turned to her former fiancé. “Hey, Stevens. Don’t think either of you have met my partner, Special Agent Ken Yamada.”
The men shook hands, and that’s when Lei let herself really look at Stevens—her eyes wandering up his rangy height. He’d put on more muscle—his long arms were thicker than she remembered. Laser-blue eyes looked at Yamada from a face whose rugged contours were more memorable than handsome as the wind ruffled his dark hair. Her heart was doing heavy thuds again.
She refocused on the issue at hand. “We need to let you guys know something important—wear Kevlar on this. The Bandit’s armed.”
“How’d that happen?” Bunuelos asked, as Stevens turned to her, his brows lowered.
“He took it out of the safe at the last hit. Walther PPK. According to the owner, no extra ammo was in the safe, but the gun was loaded with six rounds.”
“That’s a game changer,” Stevens said. “Who else knows this?”
“We’re keeping it under wraps as best we can. Don’t want to create a situation,” Ken said. “But you guys need to be apprised.”
“I’ll let the captain know, and we’ve got vests in the vehicles. So, Lei—we’re taking you guys out to last-seen areas. Thought you could ride with me and Yamada with Bunuelos; we’ll cover more ground split up.”
“No,” Lei said automatically.
Her partner narrowed his eyes at her. “Sounds like a plan. Give you two a chance to catch up.”
Lei watched in helpless frustration as Ken walked away and got into the black-and-white with Gerry and they fired it up. Stevens opened the door of the SUV. “Well? Coming?”
“Shit,” she muttered, and got into the passenger side. This couldn’t go well.
Chapter 12
Lei slammed the door a little hard, and he slanted her a glance out of those blue, blue eyes.
“You know we have to talk.”
“Where was the craft spotted?” Lei had chosen her tack—and it was to stick to business.
He turned the key and the Bronco roared into life. “North shore. We can head out toward Haiku. I know of some estates out there with lawns big enough to land on.” He headed the Bronco toward broad two-lane Hana Highway, bordered by waving sugarcane. “So. You need to know something.”
“I don’t need to know anything. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know I don’t. I want to tell you anyway.” His voice had gone as stubborn as hers. “Anchara was going to get deported. I couldn’t let that happen, after all she’d done for the investigation, after all she’d gone through on that ship.”
Lei turned halfway to look at his set jaw, mirrored sunglasses down and hiding his thoughts. “I’m sure it was a real hardship to rescue the beautiful sex slave.”
“You know what? I’m sick of that shit, from you and everybody. Anchara doesn’t deserve it, and you of all people know that!”
Lei did know that. Anchara Mookjai, twenty-four years old, formerly of Phuket, Thailand, had fled an abusive marriage to take a job on a cruise ship—only that wasn’t what the contract had really involved. Smuggled on and off the ship in the ports of call, kept locked up on board, she’d found herself in any woman’s nightmare—and had taken the chance for escape when it came. Her testimony had helped put away a whole layer of human traffickers working out of the cruise ships.
Not only that, but she’d proved herself to be a brave, resilient, and kind human being whom Lei liked more than she wanted to.
Lei turned and looked out the window. The view, of kiteboarders and surfers on the wind-whipped sea, green foothills robed in rippling grass, and the sweep of the twelve-thousand-foot Haleakalā volcano, was familiar. She’d driven that route every day to work as a detective at the Haiku Police Station before she’d taken the opportunity to join the Bureau.
“I do know that. Anchara is…” Lei found her throat closing, and she swallowed hard. “She’s a good person.”
“Yes, she is.
The men shook hands, and that’s when Lei let herself really look at Stevens—her eyes wandering up his rangy height. He’d put on more muscle—his long arms were thicker than she remembered. Laser-blue eyes looked at Yamada from a face whose rugged contours were more memorable than handsome as the wind ruffled his dark hair. Her heart was doing heavy thuds again.
She refocused on the issue at hand. “We need to let you guys know something important—wear Kevlar on this. The Bandit’s armed.”
“How’d that happen?” Bunuelos asked, as Stevens turned to her, his brows lowered.
“He took it out of the safe at the last hit. Walther PPK. According to the owner, no extra ammo was in the safe, but the gun was loaded with six rounds.”
“That’s a game changer,” Stevens said. “Who else knows this?”
“We’re keeping it under wraps as best we can. Don’t want to create a situation,” Ken said. “But you guys need to be apprised.”
“I’ll let the captain know, and we’ve got vests in the vehicles. So, Lei—we’re taking you guys out to last-seen areas. Thought you could ride with me and Yamada with Bunuelos; we’ll cover more ground split up.”
“No,” Lei said automatically.
Her partner narrowed his eyes at her. “Sounds like a plan. Give you two a chance to catch up.”
Lei watched in helpless frustration as Ken walked away and got into the black-and-white with Gerry and they fired it up. Stevens opened the door of the SUV. “Well? Coming?”
“Shit,” she muttered, and got into the passenger side. This couldn’t go well.
Chapter 12
Lei slammed the door a little hard, and he slanted her a glance out of those blue, blue eyes.
“You know we have to talk.”
“Where was the craft spotted?” Lei had chosen her tack—and it was to stick to business.
He turned the key and the Bronco roared into life. “North shore. We can head out toward Haiku. I know of some estates out there with lawns big enough to land on.” He headed the Bronco toward broad two-lane Hana Highway, bordered by waving sugarcane. “So. You need to know something.”
“I don’t need to know anything. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know I don’t. I want to tell you anyway.” His voice had gone as stubborn as hers. “Anchara was going to get deported. I couldn’t let that happen, after all she’d done for the investigation, after all she’d gone through on that ship.”
Lei turned halfway to look at his set jaw, mirrored sunglasses down and hiding his thoughts. “I’m sure it was a real hardship to rescue the beautiful sex slave.”
“You know what? I’m sick of that shit, from you and everybody. Anchara doesn’t deserve it, and you of all people know that!”
Lei did know that. Anchara Mookjai, twenty-four years old, formerly of Phuket, Thailand, had fled an abusive marriage to take a job on a cruise ship—only that wasn’t what the contract had really involved. Smuggled on and off the ship in the ports of call, kept locked up on board, she’d found herself in any woman’s nightmare—and had taken the chance for escape when it came. Her testimony had helped put away a whole layer of human traffickers working out of the cruise ships.
Not only that, but she’d proved herself to be a brave, resilient, and kind human being whom Lei liked more than she wanted to.
Lei turned and looked out the window. The view, of kiteboarders and surfers on the wind-whipped sea, green foothills robed in rippling grass, and the sweep of the twelve-thousand-foot Haleakalā volcano, was familiar. She’d driven that route every day to work as a detective at the Haiku Police Station before she’d taken the opportunity to join the Bureau.
“I do know that. Anchara is…” Lei found her throat closing, and she swallowed hard. “She’s a good person.”
“Yes, she is.
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