by Cathryn Cade
His house.
Once, the little clearing had contained only a grass hut, where he and David had played, like generations of Ho’omalu children before them. But Daniel had claimed the place for his own, and with the help of his family and a few skilled contractors, he had built a haven, a retreat.
He crossed the lanai, paved with flat stones he’d laid himself, past the bench and chairs he’d built of native wood. The front door he’d carved. A pair of nai’a leapt in bas relief in the oval frame, the pair separating as the door opened into a simple foyer with a cool stone floor and walls painted a soft white to capture the light that penetrated the dancing canopy of green overhead and the skylights cut into the ceiling of every room.
When he opened the door, the quiet reached out to him. Only now, instead of surrounding him with peace, it seemed to echo with faint, husky laughter. No peace, even here.
He dropped his clothes on the floor and dashed out onto the rocky shore as if pursued, diving into the sheltering sea.
He swam hard and fast, propelling his way along with power and grace, at first fleeing his human foibles, as if by using his physical powers, he could find the mental strength not to crave what God had set before man to tempt him—that certain wahine.
The nai’a were playing just off the lava flows, as they liked to do after they’d hunted and fed. He heard them before he saw them, silver bodies flashing as they swam about in twos and threes. One would roll, shooting off in another direction, only to be followed by her partner, who would bump her with his fin and then dart off himself. They called to each other, their whistles and chirring like mischievous laughter.
Daniel watched one mating pair swim along, turning to rub their bellies together until the female suddenly flicked the male with her tail and rolled away, her natural smile surely a little more pronounced as he called loudly and chased her.
Daniel chuckled and then sobered, a kind of resignation settling in his chest. Maybe it was time he stopped fooling himself. Claire might be his personal kula, but he was still just one of God’s creatures, with the same needs and desires as all the others.
And hell, as much as he wanted to fuck her, he wanted to hang with her, and play as the nai’a did. He liked flicking her with his tail, so to speak, to make her mad, liked the sly twinkle in those blue eyes when she flicked him back. She was fascinating, irritating and funny, all in a gorgeous, sexy package. And he was just as fascinated as a nai’a male after a sleek, silver female.
Of course now he was going to have to work for so much as a smile from Claire. He might have done a little too good a job of convincing her he wasn’t interested.
Meanwhile, he needed to get his head back in the game, for somewhere out here lurked a piece of the murky puzzle of the Helmans’ plans. He’d sensed it with his ho’omalu powers. But if there was something here, what the hell could it be? The yacht was in Kailua Harbor, so why was he so viscerally certain that there was another presence here, off Nawea? Could the yacht have dropped a bigger bundle like the one Akeo Apana had found? And was that where the two recent victims had gotten their supply, or was there another pipeline onto the island?
He called the nai’a, and as one, the pod turned and swam toward him, surrounding him with calls of greeting. The lead female approached him directly, hanging in the water before him to look him in the eye.
“Greetings, grandmother nai’a,” he said respectfully. “You’ve hunted well?”
She affirmed but wasted no time going on to other matters. “Big…hard…came here.”
He clicked in answer, his powers focused on her. “‘Ae. Tell me more.”
“Bad. Kānes with sharp teeth…born from hard…”
Ah, Pele. Men with sharp teeth—could they have been carrying spearguns? Born from a hard shape…they’d come out of it into the water? No, that couldn’t be right. They must have been swimming around it. Some kind of submersible container. They’d probably been dropped off by a boat, like the Helmans’ yacht. The idea made sense, unfortunately.
“Bit nai’a. Bad.” She called, and one of the young males approached Daniel, listing to one side. Daniel’s gut clenched as he saw the gash in the dolphin’s sleek side. He’d been wounded with a spear.
“Calmly, brother,” Daniel soothed. He grasped the dolphin by his fin and smoothed his other palm slowly over the wound. Closing his eyes, he let his powers rise within him and sent heat flowing into the young nai’a. He braced himself, but still, it hurt like the slash of a moray’s teeth. Power always came with a price. He held on until the pain had subsided, and then let go.
“He will heal quickly now,” he said. He knew he didn’t have to tell them to stay far from the men with sharp teeth. “Which way did the hard go?”
“Deep maka’u.”
Damn it. Out into the deep water. He couldn’t chase them there—it would take too long. There were thousands of square miles of open sea around the islands.
He rose with the pod as they surfaced to breathe, keeping a wary eye on the shore not too far away. The dolphins surged around him, took two long breaths, and then dove again. Daniel watched them go and then headed back toward land.
Maybe it was time to bring in the Hawaiian police and the Coast Guard with their sonar equipment.
He could have them search for a sub and then just hand the Helmans and their kula over to the law. Except that he had the feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Because what the hell would he say to them? The nai’a saw a bad hard and men with teeth off Nawea, and told me all about it. I need you to find it. Yeah, that’d go over well.
No, for now, Pele and Kanaloa’s Ho’omalu were on their own. When he found something, he’d call in the law fast, to destroy the kula and round up the Helmans’ goons.
Chapter Nine
Claire could see why Melia raved about Nawea Bay. The place was a seaside paradise. She couldn’t wait to dive into the clear, turquoise water. There was the reef to explore and the sea beyond.
The soothing hues in the house created a perfect background for the artwork on display. After gazing in awe at David’s beautiful paintings—it was somewhat unreal to her that big, handsome David was an artist—Claire turned to the wood carving on a low table. A whale leapt from the waves, its head rising above her own. The raw power and grace of the creature emerged from the softly gleaming wood, sending a thrill of appreciation up her spine.
“Who did this?” she asked their hostess, Leilani. Claire remembered seeing her at the luau.
Leilani smiled. “This is the work of Daniel Ho’omalu.”
His name was like a physical blow to her midriff. She nearly sat down on the nearest chair, staggered by this revelation. But as she gazed at the whale, she realized that of course, she should have known. The carving was so much like him—untamed as the ocean, a force of Hawaii. And apparently off-limits to her.
She turned away, leaving Bella and Grace to exclaim over the two brothers’ talents.
Claire followed Leilani up to the first room on the right. Her suitcase already sat on the rack in the corner, courtesy of Jack or Zane.
“How pretty,” she said with determined cheer. Not only did the window look out over the bay, there was a Hawaiian-style quilt on the bed with stylized seashells in blue and gray. A carving of a sea turtle sat on the rattan bureau.
Claire gazed at it for a moment, her heart contracting painfully. She touched the silky wood gently with her fingertip, almost expecting the sleepy-eyed turtle to turn its head and look at her. She shook her head, trying to reconcile the big, hostile Hawaiian with this tender depiction of local fauna.
“I thought you’d like this room.” Leilani smiled and slipped out to show Grace and Bella to their rooms.
Claire set her purse down on the bedside table and peered into the bathroom. The walls were pale gray, with blue towels. A small painting hung on the wall over the toilet. She flicked the light on to look at it and smiled in spite of her melancholy mood. A dolphin
peered at her from the picture frame with one bright eye, almost as if they were looking at each other from opposite sides of an aquarium glass. David Ho’omalu was not only a talented painter, he had a sense of humor.
“Ready to go swimming?” Bella called from the hallway. “Bet I can change before you, Claire.”
“Bet you can’t,” Claire hollered back.
“Bet I can beat you both,” warbled a falsetto voice from downstairs—Zane.
Laughing, Claire grabbed her beach bag with her sunscreen and dashed for the doorway.
She and Bella ran downstairs together, although Claire slowed once they were outside because her breasts were liable to bounce right out of the bikini top. When she jogged at home, she wore a sturdy sports bra. If it were just her and Bella, she’d chance it, but Zane and Jack were already in the water, while Frank Lelua was working over on the dock.
Leilani was coming up the path. “I brought you some beach towels, and there are cold drinks in the cooler,” she said. “I’ll bring lunch down in an hour or so, but there are snacks and fruit if you want them.”
“Wow, thank you. Do you need any help?”
Leilani smiled at her. “I will put that Zane to work. It’s good for the men to help, yeah?”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Claire stopped by a lounger to drop her sunscreen and sarong. Her mood lifted as she waded into the lapping surf. The water was so clear she could see the bottom most of the way out to the reef. The sand was dotted by a few lava boulders.
Bella was already in, her hair sleeked back from her face as she swam out toward Zane.
“Turtle over here,” Jack called, waving one wet, muscular arm from near the reef.
“Coming!” Claire dove in, the cool water enveloping her in its liquid embrace. Oh, this water was heavenly, half a world warmer than the chilly waters off Oregon. Surfacing, she swam out to Jack and then slowed, treading water as she gazed in delight at the large turtle paddling lazily along between them. It turned its head and looked at her with sleepy eyes, then dove, trundling off toward the reef.
“That one’s a female,” Zane said behind her. “The males have longer tails. Last time there was a great big male hanging around.”
“There still is,” Jack said with an evil grin and swept his arm across the water, deluging them both.
Claire got a huge mouthful of salt water and fell back in the water, coughing. But she came back up with revenge on her mind. Bella joined them, and soon the little bay echoed with laughter and whoops as the four of them engaged in all-out warfare. Only when Claire nearly lost her top as Jack lifted her out of the water and tossed her back in did she hold up her hands.
“Truce, truce!” As much fun as it was to tussle with a handsome, laughing man in the water, she really didn’t want to rip her new bikini on the first day.
“If you’re done scaring the fish, I got some snorkel equipment ready here,” Frank Lelua called from the dock. “Or you can eat lunch first.”
“Lunch,” said Zane, his eyes lighting up. He struck out for the beach, and the others followed him.
The Paalanis had arrived, both in swimsuits—Gabe broad and muscular, Sara slender and delicate. Gabe smoothed sunscreen on his wife’s back. He paused to press a kiss on her shoulder, and she turned her head to smile at him.
Watching them wistfully, Claire staggered a little as she stepped on a hidden rock, and Jack’s arm slid around her, steadying her.
“Thanks.” The admiration in his eyes as he looked down at her was balm to her feminine soul.
“My pleasure,” he said, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His hand lingered on the small of her back before it dropped away.
“Freshwater shower over here,” Zane called. He stood under a spray of water coming from a simple pipe at the edge of the dock.
Claire was the last to use the shower. She stood under the lukewarm spray and tipped her head back, letting the water stream through her hair. With her eyes closed, she lifted her hands to smooth her hair back.
Smiling, she opened her eyes and looked straight into a turbulent dark gaze that sent a jolt of awareness through her. Daniel Ho’omalu had returned. He stood with the others under the palms, a bottle of beer in his hand, but he was watching her.
His gaze holding hers, he twisted the top off, lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink. Her body reacted predictably, her nipples tightening, her pussy clenching, readying itself for him. She wanted to grab him and kiss him; she wanted to bash him over the head with his beer bottle. She glared, confused and angry.
At that instant, Jack turned. His gaze flicked from Claire to Daniel, and he smiled crookedly.
She looked away, using her hands to slick the water from her skin. Her cheeks burned. Why couldn’t Daniel just stay away? She’d been having a nice flirtation with Jack. Then he had to show up again, and suddenly she felt like a high school girl again. Well, she’d be damned if she’d let him rattle her. Even if she did want to cover her near nudity up with her hands and scuttle over to wrap a towel around herself. She should never have let Grace and Bella talk her into buying this bikini. She was too big for it.
Wait a minute—what was she doing? Holy sand sharks, this was Hawaii. She’d seen a lot plumper women than she walking on the beach by the hotel in bikinis. And Jack certainly seemed to think she looked good.
Shoulders back, she walked back to the seating area to don her sarong before turning to choose a beer from the cooler. Sitting down on her lounger, she patted the empty place beside her, smiling at Jack. He gave her a quizzical look but sat down, the chair sagging under his weight.
Daniel sat on a low stool, his back against a tree. Gabe and Sara were on either side of one of the small tables.
Leilani had fixed pulled-pork sandwiches. Claire took a bite of the tender meat folded into a fresh bun and sighed with pleasure. “Mm, I could eat this every day.”
“Nah, say ‘fo’ days’,” Zane instructed her.
Claire grinned at him. “I could eat dis fo’ days,” she said in a deep voice, mimicking him.
“Dese grinds da kine,” Jack agreed.
“You grind li’dat, you come momona,” Daniel put in dryly, and the other men laughed.
“He said I’m going to get fat if I keep eating like this,” Jack explained to Claire. He took another huge bite of his sandwich.
She flicked a glance up and down his muscular torso. “Doesn’t look like it to me, moke.”
Jack smirked at Daniel, who snapped a large carrot stick in two with his teeth. Claire blinked as he and Jack shared a challenging look. Why the heck were they glaring at each other? It couldn’t be over her. Daniel had made it only too clear that to him she was just another woman.
She took a drink of her beer and pretended she was still having fun. Which, in a perverse way, she was. She felt…alive when Daniel was around, even though he pissed her off.
“How do you say ‘hand me another piece of pineapple’?” Bella asked.
“That works.” Daniel held the container out to her. His cheeks creased over his beard, his teeth white as he smiled at her.
Claire wanted to throw her plate at him. “I can’t wait to go snorkeling.” She looked out at the reef protruding from the turquoise water. “I want to see a humu-humu…”
“Humu-humu-nuku-nuku-apua’a,” said Jack.
“Yeah, one of those.”
“Reef triggerfish,” Zane said kindly. “Easier for haoles to say.”
Bella and Claire pelted him with their crumpled napkins.
After lunch, Frank outfitted everyone with brightly colored snorkels, masks and fins. Claire’s were hot pink. She loved them. She wriggled into her new rash-guard shirt, white with a blue turtle on the front, and then hurried back to her lounger to slather sunscreen on the backs of her legs.
“You betta get your ‘ēlemu wit dat cream,” advised a deep voice behind her. “If you wanna sit on it tonight.”
Claire straightene
d so fast her spine twinged, whirling to glare at Daniel. “Is that your sweet way of telling me I need to sunscreen my ass?”
“Nah, only da parts stickin’ out.” His gaze followed the curve of her hip, and Claire was stingingly aware that there was quite a bit sticking out of the bikini.
“Maybe you’d like to help,” she shot back. “Since you’re so interested.”
Then she blushed hotly as his gaze swept up to hers, ebony heat arcing through the damp air between them. “Just say the word, wahine.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, does your girlfriend know you make offers like that?”
His gaze followed as she squeezed the sunscreen too hard, and a huge dollop squirted over her hand and onto the sand at their feet.
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a woman, all da way. College girl.”
Claire heard the growl emerge from her throat, but she was too angry to quell it. She turned her back on his smirk of male satisfaction, flung the sunscreen onto her lounger and swiped sunscreen down her arms, trying to use up the excess dripping from her palms.
“Gonna sit on your hands instead, yeah?” Having had the last word, Daniel sauntered away.
Claire made a horrible face at his broad back. Nevertheless, she made sure to cream the skin above her bikini bottoms as well as under the edges. He was a jerk, but he was right—she did not want a sunburned ay-lay-moo. Even a strip of sunburn was miserable if rubbed by shorts or undies.
Daniel led the group out to the reef. Claire hung back with Jack. But she was soon so captivated by the swarms of tropical fish on the reef she forgot who was around her. The fish flickered through the shifting light and shadow, bursts of color and pattern. Some yellow tangs were bright as underwater canaries. Others had black-and-white triangular patches and only a little yellow. Another set was striped.
The coral itself was just as fascinating. Some clusters were white, others pale pink, yet another pale gray. And every crevice was inhabited, by black spiny sea urchins, red pencil urchins, or even tiny shrimp waving their feelers for bits of food.
