Free The Spy Who Left Me by Gina Robinson

pants, shirt, and shoes and headed for the door without putting them on.
    She scowled at him.
    “Just saying.” He reached for the doorknob. “Today we hit the surf. Put on some board shorts, the shorter the better, and do you still have that black string bikini top?”
    “Out!” She spoke in the tone she’d use on a bad dog. And he was, after all, wasn’t he?
    He laughed and turned the knob.
    “Hey! Aren’t you going to put those on?” She pointed to his clothes like a mother scolding a child.
    “Hell, no! The ladies want a look.”
    He ducked out the door before the pillow she tossed reached him.
    She clenched her hands into fists. Curses, foiled again! Nothing got to that man.
    She sighed. Afraid you’re going to be killed is no way to live. She had to find out what Ty was up to, get her divorce, and get out of here. He could tell her not to have the divorce papers sent, but that didn’t mean she had to listen and obey . Hadn’t they nixed that obey bit from their wedding vows? And for good reason.
    She still had six full days in Hawaii. She was going call her lawyer and ask him to send the papers. She fell back onto her pillow. She couldn’t have the papers sent here to Big Auau. Plus she wanted everything unquestionably legal and done by the book. Her lawyer had contacts everywhere. Surely he had a lawyer pal in Lahaina he could send them to who’d make sure everything was in order. She’d simply have to find a way to pick them up.
    First, though, she had to find a phone she could use without being detected. Ty still had hers.
    She glanced at the door. Carrie had an unlimited-minutes plan. If she borrowed her phone to make a quick call, Carrie wouldn’t mind.
    *   *   *
     
    A quick shower, an unauthorized entry into Carrie’s room, and a hundred-and-fifty-dollar billable call to her lawyer later, Treflee came down to breakfast feeling slightly peevish about inadvertently obeying half of Ty’s absurd command. She was wearing ridiculously Daisy Duke–short pink and black floral board shorts. She wouldn’t have been wearing the shorts if she’d had anything less revealing and waterworthy on her. Or time to run to the local surf shop.
    At least she wasn’t wearing that black bikini top he liked. And yes, it was in her suitcase. Instead, she wore a skintight, short-sleeved, pink rash guard she’d bought for Hawaii back when she thought she’d need the sun protection. And that maybe attracting an appreciative male look or two might perk up her spirits while she waited for her divorce. Unfortunately, the rashie, being nearly as formfitting as a wet T-shirt, left less to the imagination than her string bikini top.
    She heard Carrie and company laughing and talking as she came down the staircase and crossed the koa wood floors toward the dining room. What a gorgeous view of lawn, beach, ocean, and the hills of Lanai in the distance. So tranquil. So peaceful. Who could imagine someone had tried to kill her here last night? In the sparkling morning light, the whole thing seemed like a bad dream.
    Surprisingly, her stomach growled. Fighting off death was hard exercise. Ah, a delicious breakfast of Belgian waffles soaked in coconut syrup was just the thing. No one ever had to call her twice where anything coconut was involved. But, wait a minute—was that hamburgers she smelled?
    “Hey, sleepyhead! About time you’re up,” Carrie called to her as she lifted a forkful of gravy-laden something to her mouth. Carrie, of course, lived on military time. She’d probably done more before breakfast than most people do in a day. “Come have your loco moco, the breakfast of surfers, dude!”
    She laughed at her own surfer imitation. “Seriously. This is awesome. Plenty of great protein to keep you on your feet and in the curl.” She went back to shoveling it in.
    Laci sat next to Carrie. “Whoa!” she said when Treflee got close enough for her to see her bruised neck. “What happened to you? You look