Pleasing the Dead

by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

  They were about a half mile out and there was little wind, though there were small swells, which would eventually carry the boat in. The breeze was off-shore, though, which would counteract the push of the ocean toward shore. Storm wasn’t an expert on boats, but she understood swells and currents from surfing. She knew the ocean was unpredictable. Chances were good it would push them onto the rocky shoals.

  So how much time would she have if she drove to the middle of the bay and left the helm? She simply didn’t know, and Keiko and Stella still weren’t visible.

  Except for the unconscious Ken and someone’s inert leg, no one was evident. Where were Obake’s men, and the rest of the crew? Where was Damon, that traitorous scumbag?

  Did that motionless form on the port deck belong to Lara? Why hadn’t Keiko or Stella helped her?

  Storm eyed the rocks on the other side of the bay, and gently turned the wheel. No sudden movements this time. She didn’t want to draw attention to the helm. Storm concentrated on the currents and the vessel’s rise and fall in the sea. She kept the Quest on the course Ken had followed.

  The only other people within view were on shore, where a burly man in swim trunks and goggles seemed to be shouting at two tall, thin guys in suits. Though the heavy guy was stomping around and pointing at his watch, the incongruity of suits on the beach was what caught her eye.

  Storm looked around for binoculars, but Ken hadn’t left a pair nearby. Next, she looked for a boat horn or a radio, but didn’t see either. Could she wave at these people for help?

  When a woman’s urgent voice shouted from behind her, she almost jumped out of the captain’s chair.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “Storm!” Keiko yelled.

  Storm spun to see a man struggling in Keiko’s grasp. With his arms tied behind his back, he lurched and stumbled across the rolling deck.

  Thrashing against Keiko’s restraints, he went down hard and swore. Though many of the words were unintelligible, the F’s sprayed saliva. The fall hadn’t hurt his mouth any. He winced when Keiko hauled him up by his hands. Storm suppressed a sympathy grimace; Keiko knew exactly how sore his shoulders would be.

  “Fuckin-A, ya fuckin’ bitches. I’m just helpin’ Ken.”

  Storm realized her mouth was hanging open. It was the guy she’d seen in the dive shop, hanging around with Ken. He’d caught her eye because he’d been shirtless—a bit cocky, she’d thought—and one arm had a colorful tattoo of a bald eagle carrying a round ball with a fuse. He was still shirtless, and the eagle on his deltoid muscle practically flapped its wings with the fellow’s aggravation. Those surf trunks looked familiar, too. A wardrobe as extensive as his vocabulary.

  “Now you know what we felt like.” Stella kicked at the back of his bare heels.

  The man gave a little hop and snarled over his shoulder at her. “Ow.” He choked back a few indecipherable words.

  Stella drew back her sneaker again, threatening. He jerked left to avoid her and bumped into Keiko, who gave him a hard shove, then kept him from falling by hauling back on his arms again.

  The women were indignant and showed it.

  “You know this guy?” Storm asked them.

  “His name’s Billy,” Keiko said. “He’s a friend of Ken’s.”

  Billy glowered at Storm. “Looka that. The fuckin’ lawyer.”

  All three women ignored him.

  “We found Damon,” Stella said. “He’s unconscious and tied up.”

  Storm pointed toward the inert leg. “Is that Damon?”

  “Fuckin’ traitor,” Billy muttered.

  “Traitor?” Storm asked. “Why?”

  Billy looked at the blade Stella was holding. “Cuz he gave that to you.”

  “How do you know I didn’t have it in my bra?” Stella asked.

  “You could hide a whole tool chest in there, couldn’t you?” Billy snickered, which elicited a shoulder-wrenching pull from Keiko.

  “You’re in no position to be rude.”

  He grunted out a few more obscenities, then leaned toward Stella. “But you didn’t have it in there, did you? We checked.”

  Stella’s smile turned to an expression of disgust and her hand flew to her chest. Billy sneered. “Damon slipped it under the door.”

  “Why’d he do that?” Keiko asked.

  “Wimpy fucker felt guilty.”

  “Why’d you kidnap us?” Storm asked.

  “Orders. We were gonna let you go. No big deal.”

  Storm doubted every word that came out of the man’s mouth. No big deal? She felt like spitting at him, but it wouldn’t help. Plus, she’d probably miss and hit one of the women.

  “Why did you want us on this boat?” Stella asked.

  “Get you out of the way for a while. For your own good.”

  “Oh sure.” Keiko tugged his arms. Tendons bulged all the way from his shoulders up his neck. It looked as if he tried not to cry out.

  “Did you break into my hotel room?” Storm asked.

  “Your hotel room? Hell, no.” He seemed to think for a minute. “The local syndicate might have, though.”

  “Working with them doesn’t bother you?”

  Billy looked at her and tried to shrug, but Keiko gave the rope another wrap around her fist, and he flinched reflexively.

  “Where’s Lara?” Stella asked.

  “She’s around,” Billy said. He acted like she was getting her nails done.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Whaddya think, I’m her babysi—”

  “Jesus!” Storm shouted. A silhouette had passed under the boat, visible for a split second in her peripheral vision. She swerved away from it at the same time a swell rolled under the boat. At least she thought it was a swell.

  The shadow glided by again, close to the boat’s hull. Huge, half the length of the Quest. Dark, with a blunt head and a tapering tail. It was a brief glimpse, but every atavistic gene in her subconscious knew that shape.

  Chapter Forty-two

  The Quest took the swell abeam. An awkward and potentially dangerous maneuver, which made Lara wonder what Ken was doing, but she’d had her own trials over the last half hour or so. She sat with her back against the rise of the cabin, out of the view of anyone aft. Not even Ken could see her here, which was nice and private. She needed to think.

  About an hour ago, after they were well out to sea, she’d heard a pounding sound and asked Ken, who was at the helm, what was going on. He acted like he hadn’t heard her question, but that dildo friend of his started to laugh. Ken shot him a look, and Billy shut up. She liked that about Ken, his sense of leadership. She wished Ryan was more of a leader instead of the pushover he was around his father.

  Wait, that wasn’t entirely fair. Ryan’s friends had a lot of respect for him. He was smart and kind. Her problem was his dad, who was an associate of the man who’d ruined her family.

  She didn’t know whom to trust anymore. Ken and Billy were up to something, and it wasn’t good. Billy didn’t have enough brain cells to generate a spark, let alone an original idea. Still, Ken brought him into the shop to help out. Ken said Billy had standuplitude. Billy had been in Desert Storm with Ken, and would do what Ken asked him. Ken had brains and some money; Billy had brawn, balls, and he was new in town. Easier for him to get around unnoticed.

  Now she just didn’t know. Storm, Stella, and Keiko were unwilling passengers on the Quest. Ken might be intelligent, but he’d teamed up with Billy, who was neither smart nor kind.

  A confused groan escaped her, and Lara looked around, startled by her own anguished noise. Relax, no one could hear her; the drone of the engines and slapping of the sea against the Quest’s hull would drown out all but the sharpest noises. Was she being betrayed again? By Ken, to whom she’d revealed confidences and allowed into her business?

  She did not have good luck with men. Ken, another handsome bad boy, was a shameless flirt who made certain p
arts of her body feel all loose and liquid. He’d planted the seed of discontent when he asked her why she was marrying the guy who owned the real estate instead of getting it in her own name.

  Lara’s heart contracted. When Stella introduced her to Ryan, she thought her dreams had come true. In the early days, Ken’s suggestions and innuendos bounced off her like rice on a drum.

  It had been a black day when she discovered Paradise Consortium, on whose board Obake sat, was a partner with the Tagama’s real estate company. They had part ownership in a handful of South Coast properties, among them the shopping center where her dive shop was located.

  No wonder Ryan had been flustered when she’d suggested his dad give the land to them for a wedding present. Ryan knew Obake was in on it, despite her family history. The information had practically gutted her.

  Stella was clueless, especially when it came to men. Always had been, always would be. Stella adored Ryan. So did Barb, for that matter. In her lucid moments, which were less and less frequent, Barb flirted as if she were the fiancée. Stella had been friends with the elder Tagama for years. Another Obake-corrupted relationship.

  Lara’s eyes swept the coastline. The Quest was miles from Kihei, and approaching the appointment she’d made. Her stomach clenched with nerves. They were about a half mile off shore, in deep water, and out of cell phone range, just as she and Ken had planned.

  Three men were on the beach, small in the distance, but Lara could pick out Obake; he was the one in swim trunks and no shirt. He strutted back and forth as if stalking the Quest, his blocky, muscled torso the color of oiled teak. He knew she was watching, and he enjoyed the attention.

  He’d contacted her, and told her she was lucky that he’d give her a minute or two, the respect due a business associate. She didn’t buy that for a nanosecond. He didn’t consider women business associates, especially if they were Farrell women. She was the only one who wasn’t his whore. Or maybe she was, and she just didn’t know it yet.

  He told her he’d altered the sales contract that Mary Robbins had with her when her car went over the bridge. He was now the new owner of Michael Farrell’s pretty little house on the private beach. Even if someone was suspicious about Mary’s death, no one would dare confront him.

  But there was something he wanted or needed, because he’d initiated the meet. The ball was still in her court.

  Lara’s eyes narrowed with hate. His fat feet tainted the sand. He contaminated the whole area: her family land, her nest egg, her place of special memories. The sight made her seethe; it sent her to pick through jagged rubble of her childhood. Memories with teeth.

  When had it all fallen apart? Long before Angela started using cocaine and crystal meth. Before Angela decided, like their mother, that success was measured in the men she attracted and the trinkets they offered. Before she dropped out of school. But it wasn’t Angela’s fault. Barb had the illness, too. Like a nest of termites that ate from the inside until the structure collapsed, Obake had planted the rot.

  She thought she’d escaped the shadow that hung over the Farrells. She’d had a chance to throw off the curse. But she’d made choices without knowing where they would lead, and some of them had come back to bite her.

  Had she placed her trust in the wrong person again? Ken and Billy had kidnapped three women who were Lara’s friends and colleagues. Billy was in Obake’s pay, but Ken? She’d believed in Ken.

  They’d either shamed or threatened Damon into going along with the kidnapping, but Damon had freaked when he overheard Billy tell Ken they were far enough out to sea to throw the women over. That’s when he’d come to her and suggested sliding the blade to the box cutter under the door. Like Damon, she’d been stunned at the plan, and gone along with the idea to help the women.

  She hadn’t been there when Billy caught Damon at the door to the cabin. Though Damon had been successful at getting the blade to the women, he was now trussed up like a luau pig, ready for the oven. Lara wasn’t sure where Storm was, but Stella and Keiko had escaped.

  The women were not part of her plan to meet Obake. They weren’t to be put in harm’s way. No way.

  Lara dragged her eyes back to her adversary, who pointed to his watch and shouted something at his two bodyguards. One shrugged, an I-don’t-know gesture. Obake yelled something else, and the other guy pulled out a cell phone.

  Obake loosened his shoulders by flexing and rolling them, then splashed into the water. He was actually going to swim to the boat. He’d boasted that he would, but she’d argued with Ken about this. When she told Obake she’d be arriving via boat, she was sure he’d have his henchmen find a bigger, faster yacht to intimidate her.

  But Ken was adamant that Obake wouldn’t pass up the chance to show off his strength, half-nude body, and athletic prowess in front of a female audience. Ken had been right about that part.

  Ken, who had loaned her money for a share in the shop. He’d helped her buy all the scuba gear and organized the dive tours. The shark encounter was his idea, and it was a winner. Ken liked excitement, even in the tongue-in-cheek guise of BRA, the Beach Rescue Alliance. Unlike Ryan, who hid Paradise Consortium’s involvement from her, and backed away from arguments. Even when she made him sleep on the sofa.

  Ken’s ties to Billy were strong. The men had a past, a situation from their service in the Middle East. Lara had overheard Billy allude to a village, which he called by a name she couldn’t remember, but she wouldn’t forget the insinuation in his voice. Ken had become very quiet.

  Lara took a deep breath, and another. She had to keep thinking and stay on top of this. Some of her choices had led down unexpected paths and onto new decisions, then other problems cropped up. It was hard to remember everything. The people involved were pushing her scheme according to their own different agendum, in ways she couldn’t have anticipated.

  Lara squinted at the water. Obake was doing the crawl, breathing with each stroke. One arm flashed in the sun, then the other, and his legs churned behind him. Not a pretty stroke, too much splash. Lara knew this because of Angela, who was a beautiful swimmer, if only she’d stayed with it.

  Look at that. Obake made pretty good time, despite his method. Lara looked at the deep blue and watched for shadows. The sharks should be coming any minute now. Her ‘aumakua.

  Chapter Forty-three

  “What’s wrong?” asked Stella. Three faces, even the belligerent Billy’s, stared up at Storm. Anxiety tightened the skin around their lips and eyes.

  “I saw something.” But it had disappeared, and the boat approached another turning point. She turned the wheel in a gentle sweep this time, unlike the erratic wrench she’d given it when she saw the shark’s silhouette.

  What else would look like that? Storm looked around. Though they were fairly close to land to see a creature as large as—well, what she thought she’d seen. Fifteen, twenty feet? More than half the length of the boat, but maybe the water magnified it. Lara’s ‘aumakua.

  “Something in the water?” asked Keiko.

  Billy smirked. “Probably a big bad turtle.”

  Keiko gave him stink-eye and pulled on his ties like he was an unpredictable pit bull.

  A thumping distracted all of them. Ken was still in the same position, and appeared to be unconscious. He’d have a hard time moving around with that awful fracture even if he did wake up.

  “I don’t see Damon,” Storm said. The prone form on the port deck was no longer visible. “You sure he was tied up?”

  “Yes,” Stella said, “but I’ll go check.” She held the knife blade as if she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

  Keiko watched her with an anxious expression, then allowed a movement in the water to catch her eye. “Hey, someone’s swimming toward us.”

  “You’re right.” Storm stood up. “He looked right at us.”

  “Yeah, look at that.” Billy’s voice was amused. “And I have a hunch he’ll help some of us out.”

&
nbsp; “We’ve got to warn that guy.” Storm began to turn the boat toward him. “I think I saw a shark.”

  “He’ll be fine,” said Billy. “He doesn’t want a boatload of fuckin’ women driving up to him.”

  Storm ignored him.

  “Okay, do it. You’ll see,” Billy said.

  Keiko gave him a yank that made him grunt.

  “You guys are fucked,” he sneered.

  Keiko jerked on him again, a surprising burst of strength that made the cords in his neck stand out like cables. He went to his knees, “Fuhhhh—,” and onto his face.

  Half a second later, Storm’s, Keiko’s, and Billy’s attention was diverted by the sight of Damon edging along the narrow deck between the ocean and the side of the cabin. His eyes, dark with terror, flitted back and forth from the water to Storm’s face. Stella held onto his tied hands, but he was unable to hold on to the stanchions that allowed Stella to walk the gunwale with security.

  He glanced again at the ocean; at one point, he teetered, and she steadied him. “MMMM. MMMM.” He tried to communicate through a gag of duct tape.

  “You think he wants to talk to us?” Stella helped him make the big step down to the cabin, where he sat on the gunwale and leaned against a stanchion. She sat next to him. His face was so pale and sweaty he looked like he was made of plastic.

  “Where’s Lara?” Stella ripped the duct tape from his face.

  Storm blinked. He wouldn’t have to shave for a month.

  The tape’s sting had drawn tears. “I tried—”

  “I’ve had enough of this.” Stella grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. He teetered on the seat cushion just as Billy drew the crew’s attention by making a high, nervous sound that hinted at hysteria. His eyes bulged at a sight abaft.

  Storm’s first thought was that he was taunting Damon, and she gave him a disgusted and fleeting glance. Her eyes went back to the swimmer she’d seen. Where was that guy? Closer than she thought—he was within twenty yards, splashing toward the boat and looking up from time to time through his swim goggles.