Hot-Blooded (28 page)

Because you like him. He’s an ass, but you share a connection you haven’t had with anyone else. Deeper than just sex. The same stubborn hearts. The same hidden goodness.

You like him because he gives you the light you so desperately need.

She went to the bathroom, ran some cool water over a washcloth, and brought it to Blake. She mopped the perspiration from his brow and cheeks. Eyes closed, he turned his face into her hand and made a soft noise. “Kea …”

She wanted to tell him she was sorry for shooting him. That she believed him. That everything would be okay. That she forgave him.

Instead, she said, “I’m here. Sleep, Blake.”

His brows lifted but his lids remained shut. “Kea, we gotta get outta here before the tikis start up again and Pele charges down the volcano. Come on, baby.” He tugged on the binding to no avail, but the blood oozing from his wrists made the tape slick. He might be able to wiggle his arms free using the blood as a lubricant.

“Stop it.” She laid a hand on his. “Stop fighting.”

“But we gotta run away. Pele’s coming.” His brows tightened into little crags poised over his closed eyes.

The Pele talk freaked her out a little, but some dark secret place within her understood. Like the goddess, she represented passions, fears, jealousy, and most of all, tempestuousness, which seemed to be the name of her and Blake’s game.

“Help me up, baby.” His lids fluttered open, but he seemed to have difficulty focusing.

She hovered over his face and stroked the whiskers on his chin with a thumb. “Blake. Look at me.”

He blinked a few times, but still didn’t seem fully aware. “Where are we?”

“You’re in a safe place. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“About Pele?”

“About whatever you want.” Assuming he made it through the night.

“I want Keahilani.”

The shadows clutching her shoulders receded a little. Damn him for setting off that flutter in her stomach again. Every time he spoke her full name, another brick in the wall around her heart crumbled. Good thing there were thousands more blocks in place to keep him out. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you tonight.”

“You mad at me?” Clarity settled into his face, but it was fleeting.

“Extremely.”

He nodded. “Kinda figured. Your brother still alive?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“If someone else hadn’t gotten there first, would you have gone through with it?” She bit her lip, afraid of his answer.

A long moment passed. “I love you, Keahilani.” His eyes closed.

Jerk played the love card again to evade her question. At least he hadn’t lied. “I still don’t believe you.”

He nodded and drifted off.

One big, raw nerve, Keahilani was torn. About everything.

The brother she thought was an angel had turned out to be a devil. The man she thought was a demon had sprouted a crooked halo. She didn’t even begin to consider all the other shit that had gone south tonight. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow when the scheduled launch date got scrapped on the landing pad, and the investors started calling, demanding an explanation for where their money went and when they were gonna get it back.

Questioning everything and receiving answers to nothing, she reached into her pocket for the dead butterfly and gently separated the folds of the tissue.

The insect had traveled pretty well. All of its limbs were intact. Iridescent rainbows covered its torso. Some scales had rubbed off, but the wings were in good shape. She lifted the body and studied the markings closely. This wasn’t a monarch like the others she’d seen. Monarch wings were orange in the middle with white or light-colored dots embedded in the black outline. Tiny white crescents kissed the black edges here.

Like moons.

Like Mahina.

She sat on the floor near the door, laid the journal in her lap, and set the insect on her knee. It was going to be a long night. Might as well get settled and crack open a good book. If nothing else, this next chapter in Mahina’s autobiography should prove interesting. Or maybe devastating.

“Okay, Makuahine. I’m ready to read about Dad’s death.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Most of the “story” was old news. Mahina ranting about the haoles stomping all over Hawaiian culture, guest surfing lectures for the Hawaiian Studies Department at Maui College, hula performances at the Maui Arts & Cultural Center in Kihei, and of course, lots of gushing about her kids. Those parts conjured up lumps in Keahilani’s throat more than a few times.

Her devotion to her three children was the single light shining through all the darkness in the often-disjointed words. Many of the entries went off on tangents about her visions and prophecies and dreams-turned-realities. Those accounts didn’t surprise Keahilani—Mahina had been a
kahuna
of no less than four specialties, so spirituality was a big part of her later life—but they were disturbing glimpses into the troubled mind she’d only seen bits and pieces of in real life.

As she plowed through the entries, she noticed one particular line repeated throughout the pages. In January, a fortune-teller Mahina had never met before stopped her on the beach after a surfing demonstration in Pāʻia. She grabbed Mahina’s arm and said, “When the third son is conceived, your shackles will fall away.” The message delivered, she walked off without further commentary. Mahina took the woman’s words to heart. In the hurried scrawls following that one, she became obsessed with finding Justin, who had yet to reappear that year.

Keahilani also found some surprising pieces of information that might help with her distribution problem. After reading an entry in March, she stopped for a break. On a lark, she dragged out the old photo box from the closet.

She pored over hundreds of pictures. Most were of her and her brothers playing on the beach, dancing at street parties, and acting in Hawaiian plays at the cultural center. There were very few pictures of Mahina, and even fewer of her father, which was to be expected since he’d rarely been around.

When her fingers fell upon one particular image, though, her breath caught. She studied the faces closely: Kai, Manō, and her building sand castles with a little boy, about five—same age as Kai and her. After a moment, she recognized the odd kid out. Without the clues in the journal, she’d never have guessed the child in the picture and the adult she knew were one in the same, but his big smile was unmistakable. Excited about the possible lead, she pocketed the photo and returned to the bedroom.

Blake mumbled something indecipherable. She went to his side and offered him a glass of water. Tipping his head up, she urged him to drink, and then he fell back to the mattress, trapped in an apparent whirlwind of hallucinations.

He flinched at her touch as she peeked under the tape to check his leg wound. It was angry, red, and swollen, but the bleeding had stopped. She caressed his cheek and kissed the spot where his slack skin concealed the dimple she’d come to adore. God, she missed his smile.

He nuzzled her hand, and her resolve weakened. Couldn’t hurt to remove the duct tape. He was so out of it, he probably didn’t even know where he was. The cuts on his wrists had deepened. With his leg in a bad state, it wasn’t like he could run away.

She peeled off the tape as gently as she could. He barely twitched. Must’ve been pretty far gone not to protest the ripped hairs from his skin. A twinge of guilt pinged between her ribs. She didn’t regret shooting him, but she did regret the pain he was in now. The fine line between vengeance and attraction was a tough one to straddle.

Keahilani grabbed the journal and climbed into bed beside him. Least she could do was help keep him warm. And selfishly, she craved a little warmth too. His body relaxed once his limbs were free. She pushed his arms to his sides and when he settled, she resumed reading.

December 10

Justin came back a few days ago. He didn’t say where he’d been, and I didn’t ask. He’s different this time. Colder than usual. Doesn’t talk to me, hardly interacts with the keiki. Our relationship has devolved into a combination of apathy and need—mine, emotional; his, sexual. He only comes home when he’s horny, and when he tires of me, he leaves on another of his “trips.”

I don’t know why I keep saying yes to Justin. My visions tell me he’s a noose hanging around my neck, tightening every time we reunite. Eventually, my neck will snap if his doesn’t first.

Leilani is the only one of my friends I can talk to. She says sometimes our hearts are blind to what our eyes know to be true. Sometimes it’s better to feel than to see.

After seventeen years and three children, I still don’t have a ring. At this point, I accept it. But my keiki need a father, and I’ve been a negligent mother for not pushing Justin to be there. Keahilani and Kai are at a very impressionable age, and they already show interest in surfing. That would be a great way for Justin to bond with them.

I don’t like ultimatums, but this one’s long past due.

December 11

Everything’s fucked. So far beyond fucked, I can’t even …

Leilani offered to babysit while I took Justin to the garden for a talk. He’s never seen my secret hideaway. I thought maybe my plants and the beautiful setting would make the conversation easier.

He stayed out all night, drinking, smoking, doing whatever he does, and didn’t get home until early this morning. I put him in the passenger seat, and he slept while I drove his car to Haleakalā for the day. I’d already cured some of the weed from my garden and brought that along. When we got there, we smoked and fucked and then fucked some more. Thanks to the pot’s potency, the sex was a hundred times more enjoyable.

Not surprisingly, Justin was awed by the garden. It seemed to pull him out of his funk. But where he saw dollar signs, I saw a hobby. He said we could cultivate the stuff and sell it. Make a ton of money off it.

I blew him off. There are only about ten or so plants out there. Just enough for us and a few friends. No need to get involved in shit that could land me in jail. I have a family to raise, and I’ll be damned if I’ll lose custody of my kids by doing something stupid like selling illegal drugs. I never smoke around them, and I never will. The garden is my escape. Nothing else.

He got angry. Really angry.

And so did the mountain. I swear it rumbled in sync with an out-of-the-blue storm cloud darkening Justin’s face.

He said if we cultivated the weed and expanded the crop, it would save him from ever having to send us money again. Then it was my turn to become furious. I told him he didn’t need to send us any more money. I’d find a way to take care of his children on my own, just as I’ve been doing since Keahilani and Kai were born. Fuck him.

Justin sees everything as an opportunity rather than appreciating the gifts he already has and finding beauty in them—big or small. I don’t want my keiki growing up thinking money is all that matters. ‘Ohana is the only thing that matters. You can’t take money with you when you’re gone, but your family stays with you forever. And you stay with them.

As the sun headed toward the horizon and the buzz wore off, I switched the subject and broached the topic of the kids. I told Justin he needed to be his children’s father or disappear from our lives for good. I won’t keep making excuses for why their dad’s never around. I warned that if he left again, he could just stay away. We’d be done with him.

For the first time in my life, I meant every word.

As expected, it didn’t go over well. At all. Considering what happened afterward, it’s clear there’s no longer room for him in our lives. I made a terrible mistake by ever talking to him in the first place. I wish it hadn’t taken me 17 years to figure out he isn’t just poison. He’s death.

When we started back to the car, a hiker stumbled upon us, not far from the marijuana plants. His eyes widened when he saw the weed. He ducked his head and took off through the forest.

What followed was a jumbled, tragic mess of insanity like I’d never witnessed. Murder burned in his eyes in the split second before Justin chased the guy down the mountain.

The plants came alive around me, lifting their green leaves, screaming, “No!” The blackening sky stifled them. The shadow of the volcano expanded, gobbling up the remains of sunlight and grinning, malevolent. My skin prickled with uncontrollable shivers.

I’ve faced some of the biggest waves in the ocean and mastered them. I’ve stood up to haole millionaires in suits, waving permits in my face, and knocked them off their high horses with but a few words. I’ve been arrested for defending the Hawaiian people and spent days in jail. But I’ve never been so scared as I was today when an unknown evil possessed Justin—the father of my children—and transformed him into a monster before my very eyes.

He was terrifying.

My heart raced as I watched the hunt, paralyzed. I understood why Justin followed him. The hiker would no doubt either come back and take the pot for himself, or report it to the police. But a few marijuana plants weren’t worth going to jail over. Let the guy have ’em.