“Hone. Stand down. Stand down, damn it.”
The growl of temper in Manu, the compulsion from a leader pierced Hone’s rage. The human part of him wrested back control. With a harsh breath, he straightened, released his grip. Manu’s nose spurted blood. He suffered aches himself, his cheekbone smarting where his cousin had struck a lucky blow. He shook the sluggishness from his brain. The coffee table sat on its side and several bottles littered the floor. The scent of beer accompanied the coppery tang of blood. A chair—no, make that two—required repairs.
Manu folded his arms, that irritating mocking to the fore again. “Cassie?”
Hone growled at both his cousin and the situation they’d created. Explanations. Crap. He swung to survey the kitchen and dining area, visible due to the open plan layout of the room. Long strides took him on a quick tour of the rest of his home, but his nose told him the truth.
She’d left.
“She doesn’t have a vehicle.” Manu tipped back his head to stem his nose bleed. “Maybe she took yours.”
“You told me you weren’t interested in her.”
“I might have changed my mind.”
Hone’s taniwha snarled, low and mean and menacing. To hell with Manu’s status as tribe heir. Cassie belonged with him. Him. Not his cousin.
“All right. All right.” Manu held up his hands in surrender, despite the power radiating from his watchful gaze. “I like her. It’s true, but my taniwha isn’t driving me like yours.”
Tension eased from Hone, allowing him to breathe. “She’s not your potential mate?”
“No. You’d better go after her.”
“Why are you here? Did you realize Cassie was alone?”
“I wanted you to help me with more tests. Cassie’s presence was a lucky break. She’s good company. I like her,” Manu repeated. “There’s no pretense. She doesn’t flirt or giggle or act coy. She’s different from other women.”
“Stay away from her.” Fury gripped Hone’s throat, obstructed his breathing. Anger at his cousin. Frustration at himself because he couldn’t decide what to do when it came to Cassie. Not that it mattered. He’d probably blown any chance with her. “Straighten the furniture. I’ll find her. Give her a lift to the motel.” Hone stomped outside. Ground-eating strides took him to his vehicle, parked haphazardly in the driveway, driver’s door still open because his taniwha had snatched control from the second he’d glimpsed Manu’s vehicle. He patted his pockets, coming up empty. Ah, the keys were in the ignition.
He zapped from the driveway, scrutinized the road to the left, to the right. No Cassie. For all he knew, she’d called a cab.
Where the hell was his phone? He slapped his pockets with one hand, came up empty. Where had he left it?
Right. He’d try right. If he didn’t find her, he’d wait at the motel, hopefully under Auntie June’s radar. He scanned the footpaths, the bus stops, the road as he drove.
He didn’t see Cassie.
He reached the motel and pulled into a guest parking spot. His phone rang. He located it under the passenger seat. “Yeah.”
“Is that the way you answer your phone with customers?” Manu asked.
“The call identity came up with Dickhead.”
“Ouch.” Manu snorted. “Good one, cuz. Did you find her?”
“Not yet. I’m at the motel.”
“Ma is home today.”
“That makes things easier.”
Manu’s chuckle riled Hone’s taniwha. A growl emerged, harsh enough to sear his throat.
Manu ceased with his hilarity. “Ma has spies.”
“Who?” Hone scanned the motel forecourt. The cleaners had finished for the day.
“Haven’t sussed that out yet. I’ll tell you the second I discover the traitor’s identity.”
God, where was she? He scanned the road, releasing a pent-up breath when she came into sight. “I see Cassie.”
“Good luck.”
Hone’s irritated rumble filled his vehicle. “You don’t mean that. You like Cassie.”
“She deserves better than you.”
Hone grunted. “She could do better than you too, Dickhead.”
“Just remember, cuz. You screw up, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
Hone hit end call and shoved his phone in his pocket. He wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her, beg her forgiveness. Instead, he waited until she unlocked her door and entered her motel room. His breath eased out in a husky sigh. A good man would leave her alone, get back to his rules.
No one had ever called him a good man.
Cassie unpacked the ice cream, the chocolate, the bottle of wine. Classic he-done-me-wrong cures, purchased at the local shop, on the fast walk back to her motel. The bunch of bananas added the fruit component. Sort of healthy. Maybe the treats would calm her disquiet. She’d spent the entire hike glancing over her shoulder, looking for goodness knows what, but her skin had itched something fierce, as if someone was spying on her.
The freezer door slammed, the back of her eyes stung.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
The friggin’ truth. Her judgment ran amuck when it came to men. They’d been fighting. Fighting. And she had no idea why. The pair had spoken in code, no decipherable meaning to their cryptic man-speak. Oh, she’d understood some, but the context. The context escaped her translation.
A tap on her door had her swinging around. She stomped over and flung it open wide.
“You.” She glowered at Hone. His right cheekbone bore a cut. A red splotch discolored his jaw. “What do you want?”
Hone swallowed, his usual lightheartedness absent. His hands fisted at his sides, and the sleeve of his black T-shirt gaped open to display his biceps. A faint growl came from him, and he gritted his teeth, sucked in a breath. “I’ve come to apologize.”
“I’m on holiday. I don’t have to put up with stupid cavemen males.” Normally, Cassie tiptoed around confrontation, preferring a head-in-the-sand approach rather than a skirmish. The dinner-tipping moment with Kevin had been her turning point.
“You’re right. I don’t normally behave like that. Manu was being a smart-arse.”
Her brows lifted.
“And I wasn’t far behind,” he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the confession. “Can I come in?”
Cassie noticed June Taniwha standing outside the motel office, regarding them with hands on her hips. She gestured Hone inside and glimpsed June’s fierce frown. “Your auntie is scowling at us.”
“What? Manu said she was at home. Crap, she’s convinced I’m moving in on her son’s girl. Quick, shut the door.”
She complied and moved past the kitchenette to stand by the brown couch. “Manu and I are friends.”
“I know. He told me. Twice.”
“Did it take that long to get through your thick head?” The snide question hovered between them, and Cassie’s face heated. “Sorry. That was mean.”
“No more than I deserve. Look, I came to apologize. I saw you and Manu, cozy and happy. Jealousy got me. I reacted before my brain kicked into gear.”
“Manu and I are friends. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Obviously a few more.” Hone grimaced, his wry smile brittle at the edges. Tentative, as if he feared this conversational outcome. “Would you have dinner with me? Tomorrow night?”
“A date?”
“Yeah.” He watched her with laser-intense regard, waiting for her decision.
“I…okay.” Cassie had no idea what had come over her. A breathlessness, yet her pulse raced. A smidge of trepidation, but mostly excitement—an impulse to jiggle her hips in a celebration dance. This gorgeous man had asked her out for dinner. “What time?”
“Seven? I’ll pick you up.”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay. Good.” Hone shuffled his feet, his gaze not settling. “I’d better go. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” He made his escape, almost running to his vehicle. He lifted a hand in farewell and sped from the parking lot.
Cassie waved goodbye. The man acted as if he were torn about the idea. Weird. She could ask Emma—no. Emma had warned her about Hone, and here she was, stepping out on a date. She’d take things slow, enjoy the getting-to-know details. Keep her heart protected. Have fun. Everyone should spice their lives with fun.
Her phone buzzed, and she shut the door before checking the text.
Shopping tonight? L8 night at mall.
She rang Emma. “I need Katie-Jo outfits. Will the mall have something suitable?”
“You told me you were on holiday.”
“Kevin rang with an offer of two shows for the vineyard tour. One of the acts canceled due to illness, and they needed a last minute replacement. It will give me a chance to sing my new material, so I agreed.”
“Don’t you wear a wig for your act?” Emma asked.
“Yeah, I’ll have to buy one.”
“Sounds like fun. You want me to pick you up?”
“Yes, please. I still don’t have a vehicle.”
“Sorry, I forgot. It’s been a weird day. Are you feeling up to going shopping?”
“I not only have inclination to shop, but I’ll spring for dinner.”
A brisk knock sounded on the door. “Gotta go, Emma. Someone at the door.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Cassie slipped the phone in her pocket and answered the summons.
“What was Hone doing here? I thought you were going out with my son.”
Cassie blinked at the steely disapproval emanating from June Taniwha. “I was in an accident earlier today. Hone came to pick me up because Emma and Jack were busy. I left my phone in his car.” She wasn’t sure why she tacked the lie on the end of her speech, but it seemed to appease June.
“I wondered where you’d left your vehicle.”
“I have to ring about a replacement,” Cassie said and pulled out her phone in a subtle hint for June to leave. Those eyes of hers were freaky.
“Manu will help you if you ask.”
“Yes, thank you. I saw him today.”
June’s instant smile dazzled. “I’ll let you get on with your call. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Thank you for dinner last night.” Eyes. Still creepy.
“You’re welcome, dear.” June patted her arm and left her alone.
Well, that was weird. Alone in her room, Cassie scowled, tapped the top of the couch in a one-two, one-two beat. Should she seek Emma’s advice? Or at least tell Manu his mother was acting strange about her spending time with Hone. Yeah. Nah. She’d let life happen, go with what felt right.
The shopping excursion—a huge success. Thanks to Emma’s brilliant suggestion, she now owned a bright pink wig to wear with jeans and sparkly tops. Instead of her trademark cowboy boots, she’d purchased two pairs of pink shoes. One with chunky heels. One with spiky. She’d still appear like Katie-Jo instead of plain Cassie Miller-Pope, but she’d sport an edgy look to match her new, upbeat songs.
“Where do you want me to put these bags?” Emma asked.
“Dump them on the table and I’ll unpack them later. Want a drink?”
“No, I’d better head home before Jack sends out a search party. Thanks for the invitation. It was fun. Is there any chance of getting tickets to go your show? I’d love to see you live.”
“I’ll try,” Cassie promised. “Will Jack keep my secret?”
“Jack is excellent at secrets.”
“Wait to see if I can score tickets before you tell him, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Emma hugged Cassie. “Thank you.”
Cassie winced, and Emma released her at once.
“You sore?”
“A little. I’ll take a hot shower and pain killers before I go to bed. That should help. Busy day tomorrow. I want to do more painting, rehearse for the first show and pick up my replacement rental car. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I met my neighbor this morning. He seems nice.”
“Dateable?”
“A businessman. A little buttoned-up for me. I have a weakness for the bad boys. Always my downfall.”
Emma chortled and patted her shoulder in commiseration. “At least you know they’re bad. See you tomorrow.”
Cassie locked the door after her friend. She padded to the tiny bathroom, deciding to remove her makeup and have an early night.
Five minutes later, she stepped from the hot shower. The whiny fan wasn’t coping with the surplus steam, so she opened the frosted-glass window above the vanity unit. It bore a security lock and opened a scant five inches. Music, something about bringing on the clowns drifted on the air. She shivered and drew her towel around her naked form. A creepy song about creepy beings.
Without warning, a gloved hand shot through the window gap.
A white hand.
Cassie screamed and lurched backward. Her spine hit the shower stall. The door vibrated with the force of her weight.
“Send in the clowns,” a voice rasped.
Clammy fear slithered down Cassie’s spine. A whimper broke free. The strange voice, the tone of the words worked on her psyche like fingernails on a blackboard. “G-go away. I-I’m calling the police.”
A face pressed close to the gap. A white face. A red button nose.
Cassie’s legs quaked. The clown chuckled. Maniacal. Cray-crazy. She moaned, edged toward the door. Her phone. She had to get her phone. The door was locked. He’d have to break a window, the door, something to gain entry.
“Where ya gone, girlie? Just acting friendly. Where ya be?”
Cassie’s breaths came in harsh pants, her fingers quivering as she reached for her phone. Her fingers shook so much, she misdialed once before she rang 111.
“111 emergency, fire, ambulance or police?”
“Police. Please, I need the police,” Cassie gasped out.
Immediately, a tone sounded in her ear. Her gaze darted toward the bathroom, she cocked her head to listen.
“This is the police. How can I help you?” a calm feminine voice asked.
“Someone is trying to break in to my motel room.”
“What is your address?”
“167 Great South Road, Papakura. The Montville motel.” She cried out. Cringed as the notes of the clown song blasting loud. “Oh, heck.”
“What is happening? Are you safe?”
“He’s playing a creepy clown song.” Great. Now her voice shook in concert with her limbs.
“Are you safe?” the woman repeated.
“T-the doors are locked.”
“Is he still there?
“I d-don’t k-know. All I can hear is the creepy clown music.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, faint at first but coming closer and closer, eventually drowning out the disturbing music.
A vehicle pulled up outside, blue lights, red lights flashing.
“I-I think the police are here.”
“Don’t open the door until they identify themselves.”
“’Kay.”
A knock rattled the wooden door. “Police.”
Quick steps took her to the window to double-check. Yep, the friendly neighborhood police. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Relief solidified her knees, cleared her mind, allowed her to calm, to breathe.
“It’s them.” She answered the summons, despite wearing nothing more than a damp towel.
One male and a female policeman displayed their identification. “You reported an intruder?”