Hot Contract (14 page)

He folded her arms down and started peeling
tape off a roll. She recognized the sound and felt the sticky
pressure.

She was falling, and then even that was
gone.

“Damn,” she heard him whisper. “I’m so damned
sorry.”

Corlis arrived in consciousness with her side
and shoulder aching. There were birds and ferns, big ones, with the
kind of wavy fronds that got in your eyes and blinded you when you
didn’t look to see where you were going. The bird was small and
yellow. And it was light out.

No, that was wrong.

It was still light out, but fading to an
angry smudge along the horizon. Sunset, then. It had been light
before. Before—what? She tensed her muscles, knowing she’d get only
one chance, and turned her head.

No one tried to stomp her.

The overgrown clearing they’d stumbled into
this morning wasn’t a clearing after all, but an abandoned scenic
outlook, complete with an arrow pointing to their exact
location.

You are here.

Fallon had fallen five feet away, caught in
the act of turning. He had a gun in one hand and a knife in the
other, and even unconscious, he looked pissed off. Blood caked his
chest. And when he didn’t echo her movements with his own, she got
up, very slowly. If he was breathing, she didn’t see it.

“Padraic?” she asked, although exactly what
she was asking for she didn’t know.

They’d fought, she remembered that much, over
stupid things that weren’t worth fighting over. And now he was in
the dirt with his face turned up to the dying sun, not moving or
responding to her in any way.

Her knees wobbled and dumped her down beside
him. Her best friend—the only one to accept her, and the only one
she’d ever wanted from the minute they’d first met.

She wondered when he’d started to hate
her.

“Padraic?” Her fists locked and lifted.
Slammed down, over and over again, pounding him back to life.

Padraic?
Don’t be dead.

****

Keegan rolled over, got to his feet and sat
down again, head swimming. His face smashed into the stale-smelling
fabric of the couch. It didn’t help that he couldn’t see. He was
furious and the whole wobbly knee-thing got him even more pissed.
If Makena Kualani ever crossed Keegan’s path again, he’d better be
packing, because when Keegan caught him, the good doctor was going
to the hospital in a body-bag.

It took Keegan three tries to get up, and
another five minutes to work his way over to the sink. Blood oozed
down his arm from where two little yellow darts were sunk into his
flesh. He pulled them out. They were just darts—of the little
needle, big payload variety—the lettering read, No Fly, the
authentic bird tranquilizer. Like there was any doubt the shit in
his system was anything less than authentic. He threw the darts in
the sink, rinsed the blood off and wrapped the needles in a handful
of napkins, although if he was going to go into analeptic shock,
he'd have done it by now.

Jen was nowhere in the cabin and a quick
glance told him the sedan was still where he’d parked it. The tire
tracks in the soft dirt around it told him Makena had brought his
own transport. And driven off with Jen?

What kind of game was he playing? He wasn’t
part of the Aina. There was too much leader in his make-up and
there wasn’t enough room in a fringe group for people who didn’t
toe the line.

Sunlight glittered off a pile of stripped
down metal bars on the picnic table next to the fire pit. A quick
investigation proved it was the delivery system. The grip was
stenciled with Makena’s initials like he wanted Keegan to come
after him.

Corlis crashed out of the undergrowth. “Help
me,” she said.

Fallon staggered beside her, face sickly
pale. Keegan helped him to the table.

Corlis dogged his footsteps like she was all
set to catch him, everything out there in the open, all her
emotions visible for anyone to see, like a combination of a bad day
and a car crash.

There were bloodstains on Fallon’s shirt and
he held a handful of the little yellow darts. He threw them on the
table and sat. Keegan added his to the pile.

The campground settled down for the night in
a rush of shouts and screaming kids. It was dinner and someone was
barbequing pork chops. Wood smoke drifted over from the communal
grills. Two children walked by, prodding something with a stick.
Corlis looked at them and they ran away, squeaking in excited
terror.

The expression on her face grew very
still.

“Yeah, Liss, just what you think. They’re
running home to tell Mommy, so cut the attitude and sit.” Fallon
reached up to grab her arm and pull her down beside him.

She gave Keegan a bewildered look. “He didn’t
shoot me,” she said.

“Maybe he didn’t consider you a threat,” said
Keegan, although he considered that freaking unlikely. His sister
was grade-A threat material from the tips of her butch haircut to
her toes and all points in-between.

Fallon pushed the darts over. “Help yourself,
babe. Or I’ll do it for you.”

She pushed them back, and they stopped palm
to palm, more than poison between them. “I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, right.” Fallon dropped his head in his
folded arms.

“It was Kualani, wasn’t it?” Corlis looked at
Keegan once she had her anger tamped down to manageable levels.
“What the hell are we going to do now?”

“Eat something,” said Fallon without lifting
his head. “There’s a box of crackers in the trunk, right next to
the tablet. I threw my phone in his car.”

Keegan sat up straight. “Hell, yeah! I knew I
kept you around for a reason.”

“Not because you love me, huh? That’s sad.
When you get ready to leave, pour me into the car, because I need
to sit this one out.”

Corlis got up and popped the trunk. Keegan
followed her, grabbed the box of crackers and shook out a sleeve.
The slight movement sent bile rushing into the back of his throat.
Fallon didn’t move.

“What did you do?” Keegan asked. “Give him
CPR?”

“I tried. He was…barely breathing.”

“Did he say anything?”

Corlis took a cracker, staring into the trunk
like it held all the answers. Her face was pale under her slight
tan, and there was a streak of blood on her chin. “I think he’s
allergic to the darts. He...doesn’t look good.”

Keegan scratched at the injection site. It
felt like there were fleas under his skin. “He looks all right for
a guy whose chest you tried to implode.”

Corlis crumbled the cracker in her hand and
flung away the crumbs. “I'm going to kill Kualani.”

****

In the time it took Jen to roll her head to
the side, the morning sun crawled up the dusty green mini-blinds.
She knew this house.

She’d installed the neon-lime smokeless ash
trays. She knew the tacky bobble-headed hula dancer on the
entertainment center and the ugly watermelon-shaped rug because
she’d placed them there herself in an effort to dress the place up.
Kimo called the décor early-Margaritaville. She couldn’t remember a
time when he hadn’t been Makena’s friend and assistant. And she was
duct-taped—with her arms crossed down over her belly—on his
couch.

Makena had sold her out. He was part of the
Aina.

“Hey, Jen.” Kimo closed the door behind him
and popped the top on a soda can. “Brought you some ginger
ale.”

Jen sagged back, relief making her
light-headed. Same old Kimo. Nice kid, despite the fact that he was
older than her.

Jen swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“Omigod, Kimo! You can’t imagine what I thought. Quick, cut me
loose. Where’s Mac?”

Kimo lifted his brows and shrugged. “Sorry,
yeah? Doc isn’t here. He dropped you off because he thought you’d
be safe.”

“And...I’m not?”

He squatted down beside her and held the can
to her lips. “We both belong to the Aina, but when Doc found out
you were involved he went crazy. He wants me to hide you from
Kuipo, and that’s not the way it works,” his voice lowered, “At
least, not right now.”

She sputtered through the soda and jerked her
head away. “Who is Kuipo?”

The door opened quietly. “That would be
me.”

Jen tried to breathe through her shock. “Aunt
Kate?”

Her aunt padded across the rug in her
fanciful Persian slippers, the wings of her caftan flaring out
behind her. She held a gun in one hand and used the other to fluff
her expensive black curls.

Her smile glittered like the mirrors sewn to
her collar. “Surprised, Jenny-dear?”

Jen tried to sit up. “But you’re not even
Hawaiian!”

“Through Her infinite grace, I am made
Hawaiian, love. It was hard in the beginning, but Pele has
transformed me. I am of the Aina now,” her voice dropped, soft and
sweet. “Aina means land, you know.”

“You’re crazy!” cried Jen.

Her aunt frowned, looking for an eerie second
just like her son, Makena. “Aren’t we calling the kettle black,
dear? We Stallings…” her expression twisted, “…are all crazy.
Behave now. We have little time.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“You do understand, don’t you? Nothing
personal. It was unfortunate you witnessed our little incident, but
these things happen. Kimo assured me you would be taken care of,
but for some reason, there have been unexpected delays.”

Kimo glanced at them both over the rim of his
can, his eyes enigmatic.

“Nothing personal? You’re going to kill
me!”

Kate tapped her lips. “Well, my dear, there
is that. Wendell?” she called. “Bring in the visual aid.”

Jen’s youngest cousin edged through the door,
still dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day of the luau. A tall,
red-haired woman hung upside down over his shoulder, her face
almost as red as her hair.

“Hey Jen,” Wendell waved at her. “Sorry about
this, yeah? Man, it’s hot outside. You gonna drink that?”

Jen got her shoulders off the couch.
“You—”

“Sheesh!” said Wendell. “Don’t bite my head
off. I’m just following orders, and it’s hot outside. Hey, Kimo?
Think you could get me a beer?”

Kate waggled her gun. “Kimo is one of us, not
your servant. Drop the girl.”

Wendell started to squat.

“Drop her!” shrieked Kate.

The woman fell with a sharp cry and rolled on
her back, arms and shoulders working the duct tape around her
forearms into a tight, unbreakable band. “Mrs. Kualani! Please wait
for Makena. He’ll—”

“No talking!” Kate whipped the gun barrel
down, smashing the words from Andora's mouth.

Jen screamed, "Stop it!" She had worms in her
belly, cold worms with sharp little teeth, and they gnawed at her
like they were searching for her backbone. “Aunt Kate, please!
Andora isn’t involved—”

“You
know
her don’t you, Guinevere?
Andora Ramirez? My son’s neighbor. Kimo tells me you knew....” Her
gaze slipped to Jen and locked on her eyes. “I do not want my son
breeding this woman. Look at that hair. He had the absolute
gall
to bring her to my luau looking for my approval, like I
would approve such a flamboyant addition to our genome.”

“Aunt Kate? Please, put the gun down....”

“I don’t need a gun.” Kate tossed it to
Wendell and spun, viciously kicking Andora in the back.

Jen squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn’t
block out the sound of hitting, and the soft agonized sounds Andora
made before she went silent. The meaty thuds went on until Wendell
sat down next to Jen and popped a beer.

“Aunt Kate, chill, yeah? She’s not like the
other one. The woman is heavy. Man, I think I sprained a
muscle.”

Jen heard the shuffle of slippers on the
gaudy rug.

“She’ll last long enough. She belongs to
Pele, and the volcano goddess is a jealous god.”

Jen opened her eyes. She wanted to close them
again, but the expression on her aunt's face made her keep them
open. They all sang to the madness in their genes. But in Kate's
case it was a full throttle opera in Middle-High German with
Valkyries and dancing girls.

Kimo handed Kate her tablet.

“Can we do this today?” he asked. “I have a
tooth cleaning tomorrow.”

Kate sat on a small leather ottoman, her
sapphire caftan billowing up around her as she scrolled through her
to-do list. “It certainly looks like it. Text the others and let
them know, dear.”

Kimo pulled out a phone and left for the
kitchen.

Jen tried to fold her hands together to make
them smaller, but it was no good. The tape was too tight. If there
was ever a time for Keegan to kick down the door, this was it. Did
he know where she was? She had to get away, get free—
do
something!
Kimo’s house was just off the highway. If she ran
out into traffic, someone would call the police, and this whole
nightmare would be over.

She looked up to see her aunt shake her head.
“Guinevere? I know you’re smarter than that. This is not a game,
and I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“You’re going to kill me like you killed
Terri.”

“That woman was not worthy. She felt sorry
for the people condemned to death and refused to work with us. Kimo
came up with the idea of making her death seem like a suicide.”

“You threw her over the railing like
trash!”

“I have no idea what Kimo did. Issues with
his methodology are best addressed to him.” Her aunt kicked her
slippers off, replaced them with expensive sneakers, and got to her
feet. “Your hysterical story cost me two highly trained operatives.
The ones that came to your house that night, dear? And for that,
Guinevere, you must pay.”

The movement of Kate’s breath made the gems
on her collar twinkle. The sapphires were real. Both jewels and
silk matched perfectly, because if they didn’t, it was a problem.
And all problems were dealt with.