by Rachel Woods
“Who?” he asked, wondering if she would be honest.
“Peter,” she said. “Your cousin.”
Sione glared at her. “Why the hell would you get my cousin involved in this?”
Since he’d found out about Peter’s role in the stolen envelope plot, Sione had wondered how Moana had managed to make a damn fool of him, convincing his cousin to break the law.
“Peter is a good friend,” Moana said, walking to the dresser and leaning a hip against the edge of it. “He’s the only person in your whole family who doesn’t hate me.”
“So … my cousin steals the envelope for you and then what?”
“Then I told Peter to hide it for me,” Moana said. “In your casita.”
“My casita?” Sione put some outrage in his tone, figuring a bit of incredulity was needed to keep her from being suspicious. “Why the hell did you have him hide it in my casita?”
“I’ll get to that,” she said, giving him an enigmatic smile. “And it’ll make sense.”
Worried, he said, “So, Peter hid the envelope and then?
“I contacted your father,” she said. “I offered Richard a deal. He could have the envelope if he got me out of prison.”
“And that’s how you got out of jail?” Sione asked. “He set up a phony fight where you would be killed?”
“No, actually that’s not what happened,” Moana said, smiling. “Richard told me to go to hell.”
Sione had to smile at the frustration marring her features.
He wasn’t surprised by his father’s response. Richard didn’t make deals or allow himself to be leveraged. Richard was about intimidation, not negotiation. Entertaining an offer would make him seem weak.
“So, I told my lawyer to get in touch with Ben for me.” Moana pushed off the dresser and took a step toward him. “Ben and I relayed messages through Mr. Perales. I told Ben everything. And then, I offered Ben the same deal I offered your father. Get me out of jail and I’d give him that envelope. I made a stupid mistake, though.”
“What was the mistake?”
“Ben didn’t take my deal, either,” she said. “Instead, he told me he would circumvent me. He said he wouldn’t have to help me get out of jail because he would find the envelope. He thought he knew me. Thought he knew the places I might hide it. Well, I told Ben not to bother looking for the envelope because I had hidden it in a place where he would never be allowed to enter.”
“My casita.”
“When Richard told me to find the envelope,” she said. “I decided I could use it like a carrot and dangle it over your father. But I had to make sure there was no way Richard could find the carrot. Richard would never think to look for it there. I knew he would never be welcomed in your casita so I didn’t have to worry about Richard stealing the envelope from me. Ben would never be invited to your casita either. He knew that and so he sent a Trojan horse.”
“Trojan horse?”
“Ben figured out that I’d hidden his envelope in your casita,” she said. “So, he sent Kelsey Thomas to look for it.”
“Kelsey Thomas,” he echoed, thinking of how all the dots were starting to connect. But, once all the dots were connected, what the hell would they reveal? Would it be something he could face or something he’d be forced to look away from.
“You remember her? Met her at a club then took her back to the casita and banged her. You thought she liked you but she was really only interested in finding that envelope that Peter hid in your casita.”
“How do you know about Kelsey Thomas?” Sione asked. “Did Ben tell you?”
“Kelsey Thomas and I are old acquaintances,” Moana said, cutting her eyes toward Karen Nelson’s body again. “She came to visit me in prison.”
“Really?” Sione asked, pretending he didn’t know. He remembered Kelsey Thomas’ name on the list D.J. had given him, all the people who’d visited Moana before she’d “died.” At the time, he hadn’t known why Kelsey had gone to see Moana, but he’d figured they were connected by Ben Chang somehow.
“Kelsey told me Ben was forcing her to look for the envelope,” Moana said. “If she found it, Ben would make sure she stayed out of prison. She wanted advice on how to get close to you …”
The goal was for me to get into your casita, but I couldn’t break in, he was really adamant about that, no forced entry, I had to get myself invited into your casita, or I had to trick my way in, and then I had to find some way to get you out of the casita so I could
“—look for the envelope,” Moana was saying. “So, I gave her some advice.”
“You gave her advice?” Sione asked, skeptical, remembering what Kelsey had claimed she was looking for.
I was supposed to steal your passport.
“I told her, Sione likes to rescue women so you must appear helpless,” she said, taking another step closer and another quick glance at the body on the bed. “You must resist asserting yourself lest you be perceived as capable, intelligent, and self-reliant because if you are, then he won’t want you. Kelsey didn’t want to do it, but then I told her how big your—”
“Something doesn’t make sense,” he said, cutting her off, not interested in how she’d coached Kelsey Thomas to make a damn fool of him. “If you knew Ben was forcing Kelsey Thomas to look for the envelope, why did you give her advice on getting close to me? Weren’t you afraid she might accidentally find it?”
“I wasn’t worried about her finding it,” Moana said, lifting a shoulder. “And she didn’t. Silly little bitch got caught. But, of course, you know that.”
“Ben’s plan to circumvent you didn’t work,” Sione said. “So, did he rethink your offer? He changed his mind, got you out of prison so you could give him the envelope.”
“Ben didn’t get me out of prison,” she said. “Richard did. I told you, ‘Moana dies in a prison riot’ was all your father’s doing.”
“And I told you I don’t believe that,” Sione said. “My father can’t stand you. He wouldn’t help you.”
“But he did,” Moana insisted. “Months after Richard turned down my offer and told me to go to hell, he reached out to me again with another offer. He would get me out of jail—”
“If you gave him the envelope?”
“That deal was no longer on the table,” she said, looking up at him, a fierce amusement in her midnight gaze. “Richard had a brand new offer. He wanted me to get rid of a few loose ends.”
Sione stared at her, his heart slamming. Loose ends. He’d heard his father use those words before. Loose ends. A reference to dangerous people who knew too much and had to be … taken care of. “What loose ends?”
“One of them is lying on the bed over there.”
“You killed Karen Nelson?”
“How do you know her name is Karen Nelson?” she asked. “Had the two of you met before her untimely demise?”
“Why’d you kill her?”
“I told you,” she said, sounding a bit impatient. “Your father wanted me to get rid of loose ends. That’s why he got me out of prison. That’s why he planned it so I would die in that prison fight. A dead girl can’t shoot you in the head.”
“Why would my father want Karen Nelson killed?” Sione asked, thinking questions might give him time to think of some way to get an advantage over her. “How did he even know her?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Shrugging, Moana said, “Whatever beef they had is none of my business, but if I had to guess, it probably had something to do with Ben.”
“My father wanted Karen Nelson killed because of Ben?”
“His relationship with Ben is so damn strange and convoluted. I think Richard said Ben forced Karen Nelson and the other two to betray him.”
“The other two?”
“Carla Garcia and Maxine Porter.”
“You killed them?”
Glaring at him, she said, “Loose ends.”
“And you cut their hands off?”
“Richard’s orders.” Smil
ing, she said, “Nice clean chop.”
“Why would my father want you to use his signature?”
Moana shrugged. “I’m guessing that Ben was supposed to think that Richard had killed those dumb bitches.”
Staring at her, Sione wondered, who the hell was she? Certainly not the woman he’d asked to marry him. Certainly not the girl he’d met on the beach in A’arotanga when they were seventeen and sex-starved. She wasn’t even something in between the two. She seemed to be something new, something he’d never dreamed she could become. Evil.
Had he ever really known her? Had prison changed her, turned her into this cruel, heartless woman glaring at him? Or had she always been this way, so ruthless and mercenary, and he just hadn’t seen it? Had she hidden who she really was from him?
And if she had, how could he throw stones.
Hadn’t he spent the last decade trying to hide who he really was? Trying to fight dark urges and keep people from discovering the truth about him? Desperately doing whatever he had to so he wouldn’t accidentally reveal his past?
“Well, handsome, it’s been a blast seeing you again,” she said. “You still make me wish I had been the right girl for you, but wishing doesn’t make it so, right?”
“Wait a minute, tell me this,” he said. “If my father helped you get out of jail, then why did you call me with that bullshit about him wanting you dead?”
“Richard’s instructions,” she said. “He was hoping you would think he killed me and then you would confront him. He was trying to trick you into coming to see him. He misses you. He wants to repair your relationship. You mean everything to him.”
“I doubt that,” Sione said, though he knew Moana was telling the truth.
“Anyway, I need to clean up this mess I made,” she said, nodding toward the bed. “And then I have one more loose end to tie up …”
“One more loose end?” he asked, his pulse starting to race.
She gave him a look of defiant amusement and then said, “Spencer Edwards.”
Something screamed and roared through his head as he stared at her, paralyzed, unable to form coherent thoughts.
“Of course, you know her,” Moana said. “The sexy, good-looking black girl you’re banging. I have to tell you, handsome, I’m kind of jealous. I wouldn’t mind hitting that myself.”
“You stay the hell away from Spencer.”
“Weren’t you listening?” Moana asked, frowning at him as though he were a recalcitrant child. “I told you, I have to get rid of all the loose ends. Richard’s orders. Spencer Edwards is a loose end.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Sione said, more to himself than to Moana. “Richard doesn’t know Spencer.”
Shrugging, Moana said, “You know your father doesn’t like to be questioned. Don’t ask, because he’s not going to tell.”
“Stay away from Spencer.”
“You don’t seem to understand how it works.” Moana said. “The deal was, if Richard got me out of jail, I would tie up his loose ends. He’s held up his end of the bargain. I have to hold up my end. If I don’t, you know what your father will do to me. They won’t even find my body.”
“You need to be more worried about what I’m going to do to you.”
“What you’re going to do to me?” Moana asked, and there was confusion in the laugh that followed. “Oh, now you want to be a chip off the old Glock? You don’t have the guts to kill me. You never did and you never will.”
She glared at him, hate in her dark gaze. Her body trembled, an almost imperceptible tremor, as though rage churning deep within her was radiating out to her extremities.
Looking at her, Sione remembered the day he’d caught her with Ben. He had wanted to kill Moana, but he hadn’t. His uncle’s influence had been strong then, and he couldn’t convince himself to put his hands around her throat and snap her neck. Big mistake.
He should have killed her when he had the chance. If he had, three women would still be alive today. Their blood was on his hands. But, he would rectify that mistake.
Moana must have seen his intentions or discerned something in his gaze. She took a step backward, and then another, and then she turned and ran.
Anticipating her actions, Sione took off after her. Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. Around the corner. Into the living room. Moana sprinted toward the door and got there quicker than he’d thought she would.
Determined not to let the bitch get away, Sione lunged and was right upon her as she clutched the knob. Before she could open the door, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her away from the door. Howling in anger, she tried to wrestle away, kicking and writhing and whirling like some Tasmanian devil.
Sione threw her into the wall. Slamming against the sheet rock, Moana gasped and then dropped to the floor. Sione went to her and dropped to his knees in front of her. Grabbing her around the throat, he yanked her to her knees. Gasping and gurgling, Moana tried to pry his hand from her throat. Nails dug into his wrist. Ignoring the pain, he tightened his hold. She slapped and punched his face, her eyes growing wider, in shock and terror, and he imagined she realized what he was planning for her and knew he would not stop until his plan succeeded.
Moana knew she was about to die. And Sione knew he was going to kill her. Not because he wanted to …
He had to kill her.
Spencer Edwards is a loose end
But that wasn’t true. Spencer was becoming everything to him, and so much more. Everything he’d hoped and prayed and wished for. She was his chance at happiness. A chance he’d never thought he would have again. And he would be damned if he let Moana steal that chance from him a second time.
As Moana raked her nails against his arm, leaving behind thin, bloody welts, Sione tightened his grip, remembering the lessons Richard had given him, crushing the trachea, cutting off the flow of oxygen.
Rising to his feet, he pulled Moana up with him. Her heels and feet slapped the tile floor until he lifted her higher, eye level with him. With no solid ground beneath her, she pumped and bicycled her legs in the air, staring at him with a dark, soulless gaze.
Seconds later, her eyelids flickered, and then her pupils rolled back. Her mouth went slack and her body went limp. Panting, scarcely able to catch his own breath, Sione yanked his hand from her neck.
Moana’s body fell, crashing to the tile in a sprawling heap.
chapter 88
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita
Sione walked into his casita and closed the door behind him. A wall sconce in the foyer gave off dim light, just enough so he wouldn’t stumble into anything. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull Spencer into his arms. He was wary of closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him—wary of the nightmares he was sure he’d have to contend with, the dreams about Moana.
He was still reeling from the shock of what he’d done. Had he really killed his ex-fiancée? Was Moana really dead? Because of him? Because he had put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she stopped breathing?
Continuing down the hall to the master bedroom, his worry grew, turning to panic. He had vowed to never live the life Richard had planned for him; he wasn’t going to be the person his father wanted him to be, a man devoted to menace and mayhem for profit. He had promised himself he would never become that man. Sione had denounced that life, and yet tonight, he’d embraced it.
Opening the double doors, Sione was drawn toward a glow of light, a lamp on the night table. Shaky and disoriented, he walked into the bedroom and headed to the light, staring toward the bed. Spencer was sprawled across the bed on her back, wearing a skimpy pair of purple lace panties and some kind of matching see-through camisole, giving him a nice view. He gazed at her breasts, enticed by her nipples straining against the sheer fabric, thinking strange thoughts, indulging in ideas which made no sense, like coming home to Spencer every night because they were together, because they had fallen in love.
And that’s what he was.
Turning from Spencer, he staggered toward a chair in the corner of the room and dropped down into it, leaning back, extending his legs out across the hardwood floor as Moana’s lifeless body flashed in his mind. He had stared at the body for a long time, trying to control the kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings swirling within him, but they shifted and changed too quickly. Finally, he’d left the rental house.
Outside, night had taken over. Weak light from a sconce on the porch near the front door provided scant illumination as he made his way to the Mercedes. Forcing one foot in front of the other was an effort, and he felt like he was pushing through a dark, hot blanket.
Driving back to the resort, he was jittery one moment and calm the next. It was hard to figure out what he really felt about what he’d done. As soon as he thought he knew, his emotions would shift and become vague and elusive. It was surreal. For a moment, Sione wondered if he was dreaming.
And then he thought that maybe the whole incident had been a wild figment of his imagination. Maybe he’d made it all up. Maybe it was some strange psychological response to the death of Karen Nelson, which didn’t really make sense because he’d seen dead bodies before. Richard had exposed him to that particular horror, and Sione hadn’t been overly traumatized.
The first time had been when he was fourteen. The body was lying on the ground. The guy looked like he was just knocked out, and if not for the bullet wound in the back of his head, and the blood congealing in the dirt, he might have been mistaken for a drunk, unconscious and sleeping off a hangover.
Sione stared at the ceiling.
He liked the idea of finding Karen’s dead body on the bed and killing Moana as something that was all in his mind. As he closed his eyes, he allowed himself to think he had suffered some kind of temporary break with reality.