Free Hot-Blooded by Kendall Grey

strode across the room toward the sliding doors near him.
    Crimson streaks set her long, straight, jet-black hair afire. Dark glasses hid her eyes. A big, wide-brimmed hat complete with a dotted veil covered her head. Fire engine lipstick. She wore knee-high, stiletto-heeled boots and a stylish black trench coat whose front swung open with each step, revealing something short, red, and drool-inducing beneath.
    Captivated by her sheer presence , Blake smacked his gaping jaw shut. She withdrew a cell phone and dialed without missing a beat in the rhythm of her steps. As she neared, he spun to face the window behind him and pretended to text someone.
    “… look forward to meeting with you,” the woman said with a thick Hawaiian accent.
    Blake’s brows shot up. Her low voice bore a stunning resemblance to that of the woman he’d fucked against the balcony glass hours ago. Keahilani, all decked out in a wig and designer clothes. Watching her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, he resisted the urge to turn around. Instead, he continued eavesdropping.
    “Come alone. Don’t be late.” Her heels clacked on the tiles, and the door swished open before her as if announcing to the outside world the arrival of a goddess.
    What the hell was she doing? Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he trailed her to the drop-off area in front of the lobby. A limousine with tinted windows waited, its engine purring softly. A well-dressed chauffeur hopped out and held the door for her, shutting her in a second after the car swallowed her legs.
    Blake booked to his rental, keeping watch over his shoulder to see which direction the limo went. He was willing to bet his entire stash she was heading to the same place as he. A quick consultation with his watch confirmed the timing jibed with that of his gig with Butch.
    Excitement electrified his blood as the limo brought him that much closer to his destination on the neighboring property. He was right. He and Kea were heading to the same meeting, which meant his suspicions about her involvement in this new drug ring had been correct.
    So, who was she? The big kahuna’s whore? Eye candy brought in to entice potential customers? Taste tester?
    He’d find out soon enough. The limo pulled into the swankiest condominiums on the island. The driver leaned out the window and keyed in a code at the gate. Blake eased his car to the curb. The wrought iron swung open, and his quarry disappeared through the imposing bars.
    He scoured the street for a convenient place to park and found a spot not far away. He fumbled around in the backseat for his tennis shoes and switched them with his flip-flops. The hunting knife went into the hidden pocket along the inseam of his board shorts. Stuffing buds into his ears, he got out and pretended to be a jogger on an early evening run. Ahead of him, the brake lights of another car lit up at the gates to the condos, and Blake seized the opportunity to sneak in behind it. Grateful the sun had just slipped over the horizon, he hid in the thickening shadows and headed for the building. The well-dressed driver escorted Kea to the door and held it open for her. She said something to him. He nodded and returned to the limo.
    As she disappeared into the belly of the glass-fronted building, Blake’s heart matched his legs’ speed. A new car with darkened windows glided onto the property. His instincts fired off another round of nagging intuition, and he swallowed uncomfortably as Butch got out of the vehicle. Something big was going down tonight, and Kea was the least of his worries. He was there to back up Butch as a favor to Scott, and he’d do it without question. Which reminded him … He turned his phone back on. A message from Butch blared: You here?
    Blake texted back: Yep.
    He got a thumbs up as a reply. Dropping his ass to the ground beneath a cluster of palm trees, Blake settled in for a late evening. He removed the sheathed knife and laid it on the dirt. At least he