Chief Distraction (14 page)

If her sudden subject change surprised him, he
hardly let on. “You must know by now what makes Maui special.”

“Yeah. It’s paradise. Well, most of the time.
Not always.”

“Not today,” Mak bumped her shoulder with his.

“Definitely not today,” she said with
melancholy.

“It’s funny, most tourists think Maui is one
endless summer. We islanders know the rhythm. Like if you live here long
enough, you know not to go into the ocean during the winter months. Too cold.
Only things swimming are the humpback whales on the north shore, over from
Alaska. The whales and the crazy tourists who think they have something to
prove. You’ve been here, what, a year?”

“Just over a year.”

“The longer you live here, the more pronounced
the seasons will be. You’ll notice them change, especially going from winter to
summer. As the air warms up, the middle of the island turns this incredible
purple haze.”

“Hmm, like the Jimi Hendrix song, huh?”

Mak nodded and smiled. “Totally.”

Blythe could tell he was brimming with pride
about his native land. As he spoke of the ocean and told her stories about his
friends at the fire station, she knew in her heart he was were he belonged.
Leaving the island may bring him love, but it would leave a hole in his heart
from what he’d be missing.

“Are you Maui’s best tourist guide? I am, after
all, a city girl. Are you trying to sell me on it?”

“Something like that,” Mak grinned boyishly and
bumped her shoulder with his own again. There was that dimple, front and center
and making her beg for mercy.

“The spring’s great too. The jacaranda trees are
in full bloom and the smell is intoxicating. Totally exotic.”

“Hmm.” Blythe watched his full lips move dreamily
in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

“And in summer, the mango and lychee trees are
so heavy with fruit their branches look like they’re going to snap right off.”

“So that’s why my neighbors keep leaving me
cardboard boxes of mangos on my doorstep. People are so generous and kind here,
since the very first year my family came to Maui.”

“I thought you said you’d been here a year.”

“I’ve been coming to Maui every year since I was
twelve. My parents bought the house I’m living in as an investment vacation
property. Does that make me a little less mainland than you thought?”

“A little,” Mak winked. She could tell he was
impressed.

“I’ve spent the occasional Christmas holiday in
Maui too. I’ve been spoiled.”

“Can’t fault you for that. Maui is heaven on
earth. Were you here that one winter we actually got snow on Mount Haleakala?
That was something to see ten thousand feet up.”

“No, but I heard about it. That was the winter
before we bought the place.”

“What about the time when half the island had a
blackout on Christmas Eve? The power-plant was in overdrive.”

“Yes, I
was
here for that one. It turned out to be one
of the most memorable holidays of my life. We lit candles and sang carols
together as a family. The blackout made that Christmas even more special.”
Blythe was struck by how casual she felt with Mak, talking about the island
history – a history she realized they shared.

“I wonder if we’ve crossed paths without
realizing it?” Mak asked.

“I doubt it. I would have remembered you.”

Mak leaned his shoulder against hers and held it
there. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

Blythe’s face lit up at the compliment, but she
didn’t want to indulge her fantasies and get into even more hot water. “So,
about a plan. What should we do next?”

“Guess I’d better look for some water. Might be
difficult in the dark.”

“Maybe it’s safer. No one can see you. Just
don’t fall in.”

“That would be perfect, wouldn’t it?” Mak got to
his feet and stretched, the innocent act unintentionally seductive. “While
running to save his life, Fire Chief falls down cistern and dies. There’s a
headline.”

“I don’t want to write a story like that. Be
careful.”

Mak put out a hand and helped her up. “I plan on
it. Now, we can either go together or you can stay here. I’d rather you stayed
with me just in case.”

“Mak, I’ll be fine. The cistern can’t be too
far. Seriously, my feet are killing me.”

“Okay. I shouldn’t be long.”

Chapter
Thirteen

Blythe threw her shoes off and paced the cement floor
as she waited. Each passing moment made her fidget more with worry as
impatience coursed through her veins. Would Mak come back empty handed? She was
so parched. Would he come back at all? The waiting was unbearable. She had to
make herself useful.

After scouring every shelf of the metal cabinet
again, she killed time by emptying the contents of her sparsely filled purse.
She took inventory and then replaced the few items. Mak’s absence felt like an
eternity, the unknown future an abyss. With nothing left to do, she stood dead
center of the room, hands on hips and listened. Her mind worked overtime
without a distraction and her paranoia hit an all-time high. The stillness of
the building was unnerving and her ears rang in the eerie silence. Aside from
the occasional howl of the wind through a crack in one window, there was
nothing. She was alone.

Until she heard the footsteps.

The crunch of gravel just outside the door was
unmistakable. The hair on the back of her neck tingled and rose forebodingly as
her stomach twisted with unease. Someone was out there. Was it Mak? The
footsteps stopped. They were close and Blythe willed her raging heartbeat to
calm.
 
Freezing on the spot, she
silently panted as sweat trickled down her temple, her fight or flight response
through the roof. It became deathly silent for a second and then the door
creaked open. Without a second to spare, she crouched down behind the made
cots. Now at floor level, she peered under the cots toward the open door and
saw only large boots and black pants. She knew within an instant it wasn’t Mak.

She peeked up from the head of the cot and her
throat constricted as if by an invisible strangler. Swallowing was impossible,
her windpipe now pure cotton. A large, muscular figure stood in the doorframe
silhouetted by the bright moonlight at his back. He paused and then stepped
inside. The fear that overtook Blythe made her gasp out loud and grab the bed
frame for leverage, perking the attention of the visitor. He cocked his head,
half turning toward the sound. As he did, the moonlight illuminated the
sinister grin that now found his rounded features.

“Well, look what I found.” His voice was deep
and raspy, vibrating right down from her ears to her toes. He shut the door
with his oversized hand, not once turning away from her direction. “You and me
are gonna get real friendly-like, and no one has to know. Looks like your
friend won’t be around to help you.”

At his words, Blythe’s mind reeled at the
possibility that this man had already disposed of Mak. Had he silently slit his
neck while she’d been pacing the bunkhouse killing time? Was Mak gone for good?
A painful sorrow overshadowed all reason, forcing her to stand. She backed
against the wall, unable to tear her eyes from his face. Judging by his size,
this was hardly an even match. If she screamed, Mak wouldn’t hear…not anymore.
There was no one to help her – no one but herself. She wouldn’t go down
without a fight.

“And you made up a bed for us and everything.
That was mighty considerate of you.”

He mock lunged, making her jump out of her skin.
Then he laughed sadistically before truly moving as quick as lightening in her
direction, completely catching her off guard. He snatched at her, missing as
she ran left. In frantic desperation, she ran around the cots one way as he
made chase. She stopped and was about to change directions, but he stopped too
and they stared each other down from either side of the beds.

“When I catch you, you’re gonna be real happy,
honest,” he said hoarsely. “I saw you on that video and now you’re all mine.”

The taunt flooded her with nausea. She searched
madly for something, anything to defend herself with. And then she spotted the
large binoculars on the window ledge at a distance. She looked back at him,
holding his gaze in anticipation of another footrace, but he surprised her by
flipping a cot out of the way with one stroke like it was made of nothing.
Unable to scream in her panic, Blythe darted for the binoculars just as he
reached her. She grabbed them as he knocked her to the ground. He flipped her
over easily, and as he did she surprised him right back with a knock to the
crown of the head with the binoculars. From her awkward angle, it was hardly a
forceful strike. Still, he moaned and released her, reaching for his head. The
binoculars dropped from her hands as she scrambled backward across the floor,
but before she could get to her feet, he was shaking off the assault and
bearing down on her again. Blythe managed a scream this time just as he pulled
her leg toward him violently.

This time he meant business.

Crawling up the length of her body like some
wild animal, he pressed his weight down, immobilizing her instantly. He slowly
brought his hand up to cover her mouth, inadvertently covering her nose in the
process. Blythe’s eyes bulged in panic, his meaty hand stifling all air. She
was going to suffocate – from his weight, from his hand, from
indescribable terror. This was it. This was the end.

She struggled against him, writhing to free
herself and get oxygen. With each move she made, he pinned her down more, her
spine scraping on the hard cement floor. Leaning his weight on an elbow, he
brought one hand down and attempted to unbutton her blouse with his oversized
fingers, fumbling unsuccessfully. In his efforts, his hand slid from her nose
and she inhaled the musty, stale air as deeply as possible. He looked down into
her frightened eyes while grabbing hold of her breast through the fabric,
abandoning the buttons entirely. She felt his hot breath at her ear, spittle
spraying her as harsh words left his mouth.

“I’m going to make you scream, but no one’s
gonna hear it.”

Bending, he licked her neck, repositioning
himself over her much smaller body. Again, his weight forced all the air from
her lungs and a crushing claustrophobia ensued. Her shrill cry was muffled to a
whisper by his gripping hand. She tried to buck wildly, but all energy spent on
escaping his grip was futile. He wanted her at all cost.

“Shh, let it happen.”

Just when she thought it would never end, she
heard the door burst open and a second later her attacker’s weight lifted. She
sat up just in time to see Mak haul the man off her the rest of the way.
Elation flooded her instantly…Mak was alive. Her elation was quickly replaced
by deep-seeded concern for Mak’s wellbeing. If the attacker hadn’t killed him
outside the bunkhouse, he could certainly do it now, right in front of her.

The thug staggered back and Mak was right on
him, getting in close to throw a punch at his gut. The man winced and pulled his
gun, making Blythe scream, but Mak was right in there, making it impossible to
aim or pull the trigger. Instead, the crazed intruder used the blunt butt of
his gun against Mak’s face, splitting his eyebrow with a heavy blow. Blood
gushed into Mak’s eye and he visibly staggered.

“Oh Mak!” Blythe shouted.

Mak shook his head to clear the stars and the
man came at him full tilt. Squaring his shoulders, Mak braced himself for the
brunt of the impact. The two men collided, but Mak stayed upright, taking
advantage and hitting the thug low and hard in the side. Winded, the man
haphazardly swung at the air in front of him, missing Mak by a long shot. Mak
used the delay and struck again, this time in his rounded face, the audible
crunch of cheekbone on knuckles filling the space. The man cried in pain,
mimicking Mak’s cry as the two men temporarily paused in their agony.

They struggled again, their power matching each
other’s. This fight did seem equal in physical comparison, making the outcome a
gut-wrenching mystery for Blythe. Mak slammed the man’s hand against the wall,
forcing the gun from it. The weapon tumbled to the floor and as it did, the
trigger released one shot with a powerful bang. Blythe flinched and the two men
stopped as if assessing the damage. No one had been shot, but a huge hole was
missing from the wall.

“Grab the gun!” Mak screamed as he struggled, on
the brink of being overtaken. The men were poised on their feet, swaying in a
wrestle hold, pushing each other with all their strength.

Blythe jumped into action and picked up the
weapon. Knowing she would never be able to shoot it without killing Mak in the
process, she strode over and clubbed the man on the head with force. The action
seemed to stun him temporarily, as he reached up and held his head, swaying
slightly.

Mak blocked the next few blows easily, his
adrenaline taking over any apprehension. As if performing a defensive move in
Judo, he used her attacker’s forward momentum to his advantage, throwing him to
the ground with force. While down, Mak brought his heavy hiking boot square
into his ribs. He moaned and writhed around. Mak reached over as Blythe handed
him the gun. He held it to the man’s head with steady assurance.