Hot-Blooded (31 page)

Stomps of rushing feet diverted all attention to the door. Two uniformed police officers entered the room, hands on holstered guns. One of them had been at the scene of the crime at Bane’s house.

Once they confirmed Keahilani and Kai were family, they offered condolences. The officer from earlier said, “We need you all to step away from the body and move into the hallway. We have some questions to ask while our investigators go through the room.”

Clamping her newfound, hypnotic power source under her consciousness, she looked to Kai. He nodded. Not a lick of despair marred his harsh face. Only a fresh wave of revenge. That determination tunneled its way inside, and she invited it to merge with her own. Their two spirits held hands with the impenetrable grip of ‘ohana, and though everything was not all right, she knew as long as she had Kai and Manō, she’d survive.

A whirlwind of questions followed in the hall. Did Bane have any enemies?
No,
she lied. Had he been acting strangely lately?
No.
Did the nurses see anyone suspicious?
The only person who’d been on the floor aside from the usual staff was the guy from the lab.

“We found the security guard unconscious downstairs, and the cameras were disabled. Looks like someone had a plan to get up here, and your brother was the target. The perpetrator must’ve come back to finish the job he botched at Bane’s house. Are you sure he wasn’t in any kind of trouble?” the cop asked.

Keahilani shook her head. They didn’t need to know he killed Scott’s wife, though she still had a hard time believing her little brother would ever harm someone intentionally. Despite Blake’s photographic evidence and Manō’s confession, there was something off about the story.

“Bane was a business student at UHMC. Had a 4.0 average. He didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. His only vice was surfing, if you call that a vice.”

The officer nodded. “We’re gonna find out who did this. The hospital’s on lockdown, but chances are, the guy got away before we arrived. We’ll check the security footage leading up to the incident and see if anything turns up there. Might need to have another look around his house if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever it takes,” Keahilani said.

The cop leaned closer and laid a gentle but firm hand on her arm, then glanced to Kai. “You okay? You’ve had a hell of a night.”

“Yeah. Dazed, but I’ll be all right.” She was far from dazed. She was as intent as a starving lion with an antelope in her sights. All the chaotic pieces of her life’s puzzle came together, reorganized, and fell into place. Her gut churned at what she’d have to do when she got back to the safe house.

The elevator door swooshed open, and uniformed Ret thundered out toward them. She and Kai locked gazes, and his hard expression faltered for a split second. He ducked back awkwardly as she grabbed Keahilani and hugged her for a long moment.

“Guys, shit. I’m so damn sorry.” Ret wiped at a tear and then composed herself with a deep breath and squared shoulders. “We’re gonna get the fucker who did this. I swear to Christ.”

She didn’t look at Kai, and he didn’t look at her. A quick swipe of her short, blond hair, and she hitched her hands to her hips. “Mind if I pay my respects?”

“Go ahead,” Keahilani said. Then she eased closer to whisper in Ret’s ear, “I think I know who did it.”

Ret nodded. “We’ll talk later.”

As the cops busied themselves and the nurses answered questions, Keahilani guided Kai to a quiet corner. “Manō’s at the safe house with Blake. I made the mistake of trusting him once, but I won’t ever let anyone come before ‘ohana again.” She hesitated. “Something’s going on, Kai. Bigger than us. You feel it too, I can tell.”

He stared at her. His silence confirmed her suspicions.

She held out her hands and studied them. The darkness inside grew with every decision and every hit they took. “Swear to me, we’ll stay together. No matter what.”

“‘Ohana is everything. I promise I’ll never leave you or Manō hanging, Keahilani.” His total lack of affect sounded nothing like the easy-going Kai she’d grown up with, yet the words assured her they were on the same page. Just like always.

Losing Bane was like losing Mahina all over again. She’d been blindsided. Helpless. But now that she’d had a little time to assimilate everything that happened, her newborn thirst for retribution cemented her resolve.

There would be no more inhibitions. From this moment forward, she would expect death around every corner. Anticipate it. Welcome it. She had nothing left to lose.

“Whoever did this destroyed an irreplaceable piece of our family. He
will
suffer. His friends and family will suffer. His goddamn
soul
will suffer. I’ll see to it myself.” Her thirst for blood jacked up, circulating hard-core commitment through her. She licked her lips and met Kai’s steely gaze. “I’m not afraid of
anything
anymore.”

Shadows cavorted around his face. The corner of his mouth barely lifted in a wry, devious smile she’d never seen before. Looked good on him. “Me neither.”

The twin connection tightened between them like a steel lifeline. Without any outer communication, they leaned into each other and hugged briefly. The energy flowing between them was half ocean waves, half rippling lava. And one hundred percent ‘ohana.

She snuck a peek into the room and stared at the still, blue-tinged body that used to be her brother. Bane’s death would be avenged shortly. Scott, or whoever the hell did this, would pay for the rest of his short life for insulting the Alana ‘ohana.

First stop on the Revenge Express: Blake Murphy.

Chapter Thirty

When Keahilani and Kai returned to the safe house in Kula shortly after noon, Manō greeted them at the door. His face wrenched with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. The three of them huddled, arms around each other, somber, but without tears. The time for crying had passed. They had killing to do.

“Blake’s still alive?” Keahilani said, almost wishing he weren’t. The responsibility of dealing with his still-pumping heart was too great a burden.

Manō nodded. “He’s unconscious. Lost a lot of blood.”

“Good,” she spat. Her ringing phone interrupted an oncoming tirade. She gruffly answered. “What?”

“Mr. Smith is curious as to why he’s not seeing his product moving on the streets,” an unidentified male voice said. “You promised immediate results, and our sources haven’t heard a word about Pāhoehoe. This gives us cause for concern.”

Shit. One of the investors. Great timing. “It’s still early in the game, and we ran into a few … snags. These things take time.”

“Our eyes and ears are everywhere. Your first payment is due in two weeks, whether the product sells or not. I suggest you find a way to make that happen, or you might lose another brother.” The line clicked, and the call ended.

Keahilani’s face drained of heat. She pulled the phone back and stared at it.

“Who was it?” Kai asked.

She swallowed. “One of the investors. He claims there might be another death if we don’t have the money in two weeks.”

Lip curled, Kai resettled his big frame in a defensive stance. “How the hell do they know who we are?”

Keahilani shook her head. “We covered our tracks—”

“Maybe our investors have connections to Scott,” Manō said softly. He faced her. “Maybe one of them
is
Scott.”

Her blood raged anew. If that were the case, all the more reason to use her not-so-willing captive to get to that murdering bastard. Blake was a valuable asset to his boss. If she hurt Blake, she’d hurt Scott.

She pulled up her contacts on the phone as she stomped away. “Manō, get your tools ready for Blake,” she yelled over her shoulder, slamming the door behind her.

Business first. Pleasure later. She skirted to the backyard for privacy and dialed up her last resort on the distribution front. Defying every rule she’d ever made to govern herself and her ‘ohana, she set up a meeting. One hour. No costumes. No wigs. No guns.

If this didn’t work, the family would likely have to flee Maui. There were no other options, and the people they were dealing with weren’t the types to let things slide. They took action. Lethal action.

She went back inside. Manō and Kai halted their conversation when she barged into the kitchen, a live wire of nerves hungry for the right fuse to set her off. She turned to Manō. “Call Jezzy and have her find Scott. He’s on this island somewhere. I’m going to kill him.”

Manō stared at her calmly. “Already done. She can’t help.”

“Why not?” she seethed.

“Conflict of interest.”

“What?” Keahilani’s jaw dropped. Jezzy’s working relationship with Scott wasn’t a surprise. Her choosing his side after he killed her brother was.

He nodded grimly. “She told me she wouldn’t compromise her other clients, but she’d let us know if she heard of anything heading our way. Like she did with Bane.”

Keahilani snorted and refrained from stomping her foot like a spoiled child. “Yeah. Too little, too late on that one.” Damn, this was a hell of a blow.

How
could
she? The family’s only source of trustworthy intel, and Jezzy was covering for the enemy who’d
killed
their brother? A stab in Keahilani’s heart would’ve been preferred. At least she would’ve bled out before witnessing the humiliating downfall of her short-lived empire in the wake of Bane’s death.

The skeleton holding her emotions together crumbled within her. Deceit lurked in every corner. Death watched the Alana ‘ohana from above, ready to descend at any moment. Trust flipped to lies. Innocence was punished. Love turned to hate.

“Fuck this. Fuck it all,” Keahilani said. The fury trapped inside her reached the point of no return. Pressure from every side forced her anger up and out. Rage poured off her skin, thick and red as fresh lava. It stung her, singed her heart. She cared for Blake, but he fucked with her ‘ohana. She warned him not to do it. He didn’t listen. Now he had to pay.

She pointed to the bedroom. “Blake knows where Scott is. Make him tell you,” she said to Manō. “Whatever it takes.”

Overwhelmed with grief and frenzy and loss and frustration, she no longer cared whether Blake lived or died. Whatever connection they’d forged had been severed by the loss of her brother. Only ‘ohana mattered, and Blake would never be part of hers.

She trudged down the hall to the guest room and grabbed Mahina’s journal. Blake lay unconscious on the bed, his breaths shallow, his normally tanned skin pale. For a split second, pity seized her hard heart. They could’ve had something special, but their paths led them in opposite directions. Maybe his ‘ohana was as important to him as Keahilani’s was to her.

Mahina used to say that ‘ohana wasn’t always about blood. Sometimes family included the misfits who didn’t belong anywhere else but with you because you were just as fucked up as they were. Sometimes they were the ones who reflected pieces of yourself.

The Alanas would’ve welcomed Blake into their ranks, but he chose his ‘ohana over hers when he went into Bane’s house to kill him. Didn’t matter that someone else got there first. Blake’s intention to murder superseded the botched execution.

Keahilani would never forgive him.

The moment of weakness passed. She leaned over him, vengeance slipped firmly back in place, and whispered, “I’ll be back for you shortly.”

Journal tucked under her arm and girded with stainless steel determination, she left her doomed lover without a goodbye and drove to the beach. Another car with a lone driver pulled up shortly after.

Lui approached slowly and studied her for a long moment. “I like you better with the wig. Such flair. Such life.” He picked up a length of her wilted hair and sacrificed it to the wind’s whims. “This … not so much.”

She smiled. She hadn’t seen decent sleep or a shower in well over twenty-four hours. Must’ve looked like hell. But when in need of fuel, retribution was an excellent substitute for food and relaxation. “Sit with me.” She lowered herself to the sand and patted the empty space beside her.

He joined her and gazed at the sea. The collar of his pink Hawaiian shirt reared like a frightened horse with the approach of a breeze. “You don’t listen very well, Pele. I told you I’m not interested in dealing your precious Pāhoehoe.”

She faced him. Same features, but much older. Time to play her final card. “Tell me about your mother, Lui.”

He snorted a laugh. “Psychoanalysis? I love this game. Well,” he gleefully slapped his hands together and worked his words through a big smile, “if you’re wondering about my Oedipus complex, let me tell you, sister, it’s something else—”

“Leilani, right?” Keahilani interrupted.

Lui silenced. Stared. Sobered.

She removed the picture from her pocket and presented it to him. He took it tentatively as if afraid he might catch a dreaded disease from the ancient gloss. His gaze alighted on each of the four keiki in turn—Keahilani, Kai, Manō, and he ended with himself. “Where did you get this?” His voice downshifted to low and cold.

Keahilani held up Mahina’s 1993 journal. “I think a reading will explain everything. Indulge me?”