Chief Distraction (24 page)

“I knew you were a capable wildcat under all
that polished reporter gear. I don’t think I could have waited any longer for
you. You don’t mind that I just showed up at your door, right?”

“Mind?” she rolled onto her side and propped herself
up on an elbow. “I think I have to pinch myself. I thought I’d never see you
again once I left the precinct. Thought you’d never forgive me for all we went
through on that island.”

Mak brought her chin closer with a finger.
“Nothing could have kept me away from you.”

Not even a curse
, she thought as he kissed her lips softly.

Blythe reached down and untangled the white
cotton sheets, laying them across their naked bodies. She snuggled against him,
leery that he may want to leave now that their ‘unfinished business’ was all
over. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Was tonight considered one of
those? Her mind reeled with nervous apprehension. Was she just another notch on
the hot Fire Chief’s bedpost?

As if to answer her question, Mak put an arm
around her shoulders and brought her in tight. “I want to spend more time with
you.”

She stroked his chest with an open hand
caressingly. “Tell me why you like being a firefighter.”

Mak took a long pause. “Well, I love the
unpredictable power of fire. It demands respect and care, two things I expect
in return.”

“You deserve respect and care. I’ll take care of
you,” she kissed him gently. “Were you always this laidback about everything?”

Mak smiled and traced his finger up her arm.
“There was a time when I roamed and raged like an all out inferno. I was angry,
confused. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to deserve my life’s hardships.”

“Your girlfriend dying, you mean. And the
curse.”

“Yes. I’m a pretty mellow guy now though. Kinda
like a fire that’s gone to ember.”

“Hmm. Maybe ember that can flare up at a
moment’s notice because I just witnessed it. I’d like to see it again.”

“I’d love to do that to you everywhere.” He
nuzzled her neck playfully.

“In every room?” Blythe asked with excitement.
“I’d like that.”

“How about another hot shower together?” Mak
said as he hopped out of bed, stretching his muscular body toward the ceiling
before putting out an inviting hand. Blythe sat up, completely unabashed and
grabbed it. “Mmm, sounds exquisite.”

Well past midnight, they finally collapsed in a
heap of spent satisfaction. Lulled by the knowledge that their hellish
nightmare on the island of Kahoolawe was over for good, they fell asleep in
each other’s arms without a care in the world.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

Mak tossed the newspaper on the bed. “We’re
famous today.”

Blythe sat up and pulled the folded paper onto
her lap. Catching a small photo and caption in the corner of page one, she read
each line of their own adventure through another reporter’s secondary sources.

“Story of a lifetime – and instead another
reporter grabs the glory when I should have been the primary. Go figure,”
Blythe huffed, flipping the newspaper open to read the rest of the article that
described their harrowing story. Mak leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “I thought
you said you didn’t want to tell this particular story. Too close for comfort,
remember?”

“Even so, I…” Blythe closed her eyes and the
paper folded into her lap. “Mmm, that feels really good.”

“Yeah? You like that? There’s more were that
came from.” Mak nibbled up to her ear, making her quiver with delight.

“Can you stay the day?” she asked in a
seductively sleepy voice that meant to tempt.

“I just have to make one call and then I’m all
yours. Or should I say, you’re all mine.” Mak kissed her once and pulled away,
standing up beside the bed. She watched him shimmy his boxers on past his
muscular thighs. “I’m going to whip you up an island specialty for breakfast.
Since you’re hopeless in the kitchen, I feel it’s my duty to indulge you.”

Blythe threw a pillow at him. He ducked and
laughed, enjoying their lazy ease. After all they’d been through, they’d
skipped the slow getting to know each other and landed smack dab in familiar
territory. Spending time together seemed so natural.

“You can use my office phone, just in there.”

“Thanks. I have to buy a new cell phone. Forgot
mine up on Lua Makika. Guess it’s another artifact to be found on Kahoolawe.”

                 
<><><>

“Pono,
it’s Mak.”

“Hey, Chief. You okay? Any post traumatic stress
stuff happening?”

No, but I will need to take the day off. Still
feeling a little numb. Can you handle things at the station today?”

“I’ve got it covered. The guys all send you
their best. Can’t wait to see you once you’re feeling back to normal.”

As Mak was about to mention the possibility of
taking the following day off too, a framed article above Blythe’s desk caught
his eyes. He moved closer to inspect it when a very specific name grabbed his
attention. It didn’t make sense.
How the hell?

“Chief? You still there?” Pono asked.

“Um, yeah. I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

Mak leaned in toward the frame, confusion
flooding his senses. The article was about some arbitrary town festival, but he
hardly noticed. His eyes zeroed in on the small photo of Blythe with the
caption
‘Reporter
Angela Dyson’
below it. Everything came back to him in a painful, flooding
rush.

Mak strode out of the office. He watched as
Blythe’s sleepy smile fell. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently.

Mak threw the framed article onto the foot of
the bed. Blythe clutched the sheet to her chest. “I can explain,” she begged.

“Don’t bother.” Mak found his jeans on the
bedroom floor and hastily yanked them on while avoiding her pleading gaze.

“If it’s any consolation, that was the last
article I wrote for the paper. I was fed up with being asked to sabotage
stranger’s lives. I mean, who really cares about a superstitious curse, right?
Please, Mak, look at me.”

Ignoring her plea, he grabbed his tee shirt from
a nearby chair and slung it over his shoulder, his bare chest uncovered in his
urgency to flee.

Blythe threw back the sheet and scrambled off
the bed, frantically pulling on her robe as he disappeared from the room. She
raced after him, finally catching up. She ran around him and blocked his exit
by pressing against his firm chest, her entire bodyweight forcing him to stop.
“I was going to tell you, honest. Please believe me. I never meant to attack
you personally. It was just a silly article I wrote a million years ago.”

He stared at her in awe. She really had no idea
of the impact the article had unleashed on him; the gut-wrenching agony and
pain it brought him over the years. That article had fundamentally changed his
life in a negative way and
she
had written it. Yet she still had little remorse, just brushed
it off, belittling his life as something insignificant.

“You’re right, it was nothing. You shouldn’t
feel too bad about it. Hell, what do they say? Sticks and stones?” Mak’s anger
seethed.

                 
<><><>

Blythe
noticed his seething anger and the scowl on his normally open face. She was
causing that scowl, that pain. She could tell her unsympathetic words cut him
deep. “Mak, please, I’m sorry. I’m so used to being factual, removed. It’s the
part of my personality that needs an overhaul. I’m willing to learn. You can
teach me.”

“Too late. Nothing you say will change what you
did,” he said as he shoved on his sandals and opened the front door.

“Wait Mak, please, I…” but what could she
possibly say? Without looking back, Mak slammed the front door and charged
toward his truck. She stood on the porch, numb and speechless. She could only
let him go.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Seeing Blythe’s face beside the name Angela
Dyson sent shockwaves of shameful memories through Mak’s system as he raced
away from her house. It seemed the curse had finally sent a woman to connive
and deceive her way into his heart, only to rip it out mercilessly. He’d
unknowingly fallen prey to true love. Other women had left, but deep down he
hadn’t minded too much. But this, this was hell on earth. To bring him this
far, so far gone, and then crush him to smithereens, it was inexcusable.

Why this woman? Why now? When he’d finally let
himself go and taken the plunge, only to be tricked. The curse was stronger
than ever and the demigod’s were not amused. He should have known not to
believe Blythe was any different than the others. She was his test and he
failed miserably.

“Want a ride to Big Lou’s wake?” Pono asked as
Mak filed papers in his office. “We’re heading down there after lunch.”

Mak knew attending the wake would put him in a
direct path with Blythe, and for that reason alone he loathed the idea.
Avoiding the wake wasn’t an option, though. He’d have to attend out of respect
for Lou and his family.

“You need to eat too, Chief. Can’t mope around
here all day.”

Mak closed the filing cabinet and took a seat at
his desk. He looked up at Pono who leaned against the doorframe, waiting.
“Okay, where are you guys going for lunch?”

“Kaanapali Grill. You’re favorite.”

“Sure. Sounds good. Just give me a few minutes.”
Mak leafed through the papers piled high on his desk. Since the incident on
Kahoolawe three days earlier, he’d buried himself in work as a means of
distraction. So far, it was working – sort of. Thoughts of Blythe’s touch
and kisses still haunted his memories. The images were quickly soured by the
revelation that she was also his one and only arch-nemesis, Angela Dyson,
reporter and massacre of love lives.

Pono lingered at the door. He looked over his
shoulder to see if anyone could overhear before leaning into the office. “You
know, sometimes things happen for a reason.”

Mak paused and looked up. “What are you talking
about?”

“The reporter. We all know you two got close on
Kahoolawe.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

Pono shot him a knowing look. “We practically
live with you here at the station. We know your moods. And don’t forget I was
there when you escaped the island. I saw the way you two were with each other
on the way back. There was something powerful going on.”

“Well, that’s over now. Nothing to say about
it.”

Pono laughed. “Nope, I’m not buying it.”

Mak got up and walked to the window. He gazed at
the horizon, spying the island of Kahoolawe in the distance. “She wrote that
article about me eight years ago, Pono.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She’s the reporter.” Mak turned
to see Pono gape in disbelief. “Now do you understand why I can’t see her
again?”

“That’s…wow. What a coincidence,” Pono scratched
his head.

“Not only did she destroy me eight years ago,
she did it again the other day. And I don’t think she was ever going to tell
me. I found out by accident.”

Blowing all his air out, Pono shook his head in
disbelief. “I just can’t believe the coincidence.”

“You said that already.”

“Listen,” Pono came in and closed the door,
suddenly full of renewed energy. “What if you were meant to find out? What if
this is your chance to forgive her? What if…”

“There are a thousand ‘what if’s’, Pono. No way
will I see her again.”

“But what if she’s the one?”

                 
<><><>

The
breeze blew the palm trees that lined the water’s edge. Lou’s silver urn sat at
the center of the gathering on a low podium surrounded by fragrant, colorful
flowers as a woman sang and a man sat playing the ukulele. The ceremony was
spiritual and rich in meaning.

Blythe dabbed her eyes as she listened to the
minister, but couldn’t hold back her tears as Lou’s mother and sisters said a
few words about him. The woman sang again as Lou’s family threw his ashes into
the ocean. Everyone then tossed Lei flowers into the water after him, blessing
his ashes and saying their goodbyes.

She hugged Lou’s family before walking away from
the wake. Wrapping her arms around her waist in a self-embrace, Blythe felt
more alone than ever. Crossing the grass toward the parking lot, she looked up
and noticed Mak standing at a distance with his fellow firefighters. As if
sensing her stare, he looked up and met her gaze, holding it. His face was
expressionless, stony. She couldn’t read him at all and his apparent
indifference broke her heart. Ripping her eyes away, she held back her tears
until she got in her car. In that moment, she realized he could never love her
the way she loved him. The damage was done.