Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (10 page)

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 but 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.

Opening his eyes, he saw streaks of red in the soapy water swirling on the beige tiled floor of the shower. He was still bleeding. To contain the damage, he wrung out his washcloth and held it gingerly to his head while he dried off one-handed with a fluffy peach towel. Then he managed to get the damp towel around his waist and, by dint of holding on to the walls and the bathroom counter, made it to the nearest seat, the toilet, and more or less collapsed on it.

Propping his elbows on his knees, he held his pounding head and waited for her.

Chapter Eight

Recipe for desire—take one Hawaiian hunk, peel. Wash thoroughly and dry with soft towel
.

When Malu stopped in the door of her bathroom and dropped his swim trunks, Melia stared, her breath frozen in her throat. Dirt, blood, none of it mattered—he was spectacular. His broad back narrowed into gorgeous, tight buns and heavy thighs roped with muscle, a slightly paler gold than the rest of him. And he apparently didn’t care if she saw it all.

Fighting the sudden temptation to follow him right into the bathroom and find out what the front half looked like, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the bedroom. No longer chilled, now she felt too hot, her skin damp. And it wasn’t just the closeness of the air. Whoa, the man was dangerous in more ways than one.

From the lanai, she watched as the catamaran eased away from the dock, turned and moved out across the little harbor. Leilani waved, her black ponytail flying out like a banner, and Melia waved back, digging her toes into the soft leather of her sandals to keep herself from dashing down to the dock and begging them to take her and Malu with them.

The boat eased through the gap in the coral reef and picked up speed, the twin wakes white. Whitecaps rose outside the bay, but the big cat rode them lightly. The striped sails rippled, bright against the heavy clouds, now nearly black with rain. As they disappeared behind the palms swaying on the point, thunder rumbled sullenly in the distance.

Melia looked around her uneasily at the sloping lawn rimmed by plumeria and hibiscus nodding in the rising breeze. She and Malu were alone here—except perhaps for the “friends” of Dane’s that Frank had mentioned.

Nothing moved but the shrubbery. The only sound was the rustle of palm leaves and the waves on the little beach. Still, even the pistol in her hand didn’t relieve her uneasiness. She might know how to use it, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have to. She really didn’t get why he’d wanted to remain here, or why he wanted her with him. The catamaran seemed to her plenty big enough to carry them all safely back.

Well, they were here now, and the biggest protection they had was the house. If anyone wanted to get in, they’d have to break in. Hurrying inside, Melia locked the front door behind her, as well as the two long windows on either side. Then she ran into the sitting room and did the same, her heart pounding, limbs shaky with adrenaline. The kitchen and office secured, she hurried into the bedroom Jacquie had used, then Cherie’s. By the time she got back to her own room, she was panting, and damp with perspiration. As she reached for the sturdy shutters on the window, she stared at the blood and dirt streaking the broad windowsill and the woven mat on the floor. Malu’s blood.

Good grief, she felt a long way from the woman who’d sent cheerful text messages to her friends. What would be appropriate now?
N dangr, Haw’in hunk bleedg. Ples snd help!

She took a deep breath and closed the shutter, pushing on the bent fastener as hard as she could. Even injured, Malu was a bulwark of strength, and he knew this area. She’d listened to him discussing hiking trails with Frank and realized he must have spent lots of time in the Kau forest preserve.

Realizing that she was shaky partly because she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the coffee early that morning, Melia turned toward the kitchen. She hesitated in the bedroom doorway. She shouldn’t leave Malu alone too long. What if he fell in the shower? Head injuries were tricky. She also admitted to herself ruefully that she could hardly wait to see him clad only in a towel. Even though she was seriously pissed at him, she could still enjoy the view.

Ironic that the man with whom she was alone in this remote paradise wasn’t really interested in her. Which was good, she told herself sternly, because even if he was a hero, she wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy who’d probably slept with half the female tourists on the island.

She stopped in the kitchen and took a cold Coke from the refrigerator, then grabbed another can for Malu. He could probably use both the sugar and the caffeine.

She collected the capacious first-aid kit from the cupboard and took everything back to her room. She could do this.

The shower was off, but Malu was nowhere in sight. Her heart pounding, Melia rushed into the bathroom, afraid she would find him lying on the floor. She blew out a shaky breath of relief. He sat on the closed toilet, a towel wrapped around his hips, elbows on his knees, holding a wadded-up washcloth to his bowed head. The dried blood and dirt that had streaked his handsome face were gone. His short black hair was damp and tousled.