by Anna Lowe
“Jeanette — the lady who did my hair — would have a fit if she saw me now.”
He stared at her like she was the crazy one. He was the one who’d been shot, for goodness’ sake! Although she must have been mistaken because, wow — he did seem all right. But how was that possible? She’d seen the red dot of the rifle’s sights on her chest, and he’d jumped in the way.
Her heart beat a little faster. Why had he done that? Why had he risked his life to save hers?
“Are you really sure you’re fine?”
He cast an annoyed look at the sky as if she’d been nagging him for days.
Jody squirmed in her seat. Okay, so he was all right. Slowly, she freed her hair from its tight bun and ran her fingers through the long strands. That simple action made her feel a little freer, a tiny bit more in control in a bizarre situation that had spiraled out of control. Enough that she even dared voicing the question that had been nagging at her ever since the first shots broke out.
“I don’t understand. Why shoot at people at a publicity event?”
The man stared at her, and there it was again. The inner battle in his eyes — that should I or shouldn’t I question that seemed so weigh so heavily on him. Why was he so wary of her?
He looked at the road, then the rearview mirror, and finally her face. “Not shooting at people. Shooting at you. He was shooting at you.”
That he sounded much more specific than the vague they she had used. Had Dark Eyes caught a glimpse of the gunman?
“Me? How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She shook her head. “Who would want to kill me?”
“There were two men out to kill you tonight. I saw one in the woods.”
“Two?” she screeched. “Who was the other one?”
Dark Eyes looked away from the road long enough to pin her with a long, hard stare.
“Me. I’m the second man who wanted to kill you tonight.”
Chapter Three
Jody sat perfectly still. If she didn’t, she’d be shaking like a leaf. Two different people wanted to kill her — and one of them was the man driving the speeding car?
Why? What had she done?
“You want to kill me,” she said, keeping a carefully neutral tone. Maybe Dark Eyes was a nutcase, after all. She gripped the armrest as he raced around another turn. “Um…by speeding?”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“But you just said…”
He tore his eyes off the road long enough to crook an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to talk me back into it?”
The way he phrased his reply gave her the distinct impression he’d talked himself out of killing her. Which was good, but still. What was with this guy?
“No. I’m just… You saved me, but you wanted to kill me. Why? Did I do something to you? Because if I did, I’m really sorry, even though I have no clue what it might be.”
His facial muscles twitched as if formulating words that refused to take shape. Shrubs at the roadside blurred past, and beyond them, the moon glittered over the Pacific, casting everything in black-and-white like a scene from a film noir. Which was fitting given the circumstances.
“You ever been to India?” he asked at last.
She did a double take. What did India have to do with murdering her on Maui?
“India? No. Not yet, at least.”
“How about Detroit?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. Dark Eyes might be gorgeous in a swashbuckling, rakish sort of way, but he was definitely nuts.
“Nope. Are you from Detroit?” she tried. Maybe keeping him talking was the best course of action while she figured out what to do. Jumping from the speeding vehicle seemed fairly suicidal, and she’d dropped her tiny purse with her cell phone somewhere in her rush to get in. Still, in spite of everything, she felt remarkably calm, the way she did in the teeth of a forty-foot wave. Her mind told her to panic, but her heart told her to give him a chance.
When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Um, Mister…”
The road straightened long enough for the man to study her as he spoke words that made no sense. “Khala. Cruz Khala. My parents were Armin and Noelle Khala from Detroit. They, my sister, and brother were visiting my father’s relatives in India when—”
Jody leaned as far away from him as she could when he trailed off. Whatever had happened to those people, it hadn’t been good.
He watched her a second longer then gave a tiny nod. “She didn’t do it,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
It was kind of spooky, the way he phrased it. Was the man a schizophrenic who held conversations with different personalities in his head?
The thing was, he didn’t seem crazy. Bitter, world-weary, and pessimistic — yes. But crazy? Not entirely.
I didn’t do what? she wanted to ask, but for once, she kept her mouth shut.
She studied him from the corner of her eye, trying to piece the tidbits of information together. India. Detroit. Maui. It was possible that his coppery skin wasn’t all tan. But even if he had a splash of Indian heritage, what did that have to do with her?
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on…”
“That’s pretty clear,” he said in perfectly dry tone.
“…but I’ve never harmed anyone, and no one has ever wanted to hurt me.”
“Until now.” He shook his head and muttered. “Fucking McGraugh was wrong.”
She clasped her hands together, making sure the tremble inside her didn’t sneak out. “Is he the one who was shooting?”
Dark Eyes scoffed. “He’s my informant. He said you killed my family.”
“Me?” she yelped, scuttling sideways in the seat. “Why would I do such a terrible thing? I don’t even know you. And even if I knew you — even if I hated you — I would never do such a thing!”
The car thundered under a streetlight before plunging into darkness again, and shadows raced over his face. Another minute passed before he shook his head. “I know you didn’t. I get that now.”
She gulped, not quite reassured, as the car raced on. Where was he taking her? How long did she have to concoct an escape plan? She slipped the glasses off her head and folded them in her hands, wondering if she could use them as a weapon. They already were part of her defenses, in a way; she’d taken to wearing them lately just to piss Richard off. Because models, he never ceased to point out, didn’t wear such clunky things.
“So, I’m staying at a condo in Honokowai,” she said at last. “You can drop me off there and—”
He shook his head. “What happens when the gunman tracks you down?”
Jody stared. The man who’d planned to kill her was suddenly worried about her well-being? Then she caught herself. He’d jumped in front of a bullet for her sake, too. So maybe he really did care. But why?
“How about we just go to the police?”
“This is better,” he muttered.
“What’s better?” Her alarm grew when he pulled off on an unmarked road.
“Koa Point,” he murmured as the car eased over a dirt road. His tone grew softer, gentler at the words. Sentimental, almost.
“Koa Point?”
He pulled up to a massive gate with a swirly pattern etched into it. A dragon shape? Jody stared into the darkness, but a cloud slid over the moon, hiding the details. Whatever the pattern was, that gate was the type to lock away an impressive private estate.
“Home,” he said. Once again, his voice went soft — before he growled a few more words. “And no, I’m not going to kill you.”
Either he’d read her mind, or her white knuckles had given her away.
“You promise?” she half joked.
“Would you believe me if I did?”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
“Good.” He tapped the steering wheel. “But for whatever it’s worth, I promise.” His voice dropped an octave, and his shoulders squared.
Well, damn. Maybe he did mean it.
Then she caught herself. She wasn’t going to blindly trust anyone again. Not after learning her lesson the hard way.
She forced herself to take long, even breaths and whisper, “Great.”
But it wasn’t great. She was at this stranger’s mercy, and she was all alone.
“I still think we should go to the police, though.”
He pursed his lips. “Whoever was after you might be determined enough to track you to the next logical place. What if they have an inside man there?” He shook his head. “Like I said, this is better.”
He tapped a code into a control panel set at the driver’s side, and the massive gate slid open in an ominously silent motion. A moment later, Jody shrank in her seat as the gate ground to a close behind them, locking her in.
“You’ll be safe here. I promise not to hurt you, okay?” The way he ran a hand through his hair indicated this wasn’t all part of some premeditated plan. He was working on the fly, like she was. “We need to figure out what’s going on, and this is the best place to do that.”
Jody gulped and nodded. “Okay.”
The driveway ended at a twelve-bay garage where he parked, exited the vehicle, and motioned her down a grassy path. Chest-high tiki torches flickered and danced in the darkness, making her wonder when they’d been lit. Was Dark Eyes some kind of reclusive tycoon? Did he have staff who kept the home fires burning until he returned with women he’d decided to rescue — or women he’d decided not to kill?
God, he was confusing. And damn, it was a little spooky, too. Enough to make her recall her crazy aunt’s warnings of all the supernatural creatures that haunted the world.
There are all kinds of evil spirits out there, Aunt Tilda would say. Ghosts. Demons. Vampires…
Then again, Tilda also told stories of more amiable creatures like mermaids and fairies, too.
Jody played it cool while she padded down the path in her bare feet. But inside, her emotions were all over the place. She told herself weird did not mean terrifying and that everything really would be all right. Her father had always told her to follow her heart, and somehow, her heart assured her she could trust this stranger. That, with him, everything would be all right. She nearly had herself convinced, too — until they stepped into a clearing that encircled a grass-roofed building where a taller, even more menacing man stood.
“This is our akule hale,” Dark Eyes murmured. “Our meeting house.”
Our? Jody held her breath. Did that mean just Dark Eyes and Tall Guy, or did they share the place with a whole platoon of big, tough men? And yikes — a meeting? About what?
She eyed the foliage around the clearing, ready to sprint for her life. There only seemed to be that one other man there, but one was enough, considering the way he loomed at the edge of the open-sided building. Waiting, like he’d been expecting her all along. But Dark Eyes hadn’t used his phone to call ahead, so how did Tall Guy know to expect them?
His eyes flicked up and down her body briefly before he extended a hand. “Silas Llewellyn. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?”
He didn’t sound pleased, and he certainly didn’t look pleased, but at least he wasn’t downright hostile.
“Monroe. Call me Jody.”
The man’s look said, I’ll call you anything I want, and you call me Mr. Llewellyn. There was something slightly formal, almost Old World and aristocratic about him. No accent, but he came off as someone older and wiser, even though he couldn’t have been far over thirty or thirty-five.
“And you’ve brought Miss Monroe here because…?” Silas turned to Dark Eyes with a hard, icy look.
Jody made a hasty rearrangement of her hypothesis. Dark Eyes didn’t own this estate; this guy Silas did.
When Jody’s — Rescuer? Would-be assassin? — didn’t reply with anything more than a flash of those midnight eyes, Silas prompted him. “Cruz?”
The two men stared at each other long and hard. Hard enough for Jody to grasp that on one level, the two were equals, at least when it came to pure male power. But Silas definitely stood higher than Dark Eyes — er, Cruz — on the totem pole of this estate.
Silas scowled. Obviously, he didn’t approve of Cruz bringing her to their quiet hideaway.
Then Cruz shifted, and the light hit his back, revealing a huge, bloody stain, and she gasped.
“Oh my God. You really were hit.”
“Grazed.”
“But you must have lost a lot of blood…”
When she stepped closer, he stepped away, and she halted in her tracks. What was with this guy? He’d admitted to planning to kill her, not the other way around. So why was he so skittish around her? His eyes flashed, and she caught another glimpse of the striking, yellow-green tint that reminded her of a cat’s eyes.
“I said, I’m fine,” Cruz grumbled.
“What exactly is going on?” Silas barked.
Jody forced away a gulp and glanced toward the sound of waves rolling over a beach. Maybe she could run there, dive in, and swim the hell away.
Sometimes it’s better not to think, she remembered her father saying as he’d taught her to surf, so long ago. Just do. Listen to the elements and let yourself go.
She took a deep breath. The sea breeze and whispering palms told her she could trust these men. The air hung heavy with promise, as if daring her to be brave enough to let things play out. So she shelved the idea of running away — for the moment, at least.
“I was shot at, and he, uh…” Jody said, struggling to finish the sentence. “He helped me get away.”
“So I gathered,” Silas said in a dry tone, staring down Cruz.
She watched as they faced off, perfectly silent, while their eyes blazed and their facial muscles twitched with nonverbal communication.
Communication that went something like, What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here? At least, that was how Jody interpreted the question coded into Silas’s glare.
Cruz’s weary look, on the other hand, said, I have no clue.
She’d never seen anything like it, except maybe with her grandparents, who’d been able to speak volumes in a few simple gestures and looks.
Jody noticed something else, too. The longer the eerily silent standoff dragged on, the more Cruz edged toward her, gradually shielding her from Silas’s disapproving looks.
I won’t hurt you, he’d said in the car. And more than his words, his actions convinced her. The man seemed determined to complete his 180 from would-be killer to protector. Her protector.
She took a deep breath and rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. Cruz had to be the strangest man she’d ever met — apart from some of the truly loony characters she’d spotted on the Santa Monica Pier — but the most fascinating, too.
Silas let out a deep sigh and motioned them inside the building. “Come in. Explain what this is all about.”
The floor was covered with woven mats, and wooden beams arched high overhead. The sea breeze drifted in and out of the building, and the hum of waves told her the shoreline wasn’t too far. Silas picked up a tablet that lay on a counter while Cruz paced over to a living room area defined by couches set in a square. Jody stood beside one of the roof supports in between, not quite sure what to do. A clock on a side table said it was going on midnight. And, crap — it was going to be a long night, for sure.
Cruz paced back and forth, and Jody braced herself for an interrogation by two battle-hardened, soldier types. But then a calico kitten appeared out of nowhere and wound around Cruz’s legs.
“Keiki,” he murmured, scooping it up to his chest. Actually cuddling it like the kitten was family. And for one brief moment, a veil lifted, erasing the warrior and revealing a man capable of love, joy, and hope. If she’d blinked, she might have missed the brief relaxation of his shoulders, the softening of his jaw.
So Mr. Tough Guy had a soft side, after all.
The scent of coffee made her turn to watch Silas scoop rich brown powder into a machine that probably cost more
than a month’s rent in her tiny place back home. Then he tapped the spoon on the table. He might as well have slammed a gavel and said, Let the interrogation begin.
“Tell us what’s going on. Why would someone want to kill you?”
Jody let her gaze slide over to Cruz. He ought to know, she nearly said.
But Cruz shot her a warning look, and she settled for a vaguer reply. “I have no idea. Someone just started shooting.”
All three turned their heads as a flash of colored lights whirled through the night — police vehicles rushing by on the distant road, more sound than sight given how far the road lay from this tucked-away swath of private property.
“She’s some kind of model,” Cruz said, waving at her with a disapproving look.
She stood tall and shot him a withering look. “I’m not a model.”
“Then what do you do?” he demanded.
“I surf.”
“I mean, what’s your job?” Cruz scowled. His yellow-green eyes shone. And gosh, they were beautiful. Fascinating. Haunted, too. She remembered the part about his family and swallowed away the lump in her throat. What might she be capable of if she’d suffered a loss that great?
“Like I said, I surf. I’m on the Women’s Pro Tour. You can look me up.”
Apparently, Silas already had, because he looked up from the tablet he’d been tapping on and arched an eyebrow. “Jody Monroe. Number eleven in the current standings?”
Jody shrugged. “Courtney Klein and I keep flip-flopping between eleventh and twelfth. Neither of us has ever broken into the top ten, though.”
“Would she want to kill you?”
Jody snorted. “For eleventh place? Believe me, it’s not like that. We’re all competitive, but we’re not that competitive.”
Silas and Cruz exchanged glances that said, You never know.
“What other enemies do you have?” Silas went on as if poor Courtney was already headlining his list.
“Enemies?” No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t imagine anyone who’d want to kill her. She was a person who minded her own business. She helped her dad at his surf shop and did her best on the tour. “I don’t have any enemies.”