Disclaimers: all things Raven are not mine. Not for profit, just for some good angsty fun.
time: c. 1996
place: hawaii
spoilers: not this time.
rating: PG-14; Romance.
Kissing Cousins?
© 2000, dragon
Part One
It was a miserable wet day. It was as miserable a wet day as it can get in Hawaii where moisture is the norm and rain is frequent. It wasn't a typhoon, it was just one of those incessant, penetrating rains that soaks everything and then continues to keep things wet.
Jonathan Raven and his friend Herman "Ski" Jablonski had taken shelter at Big Kahuna's when the storm broke. The tall, mid 30's man with the dark eyes and darker hair was a regular at BK's because Ski was a regular. They spent as much time in the bar keeping a finger on the pulse of the island, as they did at Ski's boat or Jonathan's home. The big, graying blonde man was surrounded by the usual bevy of bikini clad babes who treated him as a cross between a doting uncle and a possible fun time. He was a bit of both. Jonathan sat solitary, reading and keeping an eye on Ski, as well as the rest of the restaurant bar. The beach outside was deserted.
Down the beach trudged a weary, water logged specimen with a drenched back pack. It was difficult to tell the gender of the figure, dressed in the seemingly obligatory scruffy jeans, T-shirt and grungy over shirt of the current crop of teens. A cap obscured the face. The hair was either short or tucked up under the cap. The figure stopped at the flimsy bamboo fence marking off the boundaries of the outdoor restaurant. Instead of crossing the boundary, the figure turned toward the building and trudged up the line to the parking lot.
Jonathan lost interest in the solitary figure as it moved out of sight. There was nothing menacing about it. Forlorn, maybe, but a lot of teens were that way these days. Out front, the figure surveyed the cars in the lot, gaze coming to rest on Jonathan's shiny black Jeep Renegade. The top was up, but the windows weren't. It would be a damp ride home.
Head tilted to one side, bright dark eyes studied the jeep. The rain was sluicing dirt off face and hands to reveal an attractive young face, high cheek bones sharp under dusky golden skin. The young woman approached the jeep cautiously. With one hand, she reached in and opened the glove box. She pulled out the insurance card. Jonathan Raven. With a curiously satisfied nod, she replaced the insurance card and closed the glove box. She was turning away from the vehicle when she became aware of someone stepping up behind her.
She looked up. She blinked against the rain.
"Something I can help you with?" The words were soft under the susurration of the falling water, but dangerous.
"I was looking for Mr. Jonathan Raven. I was told he drives a Jeep Renegade."
"And?"
"And he does. Would you know him?" She suspected she was talking to him, but she was not going to let him know that. Besides, he looked interesting getting wet like this.
"I'm Jonathan Raven."
She smiled. It wasn't the bright, blinding smile he sometimes got from the female of the species, but it was a warm and welcoming one. "I'm Mandy Bright." She held out a hand to him.
Bemused, he took her hand in his. Hers was cold and wet, but the grasp was firm. "Miss Bright."
"Mandy," came the instant response.
He felt as though this should mean something to him, but couldn't place it. "Mandy. Are you hungry?"
"Yes. You don't have a clue, do you?"
Guarded. "No."
She laughed. "We're cousins, on your mother's side."
He stopped and turned to look at her again. Cousins? He didn't have -- wait, his mother had a brother who had been -- military? Something. There was a reason his mother's family had not claimed him.
"Dad was in jail when your parents died," she told him quietly, reading the questions in his suddenly stone face.
"Jail?"
"Yeah. Jail. In Turkey. It wasn't a lot of fun. The Feds finally got him back about five years after -- by that time, there wasn't much point in trying to retrieve you. You had a home, and people who cared about you."
"He -- could have contacted me." But there was something in the way she spoke of him that said he might not have been able to make even that small of a commitment. "What was he in jail for?"
"Insulting a Turk. He whistled at a girl crossing the street. Apparently, that's against Turkish law, if it's a Turkish girl. When he objected to being beaten up for whistling at her, he got hauled off to jail."
Jonathan had heard that the "law" in Turkey was frequently more about interactions between the Turks and outsiders than it was about justice. He felt sorry for this unknown uncle of his. "What brings you here?"
She shrugged her shoulders as he led her into the restaurant. "I looked up the name on the net a while back. While I was here, I thought I'd see if you were the right one."
"And how did you find me?"
"Phone book. Raven, J." He could hear the grin in her voice. And he was listed in the phone book.
"How did you find me here? And how did you find out about the car?" He sounded very, very serious.
"I asked around."
"How long have you been on the street?" He frowned at her as she removed the cap and let a long braid fall down her back. She set the cap on the back pack.
"A while," was the evasive answer. Long enough to be evasive, long enough to know how to get information without raising suspicions, without any word getting back to him or Ski. "Do you always regard long lost cousins like bugs under microscopes? Or is it just me?"
"What?"
"Jonathan," Ski's gravelly voice interrupted. He nodded at Mandy and proceeded to ask Jonathan the question he had on his mind.
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"OK. It was worth askin'. Who's the kid?"
"My cousin." If he was waiting for Ski's jaw to drop, he was disappointed. Ski looked Mandy up and down and nodded. "Must be the girl askin' questions about you."
For a moment, Jonathan's face went blank. "Did you consider telling me?" The question was very quietly dangerous.
"Yeah. But the guys didnít think nothin' of it. Just figured it was some kid who'd heard about your looking for a kid," Ski shot back. As though it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. Ski drifted back to his ladies.
Jonathan turned back to his guest who was watching him expectantly, liquid dark eyes under straight black brows. Something about this was not sitting right. But he didn't exactly know what. "What would you like?"
"You buying?"
Uh, huh. "Yes." The answer was a little too even.
"Good. I'm low on funds until Monday. I'll pay you back then."
Sure she would. "Anything you want. And don't worry about paying me back. I don't meet family every day." And that was the truth. He wondered if he was meeting family today.
The hamburger was expectable. The salad and the seafood appetizer were almost expectable. The fruit juice drink was not. She tucked into the food with a healthy appetite, and as though she might have missed a few meals here and there. There was certainly no extra weight on her small frame, as far as he could tell. They shared the meal in silence, Jonathan eating sparingly of what he had ordered.
No questions. Just those bright eyes on him now and again. And not all the time. She spent as much time unobtrusively keeping tabs on the people around them as he did.
"Expecting someone?"
She colored slightly. "Not really. But I don't get to see this many birds of paradise all at once that often," she assured him with a laugh. Something in her eyes didn't quite mesh with the statement. He filed it for future reference. "You're not eating?"
"Wasn't that hungry."
"You don't believe me, do you?" She could see his face become slightly remote. She grinned at him. "That's OK. Probably something of a shock to suddenly inherit a cousin."
"Inherit? You sound like you're moving in," he shot back lightly.
"Well, I could use a dry place to crash until Monday."
Innocent enough, but it set off alarms within him. She didn't seem as much in need of succor as his last few guests. "I might be able to manage." He tried to ignore the borderline kicked puppy look. She didn't sniff. She didn't look like he'd smacked her, but there was that indefinable tinge of Well, all right, if you really want me sleeping in the rain, by myself. Insert heavy duty sigh. Don't want to be any trouble.
Then she ruined the effect by grinning at him. "That's OK. I'll find someplace to sleep. Thanks for the meal." She dropped her napkin on the table and stood, reaching for her pack and cap. "Oh, want me to leave your reimbursement with BK?" she asked as she shrugged into the straps on the back pack.
This was too easy. And that rang wrong as well. "I've got room -- for a cousin."
She stopped and looked full at him. "I don't want you regretting this meeting. And I do have money coming in Monday. I'm just a little short now."
"I won't regret it," he heard himself reassuring her. The back of his mind was looking at him with that old fashioned Uh, huh. Sure you won't look. "Come on."
"What about your friend?" She nodded towards Ski.
He looked over at the man who now had six bikini clad bimbos surrounding him. "I think he'll do just fine."
"OK."
She followed him out to the car, allowing him to get in first before climbing into the passenger seat and settling in. The rain let up as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Kewl!"
Mandy had taken in Jonathan's home with an awed look. From the outside it was a rambling suburban bungalo, with an odd front door. The wooden gate came as a surprise to her. It slid open easily.
"Shoes," he said instinctively. Then noted that she was already kicking off her worn tennies before attempting to enter his home. He filed that away for further investigation. She padded along behind him, looking, but not commenting. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"What do you think?"
"I think it stopped raining and I'm beginning to steam."
Evasive. "You have a change of clothes?"
"Yes."
He gestured toward the bathroom. "Bathroom. There should be spare towels."
"Hot shower?"
He smiled at that. "Hot shower," he agreed with a smile. A small luxury he could afford.
She came out, changed into a less faded pair of denims, a clean black T-shirt and a clean plaid flannel shirt. She was brushing out her hair which was thick and dark and wavy. With it down, she looked younger, if that was possible.
"How old are you?"
She looked startled. "Seventeen."
It was a slightly breathless answer. "Seventeen. What are you doing out on your own?"
"Walkabout."
He blinked. "Walk about? You're aboriginal?"
She laughed. "No. I ran away from home."
"Why?"
"Oh -- the usual? I got -- I don't know. I got a bee in my bonnet about seeing something of the world before I start college." Lie. "I wanted to find you." Partial truth. "I -- got tired of being me." Truth. "It's been -- interesting." Partial truth. He could hear it in her vocal
fluctuations. It was uncanny and unnerving. And he didn't like it.
"Which college?"
A shrug of the shoulders. "I dunno. Haven't chosen yet."
Hadn't tried yet, more likely. "University of Hawaii is good."
"I hear that. I dunno, tho. I suspect I'm not ready."
"But you are ready to go wandering about on your own."
Dangerous ground here. How to skirt it without damaging her story or his trust? "Well, I've been successful at that, so far." She stood her ground as he moved toward her. Oh, dear. Gonna show the little girl how much trouble she could be in, she surmised. She avoided his sudden grab for her, barely. "Ah, ah. No grabbing while I untangle."
She'd avoided him. That was not an every day ability. There was a lot more to the slender young woman than met the eye. "No worries I could be dangerous?" he practically purred.
"Not to your cousin," she shot back.
"Are you?"
"What do you want to know?" She knew that was a false step as soon as she said it, but there was no calling it back. Damn but he was dangerous. His eyes were his downfall. So revealing of his emotional state. Must make his life difficult.
'Who are you? Really?"
Ah, she had that one. "Amanda Bethany Bright."
"Your father?"
"Daniel Xavier Bright."
Danny. Uncle Danny. Damn. No. Whoever she was, this was not his cousin -- if he had ever had one. "Your mother?"
"Angelina Maria Hortensia --" Thoughtful look. "Damn, I'm missing a name here. Shoot. AngelMomHas -- Katherine Parra de la Hoya," she finished up in rush. "I know, you'd think I could remember that after all this time, wouldn't you. Mamma has such -- had such -- a long name." The falter was perfect. She knew it. He was beginning to drop his guard.
"Had?" he asked gently.
"Yeah," she confirmed with a sigh. "Had. Mamma died three years ago. Cancer. It was fast," she amended in a rush. "It wasn't -- Just kinda here and gone. I don't think Dad -- Well, you know."
"Hard on you, as well."
"Yeah. Well, -- Yeah." That not gonna cry crumple around the edges, along with the teenaged fidget over emotional stuff. Jonathan was about to buy it all. She sniffed and sealed his purchase. This is not nice, a part of her told her sternly.
I promised, she shot back. Nobody gets hurt.
Right.
Both of her inner voices sounded skeptical.
She yawned convincingly as the sun set in the most spectacular Hawaiian fashion outside. She finished brushing out her hair and neatly re-braided it. "Sorry about the yawn."
"That's all right. I only have the one bedroom. You'll be all right on the couch."
Couch? Well, yes, she would. That was an impressive couch. She sat down on it. Oh, yes. The couch would do quite well. She stretched out, like a cat, long and languorous. "Mmmm. Nice couch. Very nice couch," she murmured as her eyes closed. Very nice.
Jonathan waited until he was certain she was asleep, retrieving a spare blanket for her and gently covering her with it. She frowned as it touched her, her eyes coming partially open. He must have looked reassuring as she snuggled down under the blanket, curling onto her side bathroom where she had left her pack. She had neatly bundled her wet clothes into a secondary pocket. He looked through her things swiftly, impersonally. The only intriguing item was a waterproofed box. Locked. He considered forcing the lock, but decided it wasn't worth it. And as inexpensive, not to say cheap, as the lock was, it would probably have broken before yielding to his skills with a lock pick.
Midnight. The moon was full and low in the sky. Jonathan Raven was sitting on his meditation platform at the far end of his back yard, gazing out over the water over which the platform was partially built. A movement caught his attention, even in his meditational state. He waited. A dark shape flitted swiftly across the yard and across the boundary into the next one. He frowned. Slowly, he arose and walked inside. Mandy was gone. The blanket was neatly folded on the couch. Her back pack stood next to where she had slept. He looked. The box was gone.
He sighed. He picked up the phone and called his friend Ski.
"Hello?" the rusty, drink roughened voice answered the phone.
"Busy?"
"Well -- no." There was a touch of chagrin in the man's voice. "Need something?"
"Maybe. She's wandered out, leaving her pack here."
"Trouble?"
"I don't know."
"Well -- We'll find out."
Half an hour later, they met in the more unsavory area of Honolulu. The night life was in full swing. Finding one small teenager in all this might not be easy, but that would not prevent them from trying. Three hours after that, the trio of Yakuza bullies who were working on staking out some Hawaiian turf discovered that Mandy was not Hawaiian, and she was not without protectors.
Ski and Jonathan were coming around an alley corner when they heard the muffled yelp of a young woman being accosted. As one, they went toward the source.
"Let me go!"
Laughter. Japanese comments of the coarser kind. The lighter female voice responded with a comment about Chinese whores, Japanese sailors and a dog. Jonathan broke into a run, as much from curiosity to see who the woman was as to see if he could keep her from reaping the painful rewards of making comments like that.
Three men and one small, dark haired woman. Two were holding her arms as the snarling third reached for her shirt. The woman used her captors as leverage, swinging her legs up to land both feet in the face of the third man. He reeled back, clutching his face, blood seeping between his fingers from the smashed ruin of his nose. He spit epithets of gutter Japanese and teeth mixed with blood onto the ground as Jonathan entered the fight.
The two men holding Mandy, for want of a better name, lost interest in the fight as Jonathan downed one swiftly and Ski came up brandishing two pistols, both ready for action. The third man helped their damaged leader out of the alleyway, Jonathan's glare helping them on their way. He turned back to Mandy who was recovering her cap from the dirt a few feet away.
"Where did you learn Japanese?"
Blink, blink. "Japanese? Is that what that was?"
Oh, dear. Cousin Jonathan did not look amused. She dusted off her cap and placed it back on her head. The shirt seemed to have gotten a little breezy. She discarded it without a second thought while she tried to find an answer for him. Explaining that World War II gutter Japanese was easy to come by in Hong Kong in 1938 did not seem as thought it would go over well.
"Uhm -- actually, I just mimicked something I'd heard. I figured it was probably rude enough to annoy them into doing something stupid. I was right."
"Don't sound so proud of yourself. Alone you wouldn't have survived." His voice was harsh.
She decided not to argue with that pronouncement. After all, there was survival and -- uhm -- survival. "You could have a point there," she agreed. "It was a bit scary."
"A bit?" he echoed. " You could have been raped and murdered and no one would have known."
Something odd flickered in those dark eyes. How many times over the years -- "You're right," she agreed. "I'm sorry." Murdered, probably. Raped, probably not. She really didn't put up with that sort of thing any more. Not when she could goad people the way she could.
"Why did come out?"
"I'm used to it. This is where I live."
"Is it?"
She frowned at him. "Isn't it?"
Impasse. "If you're going to stay with me, there are some ground rules."
"Uh-huh?"
"No leaving without telling me." And as soon as he thought of some more rules to impose on a 17 year old, he would. The part of his mind concerned with logic wondered what he was getting himself into. Was he accepting her at face value, in spite of the indications he had that she was lying to him?
"OK."
"Come on. It's late."
"And you're tired. I don't suppose I could talk you into going home and leaving me -- I didn't think so."
"What do you want to do?" He was curious now.
"And you're tired. I don't suppose I could talk you into going home and leaving me -- I didn't think so."
"What do you want to do?" He was curious now.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Hang out. Explore Life, the Universe and Everything? No?" She sighed. "I dunno, I just woke up and needed something to do." Telling him she had this itch of a feeling there was somebody out here she needed to find, to meet -- no. Not functional. "Ok, I give up. I'll come along quietly." She shot him one of those infectious grins. "So, why'd you come out?"
"What?"
"Why did you come out?"
"You were missing."
"My stuff is still there."
"Yes." But that hardly meant she'd be coming back. Or did it? Should he reveal that he knew something was missing from her pack? Probably not. Not yet. Which was when it dawned on him that she didn't have it on her. "But you got into trouble. You wouldn't have made it back to collect it."
"OK. There is that little glitch in my logic. So, what do you do after dark?"
He regarded her steadily as they climbed into the jeep. What exactly was she asking? "What I usually do."
"And that is?"
"Depends on what Ski has cooking."
"He cooks?" That got a smile. He had a nice smile. He should use it more often.
"Yes, he does. But that's not exactly what I meant. Ski's a private investigator. I'm -- one of his consultants."
She considered this. "Must pay well. How do you get to be a consultant?"
"A badly misspent youth," he shot back.
She laughed. "Great. So, when I as ancient as the two of you, I get to be a consultant? And afford a house like this?" she concluded as they pulled into his drive way. "I some how doubt this," she finished with a chuckle.
Their eyes met for a long moment. Unsettling. Mandy found him attractive in ways no seventeen year old cousin should. She slowed her breathing and let her pulse slow down as well. She could see she was annoying him, but was appealing to him as well. Damn. A promise was a promise, but some things just did not work out as desired. She would have to leave Monday, as soon as the banks opened.
They settled in for the night, Mandy returning to her couch while Jonathan retreated into his bedroom. He slid between black satin sheets and laid his head down on the pillow expecting sleep to come instantly. Instead, he found himself replaying the incident in the alleyway. Mandy was too self assured, too skilled. It took time and training to master that set of reflexes, and there was not hesitation as she used her assailants to leverage the kick that downed the third man. And there had been no cringing, crying or even attempt to cover herself afterward. She'd dropped the torn shirt and acted like the tawny bra had been just another bikini top.
That was odd. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. She hadn't flinched from his gaze or Ski's, hadn't invited, hadn't been brazen about it. It was almost as though her state of dress, or lack of it, was completely inconsequential. Not the attitude one would have expected from any woman, much less a 17 year old street kid. Mandy Bright would not have reacted that way, of that he was sure. So, who was his guest?
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