Burning up the Rain (Hawaiian Heroes) (26 page)

“Yeah, you nearly broke my nose.” She touched it gingerly with her fingers. “I just don’t think—”

The doubt in her eyes was more than he could take. It slammed into the teetering tower of his own self-doubts and sent the whole thing tumbling, his ego shattered at her dainty feet.

“You think plenty,” he cut in savagely. “But it’s all about
you
, isn’t it? ‘Oh, Jack, I need you to save me from Benton Choy’. Y’know, you should go ahead and marry him. He’d keep you in comfort, and you could have a string of boy toys on the side. Just keep using ’em and tossing ’em. You show real skill at that.”

He turned on his heel and stormed away, but fuck him if he didn’t carry with him the look on her face. Stunned disbelief and hurt.

It was late when Jack drove away from the Kona hospital. It was darker than usual, with heavy clouds hanging over the coast, the air damp and oppressive.

Melia, it turned out, had a bug, the flu or something. The baby was fine, heartbeat strong.

What a relief.

Stopping at a red light on the outskirts of town, Jack blinked blearily. Man, he was dead on his feet. Probably shouldn’t be driving. He shook his head—that was a first for him. Impaired but not by alcohol.

“Go on home,” Malu had told him and the rest of his family. “They’ll move a bed into Melia’s room for me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Jack felt sick as well, but it wasn’t the flu. It was self-disgust. He cringed when he remembered how he’d lashed out at Lalei. He was sober now, had been for hours. And every time he remembered the look on her face, he craved a drink. He’d been totally unfair. He might be a self-destructive asshat, but he wasn’t cruel…at least not until now.

On impulse, Jack pulled over and dug his phone out of his pocket to call Lalei. She’d want to know her cousin was all right, wouldn’t she? But the phone burred in his ear again and again. Finally, he tossed it onto the console. He closed his hands around the steering wheel, gripping it tightly.

Did Lalei wear that society mask of hers to retain control of deep emotion, or was it the opposite? Hell, there was no excuse for the way he’d spoken to her, but
did
she care deeply for anyone else? How well did he really know her after their short but intense liaison? They’d communicated, all right, but mostly with their bodies.

His thoughts dark, Jack drove on up the highway across the mountain. The winds were worse up here, with rain lashing at the SUV, leaves and torn blossoms slapping across the windshield only to be struck away by the wipers. The streets were nearly empty, most of the small businesses on the highway closed for the night.

Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed ahead. He’d be glad to get out of this freaky weather. He yawned again and shook his head, opening his eyes wide to chase the heaviness from them. Damn, he was tired.

The bright neon sign shone across the graveled parking lot beside the road. Kolohe, it read. Below it in a grimy window shone a beer logo. It beckoned to him, bright and cheerful. He could picture the interior of the bar—tall barstools, a few tables and the clack of balls on a pool table. The warm, yeasty smell of beer and the sharp tang of hard liquor.

He was exhausted, not only in body but in spirit. He was alone and far from home. The Ho’omalus were his friends, but they were a unit—he was just a visitor here. And as far as helping them, what the hell did he think he was doing, anyway? He was just a hack from California.

Yeah, a drink among friendly faces would taste so good, feel so good. He could just stop in, have one or two.

He turned into the parking lot, his heart beating with anticipation. He was just pulling to a stop beside a beat-up little pickup with surfboards in the back when he heard sirens.

The sirens grew louder. A fire truck barreled by, followed by two cop cars. Jack watched them pass. Premonition tightened his shoulders, raised the hair on the back of his neck. Oh man, that wasn’t good.

He shifted and backed out of the parking lot. He’d just follow them, drive up to the top of the rise and make sure they were passing Nawea. If they went on, he’d turn around, come back to the Kolohe.

As he started to pull back out onto the highway, another cop car raced by, lights flashing, siren blaring. Jack slammed on the brakes so hard the SUV skidded on the gravel, his heart pounding. Oh man. That had been close. Didn’t need to drive out in front of a cop in Melia’s new SUV.

Shaking his head, he checked the road again before he put his foot down and drove up the hill. As he topped the rise above the turnoff to Nawea, he saw the flashing lights stopped below, on the turnout.

Chapter Fifteen

After Jack stormed away, Lalei huddled in her chair, numb with shock. Then her breath caught on a sob. She clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. Leilani was somewhere around. She didn’t want to be caught crying like a keiki.

Pushing herself out of her chair, she hurried into her room, closing the door behind her.

“You think only of yourself,”
he’d said.
“Use ’em and lose ’em, you’ve got a real skill for it.”
And that look he’d given her—as if he despised her.

She sank down on the edge of her bed, wrapped her arms about her waist and rocked, hot tears brimming over and sliding down her cheeks. His words had hit home like punches from an expert boxer. He thought she was good only for hanging on a man’s arm or pleasing him in bed. Their lovemaking—no, their sex—meant nothing to him.

Drawing her knees up, her heels braced on the edge of the bed, she leaned her head on her knees and wept, all the tension and turmoil and, yes, heartache of the last few days spilling out. She huddled there as outside the evening turned to dusk, purple shadows falling over the beach. The clouds massed on the horizon grew, tumbling nearer.

She was such a screw-up. She’d dared to assert herself, to reach out and take what she wanted, and it had all ended in disaster. Her mother was furious with her, Jack despised her, and Pele only knew what the Ho’omalus thought of her.

Finally, drained, she wiped her eyes on the hem of her dress. She had to think.

Homu had already called the Hawaii county law enforcement, who informed them they would do patrols, but the contractors had a right to park their machinery there, and there was no evidence they were going to use it.

But after the confrontation with the TropicSun contractors, she and Jack knew different. If something wasn’t done to stop them, the contractors were going to begin revving up their big machines tomorrow morning and tearing into the mountainside. It was up to the Ho’omalus to stop them.

David was not going to make it home tonight. Everyone else was at the hospital with them. Logically, Lalei knew that if she called one of them, all the Ho’omalus would come, sooner or later.

But she wanted to fix this. She needed to prove herself, prove that she was worthy of them. She had the power, given to her by Pele herself, and she was going to use it. She was going to deliberately break the law and destroy property. Last time had been an accident, born of rage and impulse. People got off murder charges with that defense. This time she was planning what she’d do, as surely as the wife who bought poison or the husband who loaded a gun.

She pictured her mother’s reaction. Yeah, Suzy would be truly horrified by this. But strangely, her mother’s face was superseded after a moment by that of Pele, her eyes full of fire.

“You are your mother’s daughter,”
she said again in that soft, terrible voice. “
My daughter, my ho’omalu. Use the gifts I have given you, Lalei.”

Lalei knew a moment’s exhilaration—she had the power to affect her world, her Hawaii. Her elation was quickly followed by stark fear. She wasn’t the right wahine for this task; she wasn’t worthy. What did she know about being a ho’omalu? She knew how to dress for a cocktail reception at the gallery and how to soothe finicky artists who were convinced their new exhibition was garbage. Jack was right; that was all she was good for. She didn’t know how to be a hero.
po’ino
,

Jack… She wished Jack was here. She wanted to burrow into his strong arms, hide her face against his broad chest, hear his deep voice reassuring her that all would be well, that she needn’t go out into the stormy night—one that she was no doubt causing—and go alone up the mountain. But no, even if he was here, Jack couldn’t help her…even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He’d shown that clearly.

She started as someone tapped on her door.

“Lalei?” Leilani called. “I’m going up to Keone’s. You okay alone? Frank is still on Maui. He won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” Lalei said. “See you tomorrow.” She hoped Leilani had a very peaceful time at her fiancé’s house high on the mountain. Above the havoc Lalei was going to wreak.

But her brave words aside, where the
hell
was Jack? He should’ve been back from town hours ago.

Whatever, she had to go. It was time. And she couldn’t have let Jack see what she was up to, even if he were here. She looked down at the pretty dress he’d bought her, smoothing her hands down the soft fabric. She hoped it wouldn’t get dirty. Probably should change into her dark brown shorts and top, but her urgency to be away up the mountain was too great.

As she rose, she noticed her cell phone on the bedside table. She reached for it, but clenched her empty hand into a fist. What she was going to do would probably fry it. Better leave it here.

In the garage, she eyed the four-wheeler with suspicion. Could she master it, or should she simply walk? The thought of a hike up the mountain in the dark was daunting. She squared her shoulders—she’d figure out the RV, and she’d drive.

The motor started with a throaty purr. When she settled her hands on the handlebar controls, they vibrated in her grasp. Carefully she set the vehicle in forward and rolled out of the garage, around the turn of the driveway and up the dark driveway, onto the mountain, the headlights illuminating the smooth road.

The turnoff from the highway was dark and empty, the wind and rain her only companions—she hoped. It wasn’t like she spent a lot of time out at night by herself. Try never. And the mountainside that was so benevolent in the sunshine felt like a wilderness in the dark. She was used to Honolulu, where street lights shone.

Her heart pounding so hard she felt sick, Lalei parked the RV just off the edge of the road from Nawea, behind a clump of shrubs. Looking around her fearfully, she picked her way across the lumpy pavement, still damp from the rain that afternoon.

Nothing moved except a night bird, calling as it swooped overhead. “Get a grip, wahine,” she muttered. “Any
pilikia
, monsters show up, just cloud up and rain all over them.”

With a deep breath, she turned back to the huge shapes crouched below her, squatting like sleeping predators, waiting only for the morning light to begin tearing at the green slopes. Here were the real monsters.

“Mother Pele,” she called in Hawaiian. “I ask you to send me your power. Bring the pouring rain, and with it your thunder and your lightning. Let it strike from my hands and destroy these machines.”

The earth under her feet rumbled, frightening a gasp from her. Then she stood, feeling like a foolish keiki playing make-believe as the night breeze continued to blow gently, the only sound the rustling of the bushes by the road.

Lalei glared at the dark silhouettes of the machines. She would do this, she would. Pele’s power had been sent to her, not to someone else, and
she would use it.

She stretched out her arms to the night sky and pulled with all her might. And under her feet, the earth quivered. Around her, the night came alive with a faraway murmur of ancient voices chanting, of drums beating in the old way. Power streamed through her, and she threw back her head and laughed with exhilaration.

The drums rolled into thunder, rising with the wind, the warm night air rushing around her, flipping her skirt and tugging at her hair. The energy of the storm crackling in her veins, coiling in her slender arms, waiting for the chance to spring on her target.

More, she wanted more. This had to be…huge.

The power coiled with greater force, surging through her until she was stretched up on her tiptoes, her body vibrating like a live wire. The thunder rolled down, surrounding her in a deep, bass pulsing of sound and power, as if the island itself chanted with the old ones, the ho’omalu.

With a scream of feral rage and joy, Lalei let her body whip back and then forward, her arms swinging around as she pointed her hands down the slope at the machinery.

A mighty crack of light and electricity rent the night. In two great bolts, lightning shot from her hands, down on the two outside earthmovers, and then as she held on to the strike, arced between the machines in a myriad of smaller flashes.

Heat and the stench of scorching paint and melting metal surged out at her. Then the metal melted down into a fuel tank, and exploded with a great
boom
. The concussion buffeted her off her feet, sent her skidding back across the rough pavement of the turnout.

She collapsed, a small limp shape illumined by the flames as the second and then the third fuel tanks exploded. They burned, sending up a column of smoke that rose to be whipped by the wind off into the night.