Rex insisted that Kimo sit in one of the chairs he picked up off the floor. She looked like she was about to fall over. No sleep, a gunshot wound plus a strenuous swim to get from where they’d been diving to the shore had to have taken their toll on the woman.
She sat quietly observing the officer as he moved in and out of the bedrooms.
Rex was surprised she hadn’t gotten up to start cleaning. Perhaps she was conserving her energy for when they paid a visit to Jako’s Diving Adventures. If the man had a boat and dive gear for her to rent, they could be heading out on a dive in Maalaea Bay before noon.
Less than an hour after the Maui police officer arrived, he finished dusting for prints, photographing the damage and inking Rex’s and Kimo’s prints to rule them out when comparing them with the prints he’d found.
The man took their statements and wrapped up, leaving soon after.
Kimo walked through the house, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced as she took in the destruction and the mess left behind from the powder the officer had used to lift latent prints.
“As much as it bothers me to see my home in this condition, I’m not going to start the cleanup process yet.” Kimo turned to Rex. “However, I’d like to take a quick shower before we go to Jako’s. I still have salt in my hair and on my skin, and it’s chafing.”
“What about your injury?”
Her lips twisted. “I’ll have to keep that leg out of the shower.”
“On the way over to Jako’s, we need to stop by your pharmacy and pick up the antibiotics the doctor prescribed,” Rex said.
Kimo grimaced. “I hate taking pills.”
“You’d hate getting an infection more. How do you plan to keep that injury dry if we go looking for your camera?”
Kimo shrugged. “Tape and plastic wrap? I can pick up something at the pharmacy.” Kimo gathered clothing from the floor of her bedroom and paused at the bathroom door. “Thanks for having my back. I’m not sure how I would’ve handled walking into my house the way it is by myself.”
“I’m here to protect,” he said. “It’s what I do.”
Her lips quirked. “And manage property and investments. What is it your father does for a living?”
Rex shifted his gaze away from Kimo, his body stiffening. “He owns his own corporation.”
“What kind of corporation?” she asked.
His gaze came back to hers. “Get your shower.”
* * *
Clutching her clothing to her chest, Kimo ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Her bodyguard was a bit touchy when it came to his father. Asking questions about the man hadn’t earned her any points.
Kimo stripped out of her clothing, turned on the tub faucet and adjusted the temperature. When it was warm enough, she stepped over the rim of the tub, keeping her injured calf outside the shower curtain. Though it was an awkward stance, she managed to duck beneath the spray.
She quickly rubbed shampoo into her hair and over her body, washing away the crusty feeling of dried salt on her skin. All the while, her thoughts poured over the events of the previous night, finding the shipping container and its grisly contents, watching helplessly as Alana had been abducted and crashing into Rex’s arms as she’d flung herself from the back of the ambulance.
So much had happened. The one thing in all of it that had kept her grounded was the tall, broad-shouldered former Delta Force soldier who’d come to protect her.
She’d learned to count on herself after her parents had died in a plane crash when she’d still been in college. An only child, she’d had no family to fall back on. Though her friends had helped her through her grief, Kimo prided herself on her independence. She normally refused help, preferring to manage situations under her own steam.
But she had to admit, this situation was different. The stakes were higher. Secrets were deadly, and people had died. Whoever was responsible was going to great lengths to keep those secrets. They obviously had the personnel, equipment and connections to make it happen.
As the only person raising a red flag that something horrible had happened, Kimo couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—stop striving for justice for Alana and the people who had drowned in the shipping container. Those responsible had erased the evidence; now all they had to do was remove the only other witness.
Her.
Though she’d been resistant at first to having a bodyguard, the gravity of her predicament was becoming clear. She needed someone to have her back, especially if she planned to go after the camera and start her own search for Alana.
It didn’t hurt that her bodyguard was strong and attractive in that ruggedly sexy way.
