Hot-Blooded (16 page)

Regret flared in his chest, but he hosed it with a flood of resolve. He snatched the gun with his free hand and sat up. As expected, the tropical air between them turned frigid. Seething, she tried to wrestle the weapon away, but he bounded off the bed before she could grab it.

“Don’t you ever put a fucking gun to my head again, Kea.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Give it back,” she demanded through clenched teeth. Her naked body no longer a diversion, he ignored her.

“No.” He pointed the sex-coated barrel toward the window, flipped the safety, and carefully removed the magazine with shaky fingers. Jesus Katie Christ, she’d held him at gunpoint during sex and then pleasured herself with a bullet in the goddamn chamber. A fresh wave of tremors quaked through him.

Once he ensured the gun was bullet-free, he laid it on the dresser. Taking a deep breath to calm his shattered nerves, he opened the closet, set the magazine inside the room safe, and locked it. Dark fury danced over Kea’s skin as she watched his ritual.

“I’m leaving.” She dropped her feet to the floor and stood.

Blake tackled her to the wall, pinning her wrists to the plaster. The cold, sticky sex glue warmed a second after contact. “You’re not going anywhere. We have things to discuss.”

“The hell I’m not. I got what I wanted.” She struggled under his grip. Wits settled back into place, he didn’t budge.

“Were you that desperate for a booty call?”

“Don’t mistake my motivations for desperation. I fuck you because I want to. Not because I like you or because you’re remotely worthy.” Her sharp, high-and-mighty gaze sliced down his chest.

He flinched at the virtual cut. “I can’t let Pele walk out of here without an explanation. See, I’ve got a vested interest in what you’re peddling.”

Her cheek rippled at the mention of Pele, and a shadow that defied the abundance of light in the room overtook her face.

“And I may have what you’re looking for,” he added.

“What’s that?” She tried again to wriggle out of his grasp. He squeezed harder.

“Distribution.”

She relaxed her stance a tad. “I’m listening.”

“I may know some people who can help, but you gotta fill me in on the details.”

She eyed him warily. “First, I want to know why you’re so afraid of guns. The truth.”

He let her hands go and took a step backward. The only way he’d get anything out of her was if he opened up. Naturally, this particular truth was one of the few things he fought tooth and nail
not
to share. Even Scott knew only the basic facts about Jonathan Williams. No one else had ever gotten close enough for him to trust with his secret. But in order to keep his target interested and talking, he had to change his strategy. She was way smarter than most of the women he banged. Intuitive. Perceptive. She’d totally know if he lied.

Blake exhaled heavily. Without answering, he stepped into the bathroom and cleaned up. When he returned, he tossed her a wet washcloth, which she swiped across her breasts, gaze stuck to him. He gestured to the bed. She settled on top of the sheets. He whipped out a cigarillo and lay beside her. They shared it in silence as they had on their first “date.”

This bitch was leading him down a path he could never return from. She was crazy as fuck, more dangerous than a pit viper, and in some ways, she wielded more power over him than he had over himself.

Kea blew the smoke from her final drag into the air and turned her head to him as she passed the stub of the cigarillo over. “Well? Are we gonna talk about guns, or am I leaving?”

No going back now.

He took one more hit and chucked the remains into the can. “I murdered a little kid.”

Chapter Fourteen

Blake’s smoke-infused confession lingered in the air for a couple seconds before Keahilani could reply. She figured he’d say he’d been shot before, or someone he cared about was killed before his eyes. Murdering a child? Whoa.

“When?” She resumed staring at the ceiling. No need to appear interested. Or shocked.

“Seven years ago.”

And he still wasn’t over it? Maybe he had more of a conscience than he let on. “What happened?”

“Bullet gone astray. Wrong place, wrong time. Bad karma. Take your pick.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “What were you doing with a gun in the first place?”

He exhaled heavily and rolled to his side to face her. “Come on, Kea, you know I’m not rainbows and moonbeams.”

She turned to him and propped her head in a hand. “I don’t know
what
you are. Why don’t you clue me in? Drug dealer? Ringleader? Buyer? Seller? Grower? Who are you, Blake?”

His open expression flipped over the closed sign, and his features hardened. “Give a little, get a little.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You haven’t told me enough yet.” She sat up. He yanked her down to his chest and forced his lips to hers. She almost struggled, but the lingering taste of the too-sweet cigar, the sweaty sex still steaming the air, and the unencumbered rushing pulse convinced her to give in.

At first, his mouth was hard and unyielding, but as the kiss deepened, his lips softened, his tongue dipped in, and their souls engaged in a touch-and-go dance through the oral portal linking them together.

Was this how Mahina felt when kissing her father all those years ago? Swept up in the moment, despite all the blaring signs warning her to back it up?

She would
not
be foolish like her mother. No love. No
haoles
. No matter how good in bed they were. Blake was welcome to fall for her, but she’d never return it.

Keahilani broke the kiss with a frisky shove against his tanned, roped shoulders, and pressed the back of a hand to her lips. “Stop trying to distract me.”

He laughed, and that godforsaken dimple winked at her. “So, it worked.” He playfully came at her again, but she pushed him away, hiding her smile under her fingers.

“You’re an ass.”

“I’ve been called much worse, but never by anyone prettier.” He swiped at the hair hanging in her eyes, and her stomach quivered.

She rested a hand on her belly.
Stop it.

“Seriously, though. No more guns. In the bedroom or out,” he said.

“You didn’t seem to mind it while you were having the orgasm of your life.” She coyly flapped her lashes at him.

The humor drained from his expression, and he looked away. “I don’t even like touching those things. Too many opportunities for things to go wrong when bullets are involved.” He shivered like he had moments before when his hands shook so hard he could barely unload the clip. “Now, using your bare hands or a knife? That’s
personal
. Up front. Honest. If I come at somebody with a blade, I’m
committed
to taking them out. A knife means business and sends an unmistakable message: You’re going down.”

Keahilani rubbed the sore bruise on her breast where Butch had bitten her. “Yeah, but sometimes the stopping power of a gun takes precedence. Sometimes you don’t even have a second to react physically. But if you have a gun and you allow instinct to take over, the bullets will sort it out. I prefer the immediacy and finality of guns.” She glanced at him. “Then again, I’m not a big, strong man.”

“Did Butch rape you?” Blake stared at the ceiling, his eyes vacant.

She grunted. What the hell did he care? Butch got what he deserved. “Does it matter?”

He didn’t answer.

After a long moment, he continued, all traces of affection gone. “I represent the biggest seller in the state. He sent me here to find the mysterious new competition and make an offer they can’t refuse. So, I’m making an offer.”

The warmth pooled in her gut from before dissipated like a wave absorbed into the sand. How dare he waltz in like he owned Maui and try to strike up a deal with her. She’d fucking
killed
a man to protect herself and her business. There was no coming back from that.

Blake spoke of commitment to his kills. Well, she’d made the same commitment when she pulled the trigger the second time. She might have gotten away with the first shot by claiming self-defense. But the second? No, that was premeditated and punishable with a life sentence.

Her ‘ohana had worked hard to get where they were. The Alana family was on the brink of riches beyond their wildest dreams. She wouldn’t let Blake—or anybody else—get in the way of what they were due.

She clenched her jaw and sat up again. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You haven’t even heard the terms.”

Cracking him with a sneer, she tossed the covers in his face. “There are no terms. I’m leaving.”

“Pele …”

That got her attention. Stabbed it with his fancy hunting knife and twisted.

He held up his hands. “Come on, babe. Don’t play innocent with me. I know who you are. Talk to me about Pāhoehoe. Maybe we can help each other.”

She hated that he knew her secrets, but it didn’t change the fact that he knew her secrets. He might’ve had a point about developing a mutually beneficial relationship, but she sure as hell wouldn’t give up anything more than she had to in order to maximize her return.

Lowering her ass to the bed, she ran her gaze over his tight body. She could have stared at those abs, that sinful cock, and the faded tattoos taking up a huge chunk of dermal real estate on his toned arms, but she fell victim to his softer parts rather than the hard ones.

The barely there dusting of peach fuzz high on the slope of his cheek—a stark contrast to the gritty stubble lining the facial foothills farther south. The long lashes fanning downward, then snapping up to reveal slate eyes—neither colored nor lacking color, but brilliant nonetheless. His quiet stare bore into her like a feather, velvety around the edges, rigid and strong down the middle. The corner of his mouth lifted, and the godforsaken ninja dimple streaked over his skin, stealing all of Keahilani’s attention.

She tentatively cupped his cheek and stroked her thumb across the divot. She pressed a kiss there, inhaling the scents of cigar, ocean, and musk rising from his supple yet abrasive skin. His smile widened under her lips, and she indulged in a brief, forbidden moment of immersion in
him
.

When she pulled away, she lowered her gaze, afraid to let his gray eyes dissect her intentions. He’d uncovered way too much about her already.

“What would you like to know?” she said.

Seemingly satisfied, he stroked her bare back through the tangle of hair stuck to her sweat-dotted skin. “You call yourself ‘Pele.’ Why?”

“You’re not familiar with Hawaiian myths.” A statement, not a question. Because most haoles knew nothing of her culture. The portal between them cinched tighter, and their connection slipped.

He shrugged. “Pele was the volcano goddess who made Kīlauea go boom. That’s about all I know.”

At least he wasn’t entirely clueless. “According to one of our
mo‘olelo
, she got in trouble with her sister and had to find a safe haven to get away from her. While looking for a place to settle, she came upon Maui and fought with a sea monster named Nā-maka-o-Kaha‘i.

“Pele was torn to bits, her pieces scattered all around Kahikinui. But her flaming spirit escaped harm, and she became a goddess. She continued her quest to find a suitable home but decided against Haleakalā. It was so big, she couldn’t keep it warm. She eventually settled on Hawai‘i and took up residence inside Kīlauea, where she continues to make all sorts of pyrotechnic mischief to this day.”

Keahilani stopped. She’d said too much.

Blake’s expression softened when she finished. “So, you’re growing on Haleakalā.”

How the hell did he divine that fact from her story?

“You got this look of longing when you mentioned it.” He gestured with a circular motion to his face.

She really should go before she subconsciously handed over the GPS coordinates to Mahina’s garden and her list of contacts.

“I didn’t say that. And I’m not telling you any more about my business. You seem to know plenty already.” Flustered and mentally kicking herself for not leaving ten minutes ago, she donned the discarded bikini top, tugged her rumpled shirt over her head, and wriggled into her khaki shorts.

“My boss wants your weed. He’s willing to … work with you.”

Keahilani laughed. Of course he wanted it. Every-damn-body wanted it. “The Pāhoehoe hybrid produces the most sexual high known to man. Unlike most strains, it keeps you going instead of knocking you out. It contains concentrated THC and other stuff that stimulates and energizes.”

He didn’t need to know Kai had spent years studying plants, taking online courses to perfect the hybrid, working with botanists and chemistry dabblers and even geologists who gave helpful insights into the soil composition. Or how many generations of trial and error it had taken to coax perfection from Mahina’s small original crop. Or how much back-breaking work she, Kai, and Manō had
personally
invested in planting, expanding, and harvesting the crops. The ‘ohana’s livelihood depended on trial and error over many years and mastering every step in the process. No outsider would understand how much was at stake. Especially not Blake and his rich boss.