Relapse In Paradise. Roxanne Smith

of his voice. “I don’t sound that dopey when I talk.”

      “Yes, you do.”

      “You’re upset right now, and that’s perfectly understandable. However, I can’t do anything to fix it until we get out of here.”

      With her jaw clamped together like an angry vice, Emily finally ascended to the second floor and started tossing her scattered clothing into the open suitcase on the bed.

      It was hard for Boston to imagine she had a hard time picking out what to wear this morning when all her clothing was practically identical. Was it so difficult to choose between black and dark gray? Maybe the pinstripes came in different colors, and he lacked the discerning eye to tell them apart.

      What in the hell was he going to do? The deposit for the room at the Hilton was long gone. He couldn’t afford two weeks at a Motel 6, let alone any of the resort hotels. He ignored the bullets of sweat already forming on the nape of his neck.

      C’mon, Boston. Don’t lose your shit now. Figure it out. It’s what you do. He had the one-hour drive back to Honolulu to come up with a plan.

      * * * *

      “I apologize, sir. We’re booked solid through the next week, I’m afraid.”

      Boston glared at the young lady’s placid face behind the tall, gleaming black counter. “What about the tower suite reserved up until yesterday?”

      “It appears one of the wedding guests had been on standby for a suite and was offered the upgrade once it became available. Again, sir, I do apologize.”

      He wanted to scratch his eyes out. Emily’s steely gaze burned into his back. She could probably guess by his body language it wasn’t going well. “This is one of the biggest hotels on the beach. There are four massive towers, and you’re saying not a single bed is available?”

      She offered him a pitying smile. “The wedding party. Without giving out personal details, it’s for a celebrity of some renown. Normally, this time of year we always have a room open, which is exactly why the wedding was scheduled this way. We could never accommodate an event like this in the summer.”

      Boston rapped his knuckles on the counter and chewed his lip. He’d call Quinn and explain. He didn’t have any other choice in the matter. Emily would have to downgrade to one of the lesser resorts, perhaps farther from the beach.

      Hell, maybe he should call Mongo. Usually, he had something to trade for using his friend’s properties, but he didn’t have a damn thing to offer, which is why he’d slipped Emily in at Kumu Pili under Mongo’s nose. Maybe he’d do it for one of Hani’s rice plates. Or a date with Akela—

      A muffled ringing emanated from his shorts.

      He turned around in time to catch another one of Emily’s wide-eyed expressions of surprise. Well, at least he was keeping her on her toes. He started for the hotel exit with Emily hot on his heels.

      “No phone, huh?”

      He ignored her angry growl and dug the most outdated camera phone in existence from the side pocket of his khaki cargo shorts, still moving. “It’s not mine, okay? It’s the business phone. Emergencies only.”

      “Oh? And if I’d had an emergency last night whilst stranded in the middle of the jungle?”

      “It’s for my other job, your highness.”

      “As what? A drug dealer?” She mean-mugged him a final time, crossed her arms, and waited like she expected him to confirm or deny the accusation.

      Boston breathed in through his nostrils and slowly un-gritted his teeth.

      She’s not worth the worn enamel. Her uppity, demanding attitude was starting to wear pretty damn thin.

      “Excuse me.” He barked a greeting into the cell phone. Only Hani had the number, and if he was using precious minutes, it meant something serious.

      “Boston, I need you here. Ryder’s been processed. He’ll show up any minute.”

      “That’s great, man, but why can’t this wait?” He lowered his voice and moved to the other side of the parked van, away from Emily, not without some measure of relief. Her fixed stare could crack granite. “I screwed up at the tree house. Mongo booked legit clients, and the Hilton doesn’t have a single vacancy. Once I get Emily settled, I’ll swing by.”

      Hani became urgent. “Bos, you should come now. It’s about Kale.”

      Boston waited until Emily had wrenched the van’s passenger door open and climbed inside. “I can’t bring Emily to The Canopy. You’re out of your mind. I told her I’d show her the underbelly of the island, but I damn sure didn’t mean that. Besides, this lady… I might strangle her, Hani. If they find her mangled body floating in one of the harbors, do me a favor and assume I offed myself shortly afterward. I wouldn’t do well in prison.”

      “That’s not funny, man.”

      “It wasn’t supposed to be. Kale hasn’t been gone long. He’s probably hiding out or trying to find passage to the mainland.”

      Hani’s voice grew heavier, into a tone Boston never ignored. “I told you, Kale hasn’t been around for a while. He has a room here, man. He’s not some in-and-out straggler. He lives here. You tell me, Bos, why a man on the run from the United States Army would leave a safe haven once he found one? There ain’t no sense in it. He was safe here. He’s missing, and I think he’s in trouble.”

      Boston groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Goddamn it, Hani. I can’t believe I’m gonna do this. I swear, if I lose this client, we’re screwed. You understand me? There’s no way I can pay Quinn back her deposit or money for the hotel room.”

      “That ain’t even the biggest problem you got, my friend.”

      “Oh? You have something else for me? More broken kitchen equipment or missing residents? Have you checked on Thompson lately?”

      “Worse. You had a visitor this morning. Jordan Stacey came by to see you. There’s a message, but I’ll give it to you in person. I prob’ly don’t need to tell you this, brother, but I ain’t too happy to see her showing up here. I thought it was done.”

      “It is done.” Boston ended the call and slumped against the van. What the hell had he done in a previous life to deserve this? Robbed banks? Drowned pretentious corporate mules?

      Jordan Stacey, the last person on the planet he wanted to ever see again, showing up at the one place Boston considered a refuge. The last time she’d cropped up at The Canopy, it had almost cost him everything. On the upside, with each passing minute he had less for her to take.