Hot-Blooded (33 page)

Unsure of how much time had passed, and exhausted from the damage his body and mind had withstood, Blake struggled out of bed, hopping as quietly as he could on his good leg to the window. His damaged fingers tucked tightly under his armpit, he wrestled with the lock for a couple minutes, beyond frustrated by the lack of strength in his left hand.

A door closed down the hall. A new voice blended with the two male ones. Kea.

Fuck.

The lock on the window snapped opened. He shoved at the pane with all his strength. It didn’t budge.

Again.

Nothing.

Losing his balance and leaning against the wall for support, he pushed once more, fearful the noise might have attracted attention. The hallway quieted just as the creaking pane gave way. Mother of Christ. He clambered through the open space, no longer concerned about stealth. They’d heard him for sure.

Blake stumbled a few steps, and then fell flat on his face into the grass. The muscles in his shot leg couldn’t support his weight. He slammed his good fist to the earth.
Get up, Murphy. Get your ass up, and run!

He sucked in two deep breaths, steeled himself for the pain about to send his nerves plummeting into hell, and dug his working foot into the ground. He pushed up, scrambled for balance, miraculously found it, and hobbled away from the house.

In the middle of nowhere with no neighbors in sight, he slowly began to accept the fate staring him down.

His heartbeat pounded from the hole in his leg. His fingers flopped unnaturally against his thigh. His head became a dizzying swirl of misfiring neurons, harshly ignited pain receptors, and hacked navigation systems. He was going to die. He’d fucking die out here because Manō or Kea or both would kill him.

All for Scott, who probably had no idea what had even happened.

As he limped away, he looked over his shoulder to see how close they were. Manō’s head popped out of the window. He extended his arm, gun poised to shoot. Kea’s shout stopped him. “No, Manō!”

She ran up behind Blake, her breaths as wild and untamed as she was.

Why? Why did she have to be his enemy?

“Stop, Blake.”

He did. There’d be no escaping her two tightly muscled surfer legs with his damaged one. Balancing on his good foot, he turned to her. She flinched when his gaze landed on hers. The pressure from the gunshot wound consumed him. He wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. He wiped his sweaty face and pressed his dry lips together.

“Just tell us how to find Scott. We know he’s here.” Kea stepped closer, hands out in front of her. Her expression was a tense mélange of agony, regret, and resolve. “I don’t want to hurt you, Blake. Please.”

The air between them tasted of death. Stale. Ripe. Final.

He glanced to Manō. He’d climbed out of the window, and Kai stood beside him. Pele’s Enforcers to the end. If she didn’t finish Blake off, they certainly would.

He sighed and sat down to conserve what little energy he had left. The grass fringing his fingers left cool droplets on his skin. Like little kisses pressed to the damaged flesh, hoping to heal it. There’d be no more healing.

Kea towered over him, all shadow and no light. A butterfly danced between them. She glanced at it, followed its trajectory until it was out of sight, and continued. “You gotta understand. This is my ‘ohana. They’re all I have. The only ones who matter.” She squatted in front of Blake and propped an elbow on her bent knee. Sorrow darkened her beautiful, bloodshot eyes. “Your friend killed my brother. Give me a phone number, an address—
something
.”

He reached for her cheek with his undamaged hand and slipped his fingers down its slope. She shut her lids at his touch. Tiny beads of water bulged at the corners, threatening escape. Remorse over having to hurt Blake? Or despair at losing her brother?

Maybe both.

“Just as you protect your ‘ohana, I protect mine. Scott might not be my blood, but he’s my family. I can’t turn on him. Too much to lose.” He pressed a fist to his heart.

She laid a hand on his arm, gentle but firm. Her gaze wandered over the road map of bumps, cuts, and bruises covering his flesh. “I promised you if Bane died, you would too. I don’t want to have to end you, but I will. I absolutely will.” A black shadow hooded her face, a confirmation she’d follow through—possibly with hesitation, but definitely with closure. That darkness robbed all hope from his soul.

That’s when his hallucinations, her behavior, and his crazy dreams came together and culminated in one swift click of understanding. A sinister presence lived inside her. The snap of demonic wings popping open between her ribs was almost palpable. He glanced southwest toward the towering peak of Haleakalā, dressed in white clouds, staring down as if it owned them.

Maybe it did.

He’d been a fool to believe Kea was innocent, or at the very least, not as dangerous as the clues up to this point suggested. The same evil within her also lay hidden in her brothers. A malevolence he’d overlooked during their time together—or maybe one she concealed too well under those ever-shifting shadows. Either way, the Alanas should not have been underestimated. Especially not Keahilani.

The dormant volcano was no more. The real Pele had awoken.

She straightened to her full, majestic height. Searing trails of red and orange lava rolled down her skin like tears. Hallucinations before impending death, for sure, yet no less real than the butterfly gliding along the air currents in a holding pattern above their heads.

“Get up.” The command belonged to a goddess.

Jaw clenched against the pain, Blake obeyed.

She removed a gun from her back pocket. A dark gray cape covered her shoulders, yet not a single cloud blocked the sun above them.

Blake closed his lids for a long moment. When he opened them, he said, “I love you, Keahilani.” The words might have been spoken out of desperation, but he meant them.

Her stern expression wavered. With quivering lips, she lowered the weapon. The tug between their hearts swelled as strong as the pull between the earth and the moon. Strong enough to change tides. Strong enough to end lives. Or make new ones if they could escape the bonds tying them to other interests.

Tears filled her eyes. “I know, baby. But sometimes love just isn’t enough.” A droplet trickled down her cheek, disrupting the lava flow with sizzles of steam. “Sometimes you gotta add blood to the mix to make the love stronger.”

Fuck.

His fate set, there was nothing left to do but slap his personal seal on his declaration and pray she’d off him fast. He inched forward, leaned against her for support, and lowered his lips to hers in a lingering, aching, final kiss.

Her heat encroached on his and overpowered it. Her breath against his cheek stole his. Her presence shadowed him, owned him, completed him.

When their lips parted and foreheads touched, she said, “Don’t make me do this.”

He smiled without happiness and blinked slowly. “I can’t tell you where Scott is, Kea.”

She lifted her elbow and pressed the cold muzzle of her gun under his hot chin. “I’m sorry it has to end this way.”

A shiver claimed his soul and shook it loose from its foundation. “You’re really gonna shoot me again?”

She leaned back. Her face shed its warmth and tears and filled in with icy certainty. “Yeah. And this time I’m not aiming for your leg.”

He swallowed hard. Gritted his teeth. Spread his arms wide. “Do what you gotta do.”

She lowered her head. Exhaled a long whoosh of air through her nose. Reclaimed his eyes with her now-black ones.

And she pulled the trigger.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Saturday, October 4

“Today we remember our dear brother Bane, who was taken from this world too soon.” From behind the lectern, Keahilani studied the faces of her dead brother’s friends and ‘ohana scattered through the church. She didn’t recognize half of them.

So many things she didn’t know about his life. So many unanswered questions about his death.

“I’m sure most of you are aware Bane was an avid surfer who outshone many of the older and more experienced wave riders on the North Shores of both Maui and Oahu. He won countless competitions as a
grom
and as an adult. The ocean was his best friend—his favorite place to go when he needed to clear his head or find peace with the natural world.

“He studied applied business and information technology at University of Hawai‘i Maui College. He also spent his free hours helping my brothers and me at our family-owned surf-and-dive shop.

“Bane had a big heart.” Keahilani bit her lip and paused for a long moment to corral her emotions. Since his death, she’d thought a lot about Bane’s alleged murderous activities on Oahu, and she’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t have killed Scott’s wife. Manō—or maybe even Kai—was capable of such a horrific act. She herself might have done it under the right circumstances. But Bane … No. He simply didn’t have it in him to hurt people, let alone murder anyone for money.

“My brother worked at the soup kitchen in Pāʻia when his schedule allowed. He knew what it was like to grow up with nothing, so when he finally
had
something, he gave back to the community that had supported us when we needed it.

“He was our baby, our light, our hope, and …” Another pause as more tears welled. She blinked them away and lifted her gaze to her brothers in the front row. Their stoic faces kept her from crumbling. Etched into the stained glass windows above them, an orange and black butterfly below a crescent moon smiled down at her. She shook her head and smiled. “And our mother Mahina would’ve been so proud of him.”

Sniffles dropped like little bombs around the church. Noses blew. Faces wrinkled into horrible poses. She might not have known many of these people, but they loved Bane too. A contingent of Hawaiian surfers wearing black shorts with one bright red and one bright yellow stripe down the right side—a subtle show of
he‘e nalu
solidarity and support for a lost brother—took up an entire row.

As Keahilani swept the crowd, she spotted a big Hawaiian man sitting alone in the back pew. She almost didn’t recognize Lui in his neat, black, no-frills suit. He nodded when she caught his eye, and she replied with a curt smile.

And there was Ret in the middle near the aisle. Her short blond hair tamed in a soft style that seemed so unlike her. No gum snapping. No uniform. Just an old friend Keahilani needed to keep close—not necessarily for professional reasons, though those were important, but for personal ones.

Was Jezzy among the unfamiliar faces? Keahilani had never met her, but despite her refusal to give up information on Scott, she sensed the woman felt a connection to the Alanas that might warrant an appearance at the funeral. If nothing else, maybe Jezzy was there in spirit.

To some, ‘ohana meant “blood relatives,” but to Keahilani, it encompassed much more than that. These attendees were ‘ohana. All of them.

Keahilani took a deep breath. “Our mother used to say, ‘‘Ohana is everything.’ Seeing so many of Bane’s friends here confirms she was right. Thank you for coming to celebrate our brother’s life.”

Heads bowed as she left the podium and returned to Kai and Manō. The three of them clasped hands through the remainder of the service. The powerful energy rolling in waves among them kept her tears at bay. Things would be different from now on, but no matter what, ‘ohana would remain the guiding theme of her life.

When the officiant wrapped up the brief ceremony, the Alanas headed to the door to thank visitors for coming. Without a hint of eccentricity, Lui hugged Keahilani, offered his condolences, and pressed a folded piece of paper into her hand before leaving. She tucked it in her pocket for later.

The crowd dissipated, leaving behind a few stragglers, and Keahilani and her brothers dispersed. Ret hung close to Kai. They exchanged some private words. Manō clung to the wall and watched everyone with distrust.

Keahilani glanced to the wooden urn on the altar. She, Manō, and Kai planned to take Bane’s ashes to Haleakalā and scatter them where they left Mahina’s, but that would be after dark when no one would be around to follow them. It would be bittersweet going back to the mountain where they’d freed Mahina all those years ago. Haleakalā had provided the ‘ohana a bounty of monetary riches, thanks to the pot farm, but at the same time, it had cost them a priceless amount of emotional currency. Sometimes she wondered whether they’d have been better off if they’d never set foot in Mahina’s garden. She sighed. Probably.

“Keahilani?” a male voice said behind her.

She turned around to meet the blue eyes of her father. Her breath caught. A thousand memories swirled to life like a tornado, touched down without warning, and threw her brain into a panic. Yanking the reins of her runaway imagination, she blinked and went to work on forming an explanation for the unexplainable.

Aside from the identical eyes, the man’s face carried only hints of Justin—the slight indention of his cheekbones, his blondish hair a shade lighter than Dad’s, the similar slope of his nose—but it wasn’t him. Obviously.