Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (33 page)

Graduation. She’d worked and studied for three years for this day, even slogged through a final summer semester for an extra class in a new concept of web design. Now, it felt empty, anticlimactic. She held herself together with sheer stubbornness. She
would
do this, and with a smile on her face.

Her family sat in the audience filling the small auditorium. Dressed in their summer best, they’d driven down from Astoria to see the first member of their family graduate from college and celebrate with her. Bella and Grace sat with them. And Claire would celebrate with them, for them, even if her heart lay in her chest like a stone.

“Julie Chester,” the dean intoned in a sonorous voice. One of the young women to Claire’s right walked forward. The gray-haired dean in his colorful stole murmured smiling congratulations to the other girl.

“Steven Garth.” The tall, slender man in front of Claire strode across the stage.

Her attention caught by some change in the air, Claire looked to her left, across the stage and to the back of the auditorium. The double doors stood open, two underclass ushers standing by with programs. Now both of them stared in fascination at the man who seemed to fill the opening.

He wore a dark gray suit, custom tailored to his frame, and a blue silk shirt, but he was obviously a warrior, not entirely civilized, even in his expensive clothing. His long ebony braids were caught back in a club at his neck. His carefully trimmed beard and mustache couldn’t hide the tribal tattoos marching up one side of his thick neck and up over his cheek.

Claire’s heart leapt and then began to beat double-time. She could only stare, her breath frozen in her throat. He was here—
here
, on the mainland.

Caught by her stare, members of the audience, especially her family, turned to look as well. Then her father rose from his aisle seat and strode stiffly up the aisle, holding out his hand. As Claire watched, dumbfounded, he shook hands with Daniel Ho’omalu and then turned and led him back down the aisle.

Daniel followed her father past the fascinated gazes of the audience, ignoring them to nod politely to her mother and then sink into the seat between her and Claire’s father. Then he looked up at the stage. His powerful jaw tightened, his jet gaze locking with hers in a collision so powerful she felt it like a blow to her heart.

“Claire Hunter.” Someone gave Claire a gentle push, and she suddenly realized the dean had just called her name for the second time.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She strode forward, head spinning. A wave of chuckles rose from the audience, and the dean’s tanned face creased in a smile as he shook her hand and handed her a diploma.

Claire took the booklet and then managed to remember she was supposed to cross the rest of the stage and take her place with the others. She did so, smiled back at her beaming mother, and then gazed blankly at the tasseled cap in front of her.

Daniel was here. But what did it mean? She peeped through the row of hats and tassels in front of her, half-afraid she’d imagined him. And met his waiting gaze. Slowly, without moving another muscle, he winked at her.

And just like that, emotion returned. Boiling, lava-hot rage filled her. Big Hawaiian bastard. She narrowed her eyes, giving him a fulminating glare. Oh, if he thought he could just show up here out of the blue after breaking her heart, he could jump in the cold Oregon ocean. Let him see how that suited his Hawaiian ‘
ēlemu.

He’d better not expect her to welcome him with open arms. She’d rather punch him in the nose. Her hands curled into claws, biting into the cover of her diploma.

Instead of looking away from her, he hardened his jaw subtly, and his eyes narrowed as well, an implacable purpose simmering in their midnight depths. Adversaries, they stared at each other. Battle had been joined once again, but now their positions were reversed. No longer the hunter, she was now the pursued. And he would not be denied.

Anger simmered in her veins. Anger and something else that lent her feet a light and springy stride as she paced slowly down the steps with her fellow graduates to the applause of their family and friends. No longer numb, now she felt fiercely alive, ready for combat.

Damn, she’d rather fight with Daniel Ho’omalu than get along with anyone else.

Ah, his tita was pissed. That was all right; so was he. He’d had to fly across the goddamn ocean to get her, hadn’t he? And anything was better than the shuttered look he’d seen on her face before she noticed him. She’d looked like a pretty doll standing there, gazing without interest at the speaker.

He hated the dull pain that clawed at his chest, as if her hurt sank into him like a barbed hook. Was this love, to feel her pain multiplied? To watch her look of incredulous wonder when she saw him and feel his heart expand like a parched sea creature placed back in the surf? To exult at her anger because it meant her feelings were still powerful? Indifference would have sent him reeling, a wound from which he could not heal. Her anger he could deal with.

He wanted to start now—wanted to grab her, throw her over his shoulder and carry her off into the thick, sheltering gardens around the campus. Wanted to kiss her until she could do nothing but cling to him, and then fuck her until they were both exhausted, senseless.

Instead, he rose with her family and stepped aside, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, waiting in the background while her parents and her stooped, white-haired grandfather hugged her. Bella and Grace had their turn in her arms.

Finally they all stepped aside, watching Claire anxiously, gazes darting from her to him and back again, as if unsure they’d done the right thing inviting the wild native into their placid midst.

“Congratulations, wahine,” he said. “You have your degree. You can go anywhere.”

“Yes, I can,” she replied just as politely. “Mahalo.” An awkward little silence fell while voices rose and fell around them and people eddied past, eyeing them curiously. Her mother looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes—Claire’s eyes, faded by the years.

“Well,” said her father with a shooing motion of his weathered hands. “Let’s not stand here, folks. We’ve got pictures to take. Outside, everyone.”

Her father held out his hand to Claire, and she took it, walking with him just ahead of Daniel. He bent over her, squeezing her hand. “You okay, little girl?” he asked in what he obviously thought was a quiet voice. “Your mama thought, uh, you’d like to see him.”

“I’m fine, Daddy,” Daniel heard her murmur back. “Thanks.”

They took their pictures, and then Daniel caught Claire’s mother’s gaze, and she nodded to him. He stepped forward, his hand settling in the small of his wahine’s back. “We’ll meet you at the restaurant later,” he said to the group.

“Great,” said Claire’s father heartily, but his eyes flicked from Daniel to his daughter, a crease between his brows.

“I’ll have her back in a couple of hours,” Daniel promised. Grace smiled at him, and over her shoulder, Bella gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. He winked at her, his heart lightening. Claire’s best friends were on his side.

To his relief, Claire walked with him across the lawn to the parking lot. He would’ve thrown her over his shoulder if he had to, but that would certainly have attracted attention. He grinned at the image of himself bearing her through the startled crowds, her gorgeous ass over his shoulder while she kicked and hollered and tried to yank his hair out.

He stopped by the shiny black pickup truck he’d rented, and she rolled her eyes. “How did I know this one was yours?” she muttered as he opened her door for her.

“You know me, tita,” he said, patting her ass as she climbed in. “I like trucks.”

But when he walked around and swung up beside her, she stared through the windshield, her expression turbulent. “Do I know you, Daniel?” she asked. “Should you even be here?”

He put the key in the ignition and paused. “I know what he said to you,” he replied, turning to look at her. “He was lying.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “C-can he do that?”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Kanaloa can do whatever he wants—unless his big sister comes and kicks his ass.”

She shook her head, obviously not getting the joke. He reached over and took her hand. It was warm and slender in his. Her fingers clung to his, her palm fitting itself to the curve of his hand. He took heart from that.

“Pele saved me, tita. From myself. I was so…angry that I’d let you and Zane get hurt, nearly killed, I convinced myself that I didn’t deserve you. Have to say, Kanaloa fed that.”

“Oh,” she murmured, clinging to him more tightly.

He went on. “I thought I was so damn tough that I didn’t need anyone. Thought I could do everything by myself. That day, when you and Zane came swimming into the middle of what should have been a simple thing—it was all my fault. If I’d told Zane what I was up to, if I’d asked for his help, he would have been there beside me, and we would have gotten the job done much quicker. And, he wouldn’t have blundered into the middle of a speargun fight.”

He looked over at her, his eyes brilliant with suppressed emotion. “And you…you would have been safe at home, where you belong.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he chuckled, a deep
huh
in his chest.

“Well, you damn sure wouldn’t have been at Na’alele. I wouldn’t even let David get involved, and he’s a tougher moke than any I know. Anyway, I’ll tell you the whole story one time soon, but for now all you need to know is that Pele kicked Kanaloa’s ass. And then she kicked mine. And when she was finished with me, my family started in. They want us together, tita.”

A smile kicked up the corner of her full, soft mouth. “I wish I could have seen that. That sneaky bastard. He told me he’d save you…if I gave you up. But I was willing to fight for you. Only…I couldn’t f-fight you, wh-when you didn’t want me.” And just like that, she was weeping, her pretty face crumpling, her blue eyes brimming over with tears.

“Ah, tita. Don’t cry—please don’t cry.” He reached for her, leaning over the console to cup her face in his free hand, tipping it up to his. He kissed her wet cheeks, her trembling mouth, and then leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in her sweet smell, soaking in her warmth. “I know that now. At the time, I thought…I wasn’t worthy of you. Too rough, too mean.”

She gave a sobbing hiccup and clutched at his hand. “I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t H-Hawaiian.”

“Nah. David overlooked that, so I guess I will too. Besides, I love your pretty blonde hair.”

He kissed her again, cocking his head to take her mouth deep and wet with his. The kiss went on until a horn blared loudly behind them, and Claire jerked away. Daniel glared over his shoulder at the small car full of leering teenagers. “Come on. Let’s go to my hotel.”

Daniel was staying at the Revillion, a classy hotel in the heart of the city. His room was near the top floor, with a view across the Willamette River to Mt. Hood, soaring in the evening sun.

He closed the room door behind him and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, took them out again. Claire stared at him. Something was wrong. She took a step toward him, and he held up his hand, palm out.

“Before we…” He cleared his throat. “I need to…tell you something.” He looked at her from under his brows. “I came for you, make no mistake about it this time, tita. But there’s something you need to know before you have anything more to do with me.”

He sank onto the corner of the big bed, staring down at his hands clenched between his knees.

“I was…arrested and tried for rape about eight years ago.”

Claire gaped at him. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. “Holy hell. What happened?” She walked over and sat carefully on the edge of the bed a little way from him, watching him.

He shook his head and then spoke. “I hooked up with this haole tourist. I was just out of college, full of myself. Out partying with some of the guys in Honolulu. We danced, and drank—a lot. She came on to me hard. I told her…that I like it rough, and she laughed, said that was fine with her.”

“So I went up to her room with her. We—ah, got it on. It was pretty wild. We kept drinking, and I guess I was bragging, talking about what a big shot I was, a Ho’omalu, football star.”

He swallowed. “The next morning, there was a knock on my door. It was the Honolulu cops.”

He looked at her, a tsunami-force storm in his eyes. “A guy doesn’t know the depth of humiliation, tita, until he’s been dragged before a judge and his family and a bunch of lawyers and shown pictures of the bruises he’s left on a woman. She had big tears in her eyes, afraid to look at me. Hell, I damn near believed I’d raped her, myself. I’ll never forget the way her father looked at me.”

She could imagine, having a father herself. But then she’d never given her father reason to believe anything like this. “So what happened?”

He gave a snort of humorless laughter. “Lawyers. My father’s lawyers parleyed with hers, got the charges dropped. I had no record, was a good student, upstanding citizen, all that. Also, the judge was Hawaiian. That helped. So did the fact that her father demanded a huge settlement. Made it look like that was what they were after all the time.”

He shook his head. “You know, I never really did figure out if she was just after the money, or if…if she was ashamed of what she let me do, what she did. All I know is I’ve been damn careful about hooking up with any wahine that might be…fragile.”

Claire took a deep breath and let it out. “Oh, Daniel. It must have been so awful for all of you.”

She kept her voice soft and her movements slow, as she would with an injured beast, as she rose and went to stand before him. She reached down carefully and pushed his hands aside, moving between his thighs. Then she put her hands on his cheeks and pushed his face gently so he tipped his head up to her. “Poor, poor man,” she crooned.

Then she smacked him, hard, on the side of the head.

He recoiled. “Ow!” he roared, injured indignation on his face. “What the hell was that for?”