Читать книгу It's Hotter In Hawaii - HelenKay Dimon - Страница 7

Forget about later. Cassie Montgomery fought off the urge to blink right then. If she swallowed any harder her tongue would end up in her stomach.

She had yelled and ordered this guy around while panic flooded her insides. She was not the type to take on complete strangers with little more than a bad attitude. Unlike her mysterious guest, she did have something to lose—like what was left of her life.

The wide-shouldered stranger with the dark brown hair and piercing hazel eyes kept breaking her concentration. In the safety of the darkness she had not been able to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly.

Well, she saw all of him now. Criminals were not supposed to look like him. Hell, no one should look like him. Slim black jeans and a sleek black shirt that hugged his body, molding to his muscles like a second skin. Not exactly an outfit meant for late-night hiking.

Sun-kissed hands peeked out from underneath the covert clothing, suggesting that whoever he was, he liked to be outside. With her luck, he was probably an escaped convict who worked on the road crew during the day. The fact the man knew her brother’s name kept her from engaging in a bit of uncontrolled screaming and gunplay.

That and the fact the guy looked vaguely familiar. Cassie could not place him, which was odd since this guy wasn’t exactly the forgettable type. Still, something about that face tickled at her memory.

She’d spent weeks trying not to remember anything. Now that she needed to call something up, her mind stuttered to a halt.

Grief sucked.

Anger she could handle, so she went that route. “I’m waiting for a formal introduction. And if I have to ask again, I might just go ahead and try talking with the gun.”

A sly smile crossed full lips as Cal nodded toward the overturned chair. “May I?”

Muscles strained against the fabric of his pants as he hitched one of his thighs on the arm of the chair. He picked the only piece of furniture not smashed to pieces. That left her to stand, but hovering above this guy felt better than the reverse.

“You can actually sit down,” she said so she would have the advantage if he decided to strike. Despite his athletic look, she’d bet he could not outrun a bullet.

His smile only grew. “I’m good here on the edge.”

That made one of them. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Didn’t exactly come here to chat.”

A good reminder. She knew staying at Dan’s house carried a few risks. She expected a flood of tears and regret. She had not counted on a six-foot-something walking risk with broad shoulders and an intelligent flash behind his eyes.

Time to act like a woman being hunted. “Talk or I’ll call the police.”

He shot her one of those all-too-knowing smiles that all men seemed to have mastered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Option B it is.” She flipped open her cell phone and pretended to dial.

“You won’t.”

True. She didn’t really have anyone to call, but how could he know? “That’s wishful thinking on your part.”

“More like a calculated guess. One I’m willing to play out.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“Sure feels like it.”

Before she could maneuver him to the door, he sprang from the chair and knocked the gun and phone from her hands, sending them skittering across the smooth hardwood floor. Losing her balance, Cassie crashed to the ground on her stomach and smacked her forehead against the chair leg.

In a panic, her heart raced and her head spun. She had been numb for weeks, like the walking dead, but nerve endings snapped to life at the unexpected assault.

She kicked out aiming for any weakness she could find on her visitor’s trim, lean body. He blocked her attack and launched one of his own. The breath whooshed out of her lungs as he squeezed her upper body in a fierce bear hug against the floor.

Being surrounded and crushed by about a hundred and ninety pounds of furious male made her adrenaline pump. Finding strength she didn’t know she had, she flailed and tried to punch. Nothing worked. When he flipped her onto her back and pinned her hands above her head, a squeal escaped her tight throat.

Heavy breaths beat against her chest as he straddled her. Long-distance running and hours at the gym had not prepared her for this fight. Not now. Not after all that had happened. No, with the weight of everything crushing in on her she lost ground almost from the start.

“Now you don’t have the weapon,” he said, more as a fact than a threat.

She calculated the distance from her knee to his groin and waited for the right time to attack. “Get off of me.”

“Tell me who you are first.”

His face did not look quite so handsome now that it loomed over her. And that bored look he wore before, yeah, that disappeared as fast as her balance.

“Go to hell.” She wiggled her shoulders, trying to break his stranglehold, but his weight held her down.

The vulnerability of her position set her heart pounding until it formed a steady drumbeat in her ears. She bucked her hips and went rock still when her midsection met with his lower body.

Big mistake. No reason to encourage anything down there.

“Don’t look so horrified.” A rough edge tinged his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Easy for him to say since he was on top and in control. “Like I trust you after that tackle and roll move.”

“You’re fine.”

The pounding in her head suggested otherwise. For the first time in weeks Cassie felt something other than frustration and sadness. But she wasn’t sure terror-filled minutes were any better than those that came before.

“Let me up,” she said in the strongest voice she could muster.

He loosened the grip on her wrists but kept her pinned. “Stop moving around and tell me who you are and how you know Dan.”

She glared but stayed quiet.

“Okay then. We’ll skip the introductions and get to the point. Where is Dan?”

The question showed this guy lived somewhere else. Either that or the story about being Dan’s friend was just that, a story. “I thought you and Dan were supposed to be so close.”

“What does that have to do with your name?”

“If you really were friends, you’d know.” And she would not have to say the words. She could keep the pain and hurt locked in the back of her mind as she searched for the truth.

“You’re talking in riddles.”

She searched the guy’s face one last time trying to figure out where she had seen him before. Something about his tone or affect…something kept her from pulling that trigger before and from kneeing him now.

“You gonna say anything anytime soon?” he asked.

The dizzying sense of loss, all that gnawing disbelief, exhausted her until she gave in and provided the answer he wanted.

“Dan’s dead.” Saying the horrible words sliced her to the bone.

Her attacker did not take them any better. He loosened his grip as his tan face blanched chalk white. She’d seen that horrified look before. Every single time she glanced in the mirror.

“That can’t be right.” Distress filled the man’s voice. His words came out choppy and low, almost like a growl.

She nodded, unable to say the truth about Dan a second time.

“Oh shit.” The stranger landed on his backside on the floor beside her with a thump.

Stunned surprise. The flash of pain behind his eyes. The tightening of his skin around his mouth. Cassie recognized the signs. The man was trying to hold back the emotions that had his hands flexing and his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“They tried to tell me at the hangar,” he said in a faraway voice. “But I…it didn’t make any sense.”

None of it made any sense to her, either. No matter how many times she tried to take apart the pieces and make the facts fit, the story fell apart. Most days, her fight for the truth about Dan was the only thing that got her out of bed.

“How?” The mysterious man sat back on his haunches, head hung low, body slack. “I mean, when?”

She knew what he was asking. She swallowed the mountain of tears clogging her throat. Telling the horrible news rubbed her raw. She expected it always would. “Helicopter crash. Close to four weeks ago. We had a private memorial service for him shortly after that.”

“But he contacted me—” A deep frown marred the attacker’s face. “Who the hell are you?”

“Cassie Montgomery.”

“Dan’s half sister?”

“I don’t make the half distinction.” And she hated when other people pointed it out. “But, yes.”

“Damn.”

She sat up straight as he jumped to his feet. “And now it’s your turn to fess up.”

From the small shake of his head to the sad echo in his voice, she knew the surprise news had the guy reeling. Shock, confusion, and anger all raced across his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He paced around at a near stumble. “No.”

“How about you tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

“Caleb Wilson. People call me Cal.”

Even though he mumbled it, she heard him. The name triggered the flood of memories she had been searching her mind to find. She had seen a few of Dan’s group photos over the years. Cal always stood near Dan with a stupid grin on his face. That was years ago, in uniform. The cockiness and command still remained, but the clothes differed.

“You were in the Air Force with Dan. Worked together as pararescuemen, right?”

“PJs, yeah,” he said with a hint of pride.

She had heard the horror stories. Not from Dan, but on the news and in her various internet searches for information on her brother’s elusive career.

Search and rescue. Extractions out of hostile territory. Water rescues. She knew the danger Dan and Cal thrived on and what it did to them. Dan had retired but his adrenaline-seeking ways never abated.

Oh yeah. She knew all about one Caleb Wilson.

Dan shared the stories. Cal had years of survivalist training. Controlled his environment with deadly precision and left behind a string of heartbroken sweeties as he moved from one military town to the next across the country.

The guy’s reputation with the ladies bordered on infamous. Dan bragged about his carefree, no-ties, always-looking-for-a-bigger-thrill buddy all the time. Then one day, Dan stopped talking about Cal completely.

“Why are you really here?” she asked.

Cal’s legs carried him back and forth in front of the door. “Tell me about the crash.”

“Dan was on a routine run, scouting out potential places to take tourists for helicopter rides along Waimea Canyon. He crashed.”

Cal wore the same sort of skeptical grimace she imagined she possessed when she first got the news.

“Any reports of trouble with the engine, plane, instruments, or anything like that?” he asked.

“No.”

“Bad weather? Wind shear?”

“No.”

He studied her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The part that filled her with a killing rage. “The police think Dan got sloppy, wasn’t paying attention. That’s the official line.”

“And you think there’s another line.”

She sat down on the seat Cal abandoned for his football-tackling imitation. “Foul play.”

Cal stared at her for a second before resuming his agitated pacing. He rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“Dan was the type to take care of his plane,” she said, repeating the argument she had used over and over with the crash site investigators.

“He liked to goof off. Made some mistakes in the past. Big ones.”

“Excuse me?”

“But not like this.”

Cal’s muttering set a red light flashing inside her brain. “What mistakes?”

He waved off the question. “Not important. Continue with your story.”

She decided to get it all out, analyze his reaction, then go from there. “Dan flew in and around Kauai ever since he left the service. This is his life. He knows the area. Knows the people. Depends on tourist traffic for his livelihood. He would not have done something stupid.”

Cal stopped shifting around. “You’re not buying the accident theory.”

“Absolutely not.”

The haze of sadness cleared from Cal’s deep, hazel eyes. “Got any proof or just going by blood ties?”

“I know Dan better than anyone.” That was far from true, but she wanted to believe it so she said it. “The police version is wrong. The deputy chief handled the case. A guy named Ted Greene. He concluded this was Dan’s fault and called in the National Transportation Safety Board investigators to make a final determination.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Their report could take years. In the meantime, Dan is seen as a screw-up and the people who killed him go free.” The sting of that reality refused to fade from her memory.

“And you’re conducting a private investigation.” Cal wiped a hand over his face.

“Dan did not cause the wreck.”

“Uh-huh.” If Cal was listening, he managed to do it while scanning the floor.

She hated when people ignored her. With everything she’d been through, she did not need another boneheaded male doubting her brother’s skills or dedication. Nothing made her change faster from feeling useless to feeling furious.

“I guess you agree with Greene.”

Cal’s head shot up. “What?”

“You better understand that I won’t tolerate one more person speaking ill of my brother.”

“I said ‘uh-huh.’” Cal stood in the middle of the floor with papers he picked up from the floor wadded in each fist.

“So?”

“That means I agree with you. There’s nothing negative about an ‘uh-huh’ response.”

“It sounded more like a grunt than an actual word.” The way he stared at her, as if she were insane, put her on the defensive. “Guess I need a male-to-English dictionary to follow along on your side of the conversation.”

“You’re a tough woman to please.”

“I am—”

“Then we agree.”

“I didn’t finish my sentence.”

“I mean that we both agree there is something in this story about Dan worth looking into.”

Committing to the idea that they held a united front on anything seemed premature since she still did not understand half of what the guy said. “Why are you here?”

“Dan wrote me.”

Her heart jumped at his straightforward answer. “When? About what?”

“About a month ago.”

“Why after all this time?”

“He said he has a problem with—”

“What kind?”

The corner of Cal’s mouth kicked up. “If you let me finish a sentence, this will go faster.”

Cassie doubted that. Nothing about Cal had been easy so far, including that skid across the floor. Her shoulder still thumped from the acrobatic move.

“Sorry to interrupt your long-winded version of the story, Your Royal Highness. But, as you might imagine, I’m interested in figuring out what happened to my brother as soon as possible.”

She could tell the news of Dan’s death had not been easy on Cal. His skin tone still looked more off white than fleshy. A tug of sympathy pulled in the area near her heart for him but she knew she could not afford to let her guard down.

She had been chased, shot at, and lost her brother under mysterious circumstances. Trust was not something she had in great supply.

Cal shrugged off her concerns. “Dan’s message didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He referenced a problem, an operation that smelled funny. He asked for my help. It took awhile for the message to get to me—”

“Why?”

Cal’s eyebrows lifted. “As soon as I got it, I came.”

“You expect me to believe that you just jumped on a plane and flew here.”

He smoothed crumpled pieces of paper and piled them in a stack. “It’s a hell of a long walk to Hawaii from Florida. Those last two thousand miles underwater would be a bitch.”

“My point is that it’s a long trip to make based on a few messages.” Dan’s SOS to this guy made no sense. The fact her brother called a virtual stranger rather than her hurt in ways she refused to think about. “Tell me what really happened between you and Dan a few years back.”

“It’s an old story.” Cal stopped picking up the paper around her feet and leaned in until only a few inches separated their faces. “And none of your business.”

“I got time.”

“And I have no intention of filling it. Believe it or not, Cassie, I didn’t come here to be cross-examined by you.”

“I asked a simple question.”

“And I gave a simple answer. No.”