Hot Contract

by Jodi Henley

  Jen stood. “Ask him who Kuipo is.”

  “You heard the woman,” said Fallon. “Answer her.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know!” screamed the prisoner. “Don’t cut my ear off, you fucking bastard!”

  “I only nicked your earlobe, dumb-shit.”

  Jen turned, staring at the distant wall, apparently lost in thought. Hell, this whole thing had to be hard on her. Terri’s office, the file, and now Fallon’s crazed psycho act. Keegan studied the self-admitted terrorist. Tall and painfully skinny, with the pasty-pale look of an office worker. A low level foot solider.

  “Kuipo,” he said.

  The man burst into spittle-choked tears. “I don’t know! I’m not in her cell. We’re all in cells. You’re not listening—”

  Corlis didn’t bother to turn. “Amateurs.”

  Fallon nodded in agreement. “Fucking liability.”

  “We’re cutting him loose,” said Keegan. He gave Fallon a hard stare the man ignored. “Get him mobile. We want this guy to report in.”

  He snagged Jen’s hand and pushed past his sister. “Vacate,” he told her. “We’ll meet back at the car.”

  They started down the stairs. It was a long way down and Jen could see light through the risers. She caught at a handrail and pulled back, only to have Keegan stop and turn back to her.

  “You okay?” he asked. “I saw your face when Fallon nicked that guy.”

  She shuddered at the memory, and shut it down fast. “If I’m with you I’ll have to get used to it, won’t I?”

  Keegan went very still, his eyes shuttered and dark. “It’s not just blood and killing, Jen.”

  “I didn’t—” Yes, she had. She’d all but accused him of being a killer for hire. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Easy mistake.”

  “Why are you treating me like an equal? Why don’t you just lock me away somewhere while you do your thing? You have enough people.”

  Keegan held out his hand. “There are a lot of answers. And not all of them are right. Ask me later, okay?”

  She slipped her hand into his. “All right.”

  “I’ll remember,” he said. “Now, hang on to me, honey—I’ll get you down.”

  Their beat-up loaner car had never looked so welcome. Jen slid into the passenger seat and pulled her now stained ruffles in around her. “Do you think they’ll follow us?”

  “Too early,” said Keegan. He adjusted the rear view mirror. “It’ll take time for our weasel to report in.”

  “He doesn’t know where we are.”

  He grinned at her. “We don’t want to make it too easy. They won’t bite if I put out a road map.”

  Jen sank back, intensely aware of Keegan in the seat beside her. He looked better, not so stressed. Like telling her about Connor had triggered some kind of catharsis. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel if Percy was kidnapped. Terri’s death ran over and over again. Bad memories. She’d drive herself crazy if she didn’t stop.

  “There they are,” she said, pointing to where Fallon and Corlis stood waiting.

  Fallon slammed into the back, first-up in their filth collection contest. The bloodstains on his clothing stood out like paint, although he’d washed his hands and arms in deference to her phobia and smelled like foaming cleanser.

  Corlis looked back down the narrow access road. “Anyone see you leave?”

  “Cameras,” said Keegan.

  Fallon moved to let his partner in. The smears on his sleeves were still damp, and matched the ones on his knees. Jen had never asked the whereabouts of Deacon’s assailants. If he’d killed them and disposed of the bodies, he felt no remorse. She met Fallon’s eyes in the rear view mirror and they were just eyes.

  “What now?” she asked, turning back to Keegan. “We’re not any closer to knowing what it was about Terri that made her so important.”

  “Now, we wait,” he said. “Once they figure out we’re at the campground, we’ll get visitors.”

  She wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. “But how will they find out?”

  “They’ll be monitoring the park’s entrances. We didn’t come in past them, so we’ve got to be inside. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Corlis reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. “I thought there was something moving on the access road.”

  Fallon glanced at the distant flash of green. “Gravel truck.”

  Corlis focused her binoculars on the cab and studied the driver for a long moment. “Yeah,” she said. “They’re everywhere.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jen insisted on stopping at the camp store, and it took Keegan little more than a second to realize he didn’t have the heart to deny her. She was one hell of a trooper—for a spoiled rich kid.

  She bought big white athletic socks, which looked like shit with her dress-up sandals, and a black nylon jacket stenciled with the Volcanoes National Park logo. One for him too, which she said made them match. Food and a box of condoms, which she’d opened right there in front of everyone, and emptied into his pocket.

  “For later,” she’d whispered, leaning into him.

  Corlis followed him out to the car, leaving Fallon to help with the packages.

  She pointed to his pocket. A condom stuck out over the top and damned if it wasn’t peach-flavored. “Have you lost your mind?”

  He grinned. Oh, yeah—he had a whole pocketful of peach-flavored condoms.

  “Yeah, okay,” Corlis said, her eyes red-rimmed and glittering. “If you won’t listen, don’t come crying to me when this whole thing blows. You’re playing with fire and you’re going to get burned.”

  Jen stepped out on the porch and the condoms in his pocket felt like a gold ring. Jesus, how much of a hint did he need? He wasn’t playing with fire—he was headed for total nuclear annihilation, and if the prospect of completely turning himself to ash and gone didn’t scare him, there was Corlis, watching as Jen raced down the stairs into his arms and launched off the bottom step like they were in a goddamned movie.

  Fallon smirked, and the two guys sitting on the bench in front of the store smirked and for all Keegan knew, the woman in the goddamned store smirked.

  He stopped her before she could plant a slow-mo on his lips.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Keegan shook his head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  He split off from them with a mumbled excuse the minute they got back to the cabin. If Jen was the suspicious sort, she’d say he was out to dump her. God, had she really told him about Tim? Worse yet, had she really bought him condoms? In front of everyone?

  Fallon carried her groceries in and dumped them out on the counter. “I’ll go after him.”

  “Yeah, do that,” said Corlis. She threw her jacket on the couch and sprawled out on it, one arm thrown up over her head. The thin black tank she wore was ringed with sweat and an enormous holster balanced on her belly with an even bigger gun in it.

  She curled a finger through the guard, more opaque than usual.

  Jen fumbled at a package of pretzels. “Is something wrong with Keegan?”

  Corlis opened one eye, then closed it again. “What do you want with my brother, Ms. Stalling?”

  “The contract,” said Jen. “Tell me about it.”

  The idea that her father had tacked some riders onto his standard contract made more sense than Keegan actually wanting her. If he was Art’s current pick for stud services, everything fell into place. Or maybe Keegan just got a kick out of messing with her.

  How well did she really know him? Tris had once told her that control was a mental construct, and it worked best when the person being controlled wanted the bait. Keegan was a strategist. What if he’d decided sex was the best way to control her? She was so starved for attention she would have given him anything.

  Anything? What did he matter anyway? He’d be gone soon enough.

  Corlis adjusted her gun and rolled ov
er. “Go in your bedroom or sit down, you’re getting on my nerves.”

  “God knows, I’m sorry to get on your nerves.”

  Keegan’s sister sounded like she was choking and it took Jen a second to realize she was laughing. At her?

  “I’m not being funny,” she snarled.

  “Maybe it’ll be all right after all. Time for some kids running around DalCon. We’re all so damned serious. Maybe some nieces or something, little girls. I’ll teach them to shoot.”

  “Me…and your brother?”

  “Is that so hard to imagine?”

  Jen flushed. “I can’t believe you think Keegan would marry me.”

  “That makes two of us.” Corlis swung her feet to the floor and got up in a single lithe movement, her holster hanging down between her breasts. “Don’t want to marry him? Go on, run away, then. He’s coming down the path with those condoms in his pocket, and I don’t want you to freak.”

  Jen couldn’t help it. She felt ill with humiliation. She bolted for the bedroom door and locked it.

  Keegan entered the cabin and crossed the room. “She in there?”

  “Yeah,” said Corlis. She pulled her holster into place, watching him like she knew something and was waiting for him to find it out on his own.

  “Honey?” Keegan rapped on the bedroom door, then frowned when he realized it was locked. “Jen? We need to talk.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” offered Corlis. She dragged a stool around and straddled it.

  Keegan was that close to losing it, and his sister's comments weren't talking him off the ledge. He rattled the knob again.

  Nothing.

  Why the hell would Jen lock him out?

  He looked at his sister, squatting on her stool. “What did you say to her?”

  Corlis rummaged through the pile of food they’d picked up at the store. “Asked her about your wedding.”

  She pulled out a plastic-wrapped hard-boiled egg and eyed it dubiously. “Your girl have something about eggs?”

  Keegan's stomach clenched. “She’s not my girl.”

  “She seems to think she is and you think she is. So marry her already.”

  “You told Guinevere Stalling I wanted to marry her?”

  “Do you have a problem with that? Go on, get busy. Procreate. I want to be an aunt.”

  Keegan felt a flash of panic. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Run that by me again?”

  “Jesus, Liss! Make me go into details.”

  Corlis threw him the egg and he caught it without thinking.

  “Eat it,” she said. “Settle your stomach. You care for her and she feels something for you. Why fight it? Marry her, have lots of kids. Chocolate at the reception. Something from Fran’s...maybe chocolate-covered figs, the expensive ones.”

  “I don’t want to marry her, I want to fuck her, and thank you for making me say that to my sister.” Keegan flipped the egg into the trash. “Jesus. How do you know I’m not already sick of her? What makes you such an expert? You’ve been with Fallon since grade school and you can’t see past the nose on your face.”

  Corlis stood. “My relationship with Fallon is not open to discussion. If you need me, I’ll be outside.”

  ****

  Jen punched her fist into the pillow. Money. Most people wanted it. Guinevere Morgaine Stalling had way too much.

  Still, despite her name, few people associated her with Art. She was short and pudgy, and everyone knew Stallings were built on a grand scale. Therefore she wasn’t a real Stalling.

  In her eight years away from StallingCo, not one man had so much as moved in her direction. Men didn’t want her, they wanted Guinevere Morgaine and for a taste of her trust fund, they’d gladly do her. But it seemed Keegan actually did want her. He wanted to fuck her.

  Jen curled over on her side, shivering in her stupid nylon jacket. It wasn’t warm enough, so she pulled the covers over her shoulders, cold down to the bone.

  The front door slammed. She heard Keegan swear under his breath. Footsteps paused in front of her door and moved away again.

  She felt too heavy to get up. All she’d ever wanted was a life away from her father’s expectations and the piranha-tank frenzy of StallingCo, a chance to prove her abilities, and to somehow make a difference. After Tim’s betrayal, she’d spent a long time healing herself. Not that what she’d originally felt for Tim was anything like the storm Keegan woke in her. After her mother’s death, her upbringing had been so restricted she’d learned to put a box around her emotions. Emotions were suspect.

  Why on earth did she want Keegan? So he could lie to her face about how he cared? So he could tell her what he thought she wanted to hear? Look at how he’d used her. She’d all but fallen over herself helping him make a fool out of her. He didn’t want her for who she was on the inside.

  How could she have expected any different? She was a scientist. She could face down a lava flow but she couldn’t look into his eyes and tell Keegan Dalfrey to give her back her condoms? She didn’t want to fuck him. Not even once.

  She got up and opened the door.

  Keegan eyed her warily, his expression completely closed. “Guinevere,” he said. Not Jen. Big mistake.

  “A common misconception,” she said quietly. “It’s really Guinevere Morgaine.”

  Without warning, the front door shuddered under the impact of something big and slammed back, bouncing off the wall. Makena stood in the doorway, breathing hard, all dressed up in his bright yellow volunteer paramedic shirt.

  His eyes rolled from her to Keegan. Time clicked into slow-motion as he charged into the room. The barrel of his gun looked shockingly bright, all stripped metal and blaze-orange. He brought it up and shot Keegan twice in rapid succession.

  Keegan fell heavily, one hand behind his back. There was a holster in his waistband. Makena took Keegan’s gun, disappeared out the door and came back brushing his hands off.

  “Damn, that felt good,” he said. He slotted another round of darts into his tranquilizer gun and stood over Keegan’s body.

  Jen knocked the barrel up. “Makena Stalling-Kualani! Do not shoot that man again.”

  Makena sneered. “Way to get attached to the help, Guinevere.”

  “That’s your trank gun. I can’t believe you just shot Keegan with bird darts. Does he look like a honeycreeper?”

  Makena slanted her a big, shit-eating grin, “Nah, he looks like a squirrel. Grab your things and let’s go. This place is going to get crowded real soon.”

  Jen bunched her hands in her jacket pockets and stared at Keegan, her stomach churning out acid. She wanted to help him. She didn’t want to help him. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do. But whatever it was didn’t involve standing around here, waiting for Keegan to wake up.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Somewhere safe. The Aina know where you are.”

  She followed her cousin out to where his Land Rover was wedged in beside the rental. Makena tossed his dart gun on the picnic table and held the door for her.

  “In,” he said. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

  He was out on the highway before she thought to ask him about Fallon and Corlis.

  “If you mean his backup, they were arguing. It was easy to get the drop on them.”

  Jen sighed. “God, you just make friends wherever you go, don’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” said Makena.

  She frowned, subconscious thoughts bubbling up to the surface. “Makena? How do you know what the Aina are doing?”

  Her cousin pulled over to the side of the road, and hesitated before turning to her. “Remember how I used to run with Percy?”

  “Percy gave you the info? He’s here?”

  Makena slung an arm across the back of her chair and brought his other hand out of his pocket. “No,” he said, opening his hand. “Percy isn’t involved in this, but I wish to hell he was.”

  He held her in pl
ace while he pressed the pad over her nose and mouth. Jen kicked viciously, her eyes going wider as she realized she couldn’t breathe. There was something on the sponge pad, something sweet and damp. She tried to hold her breath, but he simply waited until her eyes rolled up in her head and darkness closed in around her.

  He folded her arms down and started peeling tape off a roll. She recognized the sound and felt the sticky pressure.

  She was falling, and then even that was gone.

  “Damn,” she heard him whisper. “I’m so damned sorry.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Corlis arrived in consciousness with her side and shoulder aching. There were birds and ferns, big ones, with the kind of wavy fronds that got in your eyes and blinded you when you didn’t look to see where you were going. The bird was small and yellow. And it was light out.

  No, that was wrong.

  It was still light out, but fading to an angry smudge along the horizon. Sunset, then. It had been light before. Before—what? She tensed her muscles, knowing she’d get only one chance, and turned her head.

  No one tried to stomp her.

  The overgrown clearing they’d stumbled into this morning wasn’t a clearing after all, but an abandoned scenic outlook, complete with an arrow pointing to their exact location.

  You are here.

  Fallon had fallen five feet away, caught in the act of turning. He had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, and even unconscious, he looked pissed off. Blood caked his chest. And when he didn’t echo her movements with his own, she got up, very slowly. If he was breathing, she didn’t see it.

  “Padraic?” she asked, although exactly what she was asking for she didn’t know.

  They’d fought, she remembered that much, over stupid things that weren’t worth fighting over. And now he was in the dirt with his face turned up to the dying sun, not moving or responding to her in any way.

  Her knees wobbled and dumped her down beside him. Her best friend—the only one to accept her, and the only one she’d ever wanted from the minute they’d first met.