Free The Spy Who Left Me by Gina Robinson Page A

like you’ve been in combat.”
    Before she could answer, Ty came in behind her. “Treflee, good to see you up and about.” For the benefit of the table of women looking on, he appeared to give her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, but she felt the warning in the way he pinched her unnecessarily hard. Stick to the cover story.
    “Feeling any better?” He sounded completely concerned, the concern of an impartial and courteous stranger whose job it was to look after her. He gave her a quick shoulder rub and released her.
    How in the world did he do that, affect that casual tone?
    “Fine,” she managed to croak in her newly found deep voice.
    Carla put down her fork, put on her nurse’s demeanor, pushed back from the table, and came over to Treflee for a closer look. “My gosh! It looks like someone tried to strangle you! Is that a flower-shaped bruise right there?”
    Carla leaned in, breathing down Treflee’s neck.
    Ty leaned in, too. “That does look like a flower. Weird.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze. “She had a run-in with a clothesline last night,” Ty helpfully supplied for her. “Over on Sugar Love Plantation.”
    Tita ambled around the corner just then, carrying a plate of the suspicious-looking loco moco. “What! What am I hearing? Who was hurt?”
    Ty repeated what he’d just told the group.
    Tita upbraided him with a look. “And no one told me?”
    “Why should I disturb your beauty sleep, wahine ? I had it under control.” Though Ty was behind her, Treflee could just picture him grinning and shrugging.
    Tita set the plate down at an empty place at the table and indicated Treflee should sit, pulling out the chair for her. Carla returned to her seat. Ty let Treflee go. Tita patted her shoulder as she sat and shook her head at Ty, obviously forgiving him like a patient mother amused at his antics.
    She made a grunt of disgust and put her hands on her hips, mumbling something in Hawaiian. “That Mrs. Ho and her clothesline! She does not embrace the spirit of aloha —compassion, love, and care for all.”
    Mrs. Ho isn’t the only one with a lack of aloha spirit.
    Tita shook her head. “She only thinks of herself. Always trying to one-up and outshine everyone else. She is not ohana. ”
    “Family,” Ty translated.
    Tita made an elegant, graceful gesture reminiscent of the way a hula dancer describes a wave. “She thinks the ocean breeze is best there at the edge of our properties. She hangs the clothesline for her own linens and those of her special guests. She does not care for the safety and enjoyment of anyone else. I think she forgets to take down the line when the clothes are dry on purpose. She wants to hurt my guests.”
    Ty laughed. “Don’t be a conspiracy theorist, boss.”
    Tita snorted. “She’s very private and secretive. She doesn’t believe in sharing.” Her tone clearly indicated this was an affront to her personal belief system.
    Tita inspected Treflee. “How are you feeling, ipo ?”
    Carla cut in using her no-nonsense tone. “Treflee needs to see a doctor.”
    Ty shot her a lazy look and winked. “Took her last night. Spent two hours in emergency.”
    “What! Where were we? Why didn’t we know about your late-night run to the doctor?” Carrie’s expression said she expected nothing less than disaster from Treflee.
    Beside her, Laci looked decidedly unhappy with the bit of intel about Ty taking Treflee to the emergency room and spending so much time alone with her. You could almost see the wheels turning—how minor an injury could she withstand so Ty would have to play knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress?
    Treflee knew of a strangler who might be available to accommodate her.
    “It was late. I couldn’t sleep and went out for a walk. You all were in your rooms. Ty came to my rescue and insisted I get checked out. There was no reason to wake any of you. The doc says I’ll be fine.” Treflee picked up her fork and picked at the loco