or have better known chefs, but the steak here was the best in town. He was on his third Knockando and Jordan was sipping her second Black Dahlia. She was getting a little tipsy, he decided. As soon as they ordered, he would broach the subject of selling the Gull Wing.
“I always have the New York strip,” he told her.
“Too big for me. I’ll take the petit filet rare.”
“Wine?”
“That would be lovely.”
Brock ordered an expensive ’89 Chateau Margaux with confidence. After all, it paid to make a good impression and he could tell Jordan was impressed.
Let that asshole Horst Trensen IV eat his heart out. He’d hogged Jordan all day. Trensen had been blown away when Brock had walked over and reminded Jordan that he would meet her in the lobby at eight.
“How’d you enjoy your first show?” Brock asked after the waiter had taken their orders.
“Exciting. Very exciting. My feet are killing me.”
“It’s a lot of work. It gets rougher the longer you’re on the circuit.”
“I can just imagine.” She took a sip of her martini with those pouty lips. “I like it, though. I’ve always wanted to have a one-of-a-kind car.”
That makes two of us. He took a peek at her tits just visible at the neckline of the moss-green dress she was wearing. He could taste them. Just wait until he got her up to his room.
“Do you think you’ll sell your Gull Wing?” he asked.
“Why would I do that? I want to buy another special car. Did you see the crowd? I had more people than anyone.”
“I thought you might get bored doing shows.”
“I love the shows. How else could I meet interesting men like you?”
He could see that he was going to have to have his new agent, Operative 77, take care of this broad—after he’d had some fun with her.