The Soul Stealer (22 page)

M
alia opened her eyes as their flight slowed and they started to swoop down toward the city. There were lots of tall buildings on both sides of the street, not many trees, and shops that were closed for the night. The air smelled of car exhaust and dirty pavement; gone were the lush green trees and clear skies of Hawaii. Overhead, the sky was brownish gray and reflected the lights of the city in the night smog. People in cars rushed by, honking at each other if someone interrupted the fast pace or flow of traffic.

Malia figured it must be in the middle of the night, because they had come through a time zone and it was now three hours later than in Hawaii. Malia had never been to Los Angeles, so she had no idea what part of the city they were in, or where they were going.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asked as they touched down on the empty sidewalk.

“Yes,” she said with a nod, not letting on how much she relished the feel of solid ground beneath her feet, or that her sense of balance was gone. This entire night had been surreal, so why would flying across the Pacific Ocean in the arms of someone from another reality put her out of sorts? Malia shook her head with the absurdity of her situation.

“Come on,” Hunter said as he grabbed her hand. “The hotel is just around the corner.”

Malia stumbled after Hunter as he led her down the street and through double glass doors that opened into a small, nice lobby area that looked as if it had been there since the 1950s but was recently remodeled in a style to match Los Angeles in the twenty first century. The receptionist behind the oddly shaped registration desk was dressed all in black and had thick eyeliner around her eyes, and dark red lips that made her skin look even paler than it should. She smiled at them as Hunter asked for the key, but she looked at Malia’s tattered appearance with curiosity. Luckily it was fairly dark in the lobby and Hunter stood in front of Malia to hide her blood-stained arm.

Once he had the key, Hunter ushered Malia down the hallway and walked out the exit door instead of getting into an elevator. She followed him across a small alley, curious about where they were going. Then he used the hotel key to open another door in an adjacent building that looked more like a three-story apartment complex than part of the hotel.

“The cheaper rooms are in this building,” he said as he held the door open for her. “Besides, the location of the room made it possible for me to bring everything here without being noticed by the hotel staff too much.”

They walked up two flights of stairs to their room, which was decorated in a pleasant, sort of California-Asian style. The room was clean, tastefully appointed with furniture and amenities, and the large bed looked heavenly. One table in the room was stuffed with computers, a wireless router, and a printer. Boxes were piled on the floor next to the table, and she noticed a familiar framed photograph sticking out of the top box.

Malia went to the box and picked up the photo of her mother, father and herself when she was just five years old. She had always kept it in her bedroom. The top box had many of her favorite things from home, and the next two had a variety of clothes from her closet. She gave Hunter a grateful smile. “When did you do this?”

“Today, while you were working. I wanted you to feel comfortable here, with me. I tried to get as much as possible, but it was exhausting flying back and forth.”

“Thank you.” She laid her head on his shoulder, feeling whole again.

Hunter picked her up, sat down in an overstuffed chair, and put her across his lap as if she didn’t weigh anything at all. “Now, tell me,” he said in his silkiest voice. “What happened tonight while I was gone?”

Malia looked away, unsure of how he might react. Hunter put his hand under her chin and pulled her face back toward his. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his angular face. She had missed him. A day away from Hunter was a day not fully lived.

He looked at her lips, as if he wanted to kiss her, but then waited for the answer to his question.

“You were right about Ryan. He tried to, well, he. . . ” she began, not wanting to elaborate. But Hunter looked determined. “Ryan came to the shop, and I wasn’t feeling well, being away from you I think. He took me to the police station for questioning. He wanted to know where you were.” Malia glanced at Hunter and then looked away again. “After awhile, he offered me a ride home, but then we wound up in a dark place, somewhere off the road, and he attacked me. I tried to escape but he had the dagger.” Tears came to her eyes, and her hands started to shake again.

“Did he hurt you?” Hunter asked with force in his voice.

She took a deep breath and raised Archer’s T-shirt up, revealing the cut next to her nipple, where dried blood was already forming a small scab. Hunter took a sharp breath and then touched the injury with his thumb. The contact felt soothing, healing, so she settled into his lap a little more.

“What else did he do to you?” Hunter asked in a steely voice.

“Nothing. Suddenly Archer was there. He killed Ryan with a knife before anything else happened. The next thing I knew, we found you, and Archer handed me my dagger and told me to cut you free while he diverted their attention.”

Hunter closed his eyes and put his forehead to hers. “Thank goodness Archer followed you,” he said with a sigh.

“I know. It’s a good thing the Blackthorne brothers can fly.”

Hunter pulled away with a jerk. “Archer can’t fly.” He furrowed his brows. “Didn’t he follow you in a car?’

“Oh, I don’t know,” Malia said in confusion. She had assumed Archer had come to her rescue by flying overhead and following them. She had also assumed flying was something people from Hunter’s world had figured out how to do. “Archer and I fled in Ryan’s car after. And now that I think about it, I would have seen the headlights if another car had followed us. I was scared once I figured out Ryan wasn’t taking me home, and I kept looking around, hoping to see someone else out there who could help me. But it was completely dark.” She looked at Hunter and frowned. “Do you think he followed me in another car with the lights off? How else would he have known where I was?”

Hunter moved her out of the way and stood up, running his fingers through his mess of hair. He went to where she had thrown her purse on the bed and started riffling through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“Archer has a mini-transporter he can use to make short-distance changes in location, but he has to have something to zero in on, coordinates,” Hunter answered. He continued to search through her purse, in every pocket, pulling out old scraps of paper and looking closely at them.

“I don’t understand.”

Hunter stopped and looked her way, and his eyes settled on her neck. “Where’s the necklace?”

Malia’s hand went to where the crystal necklace had been. “Archer told me to take it off after he killed Ryan, so I did.”

Hunter shot her an accusatory look.

“He had just saved me from being attacked. I kind of figured he was a good guy.”

“Don’t ever think Archer is a good guy,” Hunter said as he started to inspect everything in her purse again. “What did you do with the microchip?”

Malia gasped and her eyes widened. “It’s still in my purse.”

Hunter closed his eyes, and he swallowed hard.

“I didn’t know I was going to be abducted, so I didn’t take it out when I left the shop.”

Hunter breathed in deeply with his eyes still closed.

Malia felt like an idiot.

“So,” Hunter said in a quiet voice. “He knows we’re in L.A.” His violet eyes looked empty, void of emotion. “The chip has led him to us.”

She could feel her pulse pound in her neck. “Well, Archer didn’t need the microchip to know that. I told him we were going to L.A.”

Hunter continued to look at her without emotion.

“I thought you trusted him! I thought he knew your plan!”

Hunter laid the contents of her purse out on the bed and turned on the overhead light. He ran his fingers back and forth over everything and then finally picked up a small dot, which he took into the bathroom and flushed down the toilet.

“It can’t transmit a signal through water,” he explained as he came back into the room, seeming a little more normal, but then he started ripping apart Malia’s purse with his dagger.

“That was one of my favorite vintage bags,” she said with a sigh, wondering if he was trying to punish her for being stupid and naive.

“Go through your wallet and anything else he could have gotten his hands on. He may have hidden another one. And take off that shirt. We need to burn it.” Hunter stopped and looked over at the boxes of Malia’s prized possessions. “Archer could have hidden many tags if he knew I was taking your things with me.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants to know where I am, so he can use it to his advantage when he needs to. He’s making a play for power with Father, and he’ll do whatever it takes.”

Malia sat down on the bed with a thud. “Will he send more assassins?”

“Probably. . . maybe. If it suits his ambitions.”

“So what do we do?”

Hunter looked around at the room. “I don’t know yet. But I think we have some time to figure it out. Archer won’t make a move right now. He’ll go home first and pretend he narrowly escaped with his life, and that I killed everyone and got away. All the while he’ll keep tabs on us, if he can. Father may give up on me at that and center his hopes on Archer. In which case, we don’t have to worry.” Hunter put his hand on hers. “But if he demands that Archer prove himself by bringing back my head, then Archer will try to do it.”

“Let’s move to another city.”

“That’s probably the best idea,” Hunter said with a nod. “We’d have to go with nothing, or risk having a tag somewhere.”

Malia looked at her boxes with a frown.

“How much cash do you have?” Hunter asked.

“About two hundred dollars, but I can get more from the bank.”

Hunter looked down at Malia. “Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s take a shower. It’s been a long night.”

They went into the bright bathroom and Hunter took off his shirt.

“What happened to your back?” she asked. There was no sign of the cut she’d made to remove the microchip. “You don’t have even a small scar.”

Hunter looked at her with smile. “I told you. I don’t scar.” He held up his hand where the assassins had put a hot iron, and the mark was almost gone.

Malia was about to question him further, but Hunter distracted her by crushing her into his body and putting his lips on her neck. His hands went under her skirt, and his kiss held a tender intent.

Pangs of hunger prompted Malia to order takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street. The menu by the phone made it sound inviting, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. After Hunter left to pick up the food, she rolled around in the sheets and looked at the door to the bathroom, thinking about the large tub with water jets on every side. She smiled as she got out of bed and made her way across the tile floor, and even hummed as she put her hair up before diving into the luxurious hot water.

She heard the door open and shut, and the television came on, but Malia couldn’t make herself move from the bathtub. It was so relaxing. Then a soft knock on the door interrupted her interlude.

“The food’s getting cold,” Hunter said through the closed door.

She smiled at the sound of his voice and decided it might be a good idea to end her bath after all. She put on the hotel robe and went into the room while drying her hair with a towel, only to find him intently watching the local news on television. A photo of Ryan Green flashed across the screen.

“Authorities in Hawaii are searching for a missing policeman. Detective Ryan Green was last seen last night leaving the Honolulu police station at around 10pm. He never made it home but police found his car abandoned in a remote area. Traces of Green’s blood were found inside the car. Police are looking for a woman named Malia Smalls in connection with this case. Smalls is also missing. She is described as five feet nine inches tall with blonde hair and green eyes. The police suspect foul play,” said the reporter on the screen. “Smalls’ family was in the headlines fourteen years ago when her mother was found brutally murdered in a field near their home on the windward side of Oahu. That case was never solved. Anyone with information about this particular case should call the FBI immediately.” Hunter switched the channel once the reporter went on to other news.

Malia put her hand to her mouth and sat down on the bed. The idea that the police were looking for her started to register in her brain, and she wondered if the police would question her father or Lani. She wanted to call her father to let him know she was all right, but that was impossible. Malia looked at Hunter and wondered what they would do now that she was wanted by the FBI. “If Archer doesn’t get us, the FBI might,” she said.

“A blonde, green-eyed woman could be anybody, especially here in L.A.,” Hunter replied. “I just won’t call you by name in public and no one will suspect anything. The police won’t be looking for us here. There are no records of us traveling to L.A.”

“Right,” Malia said, trying to sound confident but knowing they must be circulating a photograph of her to the FBI. “I don’t think I should be using my bank card anytime soon.”

“No, but I can make my own withdrawals from the bank.”

“No! I won’t have that.” She would not condone Hunter’s thievery. Malia went over to the Chinese food cartons and started eating out of it with chopsticks. “We’re not going to become criminals, even though apparently I already am. We’ll have to find another way to get money. And I’ll cut and die my hair.”

Hunter nodded but looked uncertain. He turned back to the television and started flipping through the channels, probably more as a distraction than because he wanted to watch something. He landed on music videos and sat there almost without blinking for some time. Trying to break the tension, she snapped the towel at his back, but he grabbed it and took it from her without taking his eyes off the rock video.