Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 Read online

  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 Ch
erie 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.”

  Frank was already in motion, pulling a cell phone from his back pocket. “Be right back,” he yelled to his sister.

  She held up her hands, silently asking why he was leaving, but he waved her off. “Come with me,” he ordered Melia. “Is the safety on that thing?”

  She nodded, scolding herself silently. She should’ve thought of her own cell phone, sitting in the pocket of her purse. She could have called Frank from the house and not left the two angry men alone. The violence had rattled her. Not that anything was going to happen with Dane trussed up and Malu injured—she hoped.

  Frank started up the path, talking into his cell phone. “This is Frank Leilua, from Hawaiian Dive, out Nawea Bay. I already called about da injured woman—yeah, that one. She’s on the boat, but now we got complications. Betta send a police boat as quick as you can.”

  For whom—Malu or Dane, or both? Melia wanted to ask him whose side he was on but didn’t interrupt him. She looked up at the house as she heard a strange sound, like a muffled cry of pain. A pair of birds flew out of the trees, calling raucously, and she relaxed a little. Only island birds, that was all.

  Frank continued to give details as he strode along, Melia hurrying to keep up. By the time they reached the broad porch, his cell was still open, but they were silent as they walked the hallway to her room.

  Both men were where she had left them, although Malu looked terrible. Dane looked even worse. He lay curled on his side, his eyes closed. Maybe the ropes were too tight.

  Malu lifted his head as they entered, squinting at them through his good eye. “Frank.”

  “Holy shit,” the older man breathed. “Good to see you’re alive, but you look like hell. He do that to you, man?”

  Melia sagged with relief—Frank believed Malu too. She’d been right not to trust Dane.

  “I found Cherie,” Malu said. “He was still there. Didn’t see him ’til he swung a chunk of ohia at me.”

  Frank looked down at Dane, his face tightening. “You piece of po’ino—garbage. Okay,” he went on into his phone. “We got the attacker in restraints. Yeah, one of our haole guests, Dane Gifford.”

  “Is that dispatch?” Malu asked. “Tell them to send the drug-unit guys, if they’re around.”

  Drugs? Melia gasped. What next, thugs with weapons? She felt as if she’d been dropped into the set of an action movie. Dane hadn’t been joking when he mentioned tourists coming to make a buy.

  Frank’s scowl deepened, but he merely repeated his words into the phone. He scowled as he listened. He shook his head. “They don’t wanna send a boat,” he reported. “Big storm coming in over Kau Forest. We got to go, now.”

  Malu grunted. “You get Cherie to the hospital. Take him with you.”

  “I don’t wanna leave you, man. Come in with us.”

  “No. I’ll be okay. Melia can look after me, and someone needs to stay here, look after the place. Get this slime out of here before his po’ino friends come looking for him.”

  “How you gonna look after the place when you can hardly walk?” Frank demanded. “And if this is about drugs, who the hell knows who’s up ma uka, on da mountain?”

  Malu grinned crookedly. “’S’okay. My wahine here knows self-defense.”

  Frank shook his head.

  “Frank,” Malu said. “Trust me on this. What they’re after isn’t here at Nawea.”

  Frank sighed. “You can explain to me later why you didn’t share this with me. More important, you know first aid?” he asked Melia. “Enough to take care of Malu’s head?”

  Melia nodded automatically. She and Bella had taken a course earlier in the spring. But, as she looked at Malu sitting stoically on the bed, her stomach knotted. She could recite the treatment of head wounds, but what if she did something wrong? This was real—not practice on a giggling classmate.

  Hugging herself, she watched as Frank untied Dane’s foot and then rigged a loop around his neck, leaving an end hanging loose. He then hauled the blond man ungently to his feet. “You walk down to the boat nice and easy, kanapapiki. One wrong move and I yank the rope. You might strangle yourself before I could loosen it up, eh?”

  “Do you want the gun?” Melia asked. Dane had a murderous look in his eyes that made it easier to believe he’d attacked Cherie and Malu. The thought of him hitting Cherie and then attacking Malu from behind made her glad he was tied like an animal. Let him be humiliated—it was the least he deserved. How could he have hidden his true nature behind that mask of amiability?

  Frank shook his head. “Naw, I got my dive knife. Even if he gets loose from the rope, I can gut him like a big ol’ ahi.”

  Dane muttered something, and Malu bared his white teeth at him. “He’ll do it, too, kanapapiki. Frank is like me, a kanaka with no patience for mainlanders bringing their filth to our island. Plus, he was a cop for twenty years.”

  “Where I met you, yeah?” Frank said.

  Melia blinked. She wondered if Frank had met Malu when he arrested him, or in more innocent circumstances. When Frank and Malu both turned their heads to stare at her, she suddenly realized she’d spoken aloud. Her face flamed, but she pursed her lips in a frown at them. What else was she supposed to think?

  “Pupule,” Frank chided, his dark eyes twinkling in his tired face. “Malu’s no criminal.”

  “A fucking cop?” Dane groaned. “I should’ve known.”

  “Yeah, you should’ve.” Frank gave him a shove, and Dane stumbled forward, hunched over as if his gut hurt.

  “Keep an eye on the others,” Malu said. “I don’t think they’re anything but maka’ika’i, but you never know.”

  “Oh, we will,” Frank assured him. “They can sit up front with their friend here. Any trouble, I’ll get out the big gaff hook.”

  Giving Dane another push, Frank followed him from the room.

  Melia watched the other two men leave b
ut then turned back to Malu, a frown between her pretty brows. “Shouldn’t we be going with them? You need to be seen by a doctor too.”

  He shook his head, trying to smile at her. A lousy effort, judging by the way her frown deepened. “No, pua. I’ll be fine. I heal fast. With the storm coming, Frank needs the boat light. May be some big waves around the point.”

  There was plenty of room for them in the boat, but he didn’t want to scare her by telling her the real reason they’d stayed. He knew he could protect her, but she might have trouble believing it. Hell, she was going to have trouble believing a lot of things if he decided to share them with her. One time soon.

  One of her hands twined the end of a blonde curl, a gesture she didn’t seem to be aware of.

  “You’re safe,” he told her. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She gave him a look. “You did say there are drug runners out there,” she reminded him. Her usually sweet voice was tense.

  Fair enough. “What they want isn’t here,” he repeated.

  “I’m also worried about you. We need to clean your wounds.”

  “I’ll take a shower.” He shoved slowly off the bed and turned toward her bathroom. He sure as hell couldn’t make it up the stairs to his own room.

  “Are you sure you should?” She was right behind him.

  Oh, yeah, he answered her silently. I definitely should, wahine. He stank—blood, sweat and dirt was not a sexy combination.

  He paused by the shower just long enough to shove down his dirty shorts and step out of them. He staggered a little, catching himself on the door of the shower and hoping like hell she hadn’t noticed. He made it into the tiled enclosure all right and leaned against the wall, feeling as if it were spinning slowly around him as he groped for the water control.

  Keep chanting, my ohana, he pled silently. Don’t let me go now.

  The hot water and soap stung like the tentacles of a pololia, a jellyfish, but he managed to stay upright long enough to wash himself from head to mid-thigh. The runoff would have to wash his feet—if he bent over, he’d never get upright again.