“So, you thought you’d let her take the fall for murder while you played the grieving local businessman?”
“She wouldn’t have gotten convicted,” he says defensively. “But it would have bought me time, maybe let the heat die down long enough for me to figure out another solution.” He pulls a knife from the back of his jeans and I gasp as the long, thin blade gleams in the moonlight.
“You killed her to silence her forever.”
He nods. “And now I’m going to silence you.”
My heart jumps into my throat, and every cell in my body freezes.
“I didn’t want to do this!” he shouts, then glances around as if the lava rocks might be recording this for his upcoming trial. “But Coroline gave me no choice. It wasn’t just about losing the business—it was about losing everything. My reputation, my credibility, any chance of starting over. She was going to humiliate me in front of everyone I’d ever worked with,” he continues, brandishing the weapon with shaking hands. “Every customer who’d trusted me, every investor who’d believed in what I was building. Do you know what that would have done tome? I’d have been the cautionary tale other business owners tell their kids.”
“Breezy, put the knife down,” I say, taking a step backward and immediately regretting every decision that led me to chase a murder suspect without backup, communication, or any plan beyondlet’s see what happens.
“I can’t do that. You’ll tell the police everything, and I’ll be right back where I started—facing complete ruin, except this time with murder charges on top.”
He lunges forward and grabs my arm. In less than a second, he presses my back to his chest with the knife pressed to my throat. The blade is cold against my skin, and I can smell his desperation mixed with rum and the type of tropical cologne that probably seemed like a good business investment before he decided murder was an acceptable marketing strategy.
“Let me go,” I say, trying to sound calm despite my heart beating fast enough to register on seismic equipment. He’s caged me in so tight with one arm, I can hardly expand my lungs enough to take my next breath.
“I wish I could, but you’ve forced me into another impossible situation.”
We struggle on the sand, my flip-flops providing zero traction while the balance he’s garnered from years of surfing gives him a significant advantage in the “wrestling while holding a knife” department. Just when I’m wondering if my amateur detective career is about to end in the worst way possible, reinforcements arrive from the most unexpected source.
Cats and roosters emerge from the lava rock crevices as if they’ve been summoned by some supernatural force that specializes in dramatic timing and animal-based rescue operations.
Spam leads the charge, followed by his usual cronies and what appears to be half the feline population of Kauai, allyowling with collective fury as they quickly surround us. Twelve roosters join the cat collective, circling like feathered sharks with enough chaos to make even a desperate murderer reconsider his life choices.
“What the hell—” Breezy starts, but he’s cut off by the poultry pandemonium surrounding us.
I almost break free in the confusion, elbowing his ribs hard enough to make him grunt, but he recovers and wraps his arm back around my neck ten times harder and pressing the knife ever so much closer until the blade feels as if it’s about to puncture my skin.
Footfalls run in this direction, steady as a heartbeat drumming through the sand.
“EVERYBODY FREEZE!” Koa’s voice cuts through the animal chaos with trained authority, and I spot him less than twenty feet away, panting with his weapon drawn, looking like an action hero with impeccable timing and a serious commitment to his fitness regimen.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I pant, still pinned and immobile with that knife to my throat.
“Put the gun down or I’ll cut her throat!” Breezy shouts, using me as a human shield while trying to avoid stepping on any of the chickens conducting their own tactical assessment.
The knife presses hard against my jugular, which is currently providing percussion loud enough to be heard in neighboring towns. Around us, cats yowl and roosters crow, creating a backdrop that’s part nature documentary, part horror movie, and yet entirely surreal.
Koa’s jaw ticks as he calculates angles with professional assessment. The muscles in his jaw tighten, his eyes meet mine, and I see both determination and barely controlled fury. I shake my head at him just enough.
“Let her go, Breezy,” he growls. “This doesn’t have to end badly for everyone.”
“It’s already ended badly,” Breezy thunders. “Everything is ruined!”
Spam releases an ear-piercing yowl so startling that we all turn toward it instinctively. In that split second, I twist my body and drive my knee into Breezy’s groin with enough force to make him double over and release both me and the knife.
I stumble forward as Koa pounces with controlled violence that makes my knees forget their function. Even in a life-threatening situation, I can’t help but appreciate how his biceps handle theoverpowering dangerous criminalsthing with some serious efficiency.
Other officers appear and take custody of Breezy while the luau guests who followed the commotion applaud as if they’ve just witnessed dinner theater. They return to their mai tais and the far more important question of whether the haupia or malasadas deserve their full dessert attention. The answer is both.
Koa moves toward me with focused intensity that makes everything else fade to background noise. Moonlight catches in his hair while stars provide romantic lighting that’s either a cosmic coincidence or nature’s own special effects department working overtime. The ocean whispers against the shore as the pale light shimmers over the water, and it’s a whole dreamy tropical fantasy playing out, minus that whole murder thing.
He pulls me close, his hands framing my face as he examines me in the silvery light. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I say breathlessly.
