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  But as they entered the shadows of the forest path, the irony of the whole situation didn’t escape him. He and Tait had been ordered here by John Franzen, their battalion CO, in order to pull T’s brain out of its mire of grief over Luna, a “special agent” for the FBI team they’d assisted on a case in LA almost a year ago. The battalion’s history with Luna dipped back further than the case, but those two weeks had been the turning point in Tait’s relationship with the woman. Best as Kell could piece together, they’d plunged so deep they had everything but the rings—right before Luna ended the mission in a coma that eventually killed her.

  The aftermath was an epic mess, validating Kellan’s own life rule about women in all its practical perfection. Fun? Yes. Sex? Definitely yes. But when a guy had a job that prevented him from owning even a dog, leaping over the relationship cliff was asking for disaster—the same kind of shitshow that had taken over Tait’s soul and psyche and now threatened to decimate his military career.

  The guy had paid his dues on the psychotherapist’s couch for months before brass finally cleared him for active duty again—but on his first mission back, T proved he’d lost his edge, unable to shove his emotions into the proper boxes. As a result, he miscalculated a shot so badly they almost lost an ally soldier to a blue-on-blue shot—a friendly fire bullet from Kellan’s rifle—and the real criminal had gone free. Less than three hours later, Franzen ordered the two of them to take mandated R&R in his family’s place, located a quarter mile down the beach from here.

  Banishment in paradise. It sounded like a brooding emo fan fiction website, but with a few choice expletives thrown in, the words perfectly matched the title Kell slapped on the assignment when they got here a day and a half ago. Yet despite his bitter bitch party, he hoped their CO was nailing it right with the call. Before Luna, Tait had been more than his sniper team partner. They’d been best friends. Bunkmates. Drinking buddies. Able to communicate complete paragraphs by using only three words. Before Luna, they’d been—

  Yin and Yang.

  Crazy. Ironic, even. The title might’ve been something Luna herself concocted and was invoked by a woman who bore more than a subtle resemblance to the woman. But damn it, this Bowie-bearing goddess was more than that. A more that demanded to be seen for its own beauty and unique fire, not just a beautiful substitution for a ghost. He’d take Tait to the mat to pound it into the guy’s brain if necessary.

  Astonishment almost halted him in the middle of the bamboo-planked walkway. Was he, the most happily unattached guy on the team, admitting to putting a woman on his priority list?

  He snorted and kept walking. She wasn’t on the top of the damn thing, for fuck’s sake. And it didn’t mean he was turning heel on Tait or the goal they’d been sent here to accomplish. If Tait didn’t leave this rock in two weeks with his head tighter than a newly calibrated rifle, Kell was officially under consideration for having his own ass yanked off missions for a while, if not permanently. Franz had made that much clear, apparently following some mysterious commanding officer wisdom—or insanity. As if it mattered. Tait’s mental fitness was the priority here, and he wasn’t about to muck up the op.

  But for one second, it felt good to simply forget all that pressure. For right here and now, it felt incredible to let his dick fly in the wind for something other than a mission or a mate.

  It was crazy. So what if it could only be temporary? Maybe a little temporary insanity would give him a better window into helping Tait. Besides, if “crazy” kept him in the vicinity of this goddess awhile longer, then crazy looked just fucking perfect.

  Chapter Three

  An acidic laugh tumbled off Tait’s lips. He didn’t think his brain would argue much with his feuding feelings, considering that he stood in the middle of a garden in the dark, in nothing but his briefs, doing battle with the thorns of a nasty-ass rosebush in order to retrieve the vodka bottle Kellan had thrown here.

  His head spun as he bent over, fishing for the elusive Grey Goose. His ears rang. How much of that shit had he downed before Kell found him and hurled the bottle away? More than he remembered, obviously. Sufficient to put him in a stupor that had him comparing the damn clouds in the sky to Luna’s hair, but not enough to render him numb to her memory. Not half enough.

  That was before heaven had dropped her twin on the beach in front of him.

  Okay, officially, she’d dropped him first. One second, Kellan had stormed across the beach and all but torn him a new asshole for indulging in the bender; the next, they were both tripped, flipped, and stunned, flat on their backs in the sand. When he’d pried his eyes open and received a horizon filled with that ebony hair and those incredible eyes, his senses had screamed with the first logical conclusion. Hallucination. There. Handled. Clean and simple.

  But when his vision cleared and she was still there, especially after Kell started talking to her, he’d known he was in true trouble. This creature, with her exotic beauty and take-no-shit spirit, was real. The comprehension had been the universe’s biggest embrace and coldcock in one. The dilemma that followed was no easier to wade through. Did he drag her into his arms, thanking fate for reminding him that the strength he’d adored in Luna still lived on so incredibly in the world? Or did he grab his shorts and run like hell before he dirtied her life with the taint of his? He had to stop the carnage somewhere, right? He’d just turned twenty-seven. Maybe seventeen years was long enough to maintain the ridiculous fantasy that his life would make a difference to someone, that his love wasn’t the courier of their ruin.

  Or their death.

  More laughter peppered the air. This time it sure as hell wasn’t his. There was a distinct hitch at the end of the bursts, Kellan’s brand of “adorable yet awkward.” The guy had perfected that laugh a long time ago, and Tait had watched him use it to snag women from Tacoma to Tangier.

  Was the player trying to use it on…her? Now? Standing there on the path with his schlong flapping in the breeze between them?

  Tait growled as he found the bottle and snatched it from the bush. He ran into a shitload of thorns along the way, creating a few bloody tracks along his arm, which went unnoticed beneath his immediate case of what the fuck.

  Common sense jabbed its way past the booze and his ire. The woman, whoever she was, obviously had a brain beneath that sleek hair. She was smart enough to see through a fuckpuppy like Kell. If not, Slash-Man would learn what she was all about real quick. A woman like that would demand the best of a man. She was bold and strong and unique, Waterford crystal meant for filling with champagne. In Kellan’s world, relationships were plastic party cups.

  The guy would wrap his head around that disparity any minute now. Just in case he didn’t, Tait hustled back, bearing the Grey Goose with a gamely grin. “I’ve beat aside the rosebush dragon and retrieved your treasure, my lady.”

  When he extended the bottle, his damsel tucked in her chin while arching both brows, a move full of serious sass. It was also the first that didn’t remind him in some tiny way of Luna. That came as a welcome relief to his tormented senses—only his cock didn’t read the memo. The woman was a torch on him, her bronze curves and fiery spirit igniting parts of his body that had been doused since last June. A lot of those sparks were familiar friends, but a bunch of new flames sneaked in, too, burning in strange and scary ways. The fire licked up his staff and nipped at its tip in a blaze that was thoroughly unique to this island goddess.

  Who the hell was she? Where had she come from? And why did she look like she hadn’t given herself permission to smile in months?

  “I’m no more your lady than his sweetheart. Got it?” For a moment, she seemed years younger, indulging a teenager’s eye roll. “What the hell? Did Benson let you all watch ‘Shakespeare Your Way Into Her Panties’ online? Tell him he wasted his money.”

  He glanced at Kellan. The tension in his friend’s shoulders surely mirrored his own. That name was back again. Benson. The dickface—yeah, by now he felt safe going
there—had caused one too many shadows across the woman’s face to make their ruse acceptable anymore. Time to separate themselves, especially in her perception, from the bastard’s posse. He gave Kell a quick nod to communicate as much. Kell didn’t need any more encouragement. He stepped over, took the bottle from her, and curled a hand around her elbow. “So about this Benson—”

  “Perfect.” She interrupted him as the glare of headlights swung through the night, showing that they stood in an expansive garden of flowers and fruit trees that led to a sprawling two-story home with lots of windows and a wraparound lanai. “I’ll just tell him myself.”

  Fortunately, she remembered to return their shorts as she turned up the walkway at a determined march. After setting the vodka on a worktable, Kellan slammed back into his in less than fifteen seconds. It took Tait that long just to figure out where the leg holes were. He fell over trying to get his second leg in, officially verifying he’d had too much to drink. Or maybe not enough. Sanction for that came from the bottle itself, now at his eye level, shockingly not empty after its end-over-end flight into the roses. “Fuck it.” He wiped off the opening and chugged another shot.

  The warmth in his blood and the fuzz in his head did their duty as liquid courage. He sprang to his feet with a surge of surprising grace, if the toppled bucket of papayas didn’t count.

  After dodging the rolling fruit, he ran to catch up with Kell, who’d trailed the goddess up to the house’s lanai. They followed her to the front end of the porch and shouldered against each other as truck doors made foreboding thunks against what had been peaceful air.

  He blinked hard and focused. Though the hooch dulled his senses, old instincts and hardcore training beat through his blood like a favorite song, impossible to forget. “Three Escalades, six henchmen,” he murmured to Kell without moving his lips. “But only the two flanking Mr. Big are carrying heat. They’re the only ones in jackets.”

  Kellan answered by softly clearing his throat. Though the sound confirmed he’d heard every word of the assessment, the guy’s lips flattened, also disclosing that he smelled the fresh shot on Tait’s breath. Whatever, tight-ass. I’m the only choice you’ve got for backup, so deal with it.

  But the cavalier viewpoint fled as he joined his friend in glancing to the woman who’d prevented them from tearing each other up on the beach—who clutched at his gut as she hoisted her quivering chin. With her hand still clenched on the Bowie and her shoulders thrown back, she was desperate to convey whatever shred of strength she could to these invaders of her world.

  Invaders? After fast assessment of the men, Tait decided it wasn’t a stretch. Shit. These pretty boys belonged in this rustic setting as much as kittens on a battlefield. Every one of them looked like they’d stepped off the pages of some fancy men’s magazine after a three-hour burn in the gym. He bet they’d all had manicures today too. Gag.

  Whatever irritation he’d logged for the lot was eclipsed by the disdain on the goddess’s face as the main pretty boy strolled forward. In white shorts and a light blue polo with a precision cut to his salon-streaked blond hair, the guy was one Botox treatment away from having his testosterone card revoked for good. But Tait had to hand it to the man for sincerity points. The dude was good, damn good. He owned that sheep’s fleece over his wolf’s pelt with the commitment of a religious zealot minus the Jesus sandals.

  “Miss Hokulani Kail. My, my, my, you are stunning this evening.” He tilted his head, giving her a once-over that turned Tait’s nerves to barbed wire. Kellan’s growl betrayed his friend’s agreement. The only good thing about the exchange so far was that they finally learned her name. Hokulani. He imagined some rock band writing a song about it, the kind requiring everyone in the stadium to wave glow sticks in time to its ethereal chant.

  She stepped forward, chin still level. “I’d invite you in for some wine and arsenic, Gunter, but hadn’t planned on all the boy toys being along.” She glanced back at Tait and Kellan. “You didn’t tell me the whole gang was coming. You planning a slumber party for later? Going to sit around and swap tips on cuticle care and after-the-bender eye bags?”

  Benson chuckled. “We’re all about the aloha spirit at Benstock, Lani. You know that.”

  “Aloha is about giving, Gunter, not getting. It has nothing to do with your brand of greed.”

  Pretty boy’s face went tight. “Damn, I’m troubled to hear you say that.”

  Tait took his turn to stifle a snort. If Benson was really “troubled,” he and Kell were Princes William and Harry.

  Hokulani was a little more delicate about expressing her disgust, letting out a delicate sniff. “My opinions trouble you less than your sock odor, Benson. So cut the bullshit and tell me why you bothered to drive all the way out here with your backup dancers.”

  The man’s face relaxed again. Another laugh played at his mouth. “Or what? You’re going to cut us with that nasty blade of yours, darling?”

  She stomped forward again. “What the hell are you here for, Gunter?”

  The two closest goons to Benson stomped up, reaching for the pistols Tait had detected. Their boss restrained them with a raised hand. “No need for wasted tempers, people.” He directed a slick smile up the steps. “We’re just here for a simple property walk-through, Lani. You can even stay in the house if you want. All I need is a stroll on the beach and the orchard and a quick peek at that beautiful lookout point.”

  She bypassed the sniff in favor of a full snort. “The beach, huh? Well, that does explain the watch dogs.”

  Benson frowned. “Excuse me?”

  Tait joined Kellan in moving up a little. Giving up the jig was past due, and they’d already missed the first opportunity, so—

  “Bah,” Lani bit out. “Innocence, especially feigned, just makes you a bad drag queen, Gunter. Take one more step, and I’ll add trespasser to that.”

  The man spread his arms. “Darling, as I’ve clearly stated, we’re just here for a friendly visit.”

  “And in what universe will I let you do that without a shred of justifiable paperwork? You’re a fine piece of work, thinking I’ll let you tromp all over my land, scheming how you’re going to ruin it in the name of timeshares and condominiums just because you threw the word aloha into the mix.”

  He lowered his arms on a heavy sigh. “I thought we’d been through this. We want to enrich the beauty of Hale Anelas, not strip it. We are maintaining a natural preserve, remember?”

  “Three acres is barely a park, let alone a reserve.”

  “What about the land we’re setting aside for the horses?”

  “You mean the corral for the fifteen heads you plan to keep out of the fifty-four I have now? The ones you’ll save to tote fat tourists up and down the beach?”

  After a moment of steady silence, Benson slipped his hands into his pockets. He took a couple of steps, the movements measured and fluid, another indication of the pure oil flowing in his veins.

  “If you want to keep doing this the hard way, Hokulani, that’s fine by me.” He made an attempt at elegance with his emphasizing nod but evoked a drunk lizard, instead. “But you need to accept how this is going to play out. The money you’re making from selling the fruits and desserts is barely paying for your groceries, utilities, and private academy for Leo. You’re six months overdue on the property mortgage itself.”

  “Because Benstock has blocked every application I’ve submitted to reopen the B and B.” Tears tinged her retaliation, gashing Tait’s chest open as if she’d turned on him with the knife. “You’re a maggot, Benson. You kill things in order to feed off of them, and you love it!”

  Pretty boy shook his head as if dealing with a small child. “Red tape troubles shouldn’t be an excuse to call people names. What would Leo say if he were here?”

  “How do you know he’s not? Or was it you who conveniently had the fencing team practice moved to tonight, as well?”

  Benson let the lizard nod have an encore. “I’m not the monste
r you keep assuming, Hokulani.”

  She swallowed so hard that Tait heard it this time. “No? There are three other properties for sale in this area, Gunter, but you’ve targeted Hale Anelas for your new resort. My family home. My only livelihood. The only thing I have left of my parents.”

  “And don’t you think that your parents would want you to be happy? To not have to worry about this place all the time? To provide for Leo and have a simpler life for yourself?” With every question, the man shifted closer to the bottom of the lanai steps though kept his stare fixed on Lani’s position at the top. He gave a small nod to his two henchmen, who motioned the others forward too. “Just let us look around, darling.”

  “I’m not your damn darling.”

  “Hoaloha makamae—”

  “She’s not that either, asshole.” Whatever it was. Tait didn’t need a translation app to comprehend the general tone of the endearment, one the guy took as seriously as the stinking feet Lani had mentioned. He’d had enough of Benson trying to turn his silver tongue into a dagger through her heart, which was clearly tied to the land onto which this fuck-wazzle wanted. Vitalized by a mix of fury and hooch, he stepped past Lani to brace one foot on the landing next to her, the other on the top stair. “And she’s made her point for tonight. So it’s time for you to leave, GQ-la-roo.”

  “What the hell?” Lani flashed a spectacular you’ve-grown-another-head stare. “What—what’s going on?”

  Benson’s plucked brows cinched together. “Shockingly, Miss Kail and I agree on something. What is going on?”

  Lani swung her frown at the man. “They don’t work for you?” Her answer came before she was done. Benson’s shrug said it all. “Then who the hell—”