Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The tension in the hallway was thick. I leaned back against the white door, and covered my eyes with a hand.
There was no God or gods here, not in this evil place, but I still prayed for Nishi’s ‘uhane, her spirit, to find its way to the afterlife.
We would take care of her iwi, her bones, and ensure she got the sendoff she deserved.
Something soft touched my other hand. I jerked, lowering my right hand from my eyes, and looked down at the sweetest face.
Caroline still held Samantha, though now her hold was casual with the little girl on her hip. Her tear-filled eyes blazed with sympathy as she stared up at me.
I spotted my handkerchief that I had offered to Caroline earlier. She wasn’t holding my hand, but pressing the cloth to my palm so it wouldn’t fall. When my fingers twitched, she stepped back, letting go.
I felt numb. I’d been around death before—caused a lot of it, too.
Some might even put others’ deaths in my hands because I sold the weapon that did the killing.
I wasn’t perfect, nor was I immoral. True, I made a living selling handguns, automatic and semi-automatic rifles, and shotguns.
I also had hand grenades, grenade launchers, flame throwers, and some not-so-common weaponry, like tomahawks, boomerangs, blowguns, slingshots, throwing knives, shuriken, kukri swords, and whips.
Plus mea kaua, Hawai‘ian weaponry, like shark-toothed knuckledusters, clubs, and spears. In many ways, I was a dealer of death.
I believed that people had a right to defend themselves and bear arms. I also believed that people are responsible for their own actions.
I could just as easily pick up a pencil and stab someone’s eye out as I could pick up a gun and put a bullet in their head.
Anything could be a weapon in the right hands.
I didn’t know what my clients did with the product they bought, but I did know that blame was on them, not me.
If you have the backbone to kill a person, have the backbone to own it.
The idea of death did not scare me. I owned the blood on my hands. I could even argue that everyone dies, and only the gods know when it’s your time to go. But it didn’t take the pain away. It didn’t stop the knowledge that a life was about to be lost today, a life that hadn’t had to die.
I didn’t know Nishi well. When Aloiki and Lu first got together, I was married to Kalea.
Nishi was around, but it wasn’t like I ever hung out with her.
To be honest, most of the things I knew about Nishi were negative, because she annoyed the shit out of Aloiki with her naivete.
But she was Lu’s best friend, so she was present for parties and celebrations.
I didn’t wish her dead or ill. I certainly would never have wished the fate she’d suffered on her.
And whether I liked or disliked her did not change the fact that she was loved by others.
Lu, specifically, who was like a little sister to me, loved Nishi, and would be devastated by the news that her best friend was dead.
“You really were here to rescue her.”
The kind voice brought me back to the hallway. Glancing around, I noticed Reacher and Tommy standing with another woman. She was older, in her thirties. I didn’t need to see the blood on her to guess she was another victim.
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “Aloiki, his wahine— I mean, his woman, she’s Nishi’s best friend. They were together when Nishi was kidnapped.”
Caroline rested Samantha’s head against her shoulder.
For a four year old, the little girl seemed extremely quiet, like she was trying not to bring attention to herself.
Was she like that naturally, or did she have to learn to be so?
A girl her age should be running around, carefree and causing mischief.
No child should be quietly assessing her surroundings.
Caroline tipped her upper body forward slightly. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I did not know Nishi well, but she was courageous.”
Not wanting to be by the door, I guided Caroline down the hall towards the stairs. “I need to speak frankly to you, and I’m not sure Samantha should be privy to these conversations.”
Caroline turned her head away from me. “She’s already seen and knows too much, but she’s more fluent in Japanese than she is in English.”
Despite the handkerchief she’d handed back to me, I wiped my hand down my face to clean it.
I eyed Caroline’s kimono. We already knew from Konstantine, the fucker who sold Nishi to Weatherby Dalton-Jones IV, that the man had a thing for Japanese women.
A glance down the hall confirmed that the other woman Tommy was treating was also Japanese.
We found a koi pond and sand garden on the fourth floor too.
I’d only ever seen pictures of Weatherby Dalton-Jones IV, but he was white. In his fifties with graying hair, he probably had a fondness for golfing and pie.
Then again, everyone had their fetishes. I would know. I might not be as open and versatile as Aloiki, but I’d been around the block a time or two. There were things I liked, and things I really liked. Like anyone else, even I had my limits.
I couldn’t say I’d ever fetishized a specific culture. Most of the women I’d been with were Polynesian, but that had more to do with proximity than a distaste for any other race. I certainly had never kidnapped women of a specific ethnicity and raped them.
But Caroline wasn’t Japanese or even Asian. She had brown hair, pale skin, freckles, and blue-green eyes. She didn’t fit Weatherby Dalton-Jones IV’s profile as we knew it.
Nishi had. She was Japanese-Hawai‘ian. My eyes danced between Caroline and Samantha, taking in their opposing features. If Samantha was more fluent in Japanese than English, that meant Caroline was also fluent in the language. Maybe she’d been born in Japan?
Her parents could have been military, or she could have been adopted.
But it didn’t matter how someone dressed.
Haoles came to Hawai‘i all the time, but that did not make them Kama?āina. Caroline was no more Asian than Weatherby Dalton-Jones IV. But Samantha? With her hair, round face, and eyes, she was. She could have some Caucasian in there too, but without asking, I’d never know that.
Caroline had called Samantha her daughter.
It was still possible, which I hated to even contemplate due to her young age.
But that would mean Weatherby Dalton-Jones IV wasn’t Samantha’s biological father.
As far as I knew, there wasn’t another man in the house.
That didn’t mean the fucker didn’t have friends that he loaned his prized possessions out to like library books.
Caroline kissed Samantha’s forehead and whispered something to her in Japanese. I wasn’t fluent in the language, but I recognized it from growing up around others who were.
Samantha nodded once, and said, “Hai, Haha!” I could easily translate that. Immediately Samantha put her hands to her ears and started humming, like this was practiced for them. A standard routine.
What the fuck?
Caroline shifted Samantha to her other hip, though I got the impression that was so she was as far from the conversation as Caroline could make her. I didn’t see the fear that I had on her pretty face when we’d first entered. Was that because of Nishi?
“We came here to rescue Nishi,” I told her gently. Samantha might be humming—the song sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it—and I didn’t want to talk any louder than I had to. “But we’re also here to rescue you, and anyone else Jones had here. Was it just the four of you?”
I didn’t know if all the other rooms were cleared yet.
Caroline nodded. “There have been others, but it’s just us now.”
“What about his wife? Was she involved? Did she know you were down here?” I had not gotten the distinct impression that a woman lived upstairs.
It wasn’t like there were wedding pictures or a massive portrait of a pristine couple above the mantel.
Most of the upstairs had the air of a museum, like it was staged rather than lived in.
Caroline’s face paled, and her chin started to tremble. “His… His wife?”
I nodded, trying to offer her reassurance. “Our records showed he was married.” But if Caroline didn’t know about her, then maybe the wife was innocent of her husband’s crimes. The entrance to this place was well hidden.
“She died.” Caroline ducked her head as if ashamed. “Last year.”
Well…shit. I was going to need to text Neo that information, because clearly they missed something in their research.
“I’m sorry,” I told her softly. Clearly, the death of the woman still affected her.
Maybe the woman helped take care of them.
Maybe she had been just as much a victim as Caroline, Nishi, and the other woman down the hall.
Caroline’s eyes went back to the door that blocked Nishi and Aloiki from view. “And I’m sorry about your sister.”
My throat tightened. “Mahalo.”
“Are you going to hurt him? Mr. Dalton-Jones?” I was surprised she didn’t called him “Dalton-Jones-San”, given what she was wearing and the language she’d just spoken to Samantha.
Her question made me pause. She stood there, barely over five feet tall with a four year old on her hip, staring up at a man she knew was armed, and yet I saw curiosity and hope on her face where fear and uncertainty had been only moments before.
Her bravery was admirable. I didn’t think she trusted me, not completely at least, but the fact that she hadn’t fought me on leaving Nishi’s room hinted that she was more worldly than she should be at her age.
Add in where we were and the child she held, and she was practically an old woman.
I quickly ended that line of thought before I could get myself into trouble with it.
After all she’d no doubt been through here, I owed her the truth. She’d earned that. “Yes,” I answered.