Hot Contract

by Jodi Henley

  She wondered when he’d started to hate her.

  “Padraic?” Her fists locked and lifted. Slammed down, over and over again, pounding him back to life.

  Padraic? Don’t be dead.

  ****

  Keegan rolled over, got to his feet and sat down again, head swimming. His face smashed into the stale-smelling fabric of the couch. It didn’t help that he couldn’t see. He was furious and the whole wobbly knee-thing got him even more pissed. If Makena Kualani ever crossed Keegan’s path again, he’d better be packing, because when Keegan caught him, the good doctor was going to the hospital in a body-bag.

  It took Keegan three tries to get up, and another five minutes to work his way over to the sink. Blood oozed down his arm from where two little yellow darts were sunk into his flesh. He pulled them out. They were just darts—of the little needle, big payload variety—the lettering read, No Fly, the authentic bird tranquilizer. Like there was any doubt the shit in his system was anything less than authentic. He threw the darts in the sink, rinsed the blood off and wrapped the needles in a handful of napkins, although if he was going to go into analeptic shock, he'd have done it by now.

  Jen was nowhere in the cabin and a quick glance told him the sedan was still where he’d parked it. The tire tracks in the soft dirt around it told him Makena had brought his own transport. And driven off with Jen?

  What kind of game was he playing? He wasn’t part of the Aina. There was too much leader in his make-up and there wasn’t enough room in a fringe group for people who didn’t toe the line.

  Sunlight glittered off a pile of stripped down metal bars on the picnic table next to the fire pit. A quick investigation proved it was the delivery system. The grip was stenciled with Makena’s initials like he wanted Keegan to come after him.

  Corlis crashed out of the undergrowth. “Help me,” she said.

  Fallon staggered beside her, face sickly pale. Keegan helped him to the table.

  Corlis dogged his footsteps like she was all set to catch him, everything out there in the open, all her emotions visible for anyone to see, like a combination of a bad day and a car crash.

  There were bloodstains on Fallon’s shirt and he held a handful of the little yellow darts. He threw them on the table and sat. Keegan added his to the pile.

  The campground settled down for the night in a rush of shouts and screaming kids. It was dinner and someone was barbequing pork chops. Wood smoke drifted over from the communal grills. Two children walked by, prodding something with a stick. Corlis looked at them and they ran away, squeaking in excited terror.

  The expression on her face grew very still.

  “Yeah, Liss, just what you think. They’re running home to tell Mommy, so cut the attitude and sit.” Fallon reached up to grab her arm and pull her down beside him.

  She gave Keegan a bewildered look. “He didn’t shoot me,” she said.

  “Maybe he didn’t consider you a threat,” said Keegan, although he considered that freaking unlikely. His sister was grade-A threat material from the tips of her butch haircut to her toes and all points in-between.

  Fallon pushed the darts over. “Help yourself, babe. Or I’ll do it for you.”

  She pushed them back, and they stopped palm to palm, more than poison between them. “I’ll get over it.”

  “Yeah, right.” Fallon dropped his head in his folded arms.

  “It was Kualani, wasn’t it?” Corlis looked at Keegan once she had her anger tamped down to manageable levels. “What the hell are we going to do now?”

  “Eat something,” said Fallon without lifting his head. “There’s a box of crackers in the trunk, right next to the tablet. I threw my phone in his car.”

  Keegan sat up straight. “Hell, yeah! I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

  “Not because you love me, huh? That’s sad. When you get ready to leave, pour me into the car, because I need to sit this one out.”

  Corlis got up and popped the trunk. Keegan followed her, grabbed the box of crackers and shook out a sleeve. The slight movement sent bile rushing into the back of his throat. Fallon didn’t move.

  “What did you do?” Keegan asked. “Give him CPR?”

  “I tried. He was…barely breathing.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  Corlis took a cracker, staring into the trunk like it held all the answers. Her face was pale under her slight tan, and there was a streak of blood on her chin. “I think he’s allergic to the darts. He...doesn’t look good.”

  Keegan scratched at the injection site. It felt like there were fleas under his skin. “He looks all right for a guy whose chest you tried to implode.”

  Corlis crumbled the cracker in her hand and flung away the crumbs. “I'm going to kill Kualani.”

  ****

  In the time it took Jen to roll her head to the side, the morning sun crawled up the dusty green mini-blinds. She knew this house.

  She’d installed the neon-lime smokeless ash trays. She knew the tacky bobble-headed hula dancer on the entertainment center and the ugly watermelon-shaped rug because she’d placed them there herself in an effort to dress the place up. Kimo called the décor early-Margaritaville. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been Makena’s friend and assistant. And she was duct-taped—with her arms crossed down over her belly—on his couch.

  Makena had sold her out. He was part of the Aina.

  “Hey, Jen.” Kimo closed the door behind him and popped the top on a soda can. “Brought you some ginger ale.”

  Jen sagged back, relief making her light-headed. Same old Kimo. Nice kid, despite the fact that he was older than her.

  Jen swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Omigod, Kimo! You can’t imagine what I thought. Quick, cut me loose. Where’s Mac?”

  Kimo lifted his brows and shrugged. “Sorry, yeah? Doc isn’t here. He dropped you off because he thought you’d be safe.”

  “And...I’m not?”

  He squatted down beside her and held the can to her lips. “We both belong to the Aina, but when Doc found out you were involved he went crazy. He wants me to hide you from Kuipo, and that’s not the way it works,” his voice lowered, “At least, not right now.”

  She sputtered through the soda and jerked her head away. “Who is Kuipo?”

  The door opened quietly. “That would be me.”

  Jen tried to breathe through her shock. “Aunt Kate?”

  Her aunt padded across the rug in her fanciful Persian slippers, the wings of her caftan flaring out behind her. She held a gun in one hand and used the other to fluff her expensive black curls.

  Her smile glittered like the mirrors sewn to her collar. “Surprised, Jenny-dear?”

  Jen tried to sit up. “But you’re not even Hawaiian!”

  “Through Her infinite grace, I am made Hawaiian, love. It was hard in the beginning, but Pele has transformed me. I am of the Aina now,” her voice dropped, soft and sweet. “Aina means land, you know.”

  “You’re crazy!” cried Jen.

  Her aunt frowned, looking for an eerie second just like her son, Makena. “Aren’t we calling the kettle black, dear? We Stallings…” her expression twisted, “…are all crazy. Behave now. We have little time.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “You do understand, don’t you? Nothing personal. It was unfortunate you witnessed our little incident, but these things happen. Kimo assured me you would be taken care of, but for some reason, there have been unexpected delays.”

  Kimo glanced at them both over the rim of his can, his eyes enigmatic.

  “Nothing personal? You’re going to kill me!”

  Kate tapped her lips. “Well, my dear, there is that. Wendell?” she called. “Bring in the visual aid.”

  Jen’s youngest cousin edged through the door, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day of the luau. A tall, red-haired woman hung upside down over his shoulder, her face almost as red as her hair.

  “Hey Jen,
” Wendell waved at her. “Sorry about this, yeah? Man, it’s hot outside. You gonna drink that?”

  Jen got her shoulders off the couch. “You—”

  “Sheesh!” said Wendell. “Don’t bite my head off. I’m just following orders, and it’s hot outside. Hey, Kimo? Think you could get me a beer?”

  Kate waggled her gun. “Kimo is one of us, not your servant. Drop the girl.”

  Wendell started to squat.

  “Drop her!” shrieked Kate.

  The woman fell with a sharp cry and rolled on her back, arms and shoulders working the duct tape around her forearms into a tight, unbreakable band. “Mrs. Kualani! Please wait for Makena. He’ll—”

  “No talking!” Kate whipped the gun barrel down, smashing the words from Andora's mouth.

  Jen screamed, "Stop it!" She had worms in her belly, cold worms with sharp little teeth, and they gnawed at her like they were searching for her backbone. “Aunt Kate, please! Andora isn’t involved—”

  “You know her don’t you, Guinevere? Andora Ramirez? My son’s neighbor. Kimo tells me you knew....” Her gaze slipped to Jen and locked on her eyes. “I do not want my son breeding this woman. Look at that hair. He had the absolute gall to bring her to my luau looking for my approval, like I would approve such a flamboyant addition to our genome.”

  “Aunt Kate? Please, put the gun down....”

  “I don’t need a gun.” Kate tossed it to Wendell and spun, viciously kicking Andora in the back.

  Jen squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn’t block out the sound of hitting, and the soft agonized sounds Andora made before she went silent. The meaty thuds went on until Wendell sat down next to Jen and popped a beer.

  “Aunt Kate, chill, yeah? She’s not like the other one. The woman is heavy. Man, I think I sprained a muscle.”

  Jen heard the shuffle of slippers on the gaudy rug.

  “She’ll last long enough. She belongs to Pele, and the volcano goddess is a jealous god.”

  Jen opened her eyes. She wanted to close them again, but the expression on her aunt's face made her keep them open. They all sang to the madness in their genes. But in Kate's case it was a full throttle opera in Middle-High German with Valkyries and dancing girls.

  Kimo handed Kate her tablet.

  “Can we do this today?” he asked. “I have a tooth cleaning tomorrow.”

  Kate sat on a small leather ottoman, her sapphire caftan billowing up around her as she scrolled through her to-do list. “It certainly looks like it. Text the others and let them know, dear.”

  Kimo pulled out a phone and left for the kitchen.

  Jen tried to fold her hands together to make them smaller, but it was no good. The tape was too tight. If there was ever a time for Keegan to kick down the door, this was it. Did he know where she was? She had to get away, get free—do something! Kimo’s house was just off the highway. If she ran out into traffic, someone would call the police, and this whole nightmare would be over.

  She looked up to see her aunt shake her head. “Guinevere? I know you’re smarter than that. This is not a game, and I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

  “You’re going to kill me like you killed Terri.”

  “That woman was not worthy. She felt sorry for the people condemned to death and refused to work with us. Kimo came up with the idea of making her death seem like a suicide.”

  “You threw her over the railing like trash!”

  “I have no idea what Kimo did. Issues with his methodology are best addressed to him.” Her aunt kicked her slippers off, replaced them with expensive sneakers, and got to her feet. “Your hysterical story cost me two highly trained operatives. The ones that came to your house that night, dear? And for that, Guinevere, you must pay.”

  The movement of Kate’s breath made the gems on her collar twinkle. The sapphires were real. Both jewels and silk matched perfectly, because if they didn’t, it was a problem. And all problems were dealt with.

  “Let us go,” Jen whispered, “and I’ll get you more people.”

  Kate stopped for a second, an arrested expression on her face. “No,” she said softly. “It’s much too late, and we are close to the end. Kimo, dear? You missed her legs.”

  Kimo came back through the door and picked Jen up by her shirt. He was stronger than he looked, holding her in place while he glanced back over his shoulder at her aunt.

  “Talk to her much longer, and she’ll put the old hoodoo on you. Want me to gag her, too?”

  “Gags are so undignified,” said Kate. “I think...not. Are you ready?”

  Kimo shifted until he had Jen’s shirt knotted in the small of her back. He used it like a handle to turn her toward the door. “Got a truck backed up to the side door,” he said.

  “Let Andora go! Aunt Kate, I’m the one you want—”

  Kimo casually tore off a strip of duct tape with his teeth. “Shut it or lose it, Guinevere.”

  He taped her ankles together and pushed her into the back of the waiting gravel truck. “Behave and I’ll get you a blanket. Hey, Wendell? Load it up, man. We’re live.”

  The driver and passenger doors slammed and they started moving. In the back, Jen bounced from side to side. Andora didn’t move. The two of them were the only cargo the truck contained, and the empty gravel truck was like a bin on wheels. Jen rattled around like a pea. They dropped into a rut and she hit her head. They went around a curve, and she slammed into the corrugated metal walls. She was getting farther from the only people who could have saved her, with no one to blame but herself. She’d climbed into her cousin’s Land Rover of her own free will. She was good at running away.

  How could it go bad so fast? Had it ever been real? Keegan was sick of her. In her entire life, no one had ever wanted her for who she really was on the inside. She was Guinevere Stalling, Art Stalling’s daughter. The end result of generations of careful alliances and a miserable failure at the game of genetic one-upmanship. Despite her track record, she’d let Keegan in knowing he was on her father’s payroll and he’d tried to screw her, but in his case, he didn’t actually want to, or maybe he did—but just once. Out of curiosity, damn him. She was tired of running in circles while the world spun around using her for target practice.

  The truck went over a series of grooves cut into the road and gravel hit the undercarriage with sharp pings. Her torn and tattered holomu'u did nothing for the cold that seeped up through the corrugated metal. The darkness was absolute and smothering. Only Andora’s ragged breathing and the truck rumbling over the track told her she hadn't died and been condemned to a tin can in Hell.

  The ultimate irony was that she finally knew how her aunt had managed to bypass Project security. The Aina, through Aunt Kate, owned Hawaii’s Best Gravel. The pits were on the far side of the northern quadrant and the big green and orange trucks were a familiar sight on the narrow access roads. She’d seen one just yesterday.

  Terri must have stumbled on to something while she was out checking the rift. If only Jen knew what it was, maybe she could work it to her advantage.

  “J-Jen? Don’t worry. Makena will come for us.” Andora sounded like she was trying to talk through a wad of socks. “He stopped to get something from his house. He’ll come for us, Jen....I know it.”

  “He can’t,” Jen said flatly. “She’ll kill him.”

  “She’s his m-mother!”

  “And I’m her niece, Andora.”

  The truck ground to a halt. Sunlight formed an elongated rectangle as the door rolled up. Blue sky, black walls and a face, staring in at Jen like it wanted to eat her alive. Kimo jumped up into the truck and pulled her to her feet. Jen staggered, and fell into Kimo's waiting arms. He pinned her to the wall and drooled down into the gaping material over her breasts.

  “Man, I've always wanted to tit-fuck you.”

  Jen swung hard and clipped his chin with her shoulder. “Get off me!”

  He let her go and felt his jaw thoughtfully. “Bad move, Guinevere.”

&n
bsp; He pushed her out to the tailgate and jumped off, reaching up to help her down. “Kick me again and I'll let you fall.”

  The Volcano heiau was a UNESCO World Heritage site, a lightning rod for protestors, and the biggest temple complex in the state of Hawaii. Monolithic black walls dated back to before the golden age of Kamehameha I. A hand-lettered sign at the entrance marked the buildings kapu or off-limits, but the signs behind them, black enamel on concrete, marked them open to all. The carefully restored buildings were the reason the Project was built in a sprawling rectangle.

  Jen had done the deformation survey with Terri just last week, checking the area around the temple complex for potential hazards.

  “Don’t try it,” said Kimo. “Kate gets her jollies blowing away small animals. She’s hot to trade up.”

  The chill breeze that swept down off the mountain curled under Jen's dress and set her ruffles fluttering. Kimo pulled his hoodie in tight and tucked his hands down in the pockets.

  Canoes danced on his belly, gold on a dark green background. The Mauna Loa Canoe Club. Green. With little gold flashes.

  “You killed Terri,” Jen whispered. “It was you all along.”

  “Whoa, I disposed of her body. Big difference there. Murder and garbage disposal.”

  Wendell pulled Andora to the rear of the truck and lost his grip on her blood-soaked shirt. She lurched against the doorway and fell out on the cinder-packed surface with a cry.

  Wendell propped her up. Andora moaned. Blood sheeted her back like a shroud, and there was a blue tint to her mouth. She was going into shock.

  “Give her that blanket you mentioned.”

  “I don’t take orders from you, Guinevere.”

  “You’re going to kill her anyway, what difference does it make if she’s warm? Give her a blanket!”

  Kimo shrugged. “She’s already dead. I’m not going to stick my neck out trying to make her comfortable. Shit like that sets your aunt off. And if it’s me or her, hey—it's all about me.”

  “Only following orders, huh, Kimo?” Rage built in Jen’s stomach, souring what little hope she had. “What did Aunt Kate offer you to betray your best friend? You aren’t a member of this family.”