Sophie rubbed the scar on her cheekbone. Touching the rough, bumpy ridge, oddly numb and sometimes tingly, had become something of a habit. A gunshot wound repair, the skin graft over a prosthetic cheekbone had altered her appearance, but Sophie was the one who seemed most bothered by it. She breathed deliberately—her injured ribs still hurt, and McDonald’s revelation had made her want to get up and run. Or fight. Or both.

Akane Chang was, apparently, a nightmare she hadn’t yet left behind.

Connor stared at her intensely, sea-blue eyes hidden behind those dark contacts and hipster glasses that were part of his Sheldon Hamilton disguise.

“You knew about Akane Chang.” Sophie made herself stop rubbing the scar.

“I monitor everything that might be a threat.” Connor removed the glasses and leaned forward to take out the contacts, slipping the lenses into a small plastic container. “I was looking forward to this occasion of privacy to discuss his escape.”

“I stopped monitoring Akane after the trial,” Sophie said. “Was just hoping that monster was going to be behind bars and out of circulation permanently. Son of a pox-ridden whore!” She swore in Thai and closed her eyes for a moment, covering them with a hand. “Couldn’t just one sadistic killer I’ve dealt with stay in jail?”

As Connor had pointed out, she hadn’t been sleeping well. She and Jake had been staying in a run-down motel in Hilo Bay, and in spite of a lot of very good sex, insomnia plagued her nightly, peppered with trauma flashbacks and feedback loops of regret, many of which involved Alika Wolcott.

“That’s the depression talking.” Dr. Wilson, her therapist, spoke in her head. “Guilt doesn’t help anyone.”

Yes. The depression had a voice, a tone even.

Fortunately, she had a session with Dr. Wilson soon. There would be a lot to cover.

Connor rapped his knuckles on the table to get her attention. “We have a reprieve from the CIA situation for the moment, but your mother needs something to keep her on the line. I propose we call her; you can tell her about Akane.”

“Why would I do that?”

Connor shrugged. “She is an assassin, after all.”

Sophie really focused on Connor’s face for the first time that day. The man was almost too handsome with his classical features, square jaw, and those changeable blue-green eyes. His dark brown hair was a part of his Hamilton persona, but she still remembered it blond.

She stiffened at the reminder that Pim Wat was not only a spy—her mother was a murderer. “I only have your word on that.”

Connor’s eyes flashed with temper. “Why don’t you ask Pim Wat yourself?” He grabbed Sophie’s phone, scrolled a moment and pressed a button, put it on speaker, and pushed the device toward Sophie.

No time to prepare, rehearse, or otherwise brace herself.

Pim Wat’s husky voice came on, speaking Thai. “Sophie Malee?”

“Mother.” Sophie blew out a breath, not sure how to proceed.

“You took long enough to call. I was beginning to be concerned.” Pim Wat sounded sad, a tone Sophie was all too familiar with—and that note sparked anger. Because it was fake, that sadness, a lie. Sophie had dealt with it her entire childhood.

“Quit pretending, Mother. You just want to know if I’ll do your job.”

A pause.

“You’re testy today.” Pim Wat’s voice had modulated upward. They were still speaking Thai, and Sophie slanted a glance at Connor, not sure if he was following everything—or if he needed to. His head was cocked to the side, and he gave a slight nod. He’d been studying Thai, and he was following so far.

“Perhaps that new lover of yours is not so good in bed,” Pim Wat mused.

Sophie flushed. “You’re spying on me now?”

“It’s what I do, Sophie Malee.” Pim Wat’s voice was coolly amused. Only her mother called her that. “Jake Dunn appears to be a fine physical specimen. I’m sure I could teach him whatever he might be lacking in skills.”

“By Kali’s left tit, Mother, this is no way to get on my good side,” Sophie said.

“You and your varied deity curses. Amusing. I need to placate you now? Very well.” Pim Wat sighed, put upon. “I killed the man who tried to blow you up with the bomb. It was not easy. I took a bullet to do it. In the vest, it’s true, but it still hurt like a water buffalo’s kick. And I did that for you, Sophie.”

Sophie opened and closed her mouth, meeting Connor’s gaze. Her mother was bragging about a kill!

Connor closed one eye in a slow, deliberate wink.

That wink that told her she wasn’t alone.

That wink that reassured her they were on the same side—and it was not her mother’s.

And that wink that hinted at a deeper knowledge of everything about the situation.

Trust Connor to be way out in front of Pim Wat. Sophie didn’t have to know exactly what he was doing to know that it would be effective.

Sophie felt ridiculously reassured. Connor could handle her mother. She looked back down at the phone, trying to muster an appropriate response.

Pim Wat went on, apparently concerned about Sophie’s silence. “The Lizard was a cagey and cautious assassin. He wouldn’t have stopped trying to tick you off his kill list—he was egotistical that way.” Pim Wat sounded primly disapproving. “So, I removed him.”

“You’re a killer as well as a spy?” Sophie didn’t have to fake the way her voice cracked. “My mother. A lying murderer.”

“Oh, silly girl,” Pim Wat snapped. “You and your American self-pity, tender sensibilities and mental anguish. Please. Spare me the petty judgments. I do what needs to be done. What others cannot. For the good of my country and my family.” Sophie was chilled at the similarity of Pim Wat’s words to things the Ghost had said. “If you cannot see what I did as the gift it was, you are the petty one.”

Sophie shut her eyes, trying to sort through her responses to find one that would serve the purpose of engaging her mother and building trust.

“The Lizard was nearly effective at killing me several times. The world is a better place without him,” Sophie said. That much was true. “If only Akane Chang could meet the same fate. The man escaped from jail on Oahu.”

Pim Wat cursed, a fluid rush of profanity that put Sophie’s creative attempts to shame. “Akane Chang is dangerous to you, my daughter.”

“No shit.” The Americanism seemed appropriate. Sophie met Connor’s gaze again. “I’m worried about Akane being on the loose. The Big Island is his home. He will be coming here.”

“Where was he last seen?”

“I don’t know anything but what I’ve told you. His escape is being kept quiet.”

A long pause. “When can we meet in person, to discuss your role with the Yām Khûmkạn?”

“Soon, Mother. Just give me a little more time to get situated. I’m looking for a more permanent dwelling, and getting the office up and running…”

“All of that is irrelevant. I want you to get started on the computer system rebuild that our organization needs,” Pim Wat snapped.

“I’m telling you, I’m not ready. Find someone else if you need it done right away,” Sophie said.

“Perhaps I will.” Pim Wat ended the call with a click.

Sophie sagged in her chair, covering her face with her hands. “Devil swine! Foul stench of a bloated corpse! Rat-infested warehouse filled with broken dildos!”

“Not bad, but I rather think your mother has you beat in the cursing department,” Connor observed. “Still wondering whether or not she’s an assassin?”

“No. She definitely confirmed it.” Sophie put her hands down, glancing at the phone. “Oh no! I have to meet Jake soon. We’re having dinner in town.”

Connor’s expression didn’t change—it just seemed to freeze. “Have fun.” He got up from the table and turned his back, sliding his laptop into a briefcase. “I’ll be here in Hilo for a few more hours. Going to Oahu to check in with Bix and the main office. There are company matters that demand Sheldon Hamilton’s attention.”

“I want to bring Jake in on this.” Sophie spread her hands on the table, steadying herself. “He deserves it.”

“This?”

“This. He already knows about my mother. I want him to know everything about what’s going on. You. The Yām Khûmkạn.”

“No.”

“No? You don’t get to dictate everything about this situation!” Sophie stood. “These things affect me. They’re my life. I don’t want to keep secrets from Jake that I don’t have to!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Connor quirked a brow. “Jake wants to be more than your booty call?”

“Oh.” Sophie sucked a breath. “I’m done here.” She swept up her nylon pack and headed for the door of the jet, pushed it open.

Connor touched her arm. “Sophie. I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“Yes, it was.” She glared at him. “You’re jealous.”

He stiffened. “I’m doing my best.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Sophie finally sighed. “I won’t tell him about you and the Ghost. But please. All this sneaking around with the Yām Khûmkạn and the CIA would be so much easier if I didn’t have to hide everything. He’s suspicious. And he’s jealous, too.” Sophie took a step down out of the plane. Warm wind, smelling of diesel fumes, swirled around her. She glanced out at the bulk of Kilauea. The wind direction had changed, a rare occurrence, and brought volcanic emissions, commonly known as vog, with it. The soft gray of the particulate ash shrouded Hilo like a photographer’s filter.

“Damn it.” Connor tugged at his hair in agitation. “Tell him if you must. But keep me out of it. We’ll talk soon.”