“What book?” There were a few books stacked in one corner that I hadn’t really paid attention to at the time.
“She always had that book with her. The love letters to Pearl. I think it was her only prized possession. We live simply around here.”
As Makeda spoke she bent over Dylan, who was still in my lap. She stroked his ears. She leaned down and whispered something to him.
As soon as I got back to the hut I was going to look for that book. If it was gone, there was a chance she’d fled, leaving Dylan behind. But I knew I would find it. Someone had taken her. I would stake my life on it.
The road to town was bumpy with potholes and ruts, and I cringed each time we hit one, trying not to jostle Dylan in my arms. Before long, we were on the main street in the small village. Halfway through town, we turned down a long dirt driveway. I craned my neck and saw a small white house at the end of the driveway. As we grew closer, the guy driving the truck laid on the horn in an endless blast. By the time we parked in front of the house, there was a man on the porch, pulling on a jacket and running a hand through a thick head of black hair.
He had a close-cropped beard and large plastic tortoiseshell glasses that gave him a slight owlish look. He wore a crisp dress shirt not quite buttoned all the way up and khakis with bare feet.
“Thank God you’re awake,” Makeda said to him as he rushed over. She turned to me. “This is Asahi.”
Asahi didn’t greet us, just gave me a quick glance over his glasses before he leaped into the back of the truck where we were. He crouched near Dylan and examined him for a second before he looked up and spoke.
“I think he was stabbed. It seems deep.”
Up close, I could see the veterinarian had kind eyes behind the glasses and looked to be in his late thirties.
“If I get out of the truck, can you hand him to me?” he asked.
I nodded and stood. He leaped over the side and then held out his arms, making a cradle of them. I leaned over and settled Dylan into his embrace. He rushed into his house, leaving us standing there.
“Come on,” Makeda said. We entered the house, and I followed her down a long hallway, past a living room and kitchen to a door at the back of the house that was wide open.
We entered a sterile-looking exam room with white walls and an exam table. Dylan was on it, lying on his side, eyes rolled back. At first, alarm zinged through me.
“I just gave him a shot,” the vet said. “It will take away the pain, but also allow me to examine him and stitch him up.”
He picked up a stainless-steel tray with what looked like operating room instruments and put it near Dylan, who had by now closed his eyes.
I reached over and stroked his head.
“That’s good,” the vet said. “Keep doing that.”
Ten minutes later, the deep gash in Dylan’s stomach was closed.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the vet said, “But my main concern is infection.”
The vet peered at me over his glasses. “How was he injured?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I found him like this. I didn’t see any obvious weapon lying around. I’ll look as soon as we get back.”
“The reason I ask is there seemed to be some rust-type material in the wound. I washed it out as well as I could but …”
I nodded.
“I suggest I keep him here, at the very least overnight, and give him a course of antibiotics through an IV. That will require keeping him sedated, which is a good idea anyway since I don’t want him worrying the stitches.”
“Okay. Anything you say.” I looked around the room. The only furniture was the exam table and a small dresser with medical equipment on it. There wasn’t even a chair. “Can I stay with him?”
“I’m going to put him in a dog bed in my bedroom so I can keep an eye on him throughout the night. I’m not sure my wife would take kindly to you being in the room with us.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that wouldn’t go over very well.”
He smiled back. “I would offer you my couch, but … my wife is very adamant about me keeping my business and our home separate, even though they are in the same building. He pointed to a door that led outside. “Usually this is as far as the owners of my patients get.”
Makeda, who had been standing in the corner, stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Asahi. I led everyone right through your house. Please apologize to Dolores for me.”
He smiled. “It was an emergency. I’m sure she understood. But I will have you leave this way,” he said, pointing toward the door again.
“Any word on the grant?” Arrow asked.
He shook his head. “Not good.”
Makeda turned toward me. “Last summer, Asahi and I worked together to apply for a grant to open a small medical clinic here on the island. Right now, everybody comes to Asahi when they get hurt.”
He gave a rueful smile. “I know how to treat animals, but people? Not so much.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Makeda said. “He’s saved lives, but we are in desperate need of a medical clinic with at least one doctor. We have a doctor on Sumatra willing to relocate if we can get the funds for the clinic.”
“How much do you need?” I asked casually.
The two exchanged looks. “More than you’d think,” Makeda said.
I had a lot of money. A lot more than I’d use in my lifetime. I filed that little tidbit away. Right now, I had to find Rose.
The three of us headed for the door.
After Makeda and Arrow filed out, I hesitated, turning to the vet. He saw my face and spoke first.
“Dylan will be in good hands with me,” he said. “I sleep poorly anyway, waking often, and will be able to check on him for fever and other discomfort. We open at nine in the morning and I’ll be happy to let you in at that time.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Thank you.”
On the drive back to the beach, I squeezed into the front bench seat with Makeda and Arrow.
“Can we swing by the marina so I can see if the driver who brought me is there?”
My fists clenched. If he was the one who took Rose and hurt Dylan, he’d better be ready for some serious hurt.
Arrow made a U-turn. At the marina, there was no sign of the black car, and the ferry to the mainland of Sumatra was not docked. I forked over some cash for information from the clerk at the ferry terminal, only to be told the ferry I’d come in on had left immediately after and there wouldn’t be another one coming until tomorrow morning.
It was partly good news. That meant that it was unlikely anyone had left the island with Rose on the ferry. But it didn’t discount the possibility that she’d been taken away on a private boat.
Back in the truck, I shook my head.
“I was on the last ferry in, and it immediately turned around and headed back.”
“And you’re sure she didn’t leave on her own?” Arrow asked.
“Rose would never have left without Dylan,” I said. “Especially if he was hurt.
Makeda looked at me with those green eyes. “You’re right.”
“We need to find her,” I said. “I’m going to sleep in her hut tonight. Maybe she’ll come back. But I don’t think so. She was taken against her will. I know it. Please tell me anything you can.” I stared at her. She stared back.
She studied me for a long moment and said, “I can’t help you.”
3
Same lame response.
I didn’t understand Makeda’s deal.
When we arrived back at the surf camp I jumped out, thanking them for the ride, and then headed toward Rose’s hut.
A quick survey of the interior did not turn up any type of bloody weapon—rusted or not. Or the book of love letters. A few other books, but not that one. My heart sank. She’d taken it with her? Using the flashlight on my phone, I searched the ground around the hut and then walked up to the road. I searched the ground for any clues, any sign of Rose
. There was nothing.
My phone gave a warning that the battery was low. I had a few spare battery packs in my bag, but wanted to save them for emergencies. I wasn’t sure when I could find a place to plug in my phone. This surf camp was really off the grid. Hell, the whole island was off the grid.
Back in the hut, I curled up on the futon mattress on the floor, pulling the light blanket over me.
I was utterly exhausted, but sleep eluded me. My mind was racing. It was too much of a coincidence that Rose was kidnapped when I showed up and started asking about her.
It meant that my questions had triggered her kidnapping. Or worse, that her kidnapping was tied to my arrival on the island.
I hated either option. Because anyway you looked at it, her kidnapping was a direct result of my being here. And Dylan’s injuries were, too, for that matter.
As I lay in the dark, listening to the sound of the waves breaking down on the beach, I replayed every move I’d made since I stepped off the ferry. Right before Rose was taken, I’d been down at the beach talking to the surfers. I thought about each one of them. I kept going back to the petite girl and the two guys she was with. She had looked at me with utter hatred. And that’s when I remembered, Dre, the blonde boy, had mumbled something—I think he said “Fucking Benny”—and left the group. Had he gone to sound an alarm? Because when I raced back to the group with Dylan, he was there. That meant he couldn’t have been the one to take Rose. But maybe he’d arranged for it to happen.
Dylan must’ve been trying to protect her and gotten hurt that way. Or else someone had used Dylan to get Rose to cooperate. That was probably it. Rose was very capable of fighting off the average predator. Unless they were threatening something or someone she loved. Like Dylan.
That made the most sense to me.
If that were true, it also meant that there was probably more than one person involved.
Someone to threaten to kill Dylan and someone to take Rose away.
My eyes grew heavy, and my body began to feel as if it were sinking into the futon. Finally, sleep was near. There was something so soothing about the slight cool breeze coming in the window and the sounds of the ocean lapping the shore so near. Besides that, the night was silent and dark. Especially in the hut. I could barely make out the lighter shape of the window across the room and only then because it was filled with stars.
So many stars. I could see why Rose had come here.
There was something so peaceful about this place. It felt like not only the other side of the earth, but a place that remained untouched by the modern world.
I thought about the other young people I’d met tonight.
They were all here to escape something. It was obvious.
As I grew sleepier, my thoughts drifted. I realized that although I was a city girl, Rose had almost always been a beach girl. First, we lived by the ocean in San Diego, then she lived with Eva in Italy and then she spent the rest of her childhood years a few blocks away from the beach in Barcelona.
Of course, she would feel at home here. The ocean and beach were part of her.
I yawned, and guilt swarmed me. I was going to sleep when I should be out looking for Rose. But I didn’t even know where to start looking. The island wasn’t that big, but it was big enough that it would take more than a few hours to scour it. What I needed was help. I needed to somehow convince Makeda to help me find Rose. Or at least point me in the right direction.
I didn’t understand her reluctance. She helped me with Dylan without hesitation, but any mention of finding Rose was rebuffed immediately without explanation.
Odd.
When she said she wouldn’t help me, there was something odd in her voice. And she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I saw her and Arrow exchange a look that I couldn’t interpret.
It was almost as if she were afraid.
4
I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned most of the night until finally I gave up.
I sat up in the dark, full of different emotions: mostly anxiety and frustration. I was worried about Rose. I was worried about Dylan. And I was frustrated that there was little I could do to help either one of them.
With the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I left the hut and walked outside to the beach, sitting cross legged in the sand and staring at the dark sea before me.
I had no idea what time it was.
To my right, I could see the orange flames of a bonfire farther down the beach.
It seemed close to morning. There was the faintest hint of light to the east behind me. I wondered if the fire had been going all night or if someone had woken early to start it this morning.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to be able to make out shapes around the fire.
I glanced over my shoulder at the hut, my thoughts racing as I mentally went over everything I’d seen inside there in case there was something I could use as a weapon. All I had was a small canister of pepper spray. I’d left all my guns and knives and swords at home—if you could even still call Barcelona home—because I was traveling so lightly. Once upon a time, Eva had given me a carry-on bag able to conceal a gun, but I had left that at home, as well.
Thinking of Barcelona nearly doubled me over with grief.
Glancing at the bonfire, I saw one figure peel away from the others. It seemed eerily large. Was it coming closer? I squinted through the tears that had formed, thinking of my life in Barcelona.
The best years of my life had taken place in that Spanish city. It had been the first time since my parents died in my early twenties that I’d felt fully at peace with my life. I’d carved out a family for myself. Me, Nico, and his daughter, Rose, who had become as dear to me as my own child even before I’d met Nico.
But our enemies had destroyed that.
The Sultan had shattered Rose’s life on the day she turned eighteen by killing her best friend and boyfriend, Timothy. When she was younger, she’d decided against life as an assassin, even though my aunt Eva had trained her with the best. Her goal was to live a normal life with Timothy. But that had been cruelly snatched away from her. Her path was clear then. She vowed to find the Sultan and make him pay. She left with Dylan and set off on her own. For a while, she answered her phone.
Nico was the next to go. Alzheimer’s disease took his mind way before pneumonia took his body. I’d lost him years before his actual body gave out.
But it ravaged me.
It still was tearing me apart.
I’d come to find Rose, not only to tell her about her father’s passing, but also because she was the last link I had to my once happy past.
My coming here, the last place Eva could trace her phone, had let something loose. Something dark and evil.
If only I’d stayed away, maybe Rose would still be living the simple life, surfing the waves and hanging out with her new friends at bonfires, Dylan by her side.
It was inconceivable that I was so naïve I’d showed up with only my rusty martial arts skills and an old can of pepper spray as weapons. I hadn’t expected I’d have to fight. I had thought I was simply going to find Rose and tell her the news.
I was unprepared.
It just went to show how I hadn’t truly thought like a killer for years. Which was a mistake.
I’d grown complacent even in the face of danger—knowing that the Sultan and those he made do his bidding, such as Lana, the woman he convinced to kill Timothy, were still out there.
I didn’t want to even think about it, but the most likely scenario was that it was the Sultan who now had Rose. I’d never met the guy, but he was a dark evil with some strange powers that I wasn’t even sure I believed in.
Thinking about him made me uneasy. I stared at the bonfire in the distance. It was moving strangely. No, it was a shadow in front of it. Yes, someone was walking toward me. One of the figures lit up by the fire was growing bigger and seemed to undulate in an odd way.
As the silhouette grew larger, it was obvious that so
meone was heading right toward me. I wondered if the person could see me in the dark and assumed that they could. I thought of Dre and the animosity he exuded.
That guy didn’t like me. If he was coming over to me and meant me harm, I’d have to rely on my physical skills, Budo training and other defensive measures. Luckily, that was one thing I’d kept up with over the years, mainly to stay in shape.
The person was tall. I didn’t think Dre was tall. It probably wasn’t anyone wishing me harm, but for some reason I was filled with apprehension. It probably stemmed from thinking about the Sultan. He was a cult leader who had followers everywhere, willing to do his evil bidding.
Even though I was seated, I was prepared to fight. Every muscle was tensed, every nerve on high alert. My senses went into overdrive, and suddenly the sound of the waves disappeared and the sound of fabric rubbing together was overly loud as the person walked closer. My fists clenched together, my jaw was tight, my legs poised to sweep out and take the person down to the ground if necessary.
“Gia?” It was Makeda.
Relief flooded me. I was embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. I was normally not afraid of anything.
I relaxed and looped my arms around my knees.
“Hey.”
“I thought you might be up,” she said. “Come down to the fire with us.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
She sat beside me, pulling her legs up to her chest and putting her chin on her knees, staring out at the water.
“As soon as dawn breaks we’re heading out on the waves. The water is supposed to be pumping tomorrow.”
She let that sentence hang there. I wasn’t sure what to say so I said, “Cool.”
“Why don’t you hang at the bonfire with us so if Asahi calls we can leave right then for town?” she said. “Plus, it’s warmer.”
That made sense to me.
I got my phone and its portable charger from inside the hut, and without a word, we walked down to the bonfire.
When we arrived, a few people lifted their heads to nod at me. The others gazed into steaming mugs or passed around a joint. A space opened up on one side, and Makeda gestured that I should sit there.
Dark Vengeance Page 2
