Chapter 2

"This is bad. This is really bad."

"What?" Curious as to how things could get any worse, Rachel rose from where she was sitting and wandered over to the balcony.

The problem was not with the scenery, thankfully. The views from the spacious condominium she had borrowed – it belonged to a friend – were gorgeous. They'd been there about a week and it seemed every morning was the same – the sky was a lovely light blue, matching beautifully with the deep blues and foaming whites of the ocean waves persistently washing onto the gorgeous golden sands of Ka'anapali Beach. And, yes, she had read the publicity and travel brochures left behind in the condo ... multiple times ... since yesterday.

The reason for her sudden pessimism was she'd recently found herself in something akin to house arrest. The cause? As of two days ago, a plague of locusts equipped with cameras and microphones had descended and were now waiting at all hours for her to emerge on the street level side of the complex. Rachel quietly sighed. Life had finally settled down and then her ass of an ex-husband had to go and make the news again.

Stepping through the open sliding glass doors, she could see her personal assistant deeply into doing something with her iPhone. A lovely girl, both inside and out, Nina DeLaurentis had been an incredible find. Rachel noticed, however, that her petite assistant's coffee and dish of fresh fruit were still untouched on the table.

"All right, Nina, let me have it. What's David said or done now?"

"It's not that," the younger woman replied quietly, glancing up at her. "Try not to be obvious but look at the building over across the pool and patio area."

"What?"

"Straight across, one flight up from us and three balconies to the right."

Rachel nonchalantly tucked her long, dark hair behind her left ear and then slowly shifted her gaze from her friend to the high rise that was part of their same complex. Even following Nina's directions, though, she was still more than a little confused. "What is it I'm ... oh!"

And then she saw it. An enormous telephoto lens – attached no doubt to an expensive digital camera on a tripod. Her eyes narrowed. "Nigel."

"Do not flip him off again," her assistant advised, correctly anticipating her intention. "He made a killing when you did that in Milan last year. Besides, he's not the only one."

Rachel's eyes drifted across the face of the building. Sure enough, there were at least two more photographers that she could see and probably others she couldn't. She sure wished she knew how they found out where she was.

"Qué cabrones," she swore under her breath. "So now what?"

"We take a drive," Nina replied rather secretively.

Nodding, Rachel knew better than to ask any more questions while out in the open – or even in a room with a window, for that matter. Private conversations picked up by vultures with listening devices during a yearlong, bitter divorce battle taught her that lesson. Hell, even her email and voicemail had been hacked! At this point, it was enough to know that her girl Friday had a plan.

Walking back into the luxury condo, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of irritation and anger at the intrusion. This was supposed to be a relaxing break after all the craziness of fashion week in London – two weeks of lounging on the beaches of Maui during the down time between filming the Maybelline commercial and the start of the expanded calendar shoot. But then David gets engaged to that walking doodle of a girlfriend of his and suddenly everyone wants to know what the still single ex-wife thinks of the news.

"Al igual que me importa, pinche pendejos," she angrily muttered to herself.

"But rather than ever say anything like that out loud, let alone in English, you always take the high road and simply say, 'No comment.' Right?" Nina teased, as she closed the balcony door and turned on the television for background noise. "Loved that 'walking doodle' thing, though – definitely need to remember that one!"

Rachel couldn't help but roll her eyes. "So what's the plan?"

"First," Nina replied, tucking her short brown hair behind her left ear and then casting open the doors to the walk-in closet, "we need you to finish getting ready to go."

While she rummaged around in there, Rachel headed for the two sink vanity in the bathroom. Since she'd already showered and dressed, all she needed to do was fix her hair and make-up. Normally not high maintenance, the lithe model knew she'd need to spend extra time if they were headed "for a drive" – what with all the paparazzi out there waiting to pounce. Fortunately, her curling irons were already on.

"Do you have a light waterproof jacket along?" came the muffled call from the closet.

"Yes ... why?" she asked cautiously, curling the hair around her face.

"Oh, never mind, I found it."

"Again ... why?"

Nina popped her head around the doorframe, a huge grin on her face. "Because you're going on a boat, that's why." As soon as she spoke, she was gone again.

"A boat?" Rachel was horrified. "Oh, no, no, no. I do not do boats! I barely do planes but boats? No way!"

"Oh, don't be such a big baby. You'll be fine," replied a way too cheery voice.

"You know what? You're fired."

Nina laughed. "The twins and Hannah will be here in a half hour, so you might want to pick up the pace."

"They'll probably be worse than me."

"Actually, they're excited. They've never gone whale watching before."

"Whales, really?"

"See, now you're excited!" Nina chirped, coming in to make use of the other vanity sink.

Rachel merely grunted as she twirled another portion of her long, straight dark hair around the curler. Being around Chloe, Zoe, and Hannah would be a nice distraction, she mused. They still had the energy and naïve enthusiasm of youth, which was just what someone of her rather cynical and disillusioned age could probably use at the moment. Still ... whale watching?

"Okay, now here's the plan," Nina began to explain softly, while applying eyeliner. "Once I drop you off after lunch, I'll slip back here and quietly get us all relocated to the secluded B & B over in Wailuku I've lined up. Since all the prying eyes will have followed us down to Lahaina and should hang around there waiting for you to return, it should go pretty smooth."

For some reason, the stressed out model kept expecting to hear the Mission Impossible theme start playing. Standing barely five feet tall and hardly a pound or two over a hundred, plenty of people underestimated her girl Friday but not Rachel. Nina, however, seemed oblivious to the missing soundtrack.

"I'll pick you up when you return and then we'll scoot back this way – with vultures in tow – and head to the Kapalua airport. We'll take a helicopter out as if heading to Honolulu, but circle back to land over at the main airport in Kahului. Our hosts, the Hancocks, will pick us up there and, if all goes well, none will be the wiser for at least a few days. Maybe by then the media circus will have moved on to the next big thing."

Stunned by the level of intrigue, Rachel didn't realize she had stopped paying attention to the curling iron in her hand until she smelled that distinctive burning odor. After a taking a few moments to assess the damage – pretty minimal actually – she gave her diminutive assistant a rather skeptical look through the mirror. "And just how long did you work for the CIA?"

A huge smile spread across Nina's face. "I know this all seems a bit cloak and dagger but it should give us some breathing room until the calendar shoot."

She was about to say something else when her iPhone on the counter began to vibrate. Grabbing it, her expression shifted to one of curiosity when she saw the number. "Hey, Sam, what's going..." she began but then quickly stopped speaking.

Rachel set the curling iron down when Nina's eyes fixed on hers. Still only listening, the brunette's hazel eyes were now lit with an inner fire, her face a mask of fury.

"No, that's fine, Sam," she finally responded, her voice clipped and restrained. "I'm glad you called ... Yeah, it sucks, but go ahead and send me the audio, okay? ... Sure ... I'll talk with you later ... right ... bye." Taking the phone from her ear, she immediately went to work on its touch screen, her fingers flying.

Assuming she was downloading the mysterious audio file, Rachel's curiosity got the better of her. "Is everything okay, Nina?"

"It seems," her assistant responded heatedly without looking up, "that son of a bitch ex-husband of yours was on Howard Stern this morning." She tapped the screen a few more times and then held up the phone for her boss. Within seconds the distinctive voice of the shock jock could be heard asking a question.

"So, who's more fun in bed, Rachel Vargas or Casey Weston?"

"You can't be serious!"

Rachel had paid little attention during their drive down to Lahaina, preferring instead to just sit quietly and stare off into nothing. Of course, it was not "nothing" – especially with the incessant chatter of well-meaning busybodies over and above the noise of her own painful thoughts.