Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (9 page)

“I’ll protect you from the wild Hawaiian killer,” Dane drawled behind her.

Melia flinched, glad her back was turned. Wild Hawaiian maybe, but killer, no, she wouldn’t believe it. She closed her eyes in frustration and sorrow at how this impromptu trip to paradise had gone so wrong. But instead of blackness she saw Malu’s face. Surely a man who smiled like that couldn’t have beaten Cherie? And anyway, why would he attack Cherie when he could’ve had her with a crook of his finger? The vivacious redhead had hung on him like a lamprey. Unless he’d wanted her to do something so kinky she wouldn’t, and then…he’d forced her.

Ugh. She shuddered. No, she couldn’t believe that. But if he hadn’t beaten Cherie, who had? And where was Malu?

Anyway, lately her judgment wasn’t that great when it came to men. Maybe Dane was right.

Purse over her shoulder, Melia took one last look around the little room.

“I s’pose you wish
he
was in your bedroom,” Dane said behind her.

Startled, Melia swung around to find him leaning against the window frame only a foot or two away, hands shoved into the pockets of his camouflage shorts. Silhouetted against the window, his face was shadowed, but there was an odd set to his bare shoulders. Uneasiness skittered over her skin.

“No, I just wish he was here, safe,” she said.

“He’s not interested in you,” Dane said now, his voice as tight as his stance.

Melia glanced toward the door. Dane was attracted to Malu. Was it possible he was so jealous he would attack any woman in whom Malu showed interest?

Her conscious mind floundered. Dane was just a wealthy beach bum, intent on the next laugh, the next party. He’d admitted it cheerfully.

“You would’ve gone, though, if he’d asked you,” he said slyly, watching her.

“No,” she retorted, stung. “And he didn’t ask.” Not unless she counted his teasing.

He shrugged. “’Course not. You didn’t shove your tits in his face like she did. Anyway, to protect you, I told him you came to buy.”

“Buy what?” she asked blankly.

He shook his head. “Jeez, are you as innocent as you act? Drugs, baby, drugs.”

Melia gaped at him, ignoring his sneering tone. “You told Malu I wanted to
buy drugs
?”

He snorted. “Plenty of people come to Hawaii to make a buy. They do some snorkeling or diving, some partying.”

“Well, I came just to snorkel,” Melia snapped. “And while I appreciate your misguided attempt to protect me, you had no right to lie about me.”

“I do what needs to be done.” He shrugged as if her protest meant nothing.

Anger knotting in her belly, Melia turned to grab her duffle bag from the bed.

“Come on,” she snapped. “We have to get Cherie to a hospital. That’s what’s important now.”

Chapter Seven

Recipe for violence—take one Hawaiian left for dead and mix with attacker. Stir well
.

The slide of her nylon duffle on the bedspread nearly covered the rustle outside the window. But not quite.

Melia looked over Dane’s shoulder, and her heart nearly stopped. A huge apparition shot up through the shrubbery. A monster with the face of a nightmare. Dark streaks covered the swollen face, the mouth drawn back in a chilling growl of rage.

A scream ripped out of her throat.

At her scream, Dane whirled, but it was too late. Ripping the screen out of the way, the apparition dove through the window, taking the smaller man down onto the tiled floor.

Melia fell back on the edge of the bed, gasping, her bags falling to the floor as the two men struggled. The intruder quickly gained the advantage, rolling on top, muscles taut with effort under his golden skin. It was Malu. He was alive!

He wore only a pair of dirty swim trunks, and his short, black hair was matted to his head with sweat, dirt and some dark substance that streaked his face, and down over his neck and big shoulders. He brought with him the pungent scents of earth and sweat.

The struggle was ugly, violent, punctuated by the grunts and heavy breathing of the two men. It was also brief. Malu was twice Dane’s size, and even injured, he was brutally efficient at wrestling a man down. Melia thought only for an instant of trying to intervene—she would just get hurt. She crouched on the bed, her heart pounding wildly as Malu flipped Dane onto his face on the floor, his brawny knee braced on the other man’s back.

Holding Dane with one arm twisted behind his back, Malu turned to Melia. She gasped in horror. One side of his face was horribly bruised, his eye nearly swollen shut. The dark streaks blending with his tattoos like an ancient warrior’s macabre war paint were dried blood.

His broad chest heaved like a bellows as he sucked in deep, ragged breaths. “There’s a rope outside,” he rasped, his deep voice rough. “Get it.”

Melia stayed where she was, fingers digging into the soft quilt. “Why?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain.” Swiping the back of his free hand over his face, he surged to his feet with a grunt of effort, dragging Dane with him toward the window.

Dane struggled wildly, his face red and contorted, his bare feet scrabbling on the tile floor. “Melia! Don’t listen to him,” he shouted. “Hit him again—we can take him together.”

Melia watched, frozen in horror.

Malu ignored Dane. Reaching out of the window, he pulled in a coil of rough rope and wrestled the other man back to the floor, a brawny knee planted on his back. Dane landed with a thud, loosing a hard huff of air.

As Malu hauled Dane’s hands behind his back and began to lash them together, Melia began to edge off the bed, toward the open door.

Malu looked up, impaling her with his dark gaze. Her stomach clenched as she got a good look at his head. Blood coagulated thickly on one temple.

“Who did this to you?” she asked. “Was it…Cherie?”

The uninjured side of his face tightened with anger. As he glared at her, Melia quailed and then glared back. Why should she feel guilty for asking? She didn’t understand any of this. She’d spent half the night worrying about him and Cherie.

“It was him.” He jerked his chin at Dane.

“Dane? But—why would he attack you?”

“Because I found Cherie, after he was through with her.”

Melia gasped. Dane had beaten Cherie?

“
He
did it,” Dane insisted, peering up at her through a tousled curtain of blond hair. “Melia, c’mon, who are you gonna believe, me or this thug?”

Melia stared down at him, remembering the vicious way he’d spoken to her moments earlier, the anger hidden under his easy smile. She shook her head wordlessly, unwilling to trust him.

Something flashed in the depths of Malu’s dark gaze, but he looked down, thick black lashes veiling his eyes. With quick efficiency, he wrapped the rope around Dane’s wrists and then levered himself off Dane’s back, doubling back one of his legs so he could bind it as well.

Melia had once seen a hapless calf tied the same way in a rodeo back in Oregon. It had been unable to move, and lay in the dust and bawled until it was freed, its eyes wild. Dane’s were filled with rage, his face scarlet under his tan, veins standing out under his skin.

“You cocksucker,” Dane swore viciously. “I’ll get you for this, if it’s the last thing I do. And you too, stupid bitch! You should be helping me—you’re his next victim, can’t you see that?”

“Shut up,” Malu growled. Dane subsided with a muffled curse, forehead pressed to the floor as he struggled against his bonds.

Malu rose, staggering. Before she thought, Melia was at his side, her hand under his elbow to steady him. His skin was hot and smooth. She hoped he didn’t fall, because she couldn’t hope to hold him. He must weigh at least double what she did, solid muscle.

He was pale under his deep, golden tan. His pungent scent surrounded her—hot, sweaty male. His swollen face, the streaks of dried blood, frightened her. He seemed near collapse.

“You need a doctor.”

“First-aid kit,” he said through his teeth. “Little short on doctors out here.”

He wavered, and she tugged him toward the bed. “Sit down. I’ll run down to the boat and get help.”

He sat with a thump that jarred the bed. “Wait. Before you go—”

“What?” she asked, wavering between leaving him there with his prisoner and listening.

He raised his head enough to look at her. “In the side pocket of your bag. My gun. Bring it to me.”

“Your
what
?”

He held up one hand, palm out. “Just bring it.”

Quickly, she unzipped her duffel, and rummaged through folded T-shirts, shorts, swimsuits and underwear. Underneath them in an inner pocket was her light windbreaker, and when she unwrapped it, there lay a dull black pistol, a clip beside it. Melia stared at it for a long moment, then gave Malu a level look. “I’ll want to know how this got in my bag.”

“Later. Now go.” He held out his hand for the gun.

Melia hesitated. She might mistrust Dane, but after the violence she’d just witnessed, she wasn’t entirely sure about Malu, either. She wasn’t handing him a loaded gun—one that he’d hidden in
her
luggage.

There was so much going on here that she didn’t understand. She felt as if she’d been swimming on the surface of a sunlit, turquoise sea, only to find dark and dangerous creatures battled beneath her.

Shaking her head, she backed toward the door, inserting the clip with a shove. It snapped into place, and she checked to make sure the safety was on before giving Malu a level look. “I’ll just take the gun with me. That way you’ll both be here when I get back.”

His wide jaw clenched at her jab, but he didn’t try to rise from the corner of the bed. “Go on, then. Just keep an eye out—you see anyone you don’t know, fire a shot in the air. Frank will hear it. So will I.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “In the air? Why waste good bullets? If I see anyone suspicious, I’m shooting
at
them.”

Dane lifted his head, and both men gave her identical looks of male horror. She turned on her heel and left them there, staring after her. One of them was a slime-ball, and one of them was a hero. She wouldn’t be bullied by either.

Malu held himself upright on the bed through sheer strength of will. The
pilikua nui
had tightened its grip again and was clawing at him with ferocious glee, sending icy agony shooting through his head. But his enemy—or one of them—lay helpless at his feet. Breathing shallowly, he braced himself and waited.

His trek down the mountainside hadn’t been easy. He hadn’t had time to heal completely. For that, he needed sleep, real sleep, not just the light doze into which the elders’ chant sent him. He had only dared stay long enough in the forest to gather the strength to rise and make his way back here. He had to warn the group of danger.

He’d assumed Gifford would be long gone, picked up by another boat. But Cherie must have interrupted him. Perhaps he hadn’t had time to finish his business here. In any case, when Malu had hidden outside Melia’s window and seen the scum right there in the room with her, heard the vicious edge in his voice, he’d known it was time to act.

“You can’t prove a thing,” Gifford said now, flopping on his side to glare up at Malu. “You never saw anything.”

“I saw your face when you realized I was still alive,” Malu growled. “That was enough.”

“You didn’t see a thing—you couldn’t have,” Dane repeated. “I’ll be out of that police station before you can say
poi
, local boy.”

Malu squinted at him from his good eye. Nah, not worth the effort of arguing.

Gifford sneered. “And sweet, blonde Melia will be waiting for me with tears in her big green eyes. Yeah, I’ll have her eating out of my hand…and my lap.”

At that, Malu let the anger rumble up out of his chest. No one, especially not this dude, talked about her that way.

“Maybe you’d like to eat out of your own lap,
po’ino
.” Reaching down, he grabbed a fistful of the other man’s baggy shorts and the soft genitalia beneath and squeezed.

He stopped when the other man screamed.

Frank was just starting up the path from the bay. He stopped at the end of the boat ramp, frowning at Melia, hands on his narrow hips.

Behind him, the boat waited beside the dock, gleaming white against the heavy, dark clouds gathering over the open sea outside the bay. The palm trees rimming the beach swayed, their fronds rustling. Leilani watched over the side of the boat, a baseball cap pulled over her hair. Jacquie and the twins were gathered in the back of the boat, peering after Frank.

“Just coming after you,” Frank snapped. “Where’s Dane? We gotta get that girl to the hospital.”

Then he saw the gun in Melia’s hand, and his hands spread wide as he assumed a wary stance. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s Malu’s,” she said. Unaccountably, now that the danger seemed past, she was shaking, her voice trembling. “H-He’s back. He fought with Dane, and—and tied him up.”