Authors: Maureen Willett
She took her time getting to the front door. Once outside, her knees buckled and she fell to the sidewalk. She put her head down again, not caring that people along the street were probably casting curious looks at her. Malia saw tires stop in the loading zone and heard a car door slam, but she couldn’t lift her head to see who was there.
“Malia! Are you okay?” asked Ryan as he ran to where she was slumped on the curb.
“I don’t feel very good.” Sweat poured off her brow, yet she still felt chilled to the bone.
“Let me help you.” Ryan pulled her up into his arms and almost carried her to his car, where he laid her across the backseat.
She heard the car door shut and the engine start. “Wait. I can’t go with you. I’m meeting him around the corner,” she said in a feeble voice that couldn’t be heard over the sound of the engine. She was too weak to protest any further and closed her eyes, letting the hum of the car lull her to sleep.
Malia awoke to the feeling of someone fanning her but then realized it was a ceiling fan that circulated air overhead. She opened her eyes and watched it go around and around for a few minutes, trying to comprehend where she was and what had happened.
“This might help,” Ryan said as he handed her a glass of water.
She took it and tried to sit up, but the pain in her head was so unbearable it blurred her vision. She blinked a few times to focus and then looked around. She was lying on a couch in Ryan’s office at the police station. The door was shut.
He leaned against his desk with arms crossed in front of his chest. “Where is he?” Ryan asked.
She shrugged, hoping she could be a convincing liar in her weakened state. “I don’t feel well. I need to go home.”
“I can hold you for aiding and abetting a murder suspect, and I don’t care how you feel. This is a serious situation, so you’d better start answering some questions. Like, what’s this?” He held up her dagger. “And why do you have so much cash in your purse?”
The contents of her purse were all over his desk. She took a deep breath and looked at the dagger but didn’t open her mouth. She hoped Ryan hadn’t inspected it too closely.
“Why do you have a concealed weapon in your purse?” The anger in his voice was apparent.
“I keep it for protection. My shop isn’t exactly in the best neighborhood, you know. Would it be better if I carried a gun?”
Ryan walked around to the other side of the desk and threw the dagger down onto the pile of her belongings. “Where is he?” The anger increased with each word.
“I honestly don’t know,” she said leveling her eyes at him, not blinking for fear the detective would think she was lying. And it was the truth. She really didn’t know where Hunter was at the moment. “But I would guess somewhere on the mainland by now. Please, may I go home? I don’t feel well.”
Ryan stood with his hands on his hips and no emotion on his face, studying her. He walked over to the door and put his hand on the knob. “I’ll give you a few moments to change your mind about leveling with me before I take the next step. And make no mistake about it, I will find your friend,” he said, then walked out the door.
Adrenaline gave Malia the strength to get to the door and see if it was locked, so she pulled and twisted the knob every way possible, but it didn’t budge. It would do no good to pound on the door; no one she wanted to see would open it. She went to the desk and put everything back in her purse. That’s when she noticed her mobile phone was missing. Ryan had probably taken it to see if Hunter’s contact information was stored in it. Of course, it wasn’t. She looked at the phone on the desk, picked up the receiver, and punched in the familiar number, hoping Lani would answer. But it rang a few times and then voicemail kicked in, so she hung up without leaving a message. Who else could she call? Malia didn’t really want to involve anyone in her situation.
And what happened to Archer? Some knight in shining armor, she thought as she flung herself back on the couch, clutching her purse and letting the nausea take over again. Her car was still parked in front of the shop. Lani would probably start looking for her in the morning when she went to work, Malia realized with some comfort.
After what seemed hours, Ryan came back in the room. “Anything you want to tell me, Malia?”
She shook her head with resolve.
“Come with me,” he said with a stern expression on his face. “I’ll take you home.”
She figured the relief probably showed on her face, but Malia didn’t care. Let him think what he wanted.
Ryan led her through a deserted hallway and into the garage. She got into his car, thankful she would soon be in her own bed. The warm summer air rushed through the open window, soothing her as they drove over the Pali Highway to the Windward side of the island. She tried to tell him that her car was back at the shop, but the sound of the wind through the open windows drowned out her voice, and Malia was too weak to protest.
Headlights blazed in and out of view before her droopy eyes. After a few minutes of total darkness, she realized things weren’t right. She sat up and tried to figure out where they were. The Pali Highway had streetlights the entire way. Somehow, they had ventured off the main thoroughfare into the darkness. “Where are we?” she asked.
Ryan pushed a button and the windows went up. Something in the way he moved sent a rush of fear through Malia, so she quietly opened her purse and put her hand inside.
“If you’re looking for this, don’t bother,” Ryan said, holding up her dagger before he threw it on the dashboard out of her reach. He turned onto a dirt path and drove off the paved road for a few minutes.
As the sound of gravel crunching under the tires continued, Malia’s heart raced. Then the car stopped, and Ryan turned off the lights. They were in the black of night in the middle of the jungle, with only some stars to provide light.
Malia’s heart raced and her throat felt dry. “What are you doing?” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice but wasn’t very successful.
“Let’s just call this an informal interrogation—something one of us will enjoy,” he said with intensity. “If you cooperate, I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Malia could see the outline of Ryan’s head as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She unbuckled her seatbelt and felt around for the door handle without making any noise. She hoped the door would open without trouble. She could feel his breath on her neck as he bent closer, so she clenched her fist, hoping the surprise of her attack would be enough to deter him. The adrenaline coursing through her aided in making the blow to Ryan’s face more stunning than it should have been. She hit him squarely in the nose.
He gasped and fell back, clutching his hands to his face, which gave Malia the moment she needed to open the door. But he was on top of her, grabbing at her legs and thighs before she could get out. Malia tried to assault him with a kicking frenzy, but Ryan soon had her legs in a vice grip as they both fell out of the car. Luckily the soft grass below broke their fall. She wrestled with him, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs. No one would hear her. He’d picked the perfect place to make his attack.
Malia reached down her legs and clawed at his hands, but he was too strong. She screamed like a wildcat, and scratched Ryan hard, but he rolled on top of her in the grass. Out of the darkness, his fist came down on the side of her head, not quite knocking her out but blinding her with pain. He reached down and tore her blouse down the front and cut her bra with something sharp, exposing her breasts in the darkness.
After the blow to her head, Malia regained some awareness of what was happening and tried to fight him off with her fists. Then she felt something sharp on her chest, and it started to burn like fire. Ryan pressed the tip of the dagger into her nipple, and they both could see the glow of the neon green metal. He almost dropped the dagger.
“What the hell?” Ryan gasped but then steadied his hand. “Seems like I could cut it off without too much trouble with this thing,” Ryan said as he pressed the dagger a little deeper into her sensitive skin.
Malia swallowed her terror as the dagger made a small puncture, and the fire burned her skin. She tried to control her breathing so her chest wouldn’t expand too much and make the knife go deeper. The fear coursing through her made it easy to be still.
“So, do you want to start answering my questions?” Ryan pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while keeping the dagger there with his other hand. “It would be a shame to lose such a lovely part of your body, but I’ll do it if I have to.”
The joy in his voice was apparent, and his erection jutted against her thigh. She was unable to focus on anything but the fear running through her and the pain from the dagger wound.
“You know, women always tell me they don’t like it rough, but you’re all liars,” he said with hatred. “Your nipple is getting hard, so I can tell you do. Pleasure mixed with pain can be very stimulating, especially as the pain increases. And that’s exactly how I’m going to give it you.” He reached down and put his free hand between her legs. “I’ll bet you’re already wet, too.”
She tried to keep her legs closed, but then he pressed the dagger deeper into her skin, so she opened her legs slightly and let him fondle her. He tore at her panties and roughly groped her, pinching her hard to get a reaction, making her squirm and jump.
“So where is he?”
Hot tears filled her eyes, and she couldn’t get any words out through the thick lump in her throat. He pinched her again in various places between her thighs, all the while keeping the dagger at her nipple. It cut into her whenever she jumped from the pain he inflicted.
“I don’t know,” she finally managed to get out. “I really don’t know where he is.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said with a laugh. Ryan unbuckled his pants and positioned himself between her legs.
“No, please, please don’t,” she begged.
“I thought you were different, Malia. But you’re just like all the other sluts I’ve known. You even have a convict ex-husband to prove it.” Ryan got on top of her and moved the dagger to her throat. He was just about to enter her, when something changed. He stopped, suspended above her, and then reared back for a moment, letting the dagger fall away from his hands. Suddenly his body fell, almost knocking the air out of her as he landed on top of her.
She struggled under his dead weight. Something warm spilled from his body onto her arm. Somehow she managed to get out from under him and back away on the ground as a strange howling noise came from somewhere.
“Stop screaming,” Archer ordered from a few feet away in the darkness.
That howling noise had been coming from her throat—a primal roar of terror she didn’t know a human could make. “What did you do?” Malia managed to ask as she continued to back away from Ryan’s still body.
“What was I supposed to do, let him rape you? I killed him,” Archer said without emotion in his raspy voice. “Let’s get out of here before more police come.”
She couldn’t get her breathing under control, and her head felt light. “How did you . . . how did you?” Complete thoughts were difficult to form.
“I threw a knife in his back. Now come on, we need to get out of here,” Archer said. “I’d pick you up and put you in the car, but I can’t get near enough to do it. Take that damn necklace off!”
Malia numbly did as she was told. She unclasped the crystal necklace and threw it in the grass behind her. “It’s off.” She felt Archer’s hand grab her arm and pull her to her feet. He searched around in the grass for the dagger, which he put in his pants when he found it, and then picked her up and almost threw her in the passenger’s side of Ryan’s car before climbing into the driver’s seat. The momentary contact with him was reassuring. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let go of the man who saved her from certain rape, and worse.
“You can drive?” she asked in a weak voice. Tears flowed down her face and her hands shook as she tried to make some sense of her torn clothes. There was blood all over her arm—Ryan’s blood.
“What a question at a time like this,” Archer said through clenched teeth as he put the transmission in reverse and slammed on the gas. The tires screeched as he backed out onto pavement and did a half circle to turn around. He switched on the headlights and sped down the street.
“It’s just that Hunter doesn’t drive, so I thought. . . .” Malia couldn’t finish her sentence. Her voice shook too much and her throat was constricted.
“Yeah, well, Hunter’s pretty lame at most things,” Archer said, keeping his eyes on the road and swerving in and out of traffic on the Pali Highway.
After they were a few miles down the road, Archer pulled the car to the side of the highway under a streetlight and looked her way. “Listen, you need to get it together, and fast. I can’t have a loopy woman on my hands. Not tonight,” he said in a kind tone.
Malia looked at him with curiosity, wondering what else was in store for them this night. She noticed where his eyes wandered and realized she was half naked. She tried to pull the pieces of her blouse together without much success.
“There’s blood all over you,” he said, touching her arm. Archer pulled his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Here, cover up with this.”
Malia turned her back on him and took off the pieces of her tattered blouse and bra with shaky hands. She donned Archer’s cropped T-shirt, feeling his eyes on her back. She patted her cotton skirt, grateful it was still in one piece, even if her panties had been torn off and left somewhere in the grass.
“So what else is going to happen tonight?” Malia asked in the calmest voice she could muster as she turned back around.
“It’s better you don’t know.”
S
omewhere in the distance there was sound and light, but Hunter had to get through a haze of pain to find them. He didn’t want to open his eyes; he already knew what was happening by the position of his body. He was kneeling and his wrists were tied behind his back. The rope encircled his ankles as well, and someone held him upright. Water was being poured over his head, forcing Hunter to gain consciousness. He opened his eyes and resisted the urge to shake the water out of his hair because the movement would be too painful. Hunter couldn’t believe he’d been so easy to capture.
He looked around the open meadow, unable to focus. A small bonfire lit the area, but Hunter couldn’t discern any other evidence of civilization. The ocean was a quiet murmur in the background. He swallowed and looked up at the two executioners his father had sent. He should have easily defeated them, but the effect on his body of being away from Malia made him weak.
“You’ve been a naughty boy. Your father is very displeased,” the man with the sunglasses said in a deep voice. The other, larger man stoked the fire with a branding iron.
Hunter knew what would come next and flexed his hand in anticipation of the pain.
“What a pity your own father has ordered your death. And such a pretty boy, too. I’m tempted to have my way with you first,” said the man with the sunglasses. He slurred his words and got right in Hunter’s face. The smell of stale beer seemed to seep from every pore on the man’s fleshy body.
Hunter gave his best haughty look, one he had perfected over the years. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ll be the one walking away from here tonight.” Hunter glared at the man, piercing into the stranger’s brain with images of the way he would torture and kill him given the chance. Hunter had done similar killings so many times before when his father said it was necessary. But he would never do his father’s dirty work again. Killing in self-defense, however—that was another matter entirely.
The man jumped back with a surprised look on his face but then regained his composure. “Stop playing your mind tricks on me, boy!” He hit Hunter hard across the face. “I’ve heard about you!”
Hunter easily recovered from the blow and shot the man a cold, ruthless smile, wishing his powerful magic had not deserted him. He couldn’t muster enough strength to break the knots in the ropes—something that normally would be done without effort.
“Let’s get on with it,” the man with the sunglasses ordered the other assassin. “That thing must be hot enough by now. Brand him on the hand, or better yet, on his face. That’ll wipe his smirk off.”
The man at the fire gave the other a strange look. “He’s a Blackthorne. We need to do this correctly or suffer the consequences from Lord Blackthorne. You know that, Butch.”
Butch shrugged and took off the sunglasses so he could look Hunter in the eyes. “So you thought you could escape, did you? You Blackthornes think you’re better ‘n anybody, but you’re not. I’m really gonna’ enjoy this.” He took the branding iron from the bald man and grabbed Hunter’s right hand, then pressed the hot iron into the palm.
Hunter closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to steel himself against the intense pain in his hand. He’d never felt his flesh burn before and wasn’t prepared for the way it sizzled and smelled. His breathing came in sharp gasps, and he stayed still so the executioners wouldn’t see him squirm; he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
He fought back from the pain. Once back in control, he opened his eyes and looked up at Butch with a mocking smile. “Is that all you got?”
Butch slapped Hunter across the face again but this time with the back of his hand, knocking Hunter over onto his side. Blood spurted out of his mouth, leaving a trail of sparkles.
The bald man propped Hunter back up to a kneeling position. “Let’s get on with it,” the bald man told Butch. “I’ve no desire to see any magic tricks.”
That’s when Hunter saw the flash of the neon green metal of a long knife in the executioner’s hand. He swallowed hard, hoping they would make the cut properly so it would be over in an instant.
“Once we’re done with you, we’re gonna go get your little girlfriend. We’ll take our time with her, though,” said Butch. He bent down and got right in Hunter’s face again. “I hear she’s real pretty.”
Hunter gave him a cold look but didn’t let the man know how much his words cut through him.
The bald man came over with the knife in hand, but then he hesitated to put it to Hunter’s throat. “I’m sorry to have to do this. It just doesn’t seem right, you bein’ a Blackthorne, and all.”
The emotion in his voice gave Hunter hope the man wouldn’t go through with it. Hunter was too weak to fight physically, so he tried to concentrate on the man’s thoughts to amplify the notion he should give Hunter his freedom.
The sound of a car engine cut through the quiet night, and the headlights coming through the empty field made the two executioners freeze. The car pulled up and parked right next to the black sedan. Archer got out and pulled someone out of the car behind him. Hunter couldn’t tell who it was at first, but then his heart skipped a beat. That bastard, Hunter thought. He would kill him for this.
Archer dragged Malia along through the rough grass. She stumbled after him, clutching his arm. As the two got nearer, Hunter felt his body grow stronger as his nausea disappeared and the pain in his head lessened. Just being near Malia made him feel whole again, and his breathing became more normal.
Hunter was surprised to see that Archer was naked from the waist up and Malia wore his shirt. Hunter shot Archer a deadly look; he would deal with his brother later. Hunter could feel the fire of hatred in his veins. He resolved to break free and escape with Malia no matter what the cost. He clenched his fists, ignoring the pain ignited in his right hand. Tonight, he would enjoy killing more than ever.
“Noooo!” Malia screamed when she saw Hunter tied up on the ground. Archer grabbed her by the hair to keep her from running to Hunter, so she screamed again, only this time from pain.
“Seems like we don’t have to go too far to find your lady love,” Butch taunted.
Archer walked up to the bonfire, still dragging Malia along by the hair. He looked over at Hunter with a smile. “Don’t look so surprised to see me. You didn’t think I would really help you escape, did you?”
“I’ll kill you for this,” Hunter said in a low voice that sounded almost like a growl. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared with rage.
Malia grabbed Archer’s hand twisted in her long hair and tried to break free. He grabbed her, pulling her face to face with him, hugging her close.
“Get away from her,” Hunter demanded, as he struggled against the ropes. One of the executioners laughed.
“Yeah, okay,” Archer said as he turned back around. He threw Malia down on the ground next to Hunter. “You can have her. I’ve already discovered she ain’t no big thing.” Archer then greeted each executioner with a handshake.
While the men shook hands and talked, Hunter felt the ropes behind him loosen. Cautiously, he looked around to see Malia with a dagger in her hand slicing through the ties. His head jerked up to make sure the executioners weren’t looking, but Archer kept them distracted. As soon as Malia freed him, Hunter grabbed the dagger out of her grasp and leaped toward Butch. Hunter’s movements were so fast, they couldn’t be detected by human eyes. Before the man could blink, Hunter sliced off his head with one motion. As this happened, Archer elbowed the bald man. Before the larger man could react, Archer pummeled him and then grabbed him around the neck. Loud gurgling sounds came from the man’s throat before he went limp.
Hunter, not realizing he still held Butch’s head by the hair, turned around to make sure Malia was all right. She was on the ground with her face in her hands, crying silently. Hunter looked down at the man’s head and threw it into the fire. He put the dagger in his pocket and went to her. “It’s all over now,” he murmured in her ear and put his arms around her. “We’re safe.” The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air.
She coughed a little and pulled away, unable to meet Hunter’s eyes. He wondered what she was thinking—probably that he was a cold-blooded monster.
“I thought,” she started to say and then looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I thought they were going to kill you.” The look on her face gave him some relief; she would forgive him for what she saw him do tonight.
“Oh, he’s okay,” Archer said in a disgusted tone. He stood over them with hands on his hips.
“Youuu!” Hunter stood and lunged at Archer, going for his throat, rage clouding his judgment. Hunter wanted blood on his hands, Archer’s blood. He took his brother by surprise and started to squeeze the life out of him. “What did you do to her?” Hunter’s voice held murderous intentions.
Archer tried to fight him off but the struggle for air was more important.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Malia screamed and tried to pull Hunter off Archer. “You’re killing him.”
“I intend to do just that,” Hunter said through gritted teeth, ignoring her as he put more pressure around Archer’s throat. Then Hunter felt something sharp stick into his side.
“Stop it right now,” Malia said in a calm voice. She pushed the tip of the dagger to the breaking point of Hunter’s skin, making the metal glow in the dark night. “I won’t do anything to seriously injure you, but it will be painful enough to make you let go of him.”
Hunter could feel her resolve like a wall of steel between them, so he let go of Archer, who doubled over and gasped for air. Hunter walked a few steps away to clear his head, but he really wanted to go back and end his brother’s life.
“Stop it,” Malia shouted. “Archer didn’t do anything to me. He saved me. Ryan would have raped me, but Archer saved me. Do you hear? And by the way, he saved you, too, when he slipped me the dagger. He wasn’t kissing me, he was giving me a knife.”
Hunter closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Then he turned back around to face Malia and his brother. Jealous rage threatened to take over again when he looked at Malia in Archer’s shirt, but he let go of the emotion.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Archer gasped in a sarcastic voice.
“That’s good because I won’t. You were supposed to keep her safe!”
“I did,” Archer protested. He stood up straight and looked at Hunter. “Why don’t you two go off to your little hiding place, and I’ll clean up the mess. So long. Good riddance.”
Hunter nodded and took Malia’s hand. “Good idea.” He still had to resist the urge to charge his brother. “See you around. . . or not.”
“Right,” Archer said. “Blood isn’t thicker than water, especially if it sparkles, so don’t expect me to help you again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hunter said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. He took a deep breath and watched while Malia smiled at Archer. She actually smiled at the asshole. Hunter shook his head in disbelief.
“On the other hand, M’lady,” Archer said with a bow and an appreciative look. “I’d be happy to be at your service again.”
Malia’s smile broadened, but Hunter pulled her away. It was time for the two of them to fly to freedom. They couldn’t waste any time, or tell anyone where they were going, and Hunter was not going to let her talk him into going back to her house for one last look. He picked up her purse and handed it to her, got his leather satchel, and then put his arms around her to keep her close to his body, happy to finally escape his father’s claws, glad to be rid of Archer.
“You’d better close your eyes. The last time we did this, you fainted,” Hunter warned.
Malia’s eyes widened in surprise, and she was about to ask a question, but he planted his lips on hers instead. There would be time enough later for explanations.
He enjoyed the sensation of taking off into the night air, knowing exactly where he was going with his beautiful girl in his arms.