Leather and Sand (Riding the Line Series) (19 page)

Surf’s up.

There were loads of sandals in the lobby gift shop, but it was closed.
Bare feet are better than boots
. He walked out into the dim morning light, one of the guest towels tucked securely under his arm. An older model truck pulled up, the back piled with boards and towels, and the shaggy shepherd mix he had met a few days before. A gangly, brown-skinned kid leapt from the passenger side and held the door for Dax, his white teeth glinting as he offered him a broad smile.

“
Aloha
,
brah
!”

“
Aloha
,” Dax replied. The word felt odd on his tongue.
Brah…bro.
Got it.

Turtle was driving. “Get any sleep?”

“Not much. You?”

Turtle laughed. “Nah, man. But it was worth it. Coffee?”

Dax accepted the steaming thermos with a grateful nod. Taking a sip, he couldn’t stop the rumble of contentment that issued from his mouth.

“Good stuff, eh? My family has a little java operation on one of the smaller islands—near the one where we’re storing your hardware. Turns quite a profit. Legal, too. Well, almost!” Turtle laughed. “Almost enough to leave the one percent club someday.”

Dax stiffened at that comment. If Turtle and his crew were looking to retire from the lifestyle, the arms deal wasn’t going to maintain.

Turtle, perhaps noticing his look of concern, smiled reassuringly. “Waves are glassy this morning. We’ll talk shop after we paddle out. Yeah?”

Dax nodded. Soon, the pleasant ache in his shoulders and the cleansing, salty sting of the ocean instilled him with renewed vigor. Oddly, even though he was beyond exhausted, the session wiped Dax’s mind clear of all of his troubles…except one. Well, two, to be exact.

***

Even though she was certain Darren wouldn’t be around, Rhee was shaking with nerves; it was a feeling she fucking hated more than any other emotion. The thought of seeing her boss again made her tremble even more.

Jesus, I am so fried.
Dax has my entire fucking life turned upside down…again!

She turned her old car down the small strip of touristy shops and eateries. Winter was fading into spring, but there were some places on the island that never seemed to slow down. Where she worked was one of them.
Or, where I used to work
, she thought ruefully. Rhee took a deep breath, forcing her jitters away.
There is no room for weakness in my life.

Entering the parking lot of her former place of employment elicited a deluge of unwanted memories. Darren showing up early, on the pretext of discussing some project or another with her. His increasing attempts to touch her. His repeated offers to take her to lunch. Rhee slapped her hand across her forehead.
I am done attracting scumbags like Darren!

It was like she gave off a dipshit pheromone, or something—the way assholes always seemed to find her. Still, Rhee shuddered to admit that although nearly every bad thing under the sun had occurred in her less than charmed life, at least the actual
things
she had experienced had been enjoyable. With Dax.

More than enjoyable.
She flushed, recalling the feel of Dax’s mouth as it had slanted over her own only hours before. And the way her body had responded to him that one and only time she had been, well,
fucked
—
Oh God, help me!

Rhee sagged against the wall, flooded with desire.
There go another pair of panties.
There was no denying it, even though things were so badly screwed at the moment.
I want him.
So badly.
He’s so angry with me.
I guess I really fucked up.
But…what about that kiss?
Could he, would he…shit!

It took several moments before she was able to eject thoughts of Dax and his magical mouth from her mind. With great effort, she forced one leaden foot in front of the other until she was standing in front of Darren’s shop.

Or what used to be Darren’s shop. Rhee’s mouth fell open. The place was cleaned out, and the sign,
Darren’s Designs,
was sprayed over. How could all of this have happened in just a few short days?! Rhee’s weekend was a total blur. So much had been packed into it that she could hardly believe it was Monday. Yet somehow, the shop she had worked in for eighteen months was completely empty. Rhee blinked, and then removed her sunglasses to take a better look.

“
Tita
.”

She startled at the voice. “Tiny.
Aloha
.”

“We took the liberty of packing up your stuff. Turtle said we can put it anywhere you want. You have a place in mind?”

“Er, no. I mean, there’s no room at my
hale
…” She trailed off, thinking of the small garden shed.

“I guess I could clean out the garden shed. I’ll have to ask Manali.”

“Turtle said you aren’t supposed to worry. We’ll have it cleaned up and everything delivered safely.”

She sighed. “I know you will, T.”

“Then why do you look so…I don’t know. Something is different,
tita
.”

She paused at the obvious concern on his face. “Just a lot going on.”

Tiny shuffled his feet, a gesture that bordered on ridiculous given his size. “Lunch?” he asked hopefully.

Rhee had to smile as she linked her arm through his. “Spam
musubi
?”

The big man brightened at the idea of processed meat rolls. “And beer.”

Ugh.
But at least she’d have company. And Tiny was a no-pressure kind of guy. He didn’t ask a lot of questions. That, she could handle.

***

Wince rolled up to the dock with two grunts in tow and stared at the yacht with increasing irritation. He didn’t like boats. Not one bit. No, a
Dyna
suited him just fine and so did asphalt for that matter. He didn’t mind planes either. But, boats? Boats were a different story. Wince grimaced inwardly. There would be rocking and rolling. The occasional sickening lurch. Vaguely, Wince recalled being on a whale-watching field trip when he was in grade school. He and half the class had become violently sea sick and that was the last time Wince went anywhere near the sea.

His fingers itched as he waited for the all clear to board. It had been really tough to tear himself away from his laptop to supervise this gun show. Wince came up with at least a dozen reasons why hacking into a government site was a bad idea. But once he got started, he was unable to stop himself. He busted into a few of the smaller sites just for fun. Then, he started playing with the tighter security systems.

Wince derived a strange comfort from knowing that he still had it. He wasn’t rusty at all. Once he broke the encryption to the witness protection website, he had to narrow down the possibilities, which was challenging because the data was encrypted. Wince hardly noticed the hours going by as he skimmed through hundreds of names and locations. Each case was assigned to an agent, who was designated by a number and a letter. He wasn’t sure what the symbols meant, but he would find out. Wince was like a dog with a bone when it came to cracking codes. And this code could mean everything to Rhee.

Given what the stowaway had disclosed the other night, it didn’t seem likely that the stowaway’s kid sister was dead. No, the whole thing smacked of a cover up. Even their contact back in Darling’s police department had hinted that getting involved might be dangerous. The detective’s attitude had garnered suspicion with both Dax and Wince, but they had planned on letting the stowaway recover a little from her ordeal before launching their own investigation into Mickey’s whereabouts. No one had expected to wake up the next morning to discover that the stowaway had disappeared without a trace.

Wince flexed his fingers. He hadn’t felt this kind of burn in his hands in a long time. The slightly sore feeling was almost addictive because it was connected with the rush of cracking codes. If Slade hadn’t come to get him, he would have missed the boat, quite literally. Wince sighed, wishing he was back in the hotel, plugging away at his latest puzzle. He motioned for the newest club pledge to join him on the dock. Slade was young, but pretty resourceful. He was handling himself well so far. Wince nodded at the yacht.

“Almost show time. Help me load the guns, then stay out of the way.”

Slade nodded. “No problem.”

Wince offered a thin smile. The kid sounded confident and secure. His voice didn’t waver at all. Sure of himself. Kind of reminded Wince of Dax in a way.

“Slade.”

The younger man tilted his shades up to gaze respectfully at Wince. “Yeah, man?”

“Good job the other night.”

The ghost of a smile graced Slade’s features. “Thanks.”

“Where’d you find her?”

Now the kid grinned outright. “I called anonymously and asked the concierge.”

Wince felt his mouth fall open in shock. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Wince smiled. Dax would like hearing about this. Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, Wince could see Vidal and his troupe of goons appear on the deck of the yacht. One of the man’s minions stood guard at the small dock, ready to search them as they walked onto the boat. Wince popped a few antacids and recited a silent anti-puking prayer. Then, he and Slade each grabbed a duffle and headed to the gleaming, white vessel. Wince found his mind wandering and he was grateful for the distraction. Once he was back on dry land, he fully planned on getting back to his new, self-initiated mission.

Finding Michaela Blake.

Chapter Nineteen

The afternoon passed with agonizing slowness for Rhee. Tiny had assured her his crew would prep the shed, but it wasn’t fair for them to do everything. So, she and Sirena tackled it themselves. Well, to be accurate, Sirena had fun putting everything Rhee took out of the shed back into it so the task took twice as long as it should have, but Rhee didn’t mind. Quite the opposite, actually. She was grateful to have such a physical distraction, even if she knew she’d be sore the next morning.

“Mama, I want eat!”

Rhee pushed a sweaty palm across her face, and it came back tinged with dirt. A long piece of hair slipped from her clip to tickle her nose. She stood back and regarded the shed with a critical eye. With everything out of it, it was definitely large enough to house some of her print work, but she was concerned about the moisture outside. Actually, now that she was able to take a closer look at the structure, Rhee could see quite a few gaps in the walls. No good. Oh well, at least it would be organized for Manali now. Her art would be safe at Turtle’s large estate until she figured out what to do next.

“Okay, monkey. Let’s shower and have a snack.”

The feel of her daughter’s hand in her own gave Rhee pause. She looked down at the blond hair and stubborn jaw and on impulse, swept Sirena into her arms.

“Ow, mommy! Too tight!” the little girl complained, as Rhee gripped her like a lifeline.

This thing with Dax…it couldn’t wait any longer. Rhee had to know what he felt, what he wanted. Resolutely, Rhee decided that unless he was in it for the long haul, she didn’t want Sirena to know that Dax was her father. It would just be too painful. Rhee knew what it was like to lose her parents, and she refused to put Sirena through that kind of heartache. Hell, it might even be worse, knowing you had a father who chose not to be around.

She needed to track Dax down, and ask him point blank about his intentions with Sirena. And herself. So far, he had communicated anger, attraction, and the desire to—
holy hell
—spank her. Rhee stifled a gasp.

“Down, mommy!” Reluctantly, she let Sirena go.

“Sorry, baby. Let’s go in.”

A short time later, they were clean, and fed. Instead of the afternoon nap Rhee craved, she found herself meowing in what she hoped was a reasonable approximation of a tomcat as she and Sirena crawled around on the floor.

Never thought I’d be doing this,
she thought to herself, a giggle brewing in her soul as she basked in the radiant exuberance of her daughter. Rhee sobered suddenly. She certainly couldn’t imagine Dax doing something like this—playing with a child, crawling on the floor pretending to be an animal, giving baths or making Mickey Mouse pancakes. What was his agenda? It was time to shove her physical attraction to the man aside and apply logical reasoning to the current reality. As soon as possible.

Rhee hated to ask Manali for more help, but once she returned from the farmer’s market, maybe she could watch Sirena while Rhee dealt with Dax. She itched to contact the man, but she didn’t even have his number. But…she knew where he was staying. If he wasn’t at the hotel, Turtle would now how to track him down.

Over the cat game, Sirena was now happily dragging Rhee’s shoes from their small, shared closet and attempting to stick her feet in them. Keeping the place tidy was a never-ending battle—one that Rhee had mostly given up on. They didn’t have much, anyway. Just the necessities. It was better that way. If Turtle got a lead on Mickey, it would be easy to pick up and go.

The thought of leaving, searching, running, any of it though, was feeling more and more aversive. Rhee assumed that once Sirena was older, picking up the search would be easier. With such a perceptive little sea sprite, however, Rhee was wondering how she would possibly explain things to Sirena. Plus, there was always the horrible thought that Mickey was…gone.

Rhee didn’t want to give up on her sister, but if she was alive, why hadn’t she called, emailed…anything? Their last communication had been a frightening dropped phone call that Mickey knew would have terrified Rhee. And it had. Rhee smiled ruefully as she recounted the bizarre set of circumstances set in motion by that late night phone call. Searching for Mickey had ultimately led Rhee to Dax Jamison’s bed. In some ways, Rhee had her sister to thank for Sirena. There was no way she would have crossed paths with the tall, brooding vice president of a motorcycle club otherwise.

It took Rhee almost a year to get Sirena to sleep through the night. She had next to no experience with infants before having her own child, but one thing was blatantly obvious. Children needed structure and routine. Searching without direction would yield massive disruption and possibly heartache on top of it. Someday, she would have to explain to Sirena that she had an aunt somewhere, but first, she was going to have to address the daddy issue.