Page 46 of Tiki Beach
Keone stood and stretched as well. I admired the slice of tanned, toned abs revealed when his shirt rode up. “We could go over to the beach for a swim, or . . . perhaps . . .?” He glanced meaningfully at the Murphy bed attached to the wall and raised a brow.
I smiled, slow and catlike, channeling Tiki at her most feral. I leaned forward over the table, letting my cleavage (what there was of it) do the talking. “I’ll take the ‘or perhaps,’ Mr. K,” I said. “And it better be a workout.”
Well, we broke the old Murphy bed.
Yep, that happened. The thing was long past its expiration date, but still—that was a dramatic finish to our afternoon delight.
After laughing our butts off when we landed naked on the floor, there was nothing for it but to throw on our suits and go for a cool-off swim in the ocean. By the time we’d swum laps, come back to the shack and showered, we were both feeling hungry—the chili hadn’t made much of a dent in our healthy young appetites.
“Where should we get food?” I asked. “I require sustenance.”
“Me too. Maybe Aunt Fae is cooking as we speak,” Keone said optimistically.
“Anyone but me in the kitchen,” I said.
He moved in for a kiss. “I’ll take you in the kitchen,” he murmured in my ear.
Suddenly, the K & K landline rang.
I glanced over at the ID screen and frowned. “It’s your mom. Why would she be calling here?”
“This can’t be good,” Keone said, and lunged for the handset.
13
“Mom?” Keone said, as he picked up the phone and hit Speaker. “Everything okay?”
“No,” Ilima’s voice was tight with tension. “Someone just called my home phone. A disguised voice—you know, one of those nasty distorter things? They told me to drop out of the mayoral race if I ‘know what’s good for me and my family.’”
“Hi, Ilima. You’re on speakerphone,” I said as my skin prickled with alarm. “When exactly did this happen?”
“Less than five minutes ago,” Ilima said. “I tried calling Sergeant Texeira, but her phone went to voicemail. Neither of you were picking up your phones—again! That’s why I called your office.”
“Listen, Mom, this is serious. Is anyone with you?” Keone’s knuckles showed white where he leaned on them on the table. “I need to know you’re safe.”
“Your cousin Frankie is outside mowing. I’m fine.” Ilima sounded more annoyed than worried.
“I’m calling Lei right now,” I said. “In the meantime, stay home, keep your doors locked, and write down everything you remember about the call—exact words, background noises, anything distinctive about the voice even through the disguiser.”
“Already did that,” Ilima said. “But . . . this can’t be a coincidence, can it? With everything happening with Pearl and the investigation?”
Keone shook his head even as I said, “No. There’s actually been an escalation. Kawika was attacked at the hospital while watching over Pearl. They’re both under police protection now.”
Ilima gasped. “Is Pearl okay?”
“Yes, though still in the ICU,” I said. “It’s all connected. The Santos-Akana partnership is feeling the pressure from multiple directions.”
“What Santos-Akana partnership?”
“Things have been moving fast, Mom. I’ll catch you up,” Keone said. “It’s getting to be dinnertime—can Kat and I come by to eat, and catch you up in person?”
“Of course. I’ll put something on right away.”
“Meanwhile, stay safe, Ilima. Get Frankie to stay until we arrive,” I said.
After Keone ended the call, I immediately dialed Lei’s cell, using the direct number she’d given us for emergencies. To our relief, she answered on the third ring, her voice tired but alert.
“Kat? What’s happened now?”
