looking for the same thing. Where the hell are you? I came here to help. Not to get busted if this amnesia shit is just some cover story.”
“It’s real, Ray. I only remember bits and pieces. Of me and you, out on the yacht, and then something happening that caused me to get thrown off the ship. That’s why I’m asking. Please, just tell me.”
There’s a long pause on his end. He looks out the windows one at a time, not just searching for her, but for undercover agents, no doubt.
“You weren’t supposed to be there. You know that, Val, or you did before. I tried to make things right,” he snarls. “Now, dammit, enough of this. Where. Are. You?”
“Who were those other men on the boat, Ray?”
His face twists, gold eyes a shade brighter than Val’s flashing. He slams his fist against the steering wheel so hard I cringe.
“Valerie, fuck! Don’t make me ask again.” He throws open his car door and kicks his way out, turning his head in all directions when she doesn’t answer.
She’s too busy pinching my hand, her face tight, watching my pen move to the notepad. I’m ready to bail her out.
“Almost there, honey. You’re fine,” I mouth silently. I shift my hand to her knee and squeeze gently.
She nods, but she’s still nervous, this soft quiver winding through her body.
My fingers sense it.
I give her knee another gentle pat, wishing like hell we weren’t undercover. Her asshole brother hasn’t even looked our way yet, and he’s too keyed up to recognize her in this vehicle behind her disguise even if he does, but hell.
I’d just love to get a hold of that chicken shit loser and let him know exactly what I think of how he’s treating her.
“Can you see my car yet?” Ray asks, calming down enough to slam his car door shut. “Come get in so I can take you home!”
The mock-concern vanishes. He sounds viscerally angry as he stalks toward the coffee shop. “Are you inside?”
“It was too crowded. No seats inside,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gold eyes shimmer, fear constricting her throat.
“Then where? Where are you? Don’t you get it? I’m trying to save your stupid ass!”
My free hand tightens like an angry fist around the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how much more I can take before I rush over and smash his face right into that six-figure ride of his.
“I don’t care. And I don’t want to go home with you, Ray. Not yet. I-I’m safe right now.”
“Safe?” He runs a hand through his short dark hair. “You’ll be safer with me, Val, those guys...Jesus. You have to trust me. Please.” That last word falls out of him, weirdly desperate.
“Not today. I’m sorry. I...I have to go. ” She looks at me, shaking her head.
I see it in her expression. She’s done.
And I think we’ve learned everything we can from this little exchange. Davis and my boys are no doubt watching every move the guys who came in the van make.
Reaching over, I finger-punch the button on her phone to disconnect.
So maybe we haven’t learned anything new about Ray Gerard being a king-sized fuckwad. He’s in deep with Cornano, yeah, but the interesting part is, he’s also scared. Scared shitless.
And I don’t think it’s just because Val knows something she shouldn’t that could risk compromising him.
I give her knee a final pat before placing my hand back on the wheel, then fire off a text to Davis.
From a distance, Ray continues screaming at the phone, frantically waving one arm. Then he starts tapping away at his screen, clearly texting someone. A moment later, he’s screaming into it again while racing to his convertible.
“Sorry,” Valerie whispers. “I just couldn’t—”
“You did beautifully,” I say.
No need for her to explain anything.
Ray throws the phone into his car, then wrenches open the door and climbs in. A moment later, his tires squeal as he takes off. The guy near the t-shirt stand jogs over and jumps in a white Ford Edge. The white van leaves, too. Both it and the Edge go in opposite directions. Neither following Ray.
Shit. Looks like they weren’t part of his backup crew after all.
I’m sure that call was tapped. I’m glad I made damn sure her phone isn’t traceable. Anyone who tries will just get a revolving pattern of hits on every tower on Oahu.
I glance back in my rear-view mirror. Bryce isn’t even watching the commotion, too sucked into his