The Soul Stealer (4 page)

Just as she was about to walk out the door, Hunter said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Malia, when I grabbed you in the car. I didn’t mean to.”

The sound of his soft voice saying her name in such an intimate way made her heart beat faster, so she retreated. Inside her house, she locked her own front door for the first time in ages. It was then that she remembered what she really wanted to ask him. But it could wait until morning.

H
unter wondered what to do until he saw Malia again. It would be torturous to sit and wait in this plain little room. He felt oddly at home and uncomfortable at the same time. He sighed and looked around. There on the floor was a trail of his dust. Hunter grabbed his satchel and found the special pouch. Then, he got down on his knees and carefully scooped as much of the dust into the pouch. He’d need as much of his magical power as he could gather, so the dust would come in handy.

Now that the travel sickness had passed, and his body had adjusted to this world, his dust would shed slower. And, he could venture out and actually interact with the people around him. The sickness had been difficult to get through this time. With each new place he traveled to the suffering got worse. This would be his last trip, for many reasons, but mostly because his body couldn’t take it anymore. Flying from one place to another wasn’t a problem, but traveling from one reality to another was definitely a problem.

His body couldn’t shed the toxins as fast as it absorbed them, so his senses were dulling, even his eyesight. He needed to purify his body but didn’t want to risk someone seeing him do it. He looked around again at the small, unadorned studio with a pang. He missed his own small but luxurious chambers at home.

But after meeting the grown-up Malia, Hunter wasn’t sure he wanted to go home anytime soon. He would savor every moment of the seduction, because their time together would be short, which saddened him a little, but he had to fulfill his duty. He could not let the thought of hurting her worry him. It was just what had to be. It was impossible not to care for her, but somehow he would have to remain detached. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let himself care about a woman. There were some faces in his memory, but none clearly in focus, none who had mattered.

On the other hand, he didn’t think he would ever forget Malia. Every expression on her exotic face, the way her body moved, the flow of her long, blonde hair, the flutter of her hands when she spoke in anger, the spark in her green eyes—everything about her made him quiver with longing. Her slightly deep voice made his heart beat at a faster pace, and he could already anticipate her entrance into the room by the cadence of her feet on the stairs. Her fight to keep her emotions in check so they wouldn’t get in the way of what she needed to do mirrored his own attitude. She was everything he had known she would be, and more.

First things first, though. He needed money, and he had all night to get it. Malia probably would sleep for eight hours, so that meant there was time. He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, and then he searched through his leather bag for his black T-shirt. It would be best to dress in dark colors. After he laced up his boots, he grabbed his dagger and secured it in his belt.

Outside, in the moonlit night, the scent of jasmine filled the balmy air. The power of ancient Hawaiian spirits swirled around him in the starlit night sky. Hunter itched to get started. He would soon channel that spiritual power to get what he wanted. Things were going as planned. It was almost too easy.

The only bank with an automatic money machine he knew of was downtown, near Malia’s shop. He had been by it on previous trips, but he wondered if anyone would be withdrawing cash there at this time of night. He closed his eyes and imagined the bank in as much detail as possible. The rush of the force propelling him made him shake, and his hair blew around his face, but he knew enough not to open his eyes until the sensation of flying through the throes of gravity went away, and he could stabilize in the air.

It didn’t take long before he felt his feet touch down on the sidewalk near the cash machine. Hunter looked around, not surprised to see two women on a nearby corner, barely clothed and smoking cigarettes. They seemed bored. Not wanting the women to see him, Hunter stepped back into an alley, which smelled of trash and urine. He hoped for an easy target so he wouldn’t have to linger there long. Despite the stench, he felt comfortable in the shadows.

Soon a car pulled up to the curb and the driver got out, but there were two male passengers inside the car. Hunter needed someone who was alone. One of the men got his cash and drove away without ever knowing Hunter was there waiting for a victim, impatient to get back to his beautiful girl.

Hunter waited, and waited, but there were no other cars. He stepped out of the alley, wondering if there was another bank close by—one used by more people. Just as he was about to leave, a car pulled around the corner and stopped in front of the women. Some sort of argument broke out. One of the women got in the car and it drove off, while the other woman yelled and shook her fist at the departing car. She was tall and stumbled on her high heels as she came down the street toward the cash machine. Hunter hoped she’d been drinking and had her defenses down. His wishes were confirmed when he smelled stale liquor as the woman stopped at the cash machine and searched through her purse.

“I don’t believe this. The bitch goes off with all my money,” she mumbled to herself in a deep voice. She threw her lit cigarette on the sidewalk and pulled multiple items out of an oversized handbag. “Now how am I supposed to get home, bitch?”

Hunter continued to wait, knowing he could easily surprise her, even though she was tall and broad-shouldered. He pulled the dagger out of his belt and held it in his hand in the way he always did before pouncing. The woman finally found her wallet, pulled out a plastic card, and put it in the cash machine. He could hear the sound of the electronic buttons being pushed as he crept behind her. Hunter knew the power of surprise. In one motion, he put his arm around her chest to hold her arms in place, while his hand with the jeweled dagger went to her neck. “You scream, and I’ll cut your throat,” he said in his well-practiced menacing tone. Although it wouldn’t be his first choice, he would act on his threat if pushed.

The woman froze. Hunter was grateful she didn’t struggle because her muscled body told him she could have put up a strong fight. He could hear someone’s heart pounding but wasn’t sure if it was hers or his own.

“I want your money,” he whispered in her ear, keeping the sharp dagger at her throat but not letting it touch her skin. “All of it.”

“Please, I don’t have much in my account.” The woman sounded panicked. She tried to shift her weight on her feet but his hold on her put a stop to any movement.

“Check your balance, so I know what’s in there.”

She didn’t hesitate. The screen showed the account held five hundred dollars.

“Withdraw two hundred,” he commanded.

Sobbing sounds came from the woman as she pushed the buttons again. Cash soon spitted out of the machine. Hunter loosened his hold on her arms but kept the dagger close to her jugular, and then he grabbed the money. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. He would find a better place to rob someone else tomorrow night.

Once the money was in his pocket, he closed his eyes and concentrated on going back to the studio apartment. With a rush of energy, he landed on the driveway as a whirl of wind blew open the front door of the studio. The lights were off and nothing was disturbed, so Malia had not been there to check on him. Hunter let out a sigh and plopped down on the twin-size bed.

He had not enjoyed treating that woman at the bank the way he had, but Hunter did what was necessary to survive, as always. No matter what he had been asked to do in the past, he did it if it meant keeping his father’s favor for one more day, because that meant Hunter would have a chance to get what he wanted. He wished he could somehow protect his beautiful girl from his father’s intentions, but that would mean his own death sentence, and Hunter wasn’t about to sacrifice himself for someone else.

Hunter longed to feel her smooth skin against his, run his fingers through her long, bright hair, caress her lovely neck, and have her succumb to his every need. He would own her body completely. He’d waited for this for a very long time and would enjoy every minute of it. The force of pulsing blood made his hands shake and knees weaken. “Soon,” he told himself, “soon.” He could already feel the power he had over her. It was almost magnetic, the pull they had toward each other. It defied all logic and reason. And he would use it to get what he wanted, and needed, from her. His father had planned it perfectly, and Hunter would do as he was told, as always, and as long as it suited his own plans.

The warmth of the morning sun renewed Malia as she sat at the kitchen table finishing her first cup of coffee. She got up to pour herself the last cup of the day and noticed the two envelopes on the counter: One contained the letter from her father, and the other she had put off too long. Perhaps today would be the perfect time to take care of it, she realized, especially since it was Friday. She could immerse herself in gardening and sewing all weekend to forget about it afterward.

Malia put the letter from her father on the table, vowing to read it before the end of the weekend, and put the other envelope in her purse. She shut it with a loud snap. But a soft knock on the screen door made her jump.

“Come in,” she said, unable to keep a smile off her face. It almost felt like a bolt of electricity went through her as he stepped into the kitchen.

Max sniffed Hunter’s legs and wagged his tail, which was unusual because Max didn’t normally warm to strangers so quickly. Hunter put his hand down to the dog’s nose and then petted him with affection.

“Good morning, Malia.” Hunter’s voice was smooth and his smile warm, filling her with heat from across the room.

“Why do you say my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you know me, like you’ve been saying it for years.” Her smile faded. “Have we met before?”

Hunter went to the cupboard and opened it as if he knew where the cups were kept. He took out a mug and filled it from the coffee pot. He smelled the dark brew, tasted it, and a look of satisfaction crossed his face. “Do you remember meeting me before?” he finally asked in answer to her question.

“No,” she said, thinking that was an odd question.

“Then I guess we haven’t.”

She put a hand on her hip and cocked her head slightly. “Then how did you know my name yesterday?”

“You must have told me your name,” Hunter replied with a shrug. He sat down at the kitchen table and smiled at her.

“But I didn’t.”

“You did. How else would I know it?”

Malia sat down opposite him and tapped her fingers on the edge of her large coffee mug. “Okay, maybe that’s how it happened,” she said with a nod. “But why did you think I recognized you?”

A laugh escaped his lips, bringing playful lines to his angular face. “That’s absurd. Why would you recognize a stranger? I was delirious, as you might recall.”

Malia smiled back at him with narrowed eyes.
How easily he lies,
she thought.
What is he up to?
She could feel herself getting drawn into his world, like falling down a deep hole. She wanted to claw her way to the surface, to safety, because there was nothing safe about Hunter, even if he turned out to be a nice, harmless guy. That might make him the most threatening of all, she realized.

“Have you decided to rent the studio to me?”

She wanted to say no, but the word got caught in her throat as she glimpsed longing in his eyes. Malia got up and went to the coffeepot before he could see the blush in her cheeks. She hesitated for a moment and then grabbed her purse and keys. “Sure,” she said, turning back around to face him. “You can rent it for a month for five hundred dollars so you can get on your feet, and then you have to leave after that.” She placed the key to the studio on the table by his hand.

Hunter stood and put the key in his pocket. Malia’s eyes tried not to linger there, in the place where his hand met the pocket of his jeans, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Okay, a month it is, then,” he agreed. There was a resolve in his voice she didn’t understand. “I’ll have the money to you by tomorrow.”

Malia stepped around him to the screen door, wanting to escape the intoxication of being near him, but Hunter followed her out to the landing.

“Should I shut and lock the door?”

“I don’t care,” Malia answered as she descended the stairs and got into her car.

“You really should lock your door. It’s not safe to leave it open. Someone could walk right in and disturb things.” He shut the door and tried the door knob to make sure it was locked.

Malia shook her head and turned the ignition key, knowing the biggest threat to her safety was walking down the stairs. He stopped to watch her back out of the driveway, and she thought she heard him mumble, “I’ll miss you today, my beautiful girl.”

As she drove away, Malia tried to get the tall, gorgeous man with longing in his eyes out of her head. He made her knees weak and her blood pump way too fast, and his violet eyes told her more than they should. Then again, Hunter was a liar on some level, she reminded herself. Yet she believed what she saw in Hunter’s eyes; the emotions there were too real.

But what is he hiding and why? Curiosity took over as she drove through the tunnel into Honolulu. She tried to piece together everything she knew about him—or didn’t know, because that was the bigger puzzle. Perhaps she would ask him to fill out an application for renting the studio. That would be one way to get more information about him. Or, she could just ask him about his background. But there was something too straightforward about that. After all, being honest with a man had never gotten her anywhere before.

But soon she would have to be brutally honest with one particular guy. Malia steeled her nerves as she got closer to the men’s prison. She hated visiting Alex, but it was time to end things. Their marriage had died when he decided to make a living dealing drugs, and now it was just a matter of getting Alex to admit it and sign the papers.

Afterward, Malia drove straight to the shop. Without looking at Lani, she threw the signed divorce papers down on the counter and then grabbed her favorite Chinese-style, blue satin
cheongsam
and went into the back to change. The satin felt luxurious against her skin as she donned the long, straight dress. She then she pulled her hair into a high ponytail and took a yellow plumeria out of the bowl of flowers in the bathroom. Wearing a flower on the left side meant her heart was taken, so she put it behind the right ear since she was now a divorced woman.