pretending to be a wedding plantation.
Damn it, I need to get in there and find out what RIOT is up to and when the sale of the Pinpoint Project is supposed to go down. I’ll have to find another way. And quickly.
The thought of Shen Lin getting the jump on George and strangling him before George could react sent a shiver down Ty’s back. George had been the best wushu expert the Agency had had in thirty years. A regular Bruce Lee with the mild manners and soft-spoken nature of George Smiley.
George had saved Ty’s ass in what they later laughingly referred to as the great Beijing Pearl Market Caper. Ty had taken on six monkey knife fighters each armed with a kris when George appeared out of the shadows to take down four of them, leaving Ty with a measly two to handle.
Ty ran his hand through his hair. Now someone even more deadly and skilled had gotten the jump on Lin. Of course, Lin’s killer got away clean. And Ty had had the misfortune of arriving while there was still a spark of pleading life left in Lin’s eyes.
Lin had been cocky, always ready with a story of his sexual exploits told in his Chinese New York accent. But he’d been a hell of a waiter. If Lin hadn’t murdered George, and been aiding the world’s most dangerous terrorist organization, Ty wouldn’t have minded shooting the breeze with him when he dined at Woo Ming’s.
Ty couldn’t just stand by and watch Lin die without at least making an attempt at saving him and pumping what info he could out of him. Which turned out to be exactly nothing. Hard to talk with a slit throat. Talking is also not the first thing on your mind as your lifeblood is spurting out of you before your eyes.
In the end, all Ty accomplished for his humanitarian effort was contaminating the crime scene, incriminating himself in Lin’s murder—being covered in the victim’s blood will tend to do that—and nearly blowing both his cover and the mission.
And for all his trouble, he had had to duck out of Woo Ming’s without getting his favorite Kahlúa-barbecued pork eggroll. All that foiled lifesaving left him with too little time before the sunset cruise to clean the bloody mess up himself.
Turned out calling Derek and his informal hazmat team to dispose of the body hadn’t been the best move, either. Next time he’d have to remind Derek to dump in deeper, shark-infested waters. There’d better be a good story behind why Lin’s body only made it as far as the harbor.
Which led to Ty’s favorite event of the day, the complete hat trick. Lin’s body ends up as a floater wedged against the bottom of the glass-bottomed boat for Treflee to find and freak out over.
She was supposed to have been getting pelvis-pounding, lust-inducing ideas from watching bare chests, undulating hips, and the swish of grass skirts. To remember the time he’d taken her to Waikiki five years ago and humored her by taking a hula lesson with her. The grass skirts they’d bought. How they’d laughed and danced a seductive hula all the way to bed. How much he loved her then … and now.
So that when he professed his undying love after the cruise, gave her the eighteen-inch princess-length string of perfect white pearls he’d bought for her months ago, and made his move, she’d be hyped up and receptive. But, no. He was the one who had ended up all wet tonight. A complete failure on all missions.
He took a deep breath and stared at the moonlit-tipped waves as they crashed in. The sand felt cool and refreshing beneath his feet. He dug his toes in and wished he could stand there forever with nothing more important on his agenda than simply breathing.
But he never shirked duty. Back at the plantation house, a whole host of problems awaited him. In unison with the thought, he turned to look over his shoulder. A flutter of curtains by a balcony door on the second floor of Big Auau caught his attention.
What the—
That’s my room! He frowned, staring intently at the scene. I didn’t
Damn it, I need to get in there and find out what RIOT is up to and when the sale of the Pinpoint Project is supposed to go down. I’ll have to find another way. And quickly.
The thought of Shen Lin getting the jump on George and strangling him before George could react sent a shiver down Ty’s back. George had been the best wushu expert the Agency had had in thirty years. A regular Bruce Lee with the mild manners and soft-spoken nature of George Smiley.
George had saved Ty’s ass in what they later laughingly referred to as the great Beijing Pearl Market Caper. Ty had taken on six monkey knife fighters each armed with a kris when George appeared out of the shadows to take down four of them, leaving Ty with a measly two to handle.
Ty ran his hand through his hair. Now someone even more deadly and skilled had gotten the jump on Lin. Of course, Lin’s killer got away clean. And Ty had had the misfortune of arriving while there was still a spark of pleading life left in Lin’s eyes.
Lin had been cocky, always ready with a story of his sexual exploits told in his Chinese New York accent. But he’d been a hell of a waiter. If Lin hadn’t murdered George, and been aiding the world’s most dangerous terrorist organization, Ty wouldn’t have minded shooting the breeze with him when he dined at Woo Ming’s.
Ty couldn’t just stand by and watch Lin die without at least making an attempt at saving him and pumping what info he could out of him. Which turned out to be exactly nothing. Hard to talk with a slit throat. Talking is also not the first thing on your mind as your lifeblood is spurting out of you before your eyes.
In the end, all Ty accomplished for his humanitarian effort was contaminating the crime scene, incriminating himself in Lin’s murder—being covered in the victim’s blood will tend to do that—and nearly blowing both his cover and the mission.
And for all his trouble, he had had to duck out of Woo Ming’s without getting his favorite Kahlúa-barbecued pork eggroll. All that foiled lifesaving left him with too little time before the sunset cruise to clean the bloody mess up himself.
Turned out calling Derek and his informal hazmat team to dispose of the body hadn’t been the best move, either. Next time he’d have to remind Derek to dump in deeper, shark-infested waters. There’d better be a good story behind why Lin’s body only made it as far as the harbor.
Which led to Ty’s favorite event of the day, the complete hat trick. Lin’s body ends up as a floater wedged against the bottom of the glass-bottomed boat for Treflee to find and freak out over.
She was supposed to have been getting pelvis-pounding, lust-inducing ideas from watching bare chests, undulating hips, and the swish of grass skirts. To remember the time he’d taken her to Waikiki five years ago and humored her by taking a hula lesson with her. The grass skirts they’d bought. How they’d laughed and danced a seductive hula all the way to bed. How much he loved her then … and now.
So that when he professed his undying love after the cruise, gave her the eighteen-inch princess-length string of perfect white pearls he’d bought for her months ago, and made his move, she’d be hyped up and receptive. But, no. He was the one who had ended up all wet tonight. A complete failure on all missions.
He took a deep breath and stared at the moonlit-tipped waves as they crashed in. The sand felt cool and refreshing beneath his feet. He dug his toes in and wished he could stand there forever with nothing more important on his agenda than simply breathing.
But he never shirked duty. Back at the plantation house, a whole host of problems awaited him. In unison with the thought, he turned to look over his shoulder. A flutter of curtains by a balcony door on the second floor of Big Auau caught his attention.
What the—
That’s my room! He frowned, staring intently at the scene. I didn’t
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