The Ghost’s phone beeped with an alert to his secure email address. He was in the middle of a difficult section of a Bach concerto, and he ignored the tiny beep. But even as he held a note vibrating at the top end of the scale, then ripped through an arpeggio, he wanted to check it.
Only a handful of people had that email.
One of them was Sophie Ang.
The Ghost faced the windows overlooking the moonlit ocean, the music stand open in front of him. He’d been working out before practice, and just wore the silk boxers he liked for bed, a swatch of silk protecting the violin from the skin of his shoulder. He enjoyed the easy movement of his muscles, the warmed up feel of his fingers, the sensation of air on his skin and the feeling of the music coming to life under his fingers, moving through his body.
When he got to the end of the piece, he lowered the violin and bowed to Anubis. The dog’s alert eyes watched him from a graceful pose.
“I want to get that email,” he told Anubis. “That means I need to play the piece again. Delayed gratification is what makes life sweet.”
Anubis twitched his ears and blinked.
The Ghost started the piece again, and shut his eyes, giving himself over fully to the music, his mind completely silent for once as every sense and nerve ending engaged with playing it perfectly. But not just perfectly. With passion.
At the end, Anubis sat up and inclined his head.
“You’re a king among dogs.” The Ghost set the violin in its case and tossed Anubis a treat. Anubis only provided that acknowledgement when the Ghost had played perfectly.
He delayed gratification further by taking a shower. Under the stream of water he mentally reviewed his earlier live chat with Sophie Ang. He didn’t think he’d given her any clues, and he’d tried to allay her justifiable anger at being under surveillance. He hoped he’d succeeded. He’d meant it when he said he hadn’t planned to spy on her.
But now, he missed seeing her. Knowing what she was doing. Still, he knew the next overture had to come from her.
Finally, dressed for bed in a fresh pair of boxers and a thin tee, he sat down at his workstation and opened the email.
He finished reading Sophie’s note and savored the fact that she had told him about her day, even though it had obviously been harrowing.
Using a search program, he tracked everything he could find about the attack at the hospital. He blanched at the sight of the bullet-riddled wall of the hospital room where “an intrepid off-duty FBI agent moved quickly to save the life of a friend.”
No details about who it was or why they were attacked.
But he knew. Alika Wolcott was her MMA coach and “friend.” His name had been kept out of mainstream news articles and features, but he’d followed the blog of one of the gym members at Fight Club who was speculating on Alika’s beating and the case against him.
The Ghost suspected Alika and Sophie were dating, though he hadn’t been able to confirm it. He didn’t like having competition for her, but he wasn’t going to exploit his superior position against someone who didn’t deserve it. For now, it appeared Alika wasn’t in need of anything but the hospital.
He hunched forward over his keyboard, nimble fingers flying.
Sophie drove to Queen’s Hospital and entered the cool underground garage the next morning. “You should be okay here for a half hour or so,” she told Ginger, cracking the windows and filling the water bowl on the back seat. She locked the car and glanced around in the dim acres of parked cars, wondering if there was a security guard she could ask to keep an eye on her dog. Parking garages were not safe environments, and she hated to leave Ginger. But the place was deserted, echoing with the sounds of faraway traffic and smelling of gas and rubber.
She’d put on her spare weapon. It was a comforting weight in its holster under her left armpit beneath the lightweight FBI-gray jacket. In the elevator, on the way up to Alika’s floor, she rehearsed what she’d say, how she’d explain to him who she was. There hadn’t been an opportunity for that last night.
She was met at the door of Alika’s room by Lehua Wolcott, looking radiant in a short fitted muumuu, glossy hair wound into a roll pierced by koa chopsticks, brown eyes sparkling.
“He’s much better today.” She hugged Sophie’s stiff body. “He remembered us! Remembered his name, remembered he grew up on Kauai. Just can’t remember anything about the attack.” Distress puckered her face. “I told him that you saved him. I’ll give you two some privacy. Maybe when you talk, it will help.”
The officer was back at the door, Sophie was relieved to see. He gave her a little salute of recognition. “I’m not leaving no matter who calls me.” He was wearing Kevlar over his uniform.
“Good.” She followed Lehua into Alika’s room.
“Son, this is Sophie. I hope you remember her,” Lehua said. Alika was sitting upright this time, wearing a buttoned aloha shirt over his bandaged chest. It gave him a look as if any minute he’d get up and walk out, but the casted leg, back in traction, gave lie to that.
“I remember Sophie,” Alika said impatiently. “Thanks, Mom. Give us some space, will you?”
Lehua rolled her eyes at Sophie, still smiling. Sophie could tell that she was so happy to have Alika awake she didn’t care that he seemed irritable. She shut the door gently behind her.
“Hello.” Sophie approached, sat in a plastic chair beside his bed, still tentative even though he’d said he remembered her. How much did he remember?
“Hi.” He studied her intently. “What’s with the bruises? Did you get those during the attack yesterday?” Alika’s voice was so clear, so familiar and energetic that she smiled, and winced again, touching her sore lip.
“No. Had a bout with The Breaker at Fight Club before I came to visit you yesterday.”
“Hell no, you didn’t! Man’s got a fist like a hammer!”
Sophie smiled, her lip cracking at this evidence that he remembered more recent events. “I probably shouldn’t have taken him on, but I was in a mood. I made him work for it. Six rounds with a woman. I suspect it is some kind of record, somewhere.”
“That’s my girl.” His familiar grin brought up the less-swollen side of his face. He remembered—if not their date, at least that he was her coach.
She reached out a hand and touched his arm lightly, that tattooed spot she’d made friends with. “I’m glad I was here yesterday.”
“Me too.” His good hand, bandaged, but at least not in a cast, came to pat hers briefly where it rested on his arm. “I have to go back to Kauai for awhile. Do rehab and physical therapy. Can you help out at the gym for me? Maybe run things in the evenings?”
She glanced up into his golden-brown eyes, looked away again. “Sure. You’re going to hire a manager, then?”
“I have to. Don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.” He coughed, and his whole body constricted around the obvious pain. Sophie weathered it with him and he finally went on. “My dad is going to stay back and try to get things set up at the gym and my business for me, but HPD wants my parents to get me out of here as soon as I’m safe to transport. For my safety, and they want their man back. They’re thinking tomorrow.”
“That’s soon.” Sophie felt her face settling into that expression that hid her emotions. “Of course I’ll help in the evenings at the gym. I go there anyway.”
Did he remember their date, their emerging feelings? There was no indication of anything but the collegial friendship they’d had before in his face or demeanor. This was her opportunity to cut their connection—for his safety, and for hers. Until she knew Assan wasn’t part of the equation. She drew in a quick breath and steeled herself.
“This is awkward. I get the feeling your mom might have said the wrong thing about what we were to each other. We were friends. You trained me, and I recently graduated from having you coach me. And we went on one date. We were…” Sophie fumbled for the right words. “We were exploring if we might be more than friends. But it was just one date.”
“I remember everything about it. We both know it was a lot more than just one date.” Alika’s golden brown eyes were intense as he looked at her. “But I don’t want to drag you into this situation. So for now we’re just friends, and I don’t expect you to wait for me, for all the time it’s going to take for me to heal. For things to be different for me on Oahu. For someday.”
Sophie let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“Things could change.” It was ironic that they were ending their relationship because she was worried about Assan being a threat to him, while he was afraid the Boyz were a threat to her.
“Kiss me goodbye,” he whispered.
Sophie leaned over and set her bruised mouth on his bruised mouth. The kiss tasted of blood, pain, and the saltiness of tears. It was unbelievably sweet and tender and hungry.
She sat back up, stood. Wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’ll keep an eye on the gym. Have your dad call me and we’ll get organized.”
“Thank you. Be safe.” He looked away, out the window.
“And you get well.”
Sophie turned and walked out, face in that familiar immobile mask that hid her feelings and kept her moving. She said goodbye to Lehua, telling her she was in a hurry, a work thing had come up. She fled at a trot down the hall and didn’t cry until she was in the Lexus with Ginger in her arms.