Hot Contract (15 page)

“Let us go,” Jen whispered, “and I’ll get you
more people.”

Kate stopped for a second, an arrested
expression on her face. “No,” she said softly. “It’s much too late,
and we are close to the end. Kimo, dear? You missed her legs.”

Kimo came back through the door and picked
Jen up by her shirt. He was stronger than he looked, holding her in
place while he glanced back over his shoulder at her aunt.

“Talk to her much longer, and she’ll put the
old hoodoo on you. Want me to gag her, too?”

“Gags are so undignified,” said Kate. “I
think...not. Are you ready?”

Kimo shifted until he had Jen’s shirt knotted
in the small of her back. He used it like a handle to turn her
toward the door. “Got a truck backed up to the side door,” he
said.

“Let Andora go! Aunt Kate, I’m the one you
want—”

Kimo casually tore off a strip of duct tape
with his teeth. “Shut it or lose it, Guinevere.”

He taped her ankles together and pushed her
into the back of the waiting gravel truck. “Behave and I’ll get you
a blanket. Hey, Wendell? Load it up, man. We’re live.”

The driver and passenger doors slammed and
they started moving. In the back, Jen bounced from side to side.
Andora didn’t move. The two of them were the only cargo the truck
contained, and the empty gravel truck was like a bin on wheels. Jen
rattled around like a pea. They dropped into a rut and she hit her
head. They went around a curve, and she slammed into the corrugated
metal walls. She was getting farther from the only people who could
have saved her, with no one to blame but herself. She’d climbed
into her cousin’s Land Rover of her own free will. She was good at
running away.

How could it go bad so fast? Had it ever been
real? Keegan was sick of her. In her entire life, no one had ever
wanted her for who she really was on the inside. She was Guinevere
Stalling, Art Stalling’s daughter. The end result of generations of
careful alliances and a miserable failure at the game of genetic
one-upmanship. Despite her track record, she’d let Keegan in
knowing he was on her father’s payroll and he’d tried to screw her,
but in his case, he didn’t actually want to, or maybe he did—but
just once. Out of curiosity, damn him. She was tired of running in
circles while the world spun around using her for target
practice.

The truck went over a series of grooves cut
into the road and gravel hit the undercarriage with sharp pings.
Her torn and tattered holomu'u did nothing for the cold that seeped
up through the corrugated metal. The darkness was absolute and
smothering. Only Andora’s ragged breathing and the truck rumbling
over the track told her she hadn't died and been condemned to a tin
can in Hell.

The ultimate irony was that she finally knew
how her aunt had managed to bypass Project security. The Aina,
through Aunt Kate, owned Hawaii’s Best Gravel. The pits were on the
far side of the northern quadrant and the big green and orange
trucks were a familiar sight on the narrow access roads. She’d seen
one just yesterday.

Terri must have stumbled on to something
while she was out checking the rift. If only Jen knew what it was,
maybe she could work it to her advantage.

“J-Jen? Don’t worry. Makena will come for
us.” Andora sounded like she was trying to talk through a wad of
socks. “He stopped to get something from his house. He’ll come for
us, Jen....I know it.”

“He can’t,” Jen said flatly. “She’ll kill
him.”

“She’s his m-mother!”

“And I’m her niece, Andora.”

The truck ground to a halt. Sunlight formed
an elongated rectangle as the door rolled up. Blue sky, black walls
and a face, staring in at Jen like it wanted to eat her alive. Kimo
jumped up into the truck and pulled her to her feet. Jen staggered,
and fell into Kimo's waiting arms. He pinned her to the wall and
drooled down into the gaping material over her breasts.

“Man, I've always wanted to tit-fuck
you.”

Jen swung hard and clipped his chin with her
shoulder. “Get off me!”

He let her go and felt his jaw thoughtfully.
“Bad move, Guinevere.”

He pushed her out to the tailgate and jumped
off, reaching up to help her down. “Kick me again and I'll let you
fall.”

The Volcano heiau was a UNESCO World Heritage
site, a lightning rod for protestors, and the biggest temple
complex in the state of Hawaii. Monolithic black walls dated back
to before the golden age of Kamehameha I. A hand-lettered sign at
the entrance marked the buildings kapu or off-limits, but the signs
behind them, black enamel on concrete, marked them open to all. The
carefully restored buildings were the reason the Project was built
in a sprawling rectangle.

Jen had done the deformation survey with
Terri just last week, checking the area around the temple complex
for potential hazards.

“Don’t try it,” said Kimo. “Kate gets her
jollies blowing away small animals. She’s hot to trade up.”

The chill breeze that swept down off the
mountain curled under Jen's dress and set her ruffles fluttering.
Kimo pulled his hoodie in tight and tucked his hands down in the
pockets.

Canoes danced on his belly, gold on a dark
green background. The Mauna Loa Canoe Club. Green. With little gold
flashes.

“You killed Terri,” Jen whispered. “It was
you
all along.”

“Whoa, I disposed of her body. Big difference
there. Murder and garbage disposal.”

Wendell pulled Andora to the rear of the
truck and lost his grip on her blood-soaked shirt. She lurched
against the doorway and fell out on the cinder-packed surface with
a cry.

Wendell propped her up. Andora moaned. Blood
sheeted her back like a shroud, and there was a blue tint to her
mouth. She was going into shock.

“Give her that blanket you mentioned.”

“I don’t take orders from you,
Guinevere.”

“You’re going to kill her anyway, what
difference does it make if she’s warm?
Give her a
blanket!
”

Kimo shrugged. “She’s already dead. I’m not
going to stick my neck out trying to make her comfortable. Shit
like that sets your aunt off. And if it’s me or her, hey—it's all
about me.”

“Only following orders, huh, Kimo?” Rage
built in Jen’s stomach, souring what little hope she had. “What did
Aunt Kate offer you to betray your best friend? You aren’t a member
of this family.”

The answer burned in his eyes like wildfire,
the bait Kate had used to turn him.

“But...you wanted to be, didn’t you?” Jen’s
eyes narrowed. “You wanted to be one of us.”

Kimo shoved her back, not so nice now, lips
curled back over bared teeth. “Who doesn’t want to be a Stalling?
You have more money than God and live like goddamned royalty. I
spent years as Mac’s shadow, trailing his dumbass around while he
tried to be a doctor. Like saving people could somehow make up for
killing them.”

He pinned her back against the side of the
truck, rubbing his crotch up between her thighs. She could feel the
bulbous head of his cock trying to get at her through the thin
cotton of his shorts.

He caught her chin in two fingers, and
grinned down into her eyes, lips moist. “Saving people is fucking
lame. Money is where it’s at, Guinevere, and you all have more than
your fair share. What about me? I need it too.”

Fear banded her chest. “Get off me!”

“Do you know what your brother does for
Security? What they all do?” His hand slipped down her throat and
closed around her neck, choking her into submission. “Do you?”

He released her throat and she sucked in a
ragged breath. “You’re as crazy as she is.”

“C’mon, Jen...you know you like it.” He
leaned in close and planted his mouth on hers, forcing his tongue
into her mouth. “Tim told me you
like
pain.”

Wendell slapped him on the back. “Man, you
are whacked. You can dick Andora all you want, but lay off Jen,
yeah? She's family.” He peeled Kimo off and brushed at Jen,
carefully straightening out her dress. “Man, Auntie is going to be
pissed he’s fucking with you.”

Jen gagged hard enough to wrench her belly.
“Oh God,” she whispered when she had herself under control
again.

“Kate could care less,” said Kimo. “She’s
going to throw them down the vent. Might as well have a little fun.
Deal? You go first.”

“No.” Wendell was very firm and more than a
little pale. “That’s fucking sick. Jen’s my cousin.”

“It’s like chicken, man. The closer the bone,
the sweeter the meat.”

“Auntie is calling you. You’d better go.”

“Very convenient,” said Kimo, nodding like he
half-suspected Wendell had set the whole thing up to get Jen to
himself. “I’ll be back, chicken-boy. Don’t start without me.”

“That’s fucking wrong,” said Wendell.

Jen hung in Wendell’s grip, still queasy. “I
can’t believe he sold Makena out.”

Wendell was very earnest. “He’s one of us,
Jen. We all work together.”

“Makena tried to save me. He only took me to
Kimo because he thought it would be safe.”

“Kimo is only out for Kimo. I can’t believe
Auntie lets him hang around.”

Kate appeared, sweeping around the truck with
Kimo behind her, smirking and bouncing on the heels of his feet.
“Wendell, I need your help. Kimo will take care of the women.”

Kimo gave them a big grin from the safety of
Kate’s shadow and Wendell sagged, still a kid. There was no way he
was going against Kate.

He tried anyway, “But Auntie....”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, dear.”

Wendell threw Kimo a look that promised
bodily pain if he came back to find Jen hurt.

“Yes, go with Auntie,” said Kimo, shoving him
out of the way. “I’ll take care of little Jenny-poo.”

He adjusted his pants and gave himself a
little squeeze.

Kimo hooked a foot through the duct tape and
pulled. Jen fell down on her knees hard enough to break the skin.
“Why don't we go over behind the truck, sweet tits? This requires
privacy.”

“Here, man. Take one.” Fallon threw a bag of
hard candy on the seat divider.

It rolled down in the holders and wedged
under the handful of bargain outlet brochures he’d found somewhere
along the way. His sister had a thing for souvenirs, and so far the
closest thing he’d found was a keepsake cup from the Volcano
Smoothie Shack. Not that Maggie Ann wanted a cheap plastic cup
sharpie’d with “Blueberry Smoothie XXL”.

He’d wanted something jacked with extra
caffeine, but seeing how Corlis was the only one capable of driving
and she’d wanted a smoothie, the rest of them were stuck with
instant health in a cup.

Keegan eyed the candy and took two, popping
them in his mouth in an effort to kill the lethal combination of
vomit-breath and rainbow fruit with ginseng. Keegan was older than
both of them, but he was too damned nice to tell his sister where
to shove her ginseng drink.

Fallon rolled over, stomach sloshing. Yogurt
was bad enough.

It was cold in the car, and they’d been
sitting behind this dumpster for over an hour waiting for Jen’s
cousin, Makena, to come out of his hole. Like a car and three
strangers, two with blond hair, didn’t stick out like a sore thumb
in this pullover that had the nerve to call itself a town.

Keegan adjusted his binoculars and waited,
patient like his sister wasn’t. Corlis sat hunched behind the
driver’s seat, tapping her fingers on the wheel, eyes hidden behind
a pair of shades so dark, looking into her eyes was like checking
out a black hole.

Fallon scratched at his puncture wounds.

Corlis said Jen’s cousin was an asshole and
let it go at that, but Fallon’s theory was that the other man had
been raised to some vestige of chivalry and hadn’t been able to
shoot a woman. His last memory was of Makena staring at him from
over her limp body, a white cotton pad in one hand and a gun in the
other. And speak of the devil; there he was, running out of the
house across the street like his ass was on fire. He slammed into
his car and took off, gravel flying from under his tires.

Fallon propped the tablet on his belly. “Hang
back, he’s seen this car, and we need some kind of screen.”

Corlis nodded, merging into traffic with the
kind of smooth acceleration he’d always envied. “What do you think
he’s after?” she asked.

“Not what,” said Keegan, “who.”

He took the tablet from Fallon and switched
it off. “I’m willing to bet he has a line on Kuipo, because he’s
headed for the Pele Project.”

****

Jen fell through the temple entrance and
stumbled out on the red cinder path, blinking furiously. The
courtyard was a wasteland of chalky coral and blinding sunlight,
centered by a tall, carefully squared platform and a long utility
table lined with bright yellow water coolers, apparently abandoned
by the restoration crew.

Kimo kicked the back of her knees and she
fell. “Damn, Jen. Clumsy, yeah? Try watch where you’re going.”

Jen rolled to her knees, legs shaking. A
black and red bird the size of her palm watched her from high on a
stack of offerings and flew over the wall to freedom. Her own
offering of chocolate-dipped ohelo berries rotted at the end of the
line. Good whiskey, slinky red gowns and white holuku sat in front
of older offerings of shells and rocks. Despite ongoing restoration
efforts and tourists, they were untouched. There was too much
history here, centuries of belief condensed down to a row of gifts
desiccated by the passage of time.

Kimo grabbed her breast, fingers brutally
tight as he worked her nipple. “Eager for seconds? Come on, get up
there.”

Andora moaned from behind them, and they
stepped aside while her guards carried her up the shallow stairs.
Jen shuddered. One more accident like the one Andora had suffered
rolling out of the truck would kill her.