Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) (13 page)

“Yes and no. Aw,
hell. Yes. Just give me the whole damn story before I get conversational blue
balls waiting for either me to decide if I wanna hear it, or you to just
fucking tell me.”

“All right,”
Jager warned, “but you’re never going to believe it...”

~*~*~*~

Islanders manned
the shoreline of quaint souvenir shops, catering to resort guests and tourists
just now filtering in off the main pier where their cruise liner had docked.
Seagulls squawked and vied for meager crumbs left over from the outdoor,
seaside pubs. A young Jamaican couple sold homemade jewelry and ganja pipes
near a bustling scuba shop.

“Where the
hell’d she go?” Jager asked. “I didn’t see one pink-
or
purple-headed woman in the entire mall.”

Keefer shrugged,
but Jager caught the gleam of worry in his eyes. “Don’t know. Maybe she went
back to the suite.”

“We have until
two before we have to check back into our other rooms. Maybe we can catch her
there.” He winked and gave Keefer a slap on the back. “Get in a massage session
before they kick us out.”

They took the
cobbled walkway toward the hotel. Jager inhaled and caught the scent of
hibiscus and brine. Palms lined the path and swayed in the thick, humid air.
The sun was hot and high in the azure sky, the perfect day for an
outing...maybe charter a romantic, private, half-day dinner cruise on one of
those cool yachts? His mood soared. He ignored that nagging sense of duty to
Mitch.

That phone call
last night had complicated things even further. Mitch was getting anxious. He
wanted something done now.
Like yesterday.

And Jager, after
pleading his case that he needed a few more days to fix the problem, had
promised Mitch he’d see to Anjelee Montrose’s demise.

But not until
he’d had his fill of her and Keefer first.

“Mmm,” Keefer
said on a moan, “I’d rather get her back in that swing. Damn, it was like
bobbing for a candied apple. That dangling thing sure has some interesting
potential.”

They hadn’t
gotten far when a dark-skinned young man emerged from a cluster of foliage
beyond the ganja-pipe vending stand. “Eh, mon, everything okay?”

“Yeah, of
course, we’re fine. Why do you—?”

Keefer nudged
Jager’s ribs and spoke under his breath. “Um, that’s code for, ‘Do you need any
drugs?’”

“Oh...uh, no
thanks. Our drug of choice has pink-striped hair and a compact, hot little
bod.”

“Purple,” Keefer
corrected.

“Purple hair? Oh
yeah,
mon
. That chick is some fine piece, no?”

“You saw her?”
Jager asked.

The man’s smile
was like a row of polished white tile. “Mm-hmm. Can’t miss that foxy lady.
Well, I guess you can miss her now,” he added with a shake of the head. “Cuz my
buddy, one of the resort’s shuttle drivers, just took her to the...”

The islander
held out a hand, wiggled his fingers.

“To the—?”
Keefer dug a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it in the man’s open
palm.

“The airport?”
Jager broke in to Keefer’s question. Both of their voices had shrieked with
panic and disbelief.

“Ya,
mon
, she head back to...” He scratched his head and held out
another hand. “Let’s see. Where was it?”

Jager cursed
under his breath and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He chose a
twenty, slapped it into the native’s hand.

The man’s eyes lit
up. “Ah, yeah, yeah. I do remember now. She mentioned taking a flight to
Miami.”

“But that’s a
standard layover from here,” Keefer pointed out.

Jager already
had the greed headed off by digging out a fifty. That was nothing compared to
what he’d pay to get his hands on her again. He’d do anything to find out just
where his sneaky little gorgeous lover had gone.

“Mm, irie, irie.
Yes, sir, seems I do recall now, she mentioned something about going back to
L.A., to her mom.” He pinched the bill between two fingers and slowly tugged it
from Jager’s hold.

An ironic tune
played in Jager’s head, Bob Seger. Crap, here comes a head splinter. It’d be
playing like a broken CD in his head all day. Something about a sunspot baby
taking off
down
the road. Ah, yes, the clever thief
had left him stranded, all right.
With Wulfrum’s wrath.
She’d charged—no, bribed—a fortune out of Wulfrum.

Well, he
wouldn’t stop. He’d look in Karibu, Miami, look all the fucking way around the
world.
L.A., too.

I’ll find you. I’ll find you, my hot
little “Sunspot Baby”. And you sure
ain’t
gonna have a
good time when I close my hands around your tasty neck.

Chapter Nine

“He owes me the
money.”

“No. He
doesn’t.”

“Yes. He does.
Well, not me really, and not him really, either. Technically.”

“What the hell
is that supposed to mean?”

She noted how
Jager’s voice hit a level of alarm. Things were closing in on him, and whether
she cared to admit it or not, the truth was, she had caused it.

Which made her
want to crawl in a grave and just get the hell buried alive.

She took a long
sip of her steamy latte, yanked open her apartment door and jammed a thumb over
her shoulder toward the hallway. “Look, fellas, I’m running
latte
, so can you just let me pencil you
in at another date? Like, oh, maybe in the year twenty fifty?”

Jager raised a
questioning brow and looked to Keefer for translation.

“Means she’s
running late. Late equals
latte
—get
it?” Keefer tipped his head to the side. “Because she opted, as usual, to make
a detour through Coffee Hut’s drive-through.”

“Figures,” Jager
muttered with an eye-roll.

Keefer followed
her to the open door. She could smell his faint, woodsy cologne over the scent
of mocha steam. He’d made a subtle change. He didn’t used to wear cologne. Yes,
lots of things had changed...

“Hey, baby,
c’mon. What’s going on here? Jager told me what really happened in Kabana,
anyway. Do you know how much trouble you’re going to be in?”

A huge wave of
affection assailed her. She tried to ignore the dismay and concern that edged
Keefer’s voice, tried harder still to resist touching his whiskered face and
kissing him silly.
She raised her hand
,
let it drop
. Ali and Mom flashed in her head. No, it wasn’t
the time for emotions, not selfish ones, at least. And there probably never
would be time again.

Ha. Actually,
she was going to have all the time in the world sitting on her ass in prison.

“Uh, yeah. Do I
look like an idiot? And thanks, Manning, for your confidence. I thought we’d gotten
to a place of trust, but I guess that, ‘what happens in Karibu, stays in
Karibu’ was just an excuse to get yourself some bi-sex.”

“I’d be inclined
to say it’s looking that way—like you’re an idiot, that is. But something
tells me there’s more going on here than meets the eyes and ears.” Jager strode
forward, gripped her elbow. His hand felt big, warm and oddly comforting. “Tell
me, goddamn it. Tell me what the hell’s going on in that pretty striped head of
yours.”

“No.” She ripped
her arm free, immediately regretting the loss of his touch.

He took both of
her arms this time, and shook her. He spoke through gritted teeth. She saw the
same concern—or was that...was that love
?—
in
his eyes that still gleamed in Keefer’s. “I swear, if you don’t tell me now,
I’m dragging you back to Hawaii right this minute.”

Her stomach did
a nauseous flip.
Oh, no.
God, no.
He wouldn’t—would he?
“Over my big ass.”
She tried to snarl it, but it came out in a mousy squeak.

Keefer
snickered. “That’s the farthest statement from the truth I’ve ever heard you
say.”

Anjelee shot him
a withering look. “Shut it, Keef.”

A reluctant grin
spread across Jager’s face. He twisted her around to “assess” the situation,
and replied, “I agree with him. It’s the smallest, hottest ass I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” she
said with honeyed sarcasm, allowing Jager to keep his hold on her. “But it’s
not getting either of you what you want. I’m sworn to secrecy. So this is
pretty much a nonversation in my book. Might as well back off.”

“Well, damn sam,
she’s got her own language book, too? And what in hell is ‘nonversation’?”

Keefer pulled
them both away from the door, kicked it shut with his boot and led them into
her tiny kitchen. “For Christ’s sake, Jager, it’s true I’ve known her longer
than you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got her all figured out. Context, man,
keep her shit in context and it’ll all come to you eventually.”

“Right,
context,” Jager said flatly, letting go of her arms.

She took a sip
of coffee and regarded them over the lid. What should she do, where should she
go? And why in tarnation hadn’t she stopped off in St. Kitts, or some remote
island in Indonesia or something, instead of coming back to L.A.? She slammed
her head against the refrigerator. Because, she loved Ali and Mom too much to leave
them worrying and wondering what had happened to her, and because they needed
the money, like yesterday.

“What’s this
secrecy deal, Anj? Who’s it with?” Keefer demanded.

“None ya. And
Jager, if you can’t figure nonversation out, you’re lame.”

His eyes
widened. “Lame? You’re going to wish I was lame when Wulfrum finds everything
out.”

She groaned. A
knot tightened in her stomach. Her hand shook as she slid the latte onto the
countertop. She pushed past them, skirted around the short breakfast bar and collapsed
on her worn but comfy sofa...a comfy feeling she wouldn’t be getting in prison.

She clunked her
Nikes on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest. “So help me, if
you utter one word to that egotistical movie star about where I am, or anything
I’ve already told you—or if you have me put in jail—I swear I’ll
tell his wife’s father, Heloki, that you planned Wulfrum’s, Kiona’s and Kol’s
three-way marriage behind Heloki’s back and that Wulfrum—the man his
precious daughter married—is bisexual.”

Jager took the
three steps
required to be classified
as being in her
living room, and folded his arms, too. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Her feet dropped
to the floor. She sat up ramrod straight. “Oh, I wouldn’t? Well, don’t you
forget Heloki is one of your clients,
too.
Hmm, might
start a mass hysteria of your clientele dumping you, once they hear how you
betrayed two of your highest-esteemed clients. One a Hollywood icon, even, and
the other, a rich, Hawaiian sugar-cane plantation owner.”

Why did her
voice sound so weak and shaky? And why didn’t she feel the conviction behind
her own words like she usually did, or delight in their power?

“What?” Keefer
plopped into the lounge chair opposite the TV. “Holy stinkin’ shit, this is all
getting way too complicated.”

Jager ignored
Keefer. He took a couple of steps until he towered over her. His scent of
high-end cologne drifted between them.
He looked good, real
good.
Yummy, in fact.
But she’d be a fool to
fall for her jailer again.

“You swore not
to reveal any of their marriage arrangements to Heloki,” Jager growled.

She shot to her
feet, but she had to tip her head back to glare at him. “Did not.”

“Did too. You
signed a contract promising to keep everything confidential, even from Heloki.”

“Do you think I
really give a turd about our stupid ‘contract’? You wouldn’t dare sue me over
it, because it just so happens I also have a copy of that secret contract that
Mitch, Kiona and Kol drew up between them stating they were a three-way married
couple and equally devoted to each other.”

Her words came
out hollow. Could he tell she didn’t believe her own
bull,
that
she’d just admitted to herself that she could never carry any of
this through to completion, not even accepting more of Wulfrum’s money?

An image swam
through her head of Ali in the hospital, pale and exhausted, hooked up to
machines and tubes. She sniffled against the sting and wetness forming in her
nose and eyes. What was she going to do?

Keefer perked up.
“Really? You can do that in Hawaii? Three-way marriages? Hmm
..
.”

Jager held his
own head like a vise. “How did you get that contract?”

She dropped back
on the sofa and presented what she hoped was her smuggest grin. It was getting
more and more difficult by the minute to keep up the brave farce and confidence
in her words.

“The same way I
got the job from you to photograph their wedding, the same way I got my ass up
on their roof and was able to take pictures of them doing their thing, and the
same way I planned the next round of money.” She tapped her temple. “With my
freakin’ brain.”

Jager kneeled in
front of her, took her hands in his. His eyes were pleading pools of confusion.
Oh, wow, she could so relate. “Anj, babe, I don’t understand. Why are you doing
this?”

Babe? She
swallowed.
Please,
please
don’t call me that, not at a time like
this.
Tears stung her eyes. She tugged her hands from his.

He rose with a
sigh and sat on the arm of the chair next to Keefer. Mmm, they looked so hot
together.

“How can you do
this, to Heloki, to Mitch Wulfrum—his career will be over—to sweet
Kiona and Kol, to me, for fucking sake? The money’s simply not yours.”

“Is too.” It was
nothing but a whisper. She fixed her gaze on her twiddling thumbs in her lap.
“Well...not me technically.”

“No. I know you
well. You’re bluffing, you’ve always been bluffing with Jager.” Keefer unfolded
himself from the chair and came to sit next to her. Jager followed, sitting on
Keefer’s other side. Keefer cupped her jaw and tipped it up so she had no
choice but to look into his handsome face. “Haven’t you, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.
No. Please. If they don’t stop with the
irresistible endearments, I’m going to totally lose it.
The lump swelled in
her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest ached—crap, was she about to
have a heart attack? “I-I...”

Keefer’s warm
fingers massaged her cheek. “In the end, you’d never’ve sold those pictures,
and you won’t put Jager or any of his clients in this position, either. Will
you, Anj? You’ve been bluffing all along, even with yourself, even the first
time in Hawaii. But why?”

There it was,
the truth that even she could never admit to herself, much less to Jager or
anyone else involved. The stress of it lifted off her chest, as if a magical
fairy had waved its wand and made the ton of weight disappear.
Poof!
Just like that.

But in its place
came a flood of relief that proved almost as problematic. Her shoulders
shuddered, she sobbed uncontrollably, then she plopped herself across both laps
in a huddled ball of hysteria.

“Shh, shhh.”

She didn’t know
whose voice it was, or whose hands were where as they petted her and soothed
her. All she knew was that this was where she wanted to be, in their arms with
them protecting her and keeping her safe from the world—from her stupid
self.

“Darling, what
is it? Please, just tell us both what’s going on.” Jager, that one was Jager.

“Maybe we can
help you? Maybe, if you’d just explain it all to us, we just might all be able
to find a solution so we can get on with our love for each other and live a
happy life together.”

Keefer. Of
course he’d be the one to have the hippy, kumbaya, irie attitude, God bless his
big heart.

She lay there
for several peaceful moments while they played with her hair, kissed her brow
and fingertips, rubbed her back and ass. They were both devoted to her, to
making her feel better and calming her down. The rush of love washed over her
before she could take a mental leap out of striking distance.

Wow. She loved
them? Both?

She closed her
eyes and thought of her history with Keefer and her more recent time with
Jager. It seemed she couldn’t have one without the other. No matter her current
dire situation, she needed them both. She couldn’t face what loomed
ahead—prison, parole, whatever—without both of them.

She loved
Keefer, and she loved Jager.

She’d never
loved a single man in her entire life, and now she loved two at once?

The laughter
burst from her like some manic old woman locked in an insane asylum. She
untangled herself from their laps, stumbled to the window and looked down on
her neighborhood between the iron security bars. Everything about the view was
crap, as usual. Only it didn’t look or feel like crap anymore. Her sight seemed
clearer, even from behind bars, and her heart wasn’t quite so jaded.

Not only could
she see that her future was destined to be with these two wonderful men, but
she could envision the solution to her problem so clearly now.

Yes, I love Mom, but I have to think
solely of Ali, and then everything else will fall into its rightful place.

She wiped her
eyes and spun to face them. “This is just absolutely nuts—I’m nuts. I
should have told you both the truth way before now. It sure would’ve solved a
lot of problems. But, well, I’m going to fix that idiotic mistake right now...”

~*~*~*~

If it was at all
possible for the devilish little Anjelee to look angelic standing in front of
that window with the sunlight swathing her in an ethereal radiance, it was
happening now. The light surrounded her head in a rich ash and purple flow of glittering
streaks. Her eyes were pink-rimmed from crying, but the stunning green circles
of heartfelt emotion and relief sparkled, leaving Jager breathless. Her curves
were soft and muted by a golden outline. His gaze moved back to her eyes. A
lone tear trailed down her cheek and settled on her jaw.