Dark Paradise (21 page)

“Mala?”

I see movement on the shoreline. “Help me!”

Unable to tread water with one leg, I arch back, and the top of my head slams into hard wood. Everything dims, and I choke on the water filling my open mouth.

Daisy's trying to kill me.

M
ala's been under too long.

Gotta calm down.
If I panic, I won't be able to hold my breath as long. I focus on slowing the rapid beats of my heart, take a deep breath, then dive. The crystalline water makes it easy to see the fear on Mala's face as, with each frantic thrash of her arms, she sinks.

I kick toward her. Her face lifts. Bubbles leak out of her nose. I grab her outstretched hand and draw her to me. Once I have her, I seal my lips against hers and blow in a bubble of air. My arms circle her waist and with a strong kick we shoot upward.

As soon as Mala's head breaches the surface, she sucks in a large breath and hacks up a lungful of nasty water. She convulses in my arms, bent double with each barking cough. I fight my own fatigue and Mala's thrashing to hold her face above the waterline. By the time I reach the boat and grab onto the side, I'm about done.

Mala wraps her arms around my neck. She's coughing and shivering at the same time. I pound on her back. “You okay?”

“Can't—breathe,” she gasps. Her arms tighten around my neck.

“If you're talking, you're breathing.”

I hear her whisper, “Liar,” and hold in my laugh.

Hell, yeah. She's fine. She may feel like crap on toast, but it's not life threatening. She coughs again.

The adrenaline rush that flooded my body when I heard her scream starts to wear off, and exhaustion weighs me down. If I don't hang onto the boat, we'll sink like we have concrete blocks attached to our ankles. Mala doesn't seem to be in any better condition. She's falling asleep in my arms. I have to keep her alert.

Water laps at our chins. “What happened?”

“Idiot,” she whispers into the cradle of my neck. Her soft lips brush against my skin, and I shiver. “I thought you were drowning.”

“So this is my fault?” I hold her tightly with one arm, turning our bodies toward the boat.

“It's not mine.”

I laugh, squeezing her, and she coughs. “So let me get this straight. You tried to save me but ended up needing to be rescued yourself.”

“Stupid me.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't gonna say it. Lucky for you, I've worked as a lifeguard over at the community pool since high school.”

“Wish I knew that before.”

“I also give swim lessons.”

“Stop trying to be cute.” She wheezes and coughs up some more water. “Ouch. My head's pounding.” She touches the top of her skull. When she pulls her hand back, her fingers run red, and she chokes again. “Oh, I'm bleeding.”

“Poor baby, you really had a time of it.” I keep my voice calm so she doesn't freak out again, but I'm worried. I need to get her out of the water ASAP. “Do you think you can hold onto the edge of the boat while I climb back inside?”

Mala's actions speak for her. She removes her arm from around my neck and grabs the side. When I'm sure her grip's secure, I quickly climb inside, then grab her arm. With an easy pull, I lift her into the boat. She huddles on the bench, trying not to watch as I get dressed, but I see her peeking. Every place her eyes caress feels like the worst sunburn under creation. Only the touch of her lips will cool my skin. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep my hands off her.

Mala shivers, unable to warm up. The soaked tank top hangs to mid-thigh, showing her muscular legs. It's one of those men's wife-beater tanks—thin cotton, see-through. She wears a bra, but it's also white and wet, contrasting against the darkness of her skin. She catches me staring at her breasts and wraps her arms around herself to huddle in a sodden, pathetic little ball.

“Get over here,” I say gruffly. I don't take no for an answer either. Just pull her across my lap and use my T-shirt to rub her shaking arms and legs with hard strokes to warm her up. She lets me. I think she's too cold and miserable to complain. Not at all Mala-like. “Are you sure you're okay?”

Mala shivers. “When I was underwater, I saw something,” she says slowly, laying her head on my shoulder.

“Oh, what? A giant catfish?” I laugh, but it's not funny. Did she feel my heart stop at her words? In the water, I thought oxygen deprivation caused me to imagine the hands holding onto her ankles, dragging her deeper.

Mala shakes her head. Her pigtails thump against my chest, and she winces. “No, it…” She sighs, pressing her fingers to her scalp. “Never mind. It's stupid. I must've been hallucinating after I hit my head.”
Yeah, me too. Gotta be.

“Let me see.” I pluck apart the hair on the back of her head and gently touch the swelling lump. “I've seen worse. There's a small cut. Do you have a medical kit on board so I can wash it out? I'm first aid certified too, in case you're worried.”

She shrugs, snuggling deeper into my arms, like a cuddly bear on the verge of hibernating for the winter. She has no idea how sexy she looks with those heavy-lashed eyelids, or she wouldn't stare at me like this. My heart races, and my hands tingle like I've lain on them too long. A stirring in my pants has me sliding Mala off my lap. God, I hope she's too out of it to notice.

Pull it together.
What if she has a brain injury? Trying to get laid right now would be wrong on so many levels. The guilt alone would eat me up inside.

Course, I might get lucky. No. Wrong. So very wrong.

Wrong enough I won't take myself seriously. I'm trying to distract myself, not only because of my arousal, but because her lethargy worries me. Her vulnerability only makes her sexier. She's so strong; it feels kind of good having her need me. I want to protect and cherish her even more. I want her bad. But not like this. When the time comes, I want to make it memorable for the right reasons. Not because I took advantage of her.

I pull on my T-shirt, then start searching the boat. “Okay, the first aid kit's in the tackle box, right?” I ask, trying to get her to focus.

Instead Mala lies on the bench and closes her eyes. The wet tank top strains against her breasts. She folds one leg beneath the other, and I get a peek at her white cotton panties, which for some reason turn me on more than if she wore a black silk thong.

Oh, God. She's killing me.

I'm trying hard to be noble. To respect her wishes. I drink in a warm gulp of air. The sun beats down on my head, soaking into my skin. I stare at the pale blue water lapping against the side of the shoreline. The lust fades to a hum rather than a throb.

Once I can think, I lift Mala upright with a little shake. “Oh, no you don't. Wake up.”

She bats at my hands. I kneel in front of her and lift her chin until I can check her eyes. What are the signs of concussion again? It's been almost a year since I renewed my first aid/CPR certification. Her pupils aren't dilated, but… “You might have a slight concussion. Let's get you to the hospital.”

“Nope, I don't have insurance.” She squints as if the sunlight reflecting off the water hurts her eyes. “I didn't pass out. Just let me take a nap, and I'll be fine.”

I sit on the opposite bench and row toward shore. Already-sore muscles cuss me out for using them so soon, but I ignore them. The old boat shoots across the water like it's jet powered. When it gets shallow, I hop into the water and pull the boat onto the embankment.

My girl watches me with a stubborn set to her chin. I already know how hardheaded she can be. She proves it by slapping at my hands when I try to lift her from the seat. “I said I'm not going to the hospital, Landry.”

If I can get my hands on her, I'll carry her off whether she wants to go or not.

She shoves me away again and scrambles to the back of the boat. “Are you listening to me? I'm not going!”

“Head injuries aren't something to play around with. Now either stand up on your own or I'll carry you.”

“You're not my father. You can't boss me around.”

“If I was your daddy, would you listen and get out of the damn boat?”

Mala gasps. The corners of her eyes narrow. Did that daddy comment hurt her feelings? Her lethargy drains away to be replaced with indignant fury. “Do you know how much a trip to the emergency room costs, you spoiled brat? I can't afford the bill. I won't be in debt for years over an injury that's barely a scratch.” Mala crosses her arms. “I've been to the hospital once, and that was when I was four and had pneumonia, and only because I almost died. We had to sell off five acres that my family's owned for over a hundred and fifty years just to pay those bills.”

“Don't you think your ancestors would rather you survived than died to preserve their legacy?” My stomach twists at the guilt reflected in her dark eyes. “Don't you think you're worth it?”

She bites her lip then answers honestly. “No.”

“Well,” I sigh, “I do.”

“Don't make me go.” Mala wraps her arms around herself, shivering. I don't think it's from being cold this time. “Please. Hospitals scare me.”

“Fine. It's not like I can force you to go. Just promise to tell me if you feel worse, okay? Don't hide it. I feel shitty enough. I don't need any more guilt over someone I care about dying.”

Mala's eyes turn to melted chocolate. “Oh,” she chokes. Her arms open, and I fall into them. I lift her into a tight hug. Her heart pounds so hard that I can feel it. A drop of water falls like a tiny diamond to catch on her eyelashes. At first, I think it's water from my hair, then I realize I'm crying. What a mess.

Mala brushes it off and pushes free of my arms. “Enough of this moping around, Landry Prince, the day is young. We're not gonna spend it boo-hooing about how miserable we are, right?”

“What do you propose we do?” I wiggle my eyebrows with a little leer that turns her cheeks that cute shade of candy apple. “More fishing?”

“I'm not up for a fishing expedition. My head's a little swimmy—” She raises a hand, and I snap my mouth shut. “Not bad enough for a doctor so don't start in on that again. I'm hungry. How about if we go back to my house and make up some sandwiches?”

My stomach growls at her words. “You know what they say: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

Mala laughs. I hold out my hand. Mala grabs her overalls and climbs out, steadying herself on my arm. My gaze drifts downward, and I whistle. “Nice legs.”

“I'm blushing 'cause I think you actually mean that.” She lets out an un-Mala-like giggle and quickly pulls on the overalls. Very disappointing. She squeezes the excess water out of her braids with hard twists and wraps them in balls on the side of her head.

“Come on, Princess Leia,” I say.

“You're such a geek.”

“I'm picturing you in a gold bikini.” Saliva pools in my mouth at the thought. I take a deep breath and chuckle on the exhale. “Yeah, for Halloween, I'll order one off the Internet for you to wear when we go trick or treating.”

She pauses for a long second, then smiles. “As long as you go as Han Solo.”

“What about Indiana Jones? I'll have a whip.”

Mala blushes—and the image in my mind skews a bit to the raunchy side.

I let the 3-D fantasy of me swinging across a ravine while holding a gold bikini–clad Mala in my arms play out.

Mala pokes me in the stomach. “Earth to Landry.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you can carry the gear by yourself. I'm a little unsteady.”

Mala's skin has lightened to pale honey. She's about to pass out. I point to the oak perched on a wildflower-covered hill on the other side of the pond. “How about if we sit over there for a while?” Our fingers tangle together. It seems natural—holding her hand. Nope, I don't feel awkward at all.

We walk to the tree. I sit down with my back to the rough trunk and pull her across my lap. She wiggles into a comfortable position, and I hold my breath, trying not to think about her plump ass rubbing against me. It's not working. I bite the inside of my cheek. The trickle of warm, coppery blood on my tongue helps to clear the lust from my brain.

Once Mala settles, I tuck her head beneath my chin. “Rest for a while. I'll wake you in an hour to make sure you haven't slipped into a coma.”

“That's reassuring,” she mutters. Her body relaxes, conforming to mine as if against a memory foam mattress. We fit. She's soft and cuddly. No hard angles poke me. I begin to massage her neck, and she sighs.

The thick leaves overhead drop the temperature to bearable levels. Warm wind scented with wildflowers and rich earth blows over us. There's a faint lemony trace of magnolia blossoms coming from somewhere close by. A ribbon snake slithers from the thick grass and glides past my foot. I freeze until it's gone. I hate snakes.

I adjust my position against the tree. The rough bark catches in the threads of my T-shirt. I pull out the rock digging into my thigh and toss it into the grass, careful not to jostle Mala. She sighs, snuggling closer. Her heat and the scent of her hair relax the tension I've been holding. I'm afraid to fall asleep in case she does have a concussion. I have to wake her in an hour, but my body has other ideas. Insomnia brought on by grief, swimming across the length of the pond twice, and the warmth of the day make me sluggish.

Every time my heavy eyelids drift closed, I snap them open again.

Clear, blue water closes over my head. I float, cocooned in warmth. Long black hair waves in the current, and a pale hand reaches out, beckoning me to follow deeper. Part of me resists, but the other part can't stop from taking my big sis's hand. My chest tightens, and panic follows. I try to pull free, but Lainey's nails dig into my palm. She won't release me, just pulls me deeper until I can't see the light of the sky above the waterline.

I choke, unable to catch my breath.

I jerk awake with a short yelp. Damn my sister's unresting soul. She's dead but keeps trying to get back at me for all the grief I gave her when we were kids. I'm so sick of her haunting my dreams.