Reena returned from the lunch date with her brother completely exhausted. She’d just sat there and ate, but she felt like she’d gone one round too many with the MMA world champ. As she'd suspected he would, Marc had apologized for what he’d said the previous evening. Then he’d tried to make her reconsider leaving after the case was closed, tried to convince her to tell the truth, no matter the repercussions.

So she’d told him, not mincing words, that she’d be damned before she put him in danger of someone using him as collateral or ruin his career only so he’d get his girlfriend back.

Then he’d been adamant at coming up with a story, any story, as long as she stayed in Hawaii, and she felt drained.

Besides, there was nothing here for her—except him, that is—but she could always visit. She had a job in Washington, she had an apartment in D.C. She had a life in D.C. Only one person could make her change her mind, and he wasn’t available.

So she’d leave as soon as the case was closed, leave as quietly as she’s come to the islands.

And since she wanted to do that as quickly as possible, she needed to step up her game in trying to locate Wo Fat. He was the only one still living that could shed light on what governor Pat Jameson had been involved in and whether the investigation into her dealings was what got Steve’s father killed. And which investigation had gotten his mother killed.

Pity, he was holed up so well, no one seemed to know where he was. And those who knew were too scared to talk—not that she could find one of those, either. Ed had been unsuccessful, so had been her other contacts. The only thing she could confirm was the fact the guy was actually in Hawaii.

She had an inkling on how to find him, though. The only problem was, she had still to sort through the info in the IA database. Those cockroaches needed a system administrator, and they needed one badly. How could they find anything in that mess, was beyond her. How they could actually make any cases, and make them stick, was nothing less than a miracle.

If her own computer was that disorganized...Reena shuddered at the mere thought.

She peeked into her den where her computer hummed merrily as it searched the data and sorted it according to the percentage of ‘compatibility’ with her comprehensive search string.

She was sure Vincent Fryer hadn’t handed over all the information on Frank Delano and his cronies. So she was searching for info on the Delano investigation. She could bet the dirty cops knew where Wo Fat was and that Fryer knew more about Delano’s hideouts than he let on. It was just a matter of time before she found the right file, then...Show time.

For the first time in more than a day, Reena smiled.




Diamond Head, Honolulu, 10 p.m.

A black VW Beetle, its top down, stopped in front of the wrought-iron gate of a luscious estate in one of Honolulu’s poshest neighborhoods. The armed guard at the gate approached the car, his gaze running appreciatively over what he could see of the driver.

Shoulder-length dark hair curled away from a heart-shaped face with large, sultry-looking eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and luscious lips. A thin scarf was tied around her neck, slightly covering the generous cleavage, revealed by the black, spaghetti-strapped dress.

“Hola,” she greeted in a throaty voice that made him think of hot nights, satin sheets, and sweaty sex, and extended her hand, a white sheet of paper between her index and middle finger.

He nodded to his colleague manning the gate. He didn’t need to check the list—there was no list—the invitations were custom made and only people who were meant to get them received one. “Enjoy your evening,” he wished with one last longing glance.

“Gracias.” And she was off, through the gate toward the small mansion.

Once arrived in front of the house, she thanked the valet who helped her out of the car, moved her clutch into her left hand, and offered her right to the aging butler manning the front door as he escorted her inside the house.

“Dios mio, what a lovely house,” she said, her Spanish accent giving the words an added melodic cadence. “Reminds me of my abuela’s hacienda near Buenos Aires.”

The butler merely nodded, excused himself, and returned to his post, leaving her to mingle.

She played with the ends of her scarf, wiggled her hips to the salsa beat flooding the large, open-space ground floor of the mansion. She picked a glass filled with a pink concoction off a tray, sniffed, thought better of it, and placed it back on the tray.

“Drink not to your liking?”

She whirled and smiled at the man who’d spoken. “Not really. Too girly.” Also spiked with something beside alcohol. “I prefer something with more kick.”

“Ah, my kind of girl.” His veiled eyes narrowed slightly. “I like your accent. Mexico?”

“Argentina.” She extended her hand. “Angélica Castillo Vazquez.”

His fingers engulfed hers. “Frank Delano.” He held her hand a little longer than norm, his gaze running up and down her body with open appreciation. “Do you salsa?”

“It’s in my sangre.”

“Your blood huh?” Still holding her hand, he spun her around, pressed her back to his front. “Show me,” he whispered in her ear.

She rolled her hips, felt his instant reaction, smiled, whirled away, faced him, and crooked her finger. “Let’s dance, señor Delano.”

He sneaked a hand around her waist, pulled her to him. “Call me Frank.”




Frank Delano felt like his dick might explode if he didn’t get it inside the little tease in his arms soon. It didn’t matter where, her mouth, her pussy, her ass, as long as he got it in. The little bitch wouldn’t mind which hole he plugged first. She was as hot as he was, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat.

He cupped her breast and she playfully slapped his hand away. He growled and she pouted.

“I’m not into public displays, Frank,” she purred. “If you want me, you’ll get me, but alone.”

He pulled her lower body closer to his, rubbing her against his cock. He was so hard, he could hammer nails. “Oh, I want you, beautiful. I want you in all the possible ways. And you’ll take me in all the possible ways.”

Her eyes dilated and he grinned. She rubbed herself against him some more and her groaned. He saw goose-bumps raise on the skin of her shoulders and he growled. He’s had enough foreplay, he needed to fuck.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled into her hair, licking the shell of her ear.

“Sì, por favor. Quiero ser tuya.”

Damn, that voice, so sultry, so inviting. And when she spoke in her native language. God, she was hot as hell. He grabbed her arm and almost dragged her upstairs, so eager he was to ram himself inside her. He opened the master suite’s door, but she suddenly stopped.

She looked at the guard at the end of the hall watching them with envy.

“Do you want him to join us?” he asked, already thinking logistics, but she shook her head.

“I don’t want him to listen. Can you get rid of him?”

Frank was getting impatient. “He’s at the end of the hall. What can he hear from there?”

“I’m a screamer,” she murmured and his dick got even harder. “I won’t be able to enjoy it so much, if I know he’s listening.”

He could easily drag her inside the room and make her enjoy it, but Frank wasn’t one of those men who took their pleasure and didn’t care about the woman they were with. He prided himself on being quite a connoisseur of bed play and that included giving his bed partner pleasure as well as him receiving in. If she said she wouldn’t be able to enjoy fucking as much with the guy pressing his ear to the door—which he was planning to do, judging by the lustful look in his eyes—Frank would make sure the distraction disappeared.

He left Angélica at the door, walked down the hallway, and quietly dismissed the guard, adding just enough threat to his voice and death to his eyes, that the guy wouldn’t dream of attempting anything.

When he returned, her brilliant smile was a small reward for his accomplishment, the invitation in her eyes promising something more substantial and infinitely more carnal when the door was closed behind them.

Frank leaned forward to kiss her, but she giggled, and danced out of his arms into the bedroom. Narrowing his eyes, he followed, but when he entered the room, there was no sign of her. Then, he heard the door close softly behind him, heard the faint click of the key turning in the lock, and he grinned.

The grin disappeared, when he turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

She smiled icily at the complete change in his expression. Anger, speculation, and a pinch of fear replaced lust. She shuddered slightly at the memory of his hands on her. She couldn’t wait to get home and wash all traces of him off her skin.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Frank asked, his mind racing. The music at the lower floor was too loud for anyone to hear them, he’s dismissed the guard in the hallway—stupid of him to fall for a phony bitch—so the only option was going for his gun.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, but of course the idiot didn’t listen.

Five seconds later Frank Delano found himself lying on the carpet, his nose bleeding, his wrist broken, and his dignity gone. She’s disarmed him before he could blink, the bitch has even taken his backup from his ankle-holster, and then punched him in the nose with a force that belied that slender frame.

“Who the hell are you?” he snarled.

“That’s none of your business, Frank. It’s what I want that’s important.”

He scowled at her lack of accent. “And what is that?”

“Information.”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

Reena smiled again. All teeth, no warmth. “I wish you didn’t say that.”




Ten minutes later, Frank Delano was still on the floor, covered in sweat, occasional nervous twitches shaking his body, the front of his pants wet. He wanted to tell the bitch to go to hell, curse her and her family, but couldn’t muster enough strength to do it. He was wiped out. He had no idea what she’s done to him, not exactly. All he knew was that he’d answered all her questions, told her what he knew, and had been about to beg, when she stopped, straightened, and left him there, lying in his own piss, while she went to the adjacent bathroom.

That was the perfect opportunity for escape, but his sight was blurry and he was shaking so much, he could do nothing but to lay there, waiting for the bitch to come back and do whatever she wanted with him.

Reena washed her hands one last time, watching her reflection in the mirror. It was time to make her exit. She fixed her scarf, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and returned to the bedroom. He was still lying on the carpet, reeking of urine and sweat and her stomach rolled slightly.

“Thank you, Mr. Delano. It had been very enlightening talking to you.”

He narrowed his eyes, but kept quiet, conserving his strength.

Reena nodded, pulled a card from her cleavage. “Tell him to call this number when he’s ready. Good night, Mr. Delano.”

And she unlocked the door, closed it softly behind her, and leisurely walked downstairs and out of the house. She collected her car, drove through the gate, waving at the guard who’d let her in, and punched the gas pedal when she hit the main road, letting the breeze soothe her feverish skin.

It was done.

Now the ball was in Wo Fat’s court.