Harvest Moon (3 page)

“Trust is what got Grace killed. Trust no one, least of all me.”

My pulse thrummed, my mind tumbling toward panic. “You’re not inspiring confidence.”

“Good. Be aware and watch. I do not want your blood on my hands, too.”

Blood. Everywhere. All over the bathroom mirror, the sink, the floor. And still I’d checked her for a pulse, nurse until the end. I clamped my eyes shut, tight, struggling to wipe from my thoughts the memory of discovering Grace’s body.

“You said Reno would be the last place. Where will they look first?” I didn’t want to hear the answer, but I had to.

“Hawaii. A team left last night.”

“Grandma Nani.” My legs wobbled.

“She doesn’t know where you are.”

“What if they hurt her?” My throat closed on a silent sob.

Sebastian paused. I’d found my roommate, his girlfriend, disemboweled in our bathroom. If anyone knew what Nero was capable of, it was me.

“They were ordered to kill Grace. Their orders are to gather information this time.”

It didn’t sneak by me that he didn’t deny they might hurt my grandmother. “I’ve got to warn her.”

“If you make contact, they’ll find you. I’ve done all I can. Don’t render my efforts useless.”

The line went dead. I swiped the screen to call history, but Sebastian’s number was blocked. Damn it. My grandmother wasn’t defenseless. She’d been a respected Kahuna on the islands for most of her adult life, quietly passing the ancient island traditions and beliefs to the families who came to her.

I’d been too hardheaded to listen. Young and certain I had all the answers. Too late now.

She’d have no warning if I didn’t think of something soon. I got up, pacing the room like a caged animal while my mind whirled. There had to be some way to alert her about the potential danger. I glanced at my bare feet and stopped, staring at the turtle tattoo on my ankle. The
honu
, sea turtle, was the
aumakua
for our family, our protector. They were also messengers through dreams and visions.

Not that I truly believed it, but I was desperate. At this point, I’d be willing to give just about anything a shot.

I dug my iPod out of my bag and spun the dial until I found my stash of Neil Diamond songs. Grandma Nani was his number-one fan on the island. I used to roll my eyes while she belted out “Song Sung Blue” or “Sweet Caroline,” but as the distance and years grew between us, I started buying his songs and discovering fond memories of home.

Now I hoped it would help me connect with our
honu
. My grandmother used to get visions and prophetic dreams often. Maybe I could send her one.

Suddenly, I wished I’d paid more attention when she tried to teach me, instead of fighting every step of the way like a stubborn mule.

With my ear buds in place, I laid on my futon and closed my eyes. In the darkness, “Play Me” started. In my mind, Grandma Nani sang. I concentrated on every angle of her face, her long silver hair, and the deep lines from years of smiles that framed her dark eyes. A single tear leaked down my cheek as I made her image as clear as possible. My chest tightened, my heart clenching.

God, I missed her.

I pulled in a deep, slow breath, silently calling to our
honu
. The tattoo on my ankle glided through the inky depths of my thoughts. I coaxed it closer, wrapping my fear and worry for my grandmother around his flippers. Gradually, Nero’s logo of the proud lion head with an
N
emblazoned in the center, the same emblem I’d seen on the cornerstone of my school and on the inside of Sebastian’s wrist, glowed in our
honu
’s giant shell.

Nero is coming. They will lie. Kilani is safe.

The massive turtle turned so his wise eyes met mine. While he didn’t speak, his mind touched mine. He would find her, warn her.

And he loved me.

I sat up, tears streaming down my face as a sob choked my throat. I didn’t deserve his love. I’d dishonored my family and run as far from them as I could get. How could our ancestors feel anything other than disappointment in me?

I rubbed the tattoo on my ankle and whispered, “Please keep her safe. Tell her I’m sorry. For everything.”

T
he glass doors of the hospital rolled open as I approached. Before I made it across the lobby to the elevators, a familiar cheery voice called, “Mornin’, Kelly.”

I stopped. Hearing my alias still took me a second to process. I sucked at being undercover. I’d already dropped my real name with Dr. Ayers, too.
Shit.
Slowly, I turned around to find Stan, our volunteer greeter. He grinned, somehow coaxing a smile out of me. After last night, I thought I’d forgotten how.

“You feelin’ okay, lass? Look a bit under the weather.”

Stan was a widower, my first friend when I started here a few weeks ago. Although he was from Ireland, his wife had been a Nevada native, and after he lost her, he decided to stay.

“I’m okay, just didn’t get much sleep.”
Any
was more like it, but I didn’t want him to worry.

“This place workin’ you too hard?” He winked, and I nearly laughed in spite of the funk that had its claws buried in me.

“No rest for the wicked.”

“Bah.” He swiped at the air. “Not a wicked bone in your body.”

I stepped into the elevator and waved. “See you later, Stan.”

On the fourth floor, I walked out and froze. Dr. Ayers and my head nurse both turned in unison. He glanced at me and back to my boss. “That’s Kilani right there. Remember her now?”

Candace, the head nurse, raised a brow. “You mean Kelly Jones?”

“Kelly?” He almost flinched at the force of my
I’m-pissed-at-you
frown. Taking the hint, he faced Candace again. “Oh, Kelly. I must’ve misheard. My mistake.”

“And she’s the one who assisted you with a non-hospital patient?”

Oh shit, he was making it monumentally worse. I hustled over. “It wasn’t like that.”

Candace crossed her arms over her chest. “How
exactly
did you give him a full dose of glucose and insulin for a patient we don’t have admitted here?”

I opened my mouth, but Dr. Ayers beat me to it. “I take full responsibility. I had a patient in the medical office building who suffered from a potassium-induced arrhythmia. It was an urgent situation, and without Kelly’s prompt assistance, I probably would’ve lost him. I’m happy to sign off on the medication. My office can pay the hospital for it.”

She relaxed a little, but my pulse rate did not. “That’s a serious life-threatening event. Why wasn’t he admitted?”

“His health insurance,” he replied without hesitation. “He’s not covered in this facility.”

She cocked a brow. And I tried not to stare at Dr. Ayers. He hadn’t mentioned health insurance or a hospital yesterday. He also didn’t tell Candace that the “patient” was his father. Apparently I wasn’t the only one in this hallway with secrets.

“Fine.” She sighed. “You pay for the meds and sign off for their use and we should be covered.” She turned toward me, her lips tightening. “You’re new here, Kelly, so I’ll chalk this one up to not knowing better. If you ever pull a stunt like this again, you’ll be out. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

She nodded and walked away. I glanced up at him and frowned. I’d been so angry when I saw him talking to my boss, I hadn’t noticed the cut over his eye. Now that I was closer, I could see the discolored skin around the wound.

“What happened to you?”

He reached up but stopped short from touching his eyebrow. “Hit my head. I’m fine.”

“Or someone else hit it for you. More than once.” I lowered my voice. “You didn’t tell me your father was at another hospital.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me you have a different name on this side of the building, either.” He slid a hand into his pocket.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. We’re even. Thanks for paying for the meds.”

“Thanks for helping me save my dad.” He turned to go and stopped. “I’m taking my lunch at noon. Will you let me buy you some food? It’s the least I can do.”

A red alert screeched in my head. Doctors and I didn’t mix. Two doctors had already stomped all over my heart leading to my pact to never trust another one. Besides, we were both already bending the truth.

There was no point in pretending we weren’t both liars.

“Sorry. My lunch hour isn’t until one o’clock.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “I understand. Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.”

He walked away, and I released a breath. Whatever he was hiding, I shouldn’t get involved. And more importantly, I shouldn’t want to.

Chapter Three

J
ASON

I
stretched out my fingers. Typing prescriptions on my iPad didn’t used to be painful. “Used to be” was a dangerous road to travel. My dad didn’t used to be in a coma, my brother and I used to be close, and I used to heal people with these hands, not beat the crap out of them.

The fight club had to stop. At least for a while. Until the joints in my hands quit throbbing. Damn it. What was happening to me? I couldn’t keep abusing my body like this. Eventually permanent damage would set in.

But in the end, what would it matter? I got up and crossed to the mirror hanging on my closed office door. The cut over my eyebrow was beginning to discolor around the edges. I’d need to ice it again tonight. Werewolves healed a little faster than humans, but we weren’t Superman. I could get a nasty shiner just as easily as the next guy.

Resting my forearms on either side of the mirror, I stared into my own eyes. I didn’t recognize the man staring back at me. The man in the reflection wore his pain in the cut over his eye, the swelling in his hands, the bruises lurking under his shirt, lining his rib cage. As his doctor, I’d recommend a counseling session with a therapist right away.

But therapy only worked if you were honest with your therapist. I couldn’t sit on a couch and admit werewolves existed, any more than I could explain my father was attacked because I was so desperate to save a woman’s life that I got into bed with the enemy.

Even after my dad warned me of the danger from Dr. Granger, I thought I could handle it. Maybe I did suffer from a god complex like Kilani claimed plagued every doctor.

Kilani. But the hospital thought her name was Kelly Jones. I would bet Jones was no more legitimate than Kelly. So what was she hiding?

Not my problem.

Being a part of the fight club was a mistake, but out of all the aspects of my life right now, boxing provided the only release from the worry and regret swirling inside my soul like a tempest. I couldn’t give it up completely. Not right now.

A knock came from the other side of the door, jolting me back into reality. I straightened up, paused a second, and opened the door.

“Dr. Ayers? Everything all right?” Therese’s stare pinned me down, concern lining her forehead.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

She shrugged, but her intensity didn’t waver. “It doesn’t usually take you two hours to give me the prescriptions to call in; you normally go out and eat during your lunch hour; and don’t even get me started on that shiner.”

“This?” I touched the wound over my eye a little harder than I intended and fought to keep from wincing. “I just hit my head on the corner of a cabinet. I’m fine.”

She crossed her arms, her hip tilting out slightly. “I know a black eye when I see one. The cabinet must’ve hit you more than once.”

I walked over and leaned against the edge of my desk, taking a second to pull my thoughts together. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, but I’ll be all right.”

She softened her stance, allowing her arms to drop to her sides. “You’ve got broad shoulders and a big heart, but you don’t need to pile all the weight up there alone. We can all help carry the burden, whatever it is.”

Now there was a wishful thought. “I appreciate your concern, Therese. My dad is having some health issues, and I can’t figure out how to heal him. I’m a doctor. I should be able to cure him.”

“Being a doctor doesn’t mean you can fix everything. Sometimes you just need a little faith. If your daddy is half as strong as the boy he raised, he’ll come through this. Be patient and believe in him. Maybe I can help with—”

“No.” I pushed up from the desk and walked behind it to grab my tablet. “Thanks, but we’ve got him plenty of care.” I scrolled through the new prescriptions and hit send. “You should have the ’scrips now.”

She took my hint and turned to go. “My offer still stands. Better to talk to a friend than get yourself beat in a bar brawl.”

The door closed behind her. A bar fight would be easier to explain than my membership in an underground fight club.

I glanced out the window as I rounded the corner of my desk. A few floors down, a woman crossed the parking lot wearing scrubs with a mound of untamable long black hair on top of her head. Kilani. I stepped closer to the glass as she tugged a stick out of her hair and it fell down in one silky wave. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair before lifting the hatchback of a silver economy car. She hopped in the back and sat cross-legged, popping off her shoes and opening a mini cooler.

Forcing myself away from the window, I sank into my chair. Voyeurism wasn’t usually my thing. But something about the tiny woman with a fake name eating a picnic lunch barefoot in the back of her economy car fascinated me. Her disinterest in me made me even more curious to discover what made her tick.

So far I’d done a great job pissing her off, but what would make her smile?

This was insane. Maybe it was because she turned me down. Classic case of wanting what you can’t have. Basic psychology.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, I got up and leaned against the side of my office window, studying her. She bit into an apple, reading a paperback in the other hand. From this distance, even with my heightened werewolf senses, I couldn’t make out the title, but the mystery made her even more of a beautiful distraction from the darkness that was currently bleeding into my life.

Suddenly she lowered the book and her dark eyes met mine. My heart stuttered, but I couldn’t move my damned feet. Like some kind of creepy Peeping Tom, I remained anchored at the window. Her head tilted slightly before she shook her head and broke eye contact. I spun around and headed for the door. Maybe I could run down there and explain myself. I had no clue what I’d say.
I know I lied to you before, but I really wasn’t spying on you.