by Jodi Henley
Teams of heavyweight thugs in matching suits watched the line and the people trying to get in. Noise and laughter, and the thumping wail of something with a lot of percussion washed over Keegan in waves. There were people everywhere, walking, talking and eating too much. Keegan left Jen at the end of the receiving line and faded back. For every man that glanced at him, anonymous in his black t-shirt, there were twenty more that walked right on past.
Caravaggio ghosted around a table laid with fancy pastries, coat flared out behind him.
Keegan would never have pegged the Italian ex-pat as a StallingCo operative. They’d met in passing over the last two years and what Keegan knew of him didn’t suggest the elegant former aristo would accept an actual corporate hierarchy. It was a good thing Caravaggio had interrupted that argument with Jen. If the operative hadn’t appeared like the ghost of Christmas Past, Keegan would have done something so messed up that repercussions would have shot out in all directions. Despite her ugly pink dress, it’d been hell to confine his touch to her wrist. He’d wanted to slide his hands up inside her sleeves and touch the rest of her velvety-plush skin.
She shuffled forward, almost to the front of the line. Only a handful of people separated her from her aunt. A girl as short as Jen, with purple-tipped black hair and a big notebook, pushed aside a guy wearing what had to be the world’s tackiest aloha shirt.
Keegan couldn’t make out what they said, but Katherine Kualani handed over what appeared to be a check, which the girl smiled at and immediately put in her notebook.
Jen took her turn, talked to her aunt for a while, then struggled to escape the crowd.
“Hey, you! Jen is family, yeah?” A boy planted himself in front of Keegan, arms folded over a pouter pigeon chest—still a kid despite the man-sized attitude.
People were moving up on his right and damned if that wasn’t Kualani running a fast intercept on Jen. She swerved around him and pointed at Keegan. If Keegan had to fight his way to her, he wasn’t going to make it and he didn't think Queen Kate would take kindly to someone shooting her kid.
Kualani stood down reluctantly, his voice weirdly distorted by the ambient noise. “Rescue him? He’s a piss poor bodyguard if he can’t protect himself from a seventeen-year-old kid.”
Aww, shit. She wasn’t asking Kualani for help? Yes, she was.
“You, Dalfrey! Over here—oww! God damn it, Guinevere! Why’d you kick me?” Kualani glared at the boy. “Wendell. Move and take your friends with you.”
The boy hesitated and took two steps back. “Kimo said—”
“Kimo is not part of this family.” Kualani rolled his eyes and made a disgusted snort. “C’mon, does he look like one of us?”
The boy smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, yeah?”
A sudden movement made Kualani turn, eyes narrowed. He turned back. “Sorry is what you will be if you don’t get your ass out of here.”
The group from the receiving line pushed past, the guy in the aloha shirt way out front. Up close, the effect of orange plaid and purple pineapples was blinding. The purple-tipped hair girl grabbed his arm and pulled him around. “Hold on, there’s enough for everyone.”
“I don’t want to eat the buffet. I want to see it—up close.”
Two men behind him laughed, and the younger one cocked a taunting brow. “Yeah, right.”
The boy who’d faced down Keegan shoved between the men and vanished into the darkness behind a catering tent.
“Behave,” said the girl to the other two. “All of you. We’re here to raise funds for Avatar, not eat.”
“Eating is a nice perk,” said the older man.
“Daddy!”
“Pig and poi, Amy-girl. Time to eat. Raise funds later. Go dance. All the men here have money, and it’s as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.”
“But I don’t want to get married.”
“Complain, complain,” said the man. “You!” he pointed to Keegan. “You have money? Take my daughter out dancing. She’d make a good wife.”
“Sorry,” Jen grabbed on to Keegan’s arm, “he’s taken.”
Amy smiled her gratitude. “Thank God, I don’t—no, Daddy! Not Makena—”
“Okay, maybe not Makena. His mother would—”
“Got to go, Daddy,” said Amy. “Your oldest son has slipped his leash. If we don’t find him soon, we’ll have to wheel him out.”
“Along with half that pig and a pan of noodles,” said the younger man.
“Good boy.” The older man nodded. “Think of your family. I like leftovers.”
“Daddy! He didn’t mean...” Amy herded her family away, still arguing.
Jen frowned at Makena. “Stop laughing, Makena. It’s not funny.”
“Come on, Jen—it’s priceless! The opportunities for tasteless jokes abound. Let’s get out of here.” He wiped at his eyes.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to get you something to eat before that Avatar crew makes off with my mother’s caterers, and your security is going somewhere else,” he added pointedly. “But...if you think I can’t protect you?”
Jen trusted Makena more than she trusted Keegan, who even now was looking down at her like she was something he wanted to scrape off his shoes. She let go of his arm and rubbed her hands down over her hips, smoothing her too-stiff dress for the umpteenth time.
“Let’s go,” she said, not looking back. She didn’t want to see the look in Keegan’s eyes.
He’d told her to stick close, but Makena was family and he’d helped her before. The security cordon around her aunt’s party was subtle and unobtrusive, but tight enough to kill. Only family and trusted friends could get from the parking lot onto the grounds.
Makena slung an arm around her shoulders and steered them toward the food. Running lights rushed overhead as more people arrived. The long communal tables were full.
Makena found them seats on a low stone wall in the quiet darkness beyond a makeshift helicopter landing pad, and handed her a porcelain plate. “No lectures, yeah? Just eat.”
Jen stabbed at a quail egg. “Damn it, Mac! He’s leaving in six days!”
“Who’s leaving?” her brother Percy asked.
At six feet four inches tall, Percival Stalling had long since outgrown his geeky awkward stage. His dark green polo shirt was neatly pressed and his khakis fit too well to be from anywhere but his favorite tailor.
He picked an egg off Makena’s plate and frowned down at it, the harsh lines of his face tired, like he hadn’t slept well. To Jen’s knowledge her brother had never had a normal life. He’d created StallingCo Security the day he’d turned seventeen, with Makena in charge of operations, and four years later, put their cousin Tris in charge of intelligence. It was the youngest grouping of corporate officers ever. And it worked right up until the day Makena had left, his loyalty to Jen taking precedence over his loyalty to StallingCo.
She eyed her brother. “Keegan Dalfrey.”
Percy shot her a sharp look. “Dalfrey? Of DalCon? Black hair, green eyes?”
“Blond hair and gray eyes. And what do you know about him?”
“Makena?” Percy’s expression closed.
“I’m out of the loop. Throw me an info-dump. If your father is running this show, you’ll need back-up.”
“I still have Tris.”
“Tris might be related to us, but he isn’t your friend. You think I don’t see the rage? You bottle it up like it won’t explode, but you’re that,” Makena slapped his hands together, “close.”
Percy stared at Makena, then back at Jen. The situation between the two of them had never been resolved. Her middle-of-the-night departure from the family compound had strained their once-tight friendship to the breaking point.
“Understand I can’t keep much of a surveillance team on Jen. When she was disinherited, material interest in her died. If word spreads that we’re involved with her again, Dad will have a potential hostage situation on his hands. But
three months ago, Tris began to hear rumors of a group fixated on the inter-island geothermal linkage.”
“The Pele Project,” said Jen.
Makena groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Percy looked at him thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said. “The Pele Project. Threats began pouring in instantly. I left for Singapore a week later, some problems with our Tri-Weapons division. Apparently, Dad took things into his own hands and contacted DalCon. Risk factors must have escalated to a point where he couldn’t ignore them. DalCon is based out of Seattle. They call themselves consultants, but they’re troubleshooters. Most of their staff is former Special Forces.”
He glanced at Jen. “I imagine they briefed you.”
The quail egg churned in her stomach. “Who linked it back to Dad?”
“Tris detailed Intelligence to you at the beginning of your time with the Project. Ops took care of the logistics of running a long-term low profile surveillance.”
Makena lurched back, squinting into the darkness. “Shit! Tris is here?”
Percy gave him a cool look. “Tris is in Singapore. Want to talk to him?"
“Hell, no—that man is so whacked he hits sanity from behind. Are you crazy?”
“Sure, Makena.” Percy’s voice was flat. “I’m insane.”
Jen dropped her plate. “Tris doesn’t think so.”
Her brother looked incredulous. “You talk to Tris?”
“We e-mail.”
“Please don’t.”
“We’re not allowed to talk?”
“Tris can do whatever he wants. You on the other hand...” Percy hesitated. “No.”
“He’s in so much pain. Don’t you even talk to him?”
Makena came out of his funk. “There’s something wrong with him.”
“If your father beat your mother to death in front of you and left you in the desert to die, you wouldn’t be right either.”
Makena shook his head. “No one knows the truth about Aunt Rainey.”
“Tris said—”
“Like he’s an objective witness—”
“Enough,” said Percy. “Tris has no bearing on Jen’s situation. Whatever the deal, I can have you in a safe house within the hour. It doesn’t have to be off-island. Take a vacation, ride it out, I’ll get my people on it and squash it flat.”
Makena growled. “Don’t ask her. Tell her.”
Percy turned on him. “Shut up, Makena! She’s a grown woman. Let her make her own decisions.”
Jen moved away from her cousin. A whisper of music drifted on the breeze. Percy smiled, once again her goofy older brother.
She touched her fingers to his. “I can’t leave.”
His hand turned up to hold hers for a second.
“Why are you giving her a choice?” Makena pulled at his hair.
“We grew up together and you don’t know?” Percy stepped back and Security melted out of the darkness to form a phalanx around him. He gave Makena a steady look. “Everyone gets a choice.”
Chapter Seven
Percy exchanged words with his personal assistant, Josh, and the next thing Jen knew, her brother was gone and she was left staring up at three hundred pounds of all too familiar bodyguard. She tried to push past the man, but he was built like a rock, and refused to budge.
“I don’t need a perimeter,” she said, glaring up at him.
Josh put his hands out, his broad face creased with worry. “Please, Ms. Stalling—you don’t have the authority to negate orders. We’d prefer you to stay cordoned off until your security arrives.”
“Tell Percy I want you to go away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Give me your radio and I’ll do it for you.”
He repeated, “Please, Ms. Stalling. You don’t have the authority.”
Which meant that she was stuck with Josh watching her like she’d suddenly turned into a poisonous snake? He wasn’t a friend like Rafe, but he’d been a part of her life for so long, she couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been there.
Frustration threatened to choke her. “I want to be alone,” she said, words tumbling over each other, trying to get out.
There were so many people watching her, it felt like she was in prison. Did it really matter if they wanted to save her, or kill her? It was the story of her life. The Jen Show.
Josh glanced to the side to see Keegan coming out of the shadows behind the landing pad. “Thank God,” he muttered.
Keegan caught her arm without a word and Josh stared, eyes wide. Her hostility to touch was well known.
“We’re out of here,” he said.
Jen pulled away. “Leave me alone!”
“That again? Want to tell me what set you off this time?”
“I want to be alone. I’ll sit over there,” she waved her arm blindly. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”
“That’s not the way it works,” growled Keegan. “Work with me or die. It’s that simple.”
“This valley belongs to my aunt—”
“Which means it’s safe? Get a grip. Someone is trying to kill you.” He gave Josh a challenging look. “I’m taking her. Got a problem with that?”
Josh opened his hand palm up. “She’s all yours.”
“I’m not a thing! You can’t just move me around—”
“We just did. Get with the program.”
“I left the program, you jerk!”
Josh’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes went from Jen to Keegan before flickering away with a pained, self-conscious air.
“All right,” said Keegan. “We’ll go somewhere where you can be alone.”
****
Corlis watched her brother drag the Stalling girl away from the party. It was about time he did something smart. If he was going to put her out as bait, he needed to get her someplace where the sharks could circle in for the kill. Too bad he was thinking with his balls.
It was bad enough that Conner was in trouble. Keegan had to go and get himself tangled up with a Stalling. Of all the women in the world, why her? Everything Corlis had heard about the Stallings made the de Medicis look like wannabes.
She veered off to check the path into the woods, and Fallon slipped past her on point, silent in heavy black combat boots that made his already big feet look huge. He circled back and slanted the lenses of his goggles in her direction.
His fingers flashed. Small clearing. Water on three sides.
She nodded, signaling back to him. Safe for now.
Fallon moved in closer, deliberately in her blind spot.
Up close he was all wide shoulders and long legs, his already impressive size bulked out by the jackets they both wore.
It was useless to turn. Her night vision goggles maybe gave her forty degrees. He shifted around to where she could see him and pulled the goggles down around his throat. He couldn’t see her without them and maybe that was what he wanted. They’d been friends long enough for her to feel the anger rising off him. He was ready to leave, and wasn’t that what she wanted? No complications.
He thought she hated him, and he was that close to hating her in return. She saw herself all too clearly, and what she saw she hated enough for the both of them. It started out small, just one step, but by the time he reached out for her, she was running. Corlis jerked her goggles down and hit Fallon hard.
For a second Fallon was startled. Corlis was strong, and his shoulders hit the tree behind him with enough force to leave bruises. If she wanted him dead, he was dead. Let her kill him.
He should have died with his unit months ago.
Her hands locked around his face, and he braced himself. The night stilled to a distant whisper of music. Her lips were soft and tasted like raspberry energy drink. Every cell in his body leapt to attention. He all but inhaled her, one hand twisted in her holster, the other knotted in her hair, hard and furious, lips and tongue working like he wanted to lick her from the inside out.
To hell with control if it meant he
had to let go of her. He wanted everything. All of her. Every bit and piece. He’d wanted her for so long, a taste wasn’t enough. Frustration locked his arms around her. He had to get away, but Jesus, it was like slicing off his face. His body had a mind of its own. He wanted to nail her to the tree. The sweet scent of her musk rose around them like they were already naked, driving him crazy. Crazy helped. Crazy meant he could straight-arm her back, using both hands when she dug in her heels and fought him.
“Don’t play me,” he snarled.
“I’m not,” she said.
The sudden tension in her slender body told him more than words that she’d come back to herself. Something flickered in his peripheral vision. Black...jersey? Corlis moved with him, shoving him into a clump of ginger lilies.
“Aina,” she breathed. She pulled her goggles back over her eyes. “Stay down.”
****
Keegan followed Jen to where the path cut through a stand of trees and branched off. She took the darkest path, all but running to get away from him.
“Wait!” he called.
She didn’t answer. He finally caught up with her where the path dead-ended against a stream. Jen was a lurid pink shape in the darkness under the leaf canopy. From arrogance to cooperation in less than five minutes, he’d never figure her out.
“What was that about?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Honey, you’re always telling me that, but you never stop to explain. I can’t read your mind.”
“It’s a family thing,” she said flatly.
“That’s not enough of an answer.”
She turned away from him, holding her dress in tight. “My aunt grew up at StallingCo. She doesn’t feel safe without a massive presence.”
“No unnecessary chances, Jen. You think just because you’re with your aunt the Aina can’t get you?" Keegan stared down at her. "You’re arrogant and naïve and, honey—that's one hell of a combination.”
“Get out of my way,” she said abruptly.