Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) (12 page)

He could see
straight into the suite. Keefer took a drag off his cigarette, blew out a few
smoke rings as he put his feet on the floor and plucked a pineapple ring off a
bedside tray. Keefer didn’t yet know the complete magnitude of what Anjelee had
done in Hawaii, and certainly not since then with her second bribery. Anjelee,
on the other hand, knew exactly what this call entailed—if the catatonic
expression on her face were any indication.

Jager couldn’t
help but feel sympathy for her. He’d come to realize that
her
tough shell could be easily cracked by backing down on the threats and showing
her some respect and true emotion
. His chest tightened. He could only
imagine what love could do to that cracked shell. Would it break away the
fractured exterior and reveal the vulnerable, sweet woman he suspected hid inside
her? Or would she cement the pieces back together and bar him from her heart
forever?

“Are you still
trailing her?” Mitch asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure
am...”

Mitch’s voice
droned on in his ear as Jager’s gaze followed Anjelee around the room. She
glided naked across the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. He waited
eagerly for her return. She emerged with her long tresses secured in a
haphazard knot on top of her head. Wild strands escaped here and there. Jager’s
fingers clenched. He longed to run them through the bright silk and release the
fastener.

He braced
himself for the onslaught of desire when she melted into Keefer’s embrace. But
the need was doused when he saw her frail shoulders shaking while Keefer
stroked her back. Was she crying?

“Jager, goddamn
it, are you listening to me?” Mitch’s annoyed tone broke into Jager’s thoughts.
He whirled around with his back to the suite and looked down on the dark,
churning sea. He focused on the roar of it, tried to think of anything except
Anjelee crying and Keefer comforting her when Jager couldn’t.

“Yes, yes, I am.
Sorry. Now, what were you saying?”

Mitch growled.
“What the hell’s up with you? You seem really distracted.”

Jager clamped
his eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of the rock-and-roll music
Keefer must have just dialed up on the room’s sound system. “I’ve had a few
cocktails.”

“Cocktails? When
you’re supposed to be watching her?”

He pinched the
bridge of his nose.
Oh, I’m watching her,
all right.
Watching and obsessing over that tight little rump
when I should be spanking it instead
.
“It’s part of the...game. I can’t just sit around and stare at her, or stalk
her like a creep. Security’ll have my ass thrown right off the island.”

“Okay, okay, I’d
have to concede that point.
But what about the files?
Were you able to get into her room and search her laptop for the pictures,
maybe hack into her email accounts and copy the evidence that it was her who
sent the anonymous bribe?”

Laptop. Shit,
he’d forgotten about that part. It would be the perfect opportunity, now when
they were here instead of in their regular room. They’d left most of their
belongings there. But had she even brought her laptop with her to Karibu? And
did it matter anymore at this point?

“I, uh, think I
have a good plan to get access to their room,” he lied, but he’d already had
access from day one. “Give me time. A few more days and I should have
everything secured.”

“I know you have
to be careful, take time to seduce and manipulate her like we’d planned, but
hell, Kiona’s been a wreck. If you can wrap it up sooner than later, do it,
dude.”

The phone
crackled and cut out—thank God.

Jager nodded.
“Sure. Hey, I think I’m losing you. I’ll let ya go.”

“All right, keep
me posted. And if she so much as sets one toe on the airport tarmac, you better
be on that same flight, even if it’s headed to Antarctica. Can’t afford to lose
her again.”

Guilt sat like a
ton of steel on his shoulders. He wished he were in Antarctica right about now.
Buried fifty feet deep under the damn ice. “Gotcha. Tell Kiona to
relax,
I’ve got it handled. Talk to you soon.”

He punched the
End button and strode across the patio. They both stood nude behind the bar
pouring drinks. Hard rock tunes blared over the outdoor speakers. Anjelee’s
tears had dried up. Her eyes were slightly swollen, but it emphasized the
bright color of the irises.

She moved her
curvy body to the beat and smiled at him.

“Everything
okay?” Jager asked her.

“Yep.” She
downed a shot of clear liquor and slammed the glass on the bar top. “Had a
sappy moment where I was missing my sister and mom, but Keef helped me get over
it, so I’m good now, real good. How about you? Anything up in Hawaii?”

“Um, no. He was
just...checking in. But let’s not worry about that and ruin the party. Whatdoya
say?”

She continued to
dance. Her smile was vibrant but her eyes were dull. She glanced away. “Sure.
No worries.”

“I...I’m sorry.”
Jager reached across the bar. She halted her movements when he pinched her chin
and forced her to look into his eyes. “Please. Let’s not let that interfere
with the three of us, with tonight. I called the dog off for now.”

Moisture pooled
in one corner of her eye. It glinted off the moonlight when she gave several
quick nods. “O-okay. Calling off the dog for now s-sounds...good.”

“Well that
settles it, then.” Keefer poured a shot and slid it across the bar to Jager.
“Ding-ding-ding. Time to start round five of the party. Drink up.”

Jager took the
shot, but he didn’t drink it. He let his inspection slide from Keefer’s
nakedness to Anjelee’s gorgeous face. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Of course I
am.” She raised her chin, held out her glass, watched as Keefer poured her
another shot. “I plan to use up every second of this suite upgrade with nothing
but fun, food and partying. And in order to accomplish that, I don’t want to
hear even one word about that phone call. Not one. Not tonight, anyway.”

Her hips swayed
again, then she did a hula wiggle. It caused her bare breasts to bounce, and
the pink nipples went taut.

“Can’t argue
with that logic,” Keefer said. He raised his shot glass and chinked it against
Jager’s. “Cheers, pal.”

“Cheers.” Jager
tossed back the liquor and braced himself for the fire. Yes, he did like his
own logic, twisted as it was. And tonight he intended to make every second count.
Until tomorrow, he’d forget
Mitch,
forget Kiona, Kol
and Anjelee’s troubles.

Damn straight.

It was time to
get the fire started again.

Chapter Eight

Jager rolled
over and found himself flat on the cool tile floor. “Shit.”

He moved his shoulder
but winced at a shooting pain caused by all that twisting and wild lovemaking.
Which reminded him of last night, which, in turn, brought Mitch’s call back to
him on a wave of dread.

“No, not today,”
he muttered, and pushed himself until he lay on his back. He stared at the teak
fan whirring lazily up in the beamed peak of the ceiling. He wasn’t going to
let all the excitement and amazing interaction between the three of them go to
waste. Hell with the laptop. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Or
maybe the next day.

Every muscle in
his body screamed with pleasant aches from their marathon night of lovemaking.
He pressed a row of fingertips to his forehead. His head throbbed from too much
damn champagne, and he had enough cotton in his mouth to fill a fucking field.
Hammered, that’s what he’d been—still was, probably. Hammered and nailed
to a board of commitment with two irresistible, exasperating people.

An onslaught of
“deja brew” hit him. Their wild night came back to him in a wave of drunken
memories. It replayed in his mind...massages, orgasms, swimming, orgasms, wild
swing-sex, orgasms, fine food and drink, orgasms, dancing, more orgasms. Son of
a bitch, what an evil place this was. Total gluttony. He let out a wicked
laugh. The contest prize had definitely been worth ignoring his stage fright
and participating—with the help of some vodka, chocolate and parfaits. He
grinned and dragged himself up to his knees to scan the mattress. Empty. Except
for rumpled sheets and a scattering of vibrators, overturned stemware and
nothing but crumbs left on the fruit and cheese tray, he was alone. His lovers
had abandoned him.

He blinked. Were
they making love somewhere without him?

That
now-familiar swirl of jealousy and anticipation tugged at his gut. He got to
his feet and stumbled out into the bright, late-morning sun. “Christ.” He held
up his hands to ward off the intense rays and search the suite deck for them
through squinted eyes.

He located
Keefer alone on the opposite side of the pool. His upper body glistened in the
sunlight.

Nice.

Jager noted with
a quick scan of the veranda, that despite the lack of company, Keefer had no
problem keeping
himself
occupied. He whacked the ball
over the net and grinned that devastatingly handsome, bad-boy grin that took
Jager’s breath away. Oh, yeah, no squeaky-clean, boy-next-door kind of image
there. The man was like a brick wall painted with graffiti. Dark, tribal-style
tattoos ringed both of his muscled upper arms, and artful serpents, wolves and
blood-soaked swords were depicted on his shoulders, back, and even on one hip.
His American Indian heritage sort of reminded Jager of Mitch and Kiona’s
husband, Kol, the darkly handsome, bad-boy, native-Hawaiian who’d defied
Kiona’s father, Heloki, at every turn in order to keep Kiona in his life.

But Keefer was
much taller than Kol, and he had a far different temperament. Kol was like a
bomb set to detonate at any moment, while Keefer’s feathers remained unruffled,
even with Anjelee’s attempts at plucking them. He exuded quiet confidence and a
universal likability that few could pull off with such an intimidating, huge
body and long, hippy-style hair. He was easygoing, ruggedly attractive and
patient as hell.

Jager gave
himself a mental snort. He supposed anyone would have to resort to patience in
order to keep Anjelee in line.

“Morning.” Jager
slipped nude into the pool. He hissed at the cool water and trudged to the
opposite side to retrieve the ball. He knuckled it across the net, and he and
Keefer began a back-and-forth volleying of the ball as they spoke.

“Hey, you
animal.” Keefer smacked the ball so hard, Jager had to guard his stomach to
ward off the hard hit. He gave Jager
a
once-over look.
“Well, aren’t you a bright ray of fucking sunshine this morning...er, um, make
that almost noon?”

He combed a hand
through his tussled hair. “Ha, funny. So where’s our lady?” He swung his arms
to the sides to do a quick stretch of his pecs before sending the ball zinging
back to Keefer.

“Gone.” Keefer
shrugged. He leaped up and spiked the ball and it landed just out of Jager’s
reach. It bounced off the water’s surface and hit the deck before rolling
toward the umbrellaed patio furniture. “Um, everything cool with that phone
call last night?”

“Yeah, yeah,
fine. Don’t worry about it. Like I said, dogs are called off. I’ve got it
handled.” Jager launched himself out of the pool and retrieved the ball. He
swore he could feel Keefer’s hot gaze warming his backside.

“You sure?”

“As shit.” Damn
it, he knew he sounded unsure by the crack of his voice. But he didn’t want to
ruin the day by discussing Mitch with Keefer, who would then discuss it with
Anjelee and blow the entire vacation. He cleared his throat and tried to mimic
Mitch’s excellent acting skills. “Now, what I want to know is, how could you have
known her for years, and you still don’t know what’s going on inside that
pretty little pink and blonde head of hers?”

“Purple.” His
dark eyes dropped to Jager’s cock. Keefer licked his lips.

Jager’s libido
roared to life.
Yeah, now
this
is what I’m talking about. No stress, just
pure fun.
Heavy heat flooded his groin. “Huh?”

“She just had it
changed to purple at the resort salon this morning. You were out cold.” Keefer
pushed his way through the water and pulled himself up on the pool’s edge. The
sun glinted off his slick skin. Every muscle flexed, like bands of ribbon
snaking around his body.

Damn, the guy
was so hot and fit.

Jager sat next
to Keefer and dangled his legs in the water while doing a toss-up-and-catch with
the volleyball. “You’re fucking kidding. What’s next, green?”

“She already
went through green.” Keefer leaned back and propped himself on his hands. His
soft cock nestled in the glistening-wet pillow of dark hair in his crotch. “I’d
guess black would be next. Or maybe blue.”

Mmm.
Jager’s mouth watered. He recalled the taste and feel of
Keefer’s cock in his mouth...sweet, hard, pulsing. Then Anjelee’s sweet come
melting on his tongue...

Jager averted
his gaze through a line of palm trees, toward the white spikes of sailboats in
the bay below. The sun beat on his shoulders, warming his blood. “I could see
that very easily. And God help me, but all that indecisive change on anyone
else would aggravate the hell outta me. On her, she could shave her head bald
and something about it would excite me.”

“Yeah, I hear
you.”

Jager tossed the
ball into the water. He went and got two beers from the mini-fridge behind the
patio bar, twisted both tops off, handed a cold one to Keefer. “So how could
you have known her for so long and still not know about the extortion? Are you
blind, or what?”

“Fuck you.”
Keefer held the cold bottle to his perspiring forehead then took a long swig.
“You know how she is. She hides her feelings and her private life behind that
outrageous exterior. I swear I didn’t have even a fraction of a clue what was
going on. All she told me, both before and after her trip to Kabana, was that
she was going on an assignment for a magazine to photograph the wedding of the
most famous movie star on the planet. She just went, came back with a big-ass
grin on her face, mumbled something about getting some really cool shots of
Mitch Wulfrum. Of course, she wouldn’t let me look at them, cited some breech
of contract if she did show them to me. No big fuckin’ deal to me, didn’t give
a shit about the star.”

Jager snorted.
“Yeah, damn straight, she had a big-ass grin. At Mitch Wulfrum’s
expense—huge expense.”

“Huh. Well, I
don’t have much sympathy there. He can afford it.”

“Damn it. Why
does everyone keep saying that? It’s still not right. He earned his money, and
just like anyone else on this planet, if the same card were dealt to them,
they’d take it. But the fact is, she blackmailed him, just like I told you that
first day we met in your room. I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
Jager shot Keefer a sidelong look, took a long fizzy swallow of his beer. “I’m
addicted to her. She’s made me lose my ever-fucking mind to the point of
hotness hypnosis. I’ve put my career on the line, and if I don’t find out what
the hell is really going on here, I might as well kiss Mitch Wulfrum and every
dollar in my holdings, goodbye. Not to mention I might be in legal trouble,
too, for knowing where she is and not turning her in.”

Jager took
another long draw on his beer. The cold and bitter froth slid down his throat
and settled into his empty gut. God, he felt sick. He felt empty and cold. Or
was he just that hung over?

“Well, there’s
only one way to find out what to do next.”

“What’s that?”

“Ask her.”
Keefer slid back into the pool and chased down the ball. He held his beer up
with one hand and did a repeated fist-bump on the volleyball with the other.

“You know I’ve
tried that already. She’s not budging. She’s the most stubborn, irksome woman
I’ve ever met.”

Keefer launched
himself up and spiked the ball across the net. “Welcome to The Anjelee Montrose
Club.”

“Huh. Right.
Well, you got anymore suggestions?”

“You could
seduce it out of her…” Keefer waded toward the pool deck and reached for his
cigarettes and lighter.

“Seduce
it—? Ah, now we’re talking. Get down on Anj’s level.”

“Exactly.”
Keefer cupped the flame and puffed the cigarette to life. He tossed the lighter
and cigarette pack out of puddle range and regarded Jager through whorls of
smoke...with eyes of obscure, sinful need. “I just bet, knowing her appetite,
that if she doesn’t talk when you’re withholding an orgasm from her, nothing’ll
make her spill it.”

Jager chugged
the rest of his beer. He looked down at Keefer where he remained standing in
the pool with his arms propped on the edge next to Jager’s hip. Cigarette smoke
wafted up between them. Normally, Jager detested smoke, but it’d grown on him,
the flavor,
the
faint scent in Keefer’s clothes...when
he had them on, at least. From now on, when Jager caught the pungent odor of
smoke, he’d forever think of Karibu and what the three of them had shared here.

His mind moved
from smoke, to Anjelee and tempting her with sexual release. His cock tingled
at the fantasy of it. “Hm, that just might work. Where’d she go?”

When Keefer
didn’t answer, Jager groaned, “Don’t tell me she didn’t... No, s-she didn’t
pack up and leave to who-knows-where,
did
she? Oh
shit, did she—did she go back to L.A.?”

“Nope. She did
storm out the door after she came back from the salon appointment,
though—they didn’t give her the correct shade of purple, which really
pissed her off. But I do know where she went. Shopping at the downtown Karibu
historic district.”

Jager laughed.
“Shopping? At a time like this?”

“It’s how she
relieves stress.” Keefer flicked ashes into a nearby empty champagne bottle. He
eased his free hand onto Jager’s thigh and an instant surge of electricity
traveled up Jager’s leg and settled like a flame in his groin. It mixed in a
vortex of desire with his previous thoughts of Anj. “Spending money—that
is, during the rare times she has any.”

“Oh, believe me,
she should have plenty of money. When will she be back?”

“How the hell
should I know?” Keefer grinned up at Jager, and the rugged expression took
Jager’s breath away. “She said by noon, but she’s always later than she says. I
like to call her a chronoptimist, even though it pisses her the hell off when I
do.”

“Huh, I bet.”

Keefer’s smile
faded. He massaged Jager’s leg and let the edge of his fingers graze over Jager’s
cock. “Anyway, about her money, I’m not privy to her checkbook. And I don’t
wanna
hear anymore of your extortion shit. But if she is
strapped, she just window-shops, or puts things in layaway that she usually
ends up canceling because she can’t afford the payments.”

“That does it.”
It took all the discipline he had to get to his feet. Even though his loins
ached, Jager knew it wasn’t the time to get sidetracked. “Something’s not right
here about her. And I’m going to find out exactly what it is.”

With the
cigarette clamped in his teeth, Keefer dragged himself out of the pool and
snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair. “Not without me you’re not.”

“Well, c’mon,
then.” Jager started toward the suite and gathered up his clothes.

“Wait. On second
thought, I do want to know about the supposed extortion. What the hell do you
know?” Keefer scrubbed his back with the towel then slung it around his neck.

Sonofabitch, he
looked so damn hot.

“You sure you
want to know the real truth about our little nympho?”

Keefer jammed on
some swim trunks. Jager did the same. They left the suite and took the stairs
toward the shopping center.