Birds in Paradise

Part 9

"Kokami, Kyra! What the hell were you thinking going anywhere alone in the middle of the night? Especially to that park?" Pete demanded. I don't think he expected an answer. In fact, I don't think he realized I was conscious.

I hadn't died. Though at the moment, I wished I had. Not from the pain. Oh no, I'd been pumped so full of painkillers I couldn't even feel the bed beneath me. I was floating in a cloud of medicated bliss. But I'd also been listening to Pete swear at me for the past ten minutes. He dredged his fingers through his hair and started pacing again.

"What the hell were you doing out there?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Officer Blakely said as he entered the private room. His slender black shoes squeaked as he walked across the highly polished linoleum floor. "She was selling her body again, only this time she met up with the wrong Joe."

Pete's face turned a strange color. Sort of a greenish-gray. He looked as if he needed to sit down. "She wasn't selling her body," he said. His voice sounded odd...raspy. "What are you doing here, Kevin?"

Blakely calmly picked at his nails. "The captain wants me to take her statement."

"It'll have to wait. She's not awake yet."

"Yes, she is."

"She's—?" Pete turned to me. "You're awake? For how long?"

I tried to give him a disarming smile. I don't think I pulled it off. It wasn't as if I could feel my lips. And since neither man smiled back, I was sure I had to be doing something wrong.

Instead of expressing gratitude at this being-alive miracle I'd managed to pull off, Pete launched into a lengthy lecture regarding personal safety. I must have dozed off halfway through. Not that it mattered. He'd recited the same chapter and verse shortly after I had jumped in front of the bullet that had been meant for him. When I opened my eyes again, I was alone. Which was good. I needed the time to think.

I still couldn't believe that Mr. Fu had hired someone to kill me just because I'd been questioning Sally Porter. That didn't make sense. From what Sally had been able to tell me, it didn't sound as if she knew what Mr. Fu was up to. And Mr. Fu wouldn't want me dead. I'd saved him from being taken from his home—a home he never leaves—to be locked away in a jailhouse. He'd been grateful. Tears had filled his eyes, and he'd vowed that he owed me a debt that could never be repaid.

I would have asked him to try a little harder to repay that debt if I'd known he was going to forget all about how I'd helped him and hire someone to kill me. Hell, Mr. Fu probably paid a small fortune to the man who'd stabbed me.

I really needed to get on the ball and start demanding my clients pay me what I'm worth. Oh, I enjoyed my work, I really did, but that wasn't a good reason to be working for peanuts. No one was giving me housing or food for free. Like everyone else in the world, I have expenses. I need to make a living. I needed to get a backbone.

But Anna, although she couldn't pay me, I wasn't going to give up on looking for her sister. And I wasn't going to give up on Sally Porter, either.

Who was I kidding? Nothing was going to change.

"I spoke with Brandi shortly after they brought you in last night," Pete said, startling me out of my skin. I'd thought I was alone in the room. How long had he been leaning against the far wall, watching me? "She told me you were back to your old tricks, that you've reopened your illegal P.I. service."

Reopened wasn't quite the right word. My service had never closed—I'd simply become more...um...careful. But I wasn't about to correct him. Instead, I reached down and gingerly touched the thick bandage plastered to my middle.

"How much damage did he do?" I asked.

"He?" Pete asked, raising a brow. He stayed in the corner, looking too damned calm. Personally, I was a mess. There was so much ground we needed to cover—my P.I. business, the mysterious shadow who'd tried to kill me, the missing girls, that night we spent together...in my bed. And the future of our friendship.

I didn't want to talk about any of it.

"What have the doctors been saying? Are all my internal parts intact?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. He knew me well enough to recognize a stalling technique. I'm sure he would have called me on it if I hadn't recently been stabbed in the gut. Instead, he just shook his head. "You must have twisted away at just the right moment. It seems you have good instincts for those kinds of things. Unfortunately, you're sorely lacking when it comes to..." He turned to stare out the tiny window into the silvery predawn light.

"So, I'm going to live." I should have felt happier about it. "There was so much blood, I was sure that I was headed to the big luau in the sky without getting the chance to let you know that...that I'd never... I—I'm glad I didn't die."

"I'm surprised to hear that, Kyra, especially considering how you treat your life so carelessly."

He was wrong about that, but I wasn't about to argue with him. Doing so would only open up that can of worms I was trying so hard to avoid.

"When will I get to go home?" I asked, trying not to let his angry words hurt me.

"Home, Kyra? You have no home. You have the charity Mamma Jo gives you. Nothing more."

Pain sliced through my middle, making me want to curl up into a ball. But I couldn't. Not in front of Pete. Not unless I wanted him to figure out how in-over-my-head-over-heels I was in love with him.

"You know what I mean, Pete. And if you don't stop being mean to me, I'm going to be sure everyone at HPD gets a good look of that picture I have of you...in full native garb."

His eyes flashed in my direction. "You wouldn't."

"Trust me, I would."

His lips twisted. Could my charming Aloha Pete be fighting a smile? "You must not value your life much."

"As you've already determined. When will I get to move back into my room at Mamma Jo's?"

"You won't be. I've moved your belongings to my house. You're going be living with me."

"With you?" I felt suddenly pinned to the bed. "No, Pete. I won't. I can't."