Debriefed, fed, and showered after stopping by to verify that Tank was indeed going to survive, Sophie snuggled in bed with Jake at the motel as the TV played some old movie on mute in the background behind her. She basked in his furnace-like body heat as a chilly, wet Hilo night enfolded them. She couldn’t seem to get enough of being hugged and held by him since the ordeal with Chang, and he seemed more than willing. She felt cherished, protected and warm in his arms.

She really would have liked more than that to be happening, though. Sophie slid a hand under Jake’s shirt, savoring the feel of his rock-hard abs. Jake gently but firmly removed her hand and put it on her own hip. “I told you my terms. I’m your guy, or no nookie.”

“Nookie?” Sophie’s brows arched at the term.

“It’s . . . erm. My parents called it that.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you comparing sex with me to the sex your parents had,” Sophie said, her mouth quirking up in a smile.

“Ha. Didn’t mean to . . . whatever. You know what I’m saying. We talked about this earlier.”

Sophie sighed in resignation, folding her hands up under her chin. Jake drew her closer and kissed her forehead, snuggling her against his chest, but with no other body contact.

“Tell me about your parents. I’ve never asked you about them,” Sophie said.

“Oh, they weren’t that interesting. Typical Army couple. We moved a lot. Mom lives in Texas now, near my sister who’s married with a baby on the way. My other sister lives in Chicago.”

Sophie turned away so that he fitted against her from behind. It felt easier to talk without facing him. “You forget. I don’t know much about American culture except what I’ve read.” She stroked the back of Jake’s arm where it crossed over her waist, enjoying the feel of his springy, blondish hairs. She lifted his hand and looked at the tender blue veins at his wrist, remembering an impulse not long ago to kiss him there. So vulnerable, a web of fragile life lying over the toughness of sinew and bone.

Sophie gave in to the impulse and lifted his wrist to kiss the nexus of veins softly as she’d wanted to do then. “Tell me about your father. You never talk about him.”

“That’s because he . . . left our family. Abandoned Mom, me and my younger sisters. I was fifteen when he came home one day and told Mom he was leaving her for his secretary.”

“Oh no.” Sophie stroked Jake’s wrist, her fingers tracing the many textures. He had a calloused area in the web between his thumb and forefinger, likely from handling weapons or pushing weights. “That’s terrible.”

“Dad was career Army. Mom was a traditional homemaker who hadn’t kept up her job as a teacher because we moved so often with his postings and she had the three of us to care for. I didn’t know it until he left, but he was often unfaithful. Mom wasn’t even surprised about the secretary. She was just surprised that he had no honor about how he left, or providing for us.” Jake sighed. His breath stirred the hairs behind Sophie’s ear and she suppressed a shudder of arousal. “I became an investigator the day Mom sat us down and told us he was gone. He hadn’t said goodbye to any of the three of us. Wanted to avoid a scene, she said. I went after him, trying to find out who he’d really been. I didn’t like the answers I found.”

Sophie felt the rigidity of old pain in Jake’s muscles but she held herself still, resisting the urge to soothe and comfort—it wouldn’t work. “Dad was eventually forced to pay child support by the court. I . . . had a rough time that year. Became angry, wild. Reckless. Lots of fighting. Deciding to try for Special Forces after high school saved me from getting into drugs or partying, though. I joined up the minute I was eligible.”

“You wanted to outshine your father. Beat him at his own career.”

“Yes. And I did. But I had trouble trusting people. Women. I couldn’t commit. I guess I’ve been afraid I wasn’t capable of it, that I was too much like him.”

“Smart to avoid it then,” Sophie said.

Jake gave a mirthless chuckle. “I thought you’d agree with avoidance. You have a secret admirer, you know.”

“What?” Sophie twisted to meet Jake’s gaze. Evening shadows colored them stone gray in the low light of the motel’s small bedside lamp. “Who?”

“Didn’t you wonder how I found you?”

“I assume you tracked my phone. And then at the van, you were smart enough to know Ginger could find me.”

The Lab, lying on the rug at the foot of the bed, lifted her head at the sound of her name. She was mopey without Tank, who was recovering at the animal hospital and would be released in a few days if all went well.

“No. Your phone’s signal cut off a few minutes after you answered my call and I couldn’t get it again even with the Find My Phone app. I opted to stay with Tank while Wong and Freitan went off to get Terence Chang and try to shake Akane’s location out of him. While the vet was stabilizing Tank, I got a call from an Unidentified Number.”

Sophie stiffened. “Who was it?”

“The dude wouldn’t say. Told me that he was tracking your phone and had a satellite picture to share with me that showed where the van that took you was. I tried to ask him more, and he just asked if I wanted to help you, or should he call someone else?” Jake squeezed Sophie closer. She could feel how much he wanted her, a sweet suffering they shared. “I told him to send me the picture, and that’s how I found the van. I forwarded the satellite photo to Freitan and Wong and they called for an ambulance and backup. Later, while you were giving your statement, he called again to see if I’d rescued you. He warned me off. Said you were spoken for, and that you’d know who he was.”

“Yes, I know who he is.” Sophie extracted herself from Jake’s arms in agitation. “But he has no claim on me. We are not involved.”

“I thought you got rid of all the dangerous stalkers in your life when you killed Assan Ang,” Jake said in a dry tone. “That man sounded like money. And power.”

Sophie decided to ignore the accusation in his voice. “I told you I had secrets I couldn’t share with you. And he is one of them. He is . . . monitoring me. He is not a danger to me.”

“Anyone who can use a satellite as his personal nanny cam and lacks the scruples to abide by the law could be dangerous to you, or others.” Jake’s eyes had gone flinty and his jaw was hard as he propped himself on an elbow.

“I can’t talk about this man. I’m sorry, Jake. But trust me when I tell you—I have no romantic interest in him,” Sophie said forcefully.

“You’ve got no romantic interest in me, either, it seems.” Jake rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. “You must like guys with helicopters, then. All I’m saying.”

“Are you pouting? Is that what you’re doing when your mouth droops like that?”

Jake laughed. She’d come to love that—Jake was never discouraged or downcast long, and his unsinkability was a tonic for her depressive struggles.

“Fine. I was pouting.” Jake sat up. He gave her exaggerated bedroom eyes, fluttering his lashes, and peeled his shirt off over his head, tossing it across the room. He flexed his arms and tightened his abs, striking a pose. “Now I’ll just have to rely on my looks and charm to wear you down. Come over here and snuggle with all of this. Platonically. Until you’re ready to be my girl and have it all for yourself.”

Sophie groaned. “No, thanks. You are beefcake—I understand that word now—and I’m a hungry woman. I’d better go to my own room so I can respect your terms.” She walked to the connecting door. Ginger rose and joined her, and Sophie looked back at Jake. “I wish I were ready to be your girl.”

“Me too. Now get out of here so I can take a cold shower,” Jake grumbled, and threw his pillow at her.