Page 48 of True Abandon

A hula dancer appears at our table beside Jax and asks if he’d like to participate in the show. He looks to me for approval, and I motion for him to go. With a nod, he rises and follows her the stage.

He makes eye contact with me and offers me a subtle grin, which I realize I find adorable and force the thought from my brain.

Three more men wielding machetes take the stage and circle Jax. Their hands manipulate the torches with speed so rapid, it looks like circles of fire surround them. You can barely see the dancers, but the orange glow is prominent—and dangerously close to Jax.

Round and round, whipping through the air, the machetes move between the dancers at a rapid pace—the crowd gasps, and I hold my breath when the fiery metal moves over his head. I may not be able to see Jax well, but it’s hard not to feel the fear in his heart. I know it by the way his eyes stay trained on me—desperate for something familiar to keep him grounded amongst the lighted knives flying around him.

The dancers chant as they complete their dance. Jax’s chest rises and falls with the exhilaration—the crowd’s explosion of applause and hollers just as animated as the performance itself.

Just when I think his participation is through, two people appear on stage with a tall, white, wooden board that they escort Jax to. I’ve never seen this part of the show before.

The drums rattle again, and Benji appears shirtless and in a grass skirt before taking a showman’s bow and displaying five knives for the audience.

My hands fly to my mouth. “Oh shit.” I look over for Isaiah, but he’s not at the bar. My attention goes back to Benji walking across the stage. “What the hell is he doing?”

Benji lifts a knife and throws it. It spins through the air and lands to the left of Jax’s shoulder. His chest heaves with adrenaline, but he doesn’t close his eyes. Instead, he keeps them wide as if daring Benji to release another.

Benji raises the next, and it hits the board to the right of Jax’s other shoulder—he doesn’t even flinch.

The third knife comes up as does Benji’s gaze—he’s aiming for the head.

Seconds later, it just grazes Jax’s left ear, and I let out a breath trapped tightly in my apprehensive lungs.

My heart strums a steady cadence in my rib cage, and my body is frozen as I watch the next blade is hurled toward Jax’s forehead with incredible speed. Thankfully, it lodges itself into the wood just above his scalp.

The fifth and final dagger gleams in the air, and I pray Benji’s aim is as accurate as he claims. With one last thrust, he launches the knife at Jax’s at it lands by his right ear.

A bubbling laughter radiates from my chest—releasing the nervous energy coupled with relief. I wipe a tear from my eye, and when I look up, Jax is staring at me—his face stern, jowls tight.

People shake Jax’s hand as he meanders through the crowd, between the tables, and past where I sit. Expecting him to take a seat, I’m surprised when he continues by me, away from my table and the luau.

“Told you we’d take care of him.” Isaiah seems pleased as he passes me with a tray of drinks.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I can’t help but think that wasn’t the best thing to have happen.

Chapter TEN

“Hello,” I shout through the screen door of Auli’i’s house.

Her front porch squeaks as I shift my feet, and wait for her to come to the door. A stray chicken pecks along the front lawn of the cottage located on Hanalei Bay.

It’s a single story home, up on risers with front steps that lead to a wrap around screen porch. The siding is weathered with the paint slightly chipping away.

The lights inside are on, with the ceiling fan moving in a quick rotation when I glance through the screen. I knock on the door and am about to walk inside when I hear music coming from the backyard. I step off the porch and walk around the house.

The cottage is located on three acres of beachfront property. What the home lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in location. It’s pitch-black tonight, but in the daytime, out the front door, the view of the amazing Makaleha Mountains, so green and vibrant, is breathtaking. Out the back, the Pacific Ocean spans as far as the eye can see.

I follow the sound of a ukulele to Lani and Auli'i dancing the hula under lanterns hung from nearby trees. Their bodies face the sea as their arms dip low to the side and then sway out as if they’re offering themselves to the earth.

I lean back on my heels and watch Auli’i as her long, white hair billows in the breeze. Her yellow, strapless dress follows her hips as they glide in a graceful pattern.

“You’re late, my dear,” she says, her back to me—that sixth sense of hers kicking in. Lani peaks over her shoulder with a wink.

I smile as I toss my bag on a nearby chair before joining them on Auli'i’s other side.

“We are praying to the mountains tonight,” she confesses with her arms stretched toward the heavens.

With our hands raised and pointed at the center, we give praise to the Kawaikini Mountain—the highest peak on the island.