Du Rose Vendetta E-Book

K T Bowes

• Herausgeber: K T Bowes
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Disappointment. Disagreement. And death.

Just another average day on the mountain with the Du Roses.
But this vendetta is different from the last in subtle ways. The damage is more than just irritating. It's getting serious.

When someone falls from a balcony at the hotel, things take a nasty turn. As Hana starts to unravel the threads of this mystery she finds herself taken. The trouble is, she's got her children with her.

Leseprobe

Du Rose Vendetta

K T Bowes

Published by Hakarimata Press on behalf of K T Bowes©

The Hana Du Rose Mysteries

Book 10

Contents

Join Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Please Help

Other Novels

About the Author

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Glossary

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CHAPTER ONE

Other People’s Dirty Laundry

“She what?” Logan Du Rose squinted at his wife, an expression of surprise lighting his grey eyes from within. “Say that again.”

Hana sighed, wishing she hadn’t started the conversation. Her friend had shared a secret and already Hana felt nausea rising into her throat at betraying her so soon. Four hours, twenty minutes and about five seconds. “Forget it,” she said, pushing her feet beneath the sheets and snuggling into the comfortable bed.

“No way!” Logan snapped his book closed in a motion which made Hana wince. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. A click sounded as Logan whipped off his reading glasses and placed them on the nightstand. He slithered beneath the sheets and propped himself up on one elbow facing her. The corded muscle beneath his shoulder flexed and Hana reached out a finger to trace the tattoo snaking around it. “Start at the beginning,” Logan said, his tone soothing.

“No!” Hana squirmed with discomfort. “She told me in confidence and I shouldn’t have said anything. I promised not to.” She sighed. “But we tell each other everything and I didn’t want to spoil things by keeping a secret, especially one that wasn’t mine.” Her eyelashes fluttered against the pillow and she pouted. “You’d know, anyway. Then we’d get into a vicious cycle of you trying to find out and me struggling to stop you. Before we knew it, we’d argue and then who knows where we’d be.”

Logan smiled, his lips curving upwards in a gentle arc. He reached out his hand and placed it on Hana’s soft cheek. His thumb caressed her lower lip. “And then we’d get divorced and then you’d bury me under the patio and then and then and then. I’m always amazed at how far your surmising goes.” His dark eyelashes fluttered and amusement created crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “What comes after that?”

Hana wrinkled her nose. “We don’t have a patio. And you’re too tall to go under the deck.”

Logan gasped. “Geez wahine! You’ve thought about it.” He jerked backwards and the voile canopy lining the ostentatious four poster bed rustled.

The laugh bubbled up from Hana’s chest and banished the guilt for a moment. The genuine horror in her husband’s expression made her snigger. She only stopped when he shifted onto his back and stared at the twinkling lights overhead. The tiny bulbs emitted an ethereal glow which bathed his olive face and smoothed out the contours. “Sorry.” She forced his arm up and snuggled beneath it, wrapping her legs around his like a koala. “I’ve no plans to bump you off, I promise.”

Logan grunted and closed his eyes and Hana felt chastened. He shook his head and his hair swished against the pillow. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “I can build a patio.”

Hana snorted and jabbed a finger into his ribs, feeling him curl inward and snatch at her hand. She sighed. “Husbands don’t count, do they?” Her voice held an edge of pleading. “I know you won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” Logan concluded. “I won’t.”

Hana sighed. “Libby told me something today and I still feel shocked.” She paused and considered her words. “She’s a mistress.”

Logan’s hair swished against the pillow as he turned his head. “I thought that’s what you said, but assumed I heard wrong. A mistress of what?”

“Of a man. Her boyfriend is married.” Hana shifted onto her stomach so she could gauge his reaction, suspecting it would mirror hers earlier. But Logan’s face remained impassive and he displayed his impressive ability to mask his emotions. “She says their arrangement suits her. They enjoy each other’s company and he goes home to his wife. He doesn’t expect her to take care of his dirty washing or look after him when he’s old and infirm. I looked her in the eye and believe she’s genuinely satisfied.”

Logan twisted his lips and his brow furrowed. “So, it’s just sex. There’s no emotional attachment?”

“She says she loves him very much. They’ve been together five years. They have rules around their relationship. He texts and if it suits Libby, he visits her place. She only texts him in emergencies. They go out for dinner and to the movies like a normal couple. They just make sure they go to Auckland and not Hamilton.”

Logan snorted. “Except they’re not a normal couple. He has a wife.”

“I know.” Hana reached out and fingered the St Christopher around her husband’s neck. The chain slid through her fingers and the fine hairs of his chest tickled her palm. “I was that wife once.”

“You told her that?”

Hana nodded. “Yep. That’s why she came clean. She said she values our friendship and didn’t want to base our relationship on a lie.”

“How did you leave things?” Logan stilled the soft fingers as the chain slithered across his skin. He clasped her hand. “Are you still friends?”

“Yes. Much as I dislike her revelation, I still like her. I feel as though we’d clicked on a deeper level. It’s lonely up here sometimes and she filled a gap. I’d started to rely on her.”

“It’s lonely because you’re married to me?”

“Yeah.” A wistful smile parted Hana’s lips and she placed a gentle kiss against Logan’s muscular shoulder. “You’re a Du Rose and if the local women don’t already work for you, they spend their time lusting after you. It puts a distance between me and most of the women my age. I craved someone with shared life experiences who I could relate to and Libby seemed to fit. I still like her but I’m not sure how to move forward.”

Logan snorted. “So, she doesn’t work for me and doesn’t lust after me.” He scratched his chin and shot Hana a sideways look filled with mischief. “What’s wrong with her?”

Hana released a sigh of exasperation. Logan’s grey irises sparkled with understanding and his expression became serious. He pulled her close. She pressed her face against his downy chest and relaxed, a barrage of thoughts and emotions shifting around in her brain. “Do you want some advice?” His voice held a tenderness only Hana and his children ever heard. Gentle fingers stroked her hair as she nodded. “Base your opinion on her role as a friend. She’s an adult making adult decisions about her life. That need not involve you. If her relationship status bothers you then have that conversation. You can explain you want no part of it but wish to stay friends. If she’s the person you believe she is, she’ll settle for that.”

The tick of a clock filled the silence as Hana pondered Logan’s words. She sighed. “It’s difficult. We’ve been friends for six months without issue and I knew she had a boyfriend, just not the circumstances. It didn’t bother me that she hadn’t introduced us. I value her friendship and the children adore her, but what she’s doing is wrong. There’s another woman somewhere whose heart will break when she finds out.” Hana’s arms snaked around Logan’s trim waist and she placed a kiss against his chest. “But you talk sense sometimes, Mr Du Rose.”

“Do I?” He pulled away so he could gaze at her, his lips quirking upward into a knowing smile. “So, the toy-boy knows a thing or two then?”

Hana snorted. “Don’t throw my age in my face, young man.” She jabbed a crooked finger into his ribs and heard the satisfying sound of him groan as his muscles tightened. He was usually much quicker than her to react. “No night-time privileges for you now.”

“Says who?” Logan threw the sheet over their heads and burrowed them both deeper into the bed. Hana squeaked as strong fingers slid beneath the waistband of her pyjama shorts and coasted across the delicate skin of her hip. His lips found hers in the darkness, tentative and searching. Hana blossomed beneath his attentions and allowed the burden of someone else’s adultery to fade from her list of immediate concerns.

CHAPTER TWO

Raranga

Hana peered at her phone screen and winced. Logan had seemed preoccupied lately. She’d hatched a plan to distract him in the bedroom by taking more control. He checked the credit card every month and she hadn’t wanted him to notice the book title she’d purchased. It meant going to elaborate lengths to send herself a gift card and then download the book. Hana stroked her finger over the screen and jumped as the view changed to a chaste black-and-white image of a couple kissing. “Who knew?” she whispered, fascinated by the graphic description. “Five different sorts of kissing and I have to do all this other stuff at the same time.” She shrugged, thinking of Logan’s lips over hers. The thought sent a coil of desire spinning through her gut. He kissed her with enough skill to turn her into a shivering wreck. She wanted to be able to do the same. Hana increased the font size and scratched her cheek. Her nose almost touched the screen. “Put his legs where?” she breathed, skimming the instructions. Her eyes widened. “Oh my!”

“What are you chuntering about?” The museum curator sounded brusque and Hana jumped and dropped her phone onto the table. A quick sleight of hand sent the screen dark. “Get on with that basket. We’ve got just over a week left until the mid-summer fair. We’re meant to be showcasing Māori skills, not making ourselves look like imbeciles.” He jerked a head towards the mess of wilting flax leaves sprawled on the table and Hana pouted. She picked up the weaving with reluctance and released the clothes peg to pick up where she’d stopped. Her clumsiness betrayed her as a length of flax burst free from her grasp. Unfurling like a green sea creature, its soft pointed end almost speared Will’s eye. He let out a sigh of exasperation and glared at her poor workmanship. “I’ve no legs, Hana,” he snapped, shifting his wheelchair backwards. “And you wanna take my eyeballs too?”

“Sorry!” Hana huffed. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Logan’s lithe legs and the position which the book said she should master to please him in the bedroom. She gathered the flax into her lap and began again, creasing its hardy skin along fresh lines and spreading green sap onto her knuckles. “This isn’t easy,” she grumbled.

“Finished.” Phoenix slapped a perfectly formed rose onto the pile growing in the centre of the table. “Can I go now, please Mama? I don’t want to do this all weekend. Sunday’s almost over and I still want to play.”

Hana stared at the neat green stem and the way the petals formed around a delicate central eye. She sighed and her leaf pinged free again. “Well, that’s just unfair. How do you know how to do this? You’re six.”

“Papa showed me.” Phoenix waggled a dark eyebrow and looked at Hana’s pile with pity. “Just after my third birthday.”

Will snorted and Hana shot him a look filled with barb. She jerked her head towards the other two children sitting at the table, their fingers flying as they created woven masterpieces. “Go,” she sighed. “But stick together and don’t speak to strangers.”

Wiremu Du Rose tied off his last loose end and dropped the kete basket onto the pile. At eight-years-old, he already bore the characteristic Du Rose looks. Stunning grey eyes glittered from an olive face and high cheekbones. He nodded to the other two. “Come on,” he said. “Nonie Leslie promised us a pie. They’re leaving for their mini-break after dinner.”

“Mini-break. Phoenix snorted and enjoyed the taste of the words on her tongue. Mini-break.”

“Wash yer hands!” Will raised his voice. “Horoia ō Ringaringa! Wash your hands unless you want diarrhoea until Christmas.”

Phoenix scrambled down from her chair with a giggle, nudging her brother’s slender arm. His green-eyed gaze met Hana’s across the table top, the harsh wooden edge bisecting an elfin face and shock of auburn hair. She gave him a smile. “Pie.” She mouthed the action of eating to accompany the signed word and he blinked. Pointing at Wiri and Phoenix, she communicated he should stay with them and wash his hands first. Mac Du Rose lifted his chin and Hana watched his lips purse into a thin line. He cocked his head and a slender pink finger pointed to her. “Wiri,” she repeated and the older boy touched his shoulder.

Mac placed his finished rose on the table with exaggerated care. Wiri helped him from the chair and waited while the child ran around to Hana’s side and lifted his face for a kiss. “Stay with Wiri,” she told him and he read her lips and nodded. The slam of the heavy museum doors and the sound of running feet heralded their escape from enforced drudgery and Hana sighed. She yearned to go with them and sample her mother-in-law’s homemade pie. Thoughts of the New Zealand staple of steak and oozing cheese made her mouth water. Will nudged her elbow with his bony arm and jerked his head toward her sorry looking leaf.

“Get a fresh one,” he ordered. “Start again.”

Hana groaned and rested her forehead on the table. “I can’t do it!” she protested. “You’re a rubbish teacher.”

Will’s throaty laugh rumbled through the cavernous room. “White girls!” he breathed, intending it as a veiled insult. But his gnarled hand rubbed Hana’s slumped shoulders in contradiction of his gruff exterior. “Make me a coffee and I’ll let you off for today.” He returned to the complicated weave on the table, removing pegs from the base of his basket. His wheelchair tyres squeaked against the floorboards.

Hana rose and escaped to the thin office behind the museum. The kettle heated while she sank into a swivel chair to wait. The issue with Libby wasn’t settled in her heart but her options were limited. She could fling the usual Christianese at her and walk away, but that wasn’t helpful. She liked Libby as a friend but disliked her life choices. Hana sighed, knowing she wanted to maintain the friendship, but hoping she could ignore Libby’s love life. “Maybe it won’t get raised again,” she whispered. “Perhaps I can forget and just go back to how it was before.”

Will’s unexpected appearance in the doorway made her jump. “Yer man did a good job in here, didn’t he?” he asked, navigating his chair through the widened doorway.

Hana nodded. “You’d never know this whole area used to be a bedroom, bathroom and sitting area.” She tapped the workbench with her hand. “I think Logan’s grandfather used this suite when he became ill.”

Will shook his head. “You know he did, Hana. Stop fluffing. What’s wrong?”

Hana poked her bottom lip out and sighed. “Nothing,” she lied, though her body language said otherwise.

Will turned his chair to fit beneath the work bench and gave her a sideways glance. “As you wish, kōtiro,” he whispered. “As you wish.”

Hana hauled herself into a standing position and gathered mugs and spoons for their drinks. Her hand shook as she poured steaming water onto instant coffee granules. “It’s Mac,” she said, defying the tears which pricked behind her eyelids. “He still can’t hear. The surgery didn’t work.”

Will’s wizened face held sympathy and he took the strong black coffee without comment, setting it before him on the bench. A gentle finger nudged aside a pile of aged family documents extracted from the cavernous attic. “We need to stop eating and drinking in here,” he said with a sigh. “Accidents happen.”

Hana sank into her chair and took a sip of her coffee, wincing at the sudden burn to her lips. “Don’t worry. It’ll be me who ruins something.”

“Oh dear.” Will waggled bushy eyebrows flecked with grey and white. “We are miserable today.”

“How can you say that, after what I just told you?” Hana’s shoulders slumped further as her mind sought to shrink her until she grew small enough to hide from her problems. “My son can’t hear or speak. The surgeon made me so many promises and I believed him. I let him take my child and cut his head open and for what?” The anger in her heart burned worse than the coffee on her tongue, rising and threatening to engulf her if she let it. “The surgeon is my brother’s partner, so he’s practically family. It’s like I’m criticising his work, so it’s personal. But it’s my son’s life we’ve messed around with. For nothing.”

“What does Logan say?”

“Nothing!” Hana spat. “He just coasts along on his glorious Du Rose cloud of greatness and leaves me to worry about the children.”

Will snorted. “Glorious Du Rose cloud of greatness. Can I add that to the list of family quotes?”

“Only if you want your wheelchair tyres popping,” Hana growled. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m sorry, Hana.” Will’s hand trembled as he sipped his drink and she regretted heaping her burdens on his head.

“It’s okay,” she sighed. Jerking her head toward the pile of documents he’d moved aside, she forced herself to brighten. “What are you working on now?”

Will reached out tender fingers and patted the yellowed papers. “Letters belonging to Miriam Du Rose.”

“Logan’s mother? Are they from Reuben?” Hana couldn’t help herself and leaned forwards as though desperate to catch each tentative word.

Will shook his head. “No. From her mother. Recipes and advice, but interesting. Her birth certificate needs digitising if you have time later. Then I can store the original in the safe.”

Hana blew out a breath which ruffled her fringe. “Don’t tell me. Her parents were itinerant sheep shearers called Mr and Mrs Smith from Invercargill and Miriam grew up thinking her name was Du Rose.”

Will swallowed and considered his next words with exaggerated care. He took a sip of his coffee and wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t put sugar in this,” he complained.

Hana’s lips parted in surprise. The protest budded in her chest but didn’t make it free. Diabetes claimed Will’s legs and the warning look in his eyes made her love him more than she already did. Her husband stood in the doorway behind her and every nerve ending tingled from her heels to the tip of her nose. She didn’t need to turn around to know he stood watching her. Hana stilled and made her reply sound calm and collected. “I’ll scan it this afternoon if you don’t mind waiting. Is there anything else you need me to scan while I’m at it?”

“Not yet.” Will blew on his coffee. “I’ll make a pile in the tray, but this is more precious than the other stuff.” He raised an eyebrow and Hana performed a graceful turn on the office chair.

Logan leaned against the door frame with his muscular arms folded across his chest. Hana read the amused twinkle in his grey eyes and felt her cheeks heat, knowing he’d heard the insult to his mother’s parentage and decided not to challenge her. Guilt sent a nasty shiver through her chest and she almost wished he would rebuke her in front of Will as a punishment, but it wasn’t Logan’s style. “Would you like a coffee?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“No thanks.” His strong fingers gripped his cowboy hat and lifted it off his head. His brows furrowed as he stared at the scuffs in the dark leather. “Walk with me?” It emerged as more of an order than a request and Hana’s brow furrowed. She shot a look back at Will and rose, a naughty schoolgirl summoned to the headmaster’s office. Will’s throaty chuckle followed them across the museum and Hana fought the urge to run back and throw something semi-hard at his head.

They crossed the reception area under the scrutiny of the woman behind the desk. Guests milled in the foyer, picking up leaflets and putting them back in the wrong place. Logan stood out in his work clothes, tall, swarthy and worthy of a second glance. His boot heels clicked across the floorboards and Hana jogged to keep up with his long stride. Out in the sunshine he seated his hat back on his head.

“Where are we going?” she demanded. When he didn’t reply she reached out and caught his elbow. “Slow down! I know you heard what I said. I’m sorry. It was rude and tasteless. Just tell me I’m wrong and get it over with.”

Logan’s expression relaxed as he glanced at her fingers clasping his arm and then at her face. “You’re wrong,” he said. “Mama knew who her parents were.”

“Okay, then I apologise.” Hana swallowed at the blankness in Logan’s grey eyes. Impossible to read, he continued to punish her without raising his voice or showing his displeasure.

She blew out a breath and released him, turning on her heel and striding back toward the main house. Her mind ran through a list of quiet places she could hide to lick her wounds and smooth her ruffled feathers. “Oh, no you don’t!” Logan’s head butted her waist as Hana squeaked and rose into the air. Strong hands fixed around her thighs and she found herself facing the back of Logan’s shirt with a frightening image of the gravel driveway moving in and out of view.

“Stop!” A girlish giggle forced itself free and a woman dragging a suitcase towards the stairs stopped to watch. “Everyone’s looking!” Hana hissed.

Logan jerked his head upward in greeting to the woman and gave her a stunning smile. “Hi,” he said, amusement in his voice.

“Is that extra?” the woman joked, pausing a moment more before continuing her journey. Her case bumped up the steps with an unhealthy thud.

“Let me down,” Hana pleaded. “Everyone can see my butt.”

Logan let out a snort of laughter and slapped her upturned bottom encased in jeans. “And a great butt it is, babe.” The sound echoed off nearby buildings and Hana groaned. She wound her fingers into Logan’s shirt and tried to push herself backwards off his shoulder, wasting her efforts as he increased his grip.

“Please let me down,” she begged. “I said I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ll run away,” Logan bit back. “I’ve ridden twenty-five kilometres since the sun rose. Much as I love a good chase, I don’t have the energy.”

“I won’t,” Hana whined. “I promise.”

The second her feet touched the ground she bolted, dodging Logan’s outstretched arms and hearing his grunt of irritation behind her. She held her breath until his footsteps sounded against the gravel before acknowledging she wanted him to chase her. Skirting the stable yard, she dashed into the hay barn and sped away from the wide doors. Shadows engulfed her near the back as she tried to hide behind stacked bales. Panicked mice scuttled from underneath and Hana slid and tripped over spilled hay. Logan caught her half way across, snagging her around the waist and pulling her with him as he fell backwards onto the prickly mattress of stalks and dried grass. A morepork woke in the rafters and gave a worried hoot.

Hana giggled as Logan wrestled her beneath him and pinned her arms. His biceps bulged through his shirt and hay dust stuck to the day-old beard covering his chin. His mocking grey eyes held her gaze as she wriggled against the scratchy mattress. “When are you gonna admit you lost?” His voice sounded tender and he traced a line along her cheek with his index finger. He tilted his body to pin her in place.

A lazy smile crossed Hana’s lips and she studied her husband with feigned coyness, tilting her head like a budding flower. “Who says I lost?” she whispered and saw the grin break out across Logan’s face.

He sighed and his gaze strayed to her mouth. “Well played,” he replied. His lips felt rough against hers and Hana smelled sun cream on his cheeks. He snagged her wrists as though afraid she might run again, but when she struggled, he released them. Hana wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.

“I love you,” she breathed against his skin and felt him relax beneath her touch. Her eyes held a smile and Logan kissed her until his rough beard pinked the soft skin of her chin. Hana’s fingers strayed to his waistband and she pulled on the hem of his shirt until she felt soft flesh.

Something clattered in the stable yard, the sound bouncing off the surrounding ridge and returning as a muted echo. Logan shivered and caught Hana’s fingers. “We have thirty seconds before Rawhiti pushes that wheelbarrow in here,” he whispered.

“You could do it.” Hana giggled at the offended look he gave her and her chest shook with laughter. “Spoilsport,” she complained.

“You’re a bad girl.” Logan pushed himself backwards and sat up. He brushed hay and dust from his clothes.

“Na, you like me bad.” Hana glanced sideways and her lips turned down. “Where’s all the hay and the bags of silage? There’s usually more in here.”

“Hana, I need to talk to you.”

She wrinkled her nose and hauled herself up with less elegance than her husband. Strands of hay poked from her fringe and she retrieved the pieces, crumpling them in her fingers. “What’s wrong?”

Logan heaved out a breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor between his boots. “The developers still want Reuben’s side of the mountain,” he said. “They’re happy to negotiate. My lawyer seems to think they’ll take the block near town and they’ve doubled their offer.”

Hana felt herself withdraw, her emotions thrown into turmoil. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “It’s your decision.”

“It’s our decision, Hana.” Logan’s gaze followed her as she stood to brush strands from her jeans. “We’re partners, remember?”

She jutted her hip out and angled her body in a silent expression of defiance. Her jaw worked in her cheek until it ached, the tender kisses forgotten against the backdrop of pain. “Don’t we need the paddocks for baling?” she snapped. She flapped her arm to encompass the barn. “This looks like we’re running short of hay and silage.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair and avoided the fire in Hana’s green eyes. “No. Everything is fine. We don’t need that land. But do we want to keep it, anyway?”

“Get rid of it.” Hana shook her head and her red hair cascaded around her shoulders. She put a hand up to it, her brow furrowing as she searched for her clip.

“Hana!” Logan sounded sharp. “We need to talk about this. It’s important to me. We don’t inherit the land from our ancestors, we borrow it from our descendants. I need to make a decision that Phoenix and Mac won’t hate me for later.”

“I want no part of this.” Hana backed away until the stacked bales prevented her safe passage. “It’s your land, not mine. JD was your grandfather and he left it to you.” She swallowed and felt the knot of anger forming in her chest. “When Mac’s older and he finds out that man tried to kill him and me, he won’t want it either.” Her voice caught in her throat. “Do what you want with it, but don’t involve me. Sell to the developers or fill it with land mines. I don’t care, Logan.”

Tears blinded her as she fled the barn, the memory of Jack’s calm indifference burned into her psyche. Her mind saw him lift the gun and point it at her new-born and she squeezed her eyes closed against the image. Guilt compounded her misery. Logan had sat on the discussion for days, afraid to broach it with her. She’d seen it in the sideways glances he gave her and the dark cloud hanging over their interactions. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”

“Hana, come back.” Logan managed to throw his voice without shouting, perhaps sensing it would upset her less. Hana turned the corner, glancing back and seeing him standing in the doorway to the barn with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She turned her face away and let the embittered ghost stay between them, just like it had for the past three years.

CHAPTER THREE

An Adventurous Spirit

Hana forced herself into the tight bodice with great difficulty. It prevented her taking full breaths and her breasts spilled over the top like a bar wench from the middle ages. She’d had to fasten the hooks at the front and then spin the whole thing around, which left her breasts still pointing at her left armpit. The cheap thong from a recent trip to Auckland felt like dental floss stuck between her butt cheeks. Hana slumped onto the bed and regretted it, leaping upright at speed. A sheen of sweat dusted her brow and sent her to the bathroom mirror for a last-minute inspection of her make-up. “Two minutes to touchdown,” she murmured after a glance at the bedroom clock. She sighed with frustration. “And I’m knackered already.”

Logan’s truck roared onto the driveway and Hana tensed. She’d planned to meet him at the front door but low self-esteem made her want to hide in the wardrobe instead. She’d put the children to bed and made sure they were sound asleep, but still worried about being caught in the hallway wearing kinky underwear. After their earlier spat over JD’s paddock she needed to make up some ground with her husband, but parading around the house required the covering of a modesty saving dressing gown which ruined the image of lasciviousness. Logan Du Rose’s love languages were extensive and complicated.

Hana gathered her wits and snatched a last minute cram session with her eBook. The written instructions jumbled in her panicked mind and became mixed up. “Should’ve got the one with diagrams!” she groaned, knowing she couldn’t. The children played games on her phone and she’d deliberately picked a sedate looking cover with a couple holding hands and giving each other adoring smiles. Pictures within the text were tasteful close-up images in black and white. Lips. A foot. “I hope it’s a foot,” she breathed, turning the screen off and putting the phone on her bedside table.

The front door slammed and Logan’s footsteps padded along the hallway. Hana assumed a number of sexy vertical poses, abandoning them all at the last minute and clasping her hands behind her back. She looked more like a soldier on parade than a wanton seductress.

“Hey.” Logan pushed the door open and froze. His dark windswept hair gave him a superhero appearance and his handsome features settled into a look of curiosity. Hana gulped as his gaze stroked her body from head to toe and he cocked his head to one side. His lips pursed, but he said nothing, passing through the door and closing it with his heel. Hana tensed, seeing the familiar glint catch fire behind his eyes. She didn’t want him to ambush her moment and take control, though the temptation hovered in front of her like a security blanket. She forced steel into her spine and straightened her shoulders. Her left breast spilled over the top of her bodice as though making a break for it.

Logan took a step towards her and his eyes narrowed. His left hand reached for the buttons of his shirt, scrabbling at the top one. Hana breathed in the overwhelming power of Logan Du Rose and realised exercising control over her incredible husband would be like holding the tide back with her hands. She swallowed and took a fortifying, but shuddering breath.

“Let me.” She met him halfway across the bedroom. The lust in his granite irises sent darts of weakness into her thighs. She reached for his remaining buttons and batted his eager fingers away with her hip as they strayed towards the skimpy thong. “Behave,” she warned, injecting authority into her tone. The buttons resisted her shaking fingers and joined the conspiracy against her. “Bugger!” she hissed. She tugged in frustration and two of them popped off the shirt and skittered across the floorboards. Logan blinked and his pupils dilated enough to obscure his grey irises. Time stopped and Hana felt the advantage crawling away from her. Temper flared in her breast and she gripped both sides of the fabric and wrenched the shirt open. The remaining buttons shot in several directions and Logan’s lips parted. Still, he said nothing and Hana hauled tomorrow’s darning over his shoulders. None of that was in the book.

He helped her with his white tee shirt, lifting it over his head and revealing defined pectorals and abdominal muscles worthy of a photographic opportunity. Only the myriad scars from his childhood marred the image. Hana squeaked as Logan dipped his body and lifted her. Still battling for control, she resisted his move to put her over his shoulder and wrapped her legs around his waist. His belt buckle dug into her thigh and she pushed her fingers through his wavy hair and clamped her lips over his neck. The need to embrace five different sorts of kissing spun through her head as she sucked on the tender flesh. Logan groaned and slipped a finger between the string of her thong and her skin and the cheap material made a ripping sound. The elastic whacked her across the butt as it twanged and she bit Logan’s neck too hard.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes widening at the blossoming hickey under his jaw line. The haemophilia took hold and the mark seemed to grow before her eyes. Her hesitation tripped her up and in a split second, Logan seized the advantage, tipping them both backwards onto the bed.

Hana’s foot hit the bedside table and she heard her phone thud onto the rug. Logan seemed happy with one sort of kissing and in his strong arms, everything else went out of Hana’s head.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sand Houses

After another day of floppy flax baskets and a table runner which Will scoffed at, Hana felt ready to quit raranga for life. Logan was pressing her for an answer about the developers’ offer and she couldn’t decide without thinking of Jack and the ease with which he’d wanted to destroy her. The school run gave her time to regroup and she lifted Mac from his car seat outside the school gates after picking him up from the nursery. He patted her cheek to get her attention and made his sign for Phoenix; a butterfly motion with his fingers which suited his sister’s sunny nature and perpetual motion. Hana shook her head. “No, baby. She’s going to play at a friend’s house tonight. We’ll get Wiri now and then fetch Phoe later.” Mac cocked his head and jabbed a finger at the school building behind the imposing fence. Hana set him down on the ground and signed her sentence instead. Mac’s eyes flickered with understanding and then his nose wrinkled as though he knew something Hana didn’t.

“Hey, how are you?” A clatter of high heels preceded the question and Hana whipped around, rewarded by a waft of strong hair spray.

“Fine, thanks.” She pursed her lips to avoid further intoxication. There seemed no point repeating the greeting as the woman’s question appeared rhetorical. Hana sensed if she dived into a litany of her most pressing issues, the newcomer would find someone else to talk to.

“Is Phoebe still coming round to play?” Manicured fingernails pushed an imaginary strand of glossy blonde hair away from decorated lips full enough to float a lifeboat.

“Phoenix.” Hana gripped Mac’s fingers with one hand and pushed the other deep into her jeans pocket to stop the woman seeing her ratty nails. “Yes, please.”

“Such a dear little name. Jordan’s quite taken with her. It’s difficult moving into a new town, isn’t it?” The woman dragged her feet and the sharp heels ground against the concrete pavement. “The friendship groups are a mine field filled with drama.”

“Yes.” Hana forced herself to adopt a more sympathetic guise. She’d spent time in the company of loneliness and the black cloud of depression. With an effort of will, she pushed the knotty issue of JD’s paddock into the locked box in her mind and plastered a smile onto her face. “How are you settling?” she asked. “It’s a small town but growing. You’ll find your spot.” Her mouth worked as her brain tried to dredge up the woman’s name. They’d exchanged pleasantries a few times since the start of term and phone numbers when they arranged the play date. Hana contemplated dragging her phone from her back pocket and scrolling through for a clue, but didn’t want to appear rude. She’d asked around and found out a little about the family before agreeing. Phoenix seemed keen to go. “I’ll pick her up at six. You live in the new subdivision behind the school playing field, don’t you?” The woman nodded and her full lips parted in answer.

“Gina!” A sing-song voice echoed off the building and more heels clattered towards them. Hana cringed at the sight of another new mother, not liking her but grateful for her provision of Gina’s name.

“Hi, Louise.” Gina’s face brightened and her lips parted in a smile wide enough to reveal a diamond glittering on her left front tooth. The women oozed money in the kind of superficial, glitzy way Logan despised. Hana enjoyed the fleeting thought that he could probably buy and sell both their assets before breakfast without making a dent in his sizable fortune. And he’d do it in dusty cowboy boots with hay in his hair and dirt under his fingernails. She sobered at the reminder of their earlier dispute. JD’s influence stretched its destructive fingers over her heart and she resisted, forcing herself back into the moment.

“Hi.” Hana stood her ground in the tsunami of perfume washing over her. The women’s mingled scents seemed to create a cloud which engulfed them in an untouchable bubble. Standing taller in their stilettos, they dwarfed Hana and Mac, gathering in a circle which excluded the other adults arriving to retrieve their children. Louise observed Hana with an expression like a slapped backside. Gina appeared impervious as she babbled about the weather and Auckland traffic.

“I don’t miss it.” She wrinkled a neat nose almost too perfect in its proportions. “I wanted my roots touching up again and couldn’t leave it much longer.”

Louise snorted. “I wouldn’t trust my roots to the local salon. Anyone getting work done there wants their head testing. Talk about a leap back in time, you’ll walk out looking like an escapee from the nineties.”

Hana pursed her lips and held her breath. Betty had cut her hair the previous week, thinning out the fluffier layers and neatening the ends. She resisted raising a hand in self-conscious appraisal. Logan had told her it looked sexy as he ran his fingers through it and nibbled her neck. He didn’t lie when she asked him if things looked okay. But then he’d seemed more distant lately. Hana opened her mouth to defend Betty’s hairdressing skills and Louise interjected again. “My husband expects me to travel into the city. It’s part of the deal with moving out to this hick town. He promised me the perks of Auckland if I came with him.”

Gina’s face took on a peculiar, tight expression and Hana watched her cheeks flush. She glanced sideways at Hana and then widened her eyes at Louise, as though issuing a silent plea for the other woman to stop disrespecting the locals. Despite herself, Hana’s hand strayed to her hair and she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Mac studied her with interest as though he understood the scene on a much deeper level, his deafness enhancing his other senses and giving him a unique perspective.

Spotting someone else she wanted to speak to, Louise gave a regal wave and clacked across the pavement towards her next victim. Gina pursed her lips. “Sorry. She’s not as bad as she seems. Just tactless.” The jewel flashed on her front tooth again.

“You knew her before you moved here?” Hana relaxed, stroking her son’s auburn hair as his keen eyes studied a flitting butterfly.

“Yes.” Gina blew out a breath. “My husband and her ex work together.”

“Hi girls.” An arm slid around Hana’s shoulders and she felt the tension ebb from her body. Libby’s voice held a soothing quality which brought peace. She gave Hana a sideways hug before releasing her. Gina flashed her diamond smile in response and Libby showed no sign of being either impressed or disinterested. Her face remained schooled into its impassive guise, a serene smile fixed on her lips.

“Hey.” Hana glanced down at the neat body encased in Yoga gear and nodded. “How was your class?”

“Great.” Libby clasped her hands in front of her and arched her spine into a gentle curve. She released it with a sigh of satisfaction, not a spare gram of fat anywhere to be seen. Tossing her long blonde ponytail, she grinned at Hana. “You should come.”

Hana looked down at her dusty boots and the flax stains on her jeans. “Will’s keeping me a prisoner in the museum. The stock men have built a fake town based on original drawings from the first Du Rose settlers and they’re creating a Māori pa next to it. Will’s responsible for designing the buildings and he’s gone overboard with the number of baskets he wants.” Hana sighed at the memory of the growing pile of weaving stacked in the corner of the museum. “That’s not forgetting woven place mats, woven rugs, woven wall hangings and woven bunches of flax roses. He’s using old documents to find out what they used. He’s in his element, but I’m currently his slave.”

Libby laughed and Gina gave them both an odd look. Hana identified it as a frown in the seconds which followed, but Botox had rendered the woman’s forehead immobile. “How’s it going?” Libby asked. “I’d always liked the idea of flax weaving but never got the opportunity.”

Hana snorted. “Please feel free to pitch in anytime. I think Will’s sick of my wonky attempts. He says I’m reducing his cultural heritage to dust.”

Gina’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, do you own that hotel in the mountains?” She lowered her voice and confusion crept into her tone, though her wooden features remained blank like the mask of a doll.

“Yes.” Dread snaked through Hana’s heart though she couldn’t identify the source. She tried so hard to fit into the local scene and feel included in the thriving community. The label of Mrs Du Rose possessed the ability to segregate her from their warmth like a bucket of cold water. She swallowed. “But we don’t live at the hotel anymore. My husband built a house higher up the mountain.” She glanced sideways at Libby but received only an encouraging smile. Wisdom told her to stay out of it and not muddy their friendship with Hana’s latest round of self-defeatist thinking.

“Ohhh.” Gina drew the sound out before taking a step closer to Hana. She invaded her personal space until the urge to take a step backwards became overwhelming. Hana glanced down to find her son staring at her, looking for her reaction so he’d know what to think. Gina lowered her voice. “I didn’t realise you lived there. Louise insisted I get the girls together. We planned to have a play date at her place, but her ex-husband’s knocking a wall out to build a conservatory.”

“Girls?” Hana held her breath and dreaded the answer.

Gina’s head bobbed like a nodding doll. “Yes. Phoebe, Jordan and Holly.”

“Phoenix.” Hana made the correction while her brain scrambled for answers. Her heart sank. Libby gave her a look of sympathy and squeezed her arm above the elbow, offering physical comfort without getting involved. Holly had split Phoenix’s lip on the first day of term over ownership of a crayon. It had been smoothed over as an accident but subsequent verbal and physical digs left Hana concerned enough to visit the teacher. The investigation was allegedly still ongoing.

Libby released Hana’s arm as a little boy cannoned into her stomach. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned down to kiss his hair. “Good day, sweetie?” she asked. He nodded up at her, sparkling blue eyes showing his pleasure at finding her waiting in the usual spot.

“Hey, Darren.” Hana gave him a wave before scanning the crowd for her own children. She spied Wiri’s dark head bobbing through the throng towards her. He cut through like a silent juggernaut, a couple of smaller boys swimming free in his wake. “Phoe’s coming,” he announced as he reached her. He stood on tiptoes and pursed his lips for a kiss, unashamed of his need for emotional affirmation from his chosen mother figure, even in public. He’d learned from Logan not to care about what other people thought. Hana envied them their determined oblivion. Gina glanced sideways at Wiri’s greeting with Mac. The older boy ruffled the ginger curls and slipped an arm around Mac’s slender shoulders. They shared a brief second of connection that said more than words.

Chaos interrupted the sweetness in the shape of two girls from Phoenix’s class. Sassy and filled with indignation, they barrelled towards Gina with library bags flowing and scowls already set on their faces. Gina dipped at the waist and pursed her lips ready for Jordan’s arrival. The lanky, dark-haired girl ignored her maternal overtures. “She’s not coming,” she stated. She placed one hand on her hip as though preparing to perform a complicated ballet move, the other clasped the fingers of the blonde girl she’d towed behind her. “Holly’s coming by herself.”

“Oh.” Gina swallowed and glanced towards Hana. “We thought Phoebe wanted to play at our house.”

Hana’s brow furrowed and she corrected the expression after looking at Gina’s smooth forehead. Already older than most of the other mothers, she blinked away the momentary fear that she’d be mistaken as someone’s granny. The thought offered no comfort. She was a granny. Jas and Hope’s granny. A growl of frustration escaped her throat and she narrowed her eyes at Wiri. “Did you see Phoe today, Wiri? What’s going on?”

Wiri gave her a sage look filled with unspoken wisdom. He cocked his head to one side and raised his left eyebrow in reprimand, as though wondering why Hana would ask such a question. He jerked his head towards the blonde girl behind Jordan and Hana’s heart sank. She scanned the swirling mass of bodies and saw her daughter stalking towards her with a face like thunder. Her grey eyes had changed to the colour of slate and she channelled latent fury. When she spotted Jordan and Holly, she gripped her stomach with her free hand in a display of academy award acting.

“She’s got a belly-ache.” Wiri backed up the ruse which told Hana he knew of Holly’s gate crashing of Phoenix and Jordan’s play date. She suspected they’d got together during the day and discussed it, despite Wiri’s love of soccer during his lunch break.

Hana disliked the lie but had grown to dislike Holly more. She decided to speak to the teacher again about the low key bullying. Her daughter folded into Mac and Wiri’s tight embrace without breaking step. Hana sighed and dredged up a sincere smile for Gina. “I’m sorry. She can come another time. There’s a bug going around and you wouldn’t want to catch it.”

Gina’s eyes widened at the veiled suggestion of vomiting and diarrhoea and accepted Hana’s apology with haste. “It’s fine,” she urged, patting the top of Phoenix’s head as the child nestled into Wiri’s chest. “Another time, Phoebe. Hope you get better soon.” She turned on her heel and strode towards Louise and a static group of other women wearing designer clothing.

Libby raised an eyebrow at Hana and she shrugged in return and shook her head. Holly spun around to follow Gina, but Jordan made doe eyes at Wiri and fluttered her lashes. “Hi Wiremu,” she said. Her cheeks flushed pink as his grey-eyed gaze settled on her face.

“Hi.” His tone sounded flat and disinterested. Phoenix peered sideways and Hana watched her jaw flex. Her daughter’s eyes narrowed and she gave a low snort of disgust, enough like a snarl to act as a warning. Tiny fingers gripped Wiri’s polo shirt until she’d tugged it askew and when his arm tightened around her shoulders, a look of predatory victory turned her eyes into gleaming dark coals. Hana gulped, recognising the sight of pure Du Rose possession when she saw it. Phoenix mirrored her father’s tight rein on the things he held dear and it prophesied impending doom heavier than any of them could bear.

Hana let out a breath of exasperation, waved to Libby and walked the children across the busy road to the truck. “We need to talk,” she said to Phoenix in a low voice as she leaned across her to belt Mac into his car seat.

“Thought you might say that,” Phoenix murmured.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Bad Penny

Logan flipped the last burger on the barbecue and smiled at Hana. “This is nice, isn’t it?” he said.

“Perfect.” She slipped an arm around his waist and gazed across the horizon. The Tasman Sea stretched out before them like a tablecloth. Wiri’s giggles reached them from the tree line as he and Phoenix engaged in a game of hide and seek. Not understanding the point of the game, Mac snoozed underneath the wooden table still waiting for someone to find him. Hana smiled and kissed her husband’s firm biceps. Home-grown steak and sausages stayed warm in a tray above the flames and Logan prodded the burgers one at a time. He hadn’t mentioned JD’s paddock again and she hoped he wouldn’t. She didn’t want to think about Jacob Du Rose or his cursed legacy near the township. Her talk with Phoenix went nowhere. She’d still claimed her stomach hurt, but her squeal of delight betrayed the lie as Wiri found her hiding place behind a wide totara trunk. Hana frowned at an empty space on the deck. “Did you move some of my plant pots?”

“Nope. Food’s almost ready,” Logan announced. Glancing across at his sleeping son, he waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe wake Mac before the others stampede around his head.”

Hana nodded and stepped up onto the wooden deck. The vibration of her footsteps caused her son’s eyes to pop open. Pink-cheeked and bonny, he gave her a beautiful smile. “Dinner time, Macky.” Hana lifted her right hand and made the fingers and thumb into the shape of a beak. She tapped her lips and he repeated the action with a lazy, sleep fogged hand. “Come.” Hana held her hand out and he rolled onto his stomach and crawled out from beneath the table. Logan appeared around the side of the house with the other two. Phoenix rode on Wiri’s back and made a clicking noise with her tongue. Turning aside from Hana, Mac held his arms out to Wiri and the boy stamped up onto the deck with heavy footsteps. Phoenix slid down his back and landed with the finesse of a ballerina. She bore Logan’s natural grace and Hana frowned. She needed to get to the bottom of the Holly issue and soon. Wiri squatted down and Mac scrambled up his back like a monkey. After two circuits of the table, he tipped the boy onto the bench and squeezed in next to him.

Three pairs of wide eyes watched Logan’s progress from the barbecue to the table, carrying his tray laden with meat. “I’ll turn the grill off,” he said, setting the tray next to a bowl filled with open bread rolls.

Like the central pivot in a fine mechanism, Wiri held his hands out either side of him. Phoenix ceased clapping her excitement at the sight of the feast and grabbed his right hand. Wiri tapped Mac’s leg and the little boy slipped his tiny hand into the offered palm.

“Pray, Papa!” Phoenix demanded and Logan twisted knobs on the barbecue and hurried back. His long legs stepped onto the deck without using the stairs and he clasped his daughter’s hand in his. Hana remained standing and reached both Mac and her husband by stretching across the table. She wrinkled her nose as a wasp buzzed near the salad. Logan closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Ki taku whānau, me nga hua, me te kai, kia ora.” He tried to release Phoenix’s hand, but she held on with determination and translated the prayer.

“For our family, friends and food, we say thank you.” Her eyes blinked open and she smiled at Hana. “For Mama,” she said and gave a beatific smile.

“Thanks.” Hana felt abandoned as Mac let go of her fingers and knelt up on the bench to reach a bread roll. A tick of sadness began in her chest at the isolation created by the language barrier. She’d tried to learn Māori, listening to the children’s bilingual conversations and staring at their picture books. Words and phrases stuck, but nothing enabling her to have a conversation in Logan’s native tongue. He squeezed her fingers as though reading her mind and then let go. Hana watched her son slapping sausages into the mouth of his bread roll and felt a kinship with him outside of maternalism. They were both cripples in communication but for different reasons.

“Ka pai, Macky.” Wiri gave Mac a beaming smile and praised his skill with the hefty sandwich disappearing between rosebud lips. Mac nodded and a sausage tumbled onto his plate. He rolled his green eyes in exaggerated annoyance and Wiri grinned, a complicit bystander in the battle between tiny fingers and hungry mouth.

“Papa, can we play guitar after dinner?” Phoenix asked. “I need to learn if I’m gonna be a lady vicar when I grow up.”

“What?” Logan’s eyes widened and he halted in the act of loading a slab of steak onto his plate. His fork poised mid-air and sunshine glinted off its prongs. The horror on his face cheered Hana a little. Her miniature evangelist adored everything about Sunday school and God, challenging her father’s upbringing and beliefs with a skip and a smile. The wise kaumātua of the local marae had assured her it would work out okay and the two could coexist. He’d patted her hand and smiled, living proof of the fact. Especially as his grandson served as the local vicar.

Logan frowned. “The guitar is broken. I’m getting the strings replaced. They keep snapping. There’s a place in Auckland who reckon they can fix it up for me. I put it in the back of my truck ready for when I go up there next.”

“Okay. But please can you be quick?” Phoenix flapped her elbows like a duck. “I’m learning guitar so I can play in church, then I’m getting me long flowing robes for vicaring. And wings.”

“Cool.” Logan relaxed and sat on the bench next to Hana. She swallowed her disappointment at the evangelist’s moment of confusion.

“It’s a hood.” Wiri prodded Phoenix in the back and she lurched forward. “On Sam’s robes. A hood.”

“Isn’t!” Phoenix’s eyes widened to complete the picture of utter horror. “It’s wings.” Her outrage carried across the table and Hana looked down at her empty plate to avoid being dragged into the debate. She reached over for the salad and scooped lettuce with the tongs.

“Ooh, a burndy one.” Wiri snagged a blackened sausage with his fork and waggled it in front of Phoenix’s face as a peace offering. She paused a second to make him suffer and then accepted his gift with mumbled thanks.

“Is wings,” she whispered and Wiri smirked and ignored her.

Hana lifted her cutlery and glanced around the table at her perfect family and their perfect home. She tensed as though a sixth sense told her she wouldn’t get to enjoy it for long.

“This looks cozy.” Footsteps accompanied the voice and long legs brought the speaker around the corner of the house and onto the deck. Dark tousled hair hung over his right eye and even, white teeth clamped his lower lip in a look of pure enjoyment. Grey eyes glinted in a once handsome face and Hana shrank back from the look of malice she recognised there. He turned his body to face Logan, not giving him ample time to disguise his dismay. “Hey, bro’,” he said with a mischievous chuckle.

CHAPTER SIX

Animosity

“Get out.” Logan rose and dropped his cutlery with a clang. His fork landed without hitting the plate and bounced over the edge of the table.

Kane Du Rose dug his hands in his pockets and Hana couldn’t decide if it portrayed peace or nonchalance. He’d lost weight and his jeans hung off him. He swept his gaze around the table and settled on Phoenix. “Nice family,” he commented. He gave her a wink and Hana’s daughter glanced at her father and pursed her lips. Only Mac continued battling his giant sandwich in happy oblivion.