by Cathryn Cade
Damn, he was low, if he was critiquing paradise. Time to turn off his business brain and just relax. A drink would help. The complimentary mai tai and the refills he’d consumed on the plane were long gone.
They rounded a point dwarfed by a resort and sped on past the last of the South Kona condos, past the pristine bay with Captain Cook’s memorial spire, past the refurbished king’s village at Honaunau. Tipping his face into the warm wind, Jack gazed at the thatched roofs and the high walls of the traditional heiau hand-built of lava rocks—now there was a construction project. Place of Refuge, it was called. Long ago, all an islander had to do was reach the shore of the place, and whatever sentence had been heaped on his head was repealed, forgiven.
Nice idea—just walk up onto this South Kona coast and leave all one’s troubles behind like a castoff garment that would float away on the waves. Sit on the beach and drink rum, or whatever the hell they drank in the old days here. Maybe they hadn’t had alcohol. Nah, tropical natives everywhere had figured out how to ferment some kind of fruit. Plenty of booze here now, that was for damn certain.
Around another point, Nawea hove into view, the yellow-and-white guest house sitting serenely among its skirts of blossoming greenery, fringed with palms, petticoats of white surf splashing against the reef. Jack sighed, relaxing a little. The place fairly beckoned him in, the curving reef like arms stretched out in welcome. Good times here among the Ho’omalus, who exuded the aloha spirit of the islands. Taking life as it came, enjoying each day in their island paradise.
Jack was the first one off the boat, leaping to the cement dock along the west side of the small bay. He tied the boat to the forward mooring cleat as Frank’s crewman attended to the aft. A tall, powerfully built Hawaiian in red swim trunks strode from the shade of the grass awning over the dock, handsome face creased in a smile, white teeth flashing in his golden-skinned face.
“Malu,” Jack greeted him, smiling back. “Howzit?”
David “Malu” Ho’omalu gave him a hard hug, pounding him on the back. “Aloha, brah. Welcome back.”
“Feels like I just left.” Jack eyed the peaceful scene.
“Stay longer this time, yeah?” As his friend moved on to greet the others. Jack shook his head affectionately at the tribal tattoos swirling over Malu’s massive shoulder and down his back. His friend had a few more than the last time Jack had seen him.
The Hawaiian who strode onto the dock next was half covered in native tattoos, from his hard, bearded face and massive torso to his brawny legs, visible in gray swim trunks and blue tank.
Daniel Ho’omalu’s stern face relaxed in a grin like his younger brother’s, dark eyes crinkling. “Hey, you puny mainlander, about time you got here. Betta not miss my wedding.”
Jack laughed, and dodged the fist aimed at his midsection. “Hey, Roller. Lay off me, I just got off the plane.”
“Careful. The ladies are trying to get through.” Jack turned at the interruption to find Lalei and her mother waiting, their escort close behind them with a protective hand on each of their arms. The Asian scowled at Jack over his sunglasses, his face tight. Lalei’s mother shrank against his side, one hand to her breast as if she feared bodily harm.
Lalei smirked, the corners of her lush mouth turning up slightly in apparent derision. Her eyes were hidden by her big sunglasses.
Heat crawled up Jack’s neck. “Beg your pardon, ladies.” He stepped back toward the edge of the dock, leaving the walkway under the awning clear for them. “Please, go ahead.”
The three passed him without a word. Jack grimaced behind their backs as Daniel greeted the two older people politely, welcoming them to Nawea. He gave Lalei a hug and kiss, and they exchanged a few words.
Malu had hopped onto the boat to help gather luggage. Jack accepted his duffel and followed his friend along the dock and up across the green lawn to the guest house, along with Gabe and Sara.
The other trio walked ahead of them, Lalei’s lovely ass swaying as she picked her way up the incline. He pictured her walking along that way with just a string bikini on, maybe even a thong, the full globes of her ass displayed for him.
He looked away, shaking his head at himself. Whoa. Get your mind out of those panties, boy. You ain’t going there.
“Same room you had last time,” Malu told him. “Plenty of time for a swim and a drink or snack, if you like.”
Jack dropped his duffel on the luggage rack in the quiet, familiar room and unzipped the bag to dig for his swim trunks. Man, he couldn’t wait to get in the water and cool off. Then time for a couple of beers before dinner. No doubt there’d be plenty of drinks on the beach this evening too. As they said here, that sounded ono, very fine.
Jack laid his cell phone on the bedside table, eyeing it as he shucked off his shirt and shorts. He really should call the office and see where his partner was on the Eagle Crest Canyon deal. Nah, later. Right now he just wanted to forget about work. Hell, he wanted to forget about the mainland and everyone on it.
He took his Hawaiian shirt, flowered in soft cream and blue, from his bag, pulled off the dry cleaner’s plastic wrap and hung the shirt in the small closet with a pair of beige shorts. After checking to make sure he’d remembered his good leather sandals for the wedding, he pulled on his swim trunks, stepped back into his flip-flops and headed out through the quiet sitting room onto the lanai facing the beach. As he strolled down the expanse of lawn, Jack took a deep breath of the warm, damp air, laden with the scent of the plumeria that edged of the lawn.
He gazed around the Ho’omalus’ private enclave. Nawea Bay had everything—location, view and climate. The small bay was protected by a submerged reef, the only entrance for boats a narrow opening on the west side, past the long cement dock with its woven grass awning. Palm trees clustered on the rocky points outside the bay.
In the back of the small bay lay a semicircle of golden sand, with a flagstone lanai. A row of loungers and small tables waited invitingly in the shade of more palms. A large cooler sat in the shade, and Jack bent to snag a cold beer, twisting the top off to take a long drink, then another. He sighed with relief as the cold, prickly brew slid down his throat.
A pair of wrought iron trellises had been planted in the sand in the center of the beach. For the wedding, he presumed. He finished the beer in a few long swallows and tossed the bottle in the waiting basket.
Walking past the trellises, Jack dove into the cool water, swimming out to the reef. He’d snorkel in the morning—the fish and other denizens of the reef were worth seeing, but for now he just wanted to cool off. He knew better than to head out across the reef into the open sea when no one else was present, so he stayed in the bay. Frank and his crewman were on the dock, but they were busy unloading a rack of wooden folding chairs.
Flipping onto his back, Jack floated, his eyes closed. The low tropical sun was an orange blaze behind his eyelids, the voices from the beach muffled by the water, the alcohol a loose buzz in his bloodstream. He rocked in the peaceful cradle of the sea, his troubles far away.
A splash jolted him as another body hit the water nearby. Swinging upright, he saw a lean, brown body stream by under water, headed toward the reef. Jack squinted into the sun, treading water as the newcomer emerged, tossing his head to shake his mane of wet, black hair out of his grinning face.
“Hey, Zane. Howzit?” The last time he’d seen this younger Ho’omalu cousin, he’d been racing around the enclave with Bella.
“Good,” Zane said. “Just graduated the U.”
“Hey, congratulations. What’s your degree again? Surfing?” Jack knew Zane was an avid longboarder.
Zane laughed. “I wish. Nah, marine biology.”
Jack lifted his brows in surprise. “Really? My little sister’s majoring in that at UC Santa Barbara.”
“That’s cool, love to meet her. Later, man. Gonna swim out past the reef a ways.”
Jack thought about following him, but there was a cold beer calling his name. He turne
d and swam back toward the beach.
David came strolling down to the beach as Jack waded out. Malu held up a bottle of beer and a soda from the large cooler behind the chairs.
“Beer,” Jack said, holding out his hand. He took a long pull of the cold brew and sank into one of the comfortable loungers arrayed along the beach lanai in the shade of the palms. Gabe and Sara stood on the dock, holding snorkel masks and flippers, listening while Frank gestured at the reef.
“Aren’t we supposed to be setting up for the wedding?” he asked as Malu sat next to him in the shade.
“Got about half an hour before I get busy.” Malu pointed the neck of his bottle at Jack. “You’re here to relax. You look beat.” He scanned Jack’s face with a frown.
Jack shrugged off his friend’s concern. “Been working hard. Where’s Melia?”
“She’s in town with Claire. Last-minute shopping before they pick Claire’s folks up from the resort and bring them out. My parents should be here soon too.”
“Thought this was just an informal evening wedding on the beach. Daniel said he and Claire don’t want a lot of fuss.”
Malu smiled absently, jigging one leg, his bare toes digging into the sand. “Yeah, but you know women like an excuse to shop.”
Jack nodded before taking another drink. Most certainly did, like birds choosing just the right twigs and pieces of grass to line their nests. He’d asked his assistant to shop for a gift for Claire and Daniel. She’d happily chosen some high-quality cutlery online and all he’d had to do was approve her choice.
Jack’s last girlfriend had enjoyed clothes shopping and had even managed to drag him along a few times. He didn’t mind holding her tiny dog while she modeled pretty clothes, but he drew the line at following her through kitschy pet boutiques. When the fluff-ball peed on his favorite leather jacket, Jack realized he didn’t like her enough to put up with her dog. He sent her expensive flowers and made himself scarce.
His sister was the only woman he knew who didn’t like to shop. Emme lived in swimsuits and jogging shorts, just throwing on a jacket and a pair of jeans in the winter. With her affinity for the ocean, she’d definitely like the informal atmosphere on the Big Island. Next time he came over, he’d bring her. They hadn’t spent much time together in the last few months, and he missed her, even if she was a pesky little brat, nagging him about his drinking and his long work hours.
“Where are Bella and What’s-his-name?” Jack asked, draining his beer. “The TV survival dude. Thought they’d be here. Don’t they live right up on the mountain?”
“Joel Girand. Bella had to drive him in for a doctor appointment. He’s recovering well, but it’s only been a month since he was shot. They should be here soon, though. His appointment was early afternoon.”
“A semiautomatic round at close range, it’s damn surprising he lived,” said Jack. He rubbed his own ribs in sympathy. “Damn surprising any of them lived.”
He’d watched the news stories with horror. Bella, her celebrity client and three models hired to showcase camping gear and clothing for her sporting goods company had been kidnapped by the crazed heir to a California drug syndicate. They’d apparently survived only because a freak wind storm had struck before they could all be murdered in cold blood, and because Frank Lelua had managed to get his hands on a gun. The tough ex-cop had survived a beating to help save Bella and the others.
“The grace of God,” Malu agreed. “And Mother Pele.”
Jack nodded respectfully. Hawaiian legend credited Pele with having created these islands. While the Ho’omalus were Christian, they were comfortable with their cultural legends as well. The older Ho’omalus could send chills down his back when they “talked story” around an evening fire here at the beach.
On this untamed island, he could believe many things he’d scoff at back home. He just wished he were Hawaiian himself—he could use a little help shoving the world off his shoulders.
Chapter Three
“So what else is new?” Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, but he wasn’t the only one who was stressed. Malu wasn’t his usual mellow self.
The big Hawaiian turned to him. “Jack, I gotta tell you, we can use your advice. You remember the Helmans, crime syndicate out of LA trying to get in here, sell their drugs?”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah. But they’ve all died in freak accidents here on the island, haven’t they? Weird, but not a bad thing, if you ask me.”
Malu nodded. “We thought so too. Thought Hawaii was rid of them. But it turns out they were fronting a billion-dollar land deal here on the Big Island. Most of the financing is from the Helmans’ CalTrend Corporation.”
Jack stared at his friend, beer forgotten in his hand. “No kidding? Where?”
Malu shook his head, his handsome face grim. “On our back doorstep. Right up the mountain.”
Jack set his bottle on his thigh, barely noticing the chill. “What? I thought you were surrounded by National Forest.”
“Kau Forest to the south of us, but there’s another strip of private land between us.”
“Oh, man. How long have you known about this?” He could barely wrap his mind around the idea of development on this country flank of the volcano. There were houses, sure, but they were mostly small or half hidden in trees and shrubs.
“We’ve known only for a few weeks—since the last Helman died in that, ah, freak storm at Na’alele.”
“Shee-it,” Jack breathed. “What’s the timeline on this? There’s a whole process of hearings and such. The developer had to get permits. Who hands those out here?”
“Hawaii County planning board, over in Hilo.”
“Well, I’m here to tell you these things take months, even longer over here, from what I’ve heard. You should have plenty of time to come up with objections.”
“From what we’re hearing, they’re working hard to speed things up.”
“And you just found out? Your family must have friends over there, people who’d let you know about something like this. Anyway, aren’t they supposed to have public hearings for adjacent landowners, anyone affected by the development? Or is this just some bed-and-breakfast, some real small thing?”
Malu snorted humorlessly. “I wish. No, it’s a major resort. Main lodge, cabanas, golf course, the whole deal. On a par with the Hilton Waikoloa up on the west shore. As for the permits, they’ve been mysteriously rushed along.”
Jack whistled slowly. “What about shore access?”
“That’s the best part,” said a deep, rough voice behind Jack, heavy with irony. “They want to punch a road right past my house and build a huge marina.”
Daniel Ho’omalu walked around the loungers to join them. He wore a forbidding scowl on his tattooed face as he gestured at the pristine reef where Gabe and Sara bobbed along, flippers catching the sun. “All this? Crowded with boats, a big breakwater, noise and people. Our privacy, gone.”
“I can’t believe that,” Jack said. “For one thing, aren’t there laws here, something about native Hawaiians having first choice when land is up for sale?”
Daniel snorted contemptuously, turning to face him. “Supposedly. In reality, very little of our land falls into the Homestead classification. Even Hawaiians with money to buy a house can wait decades to get a chance.”
“But doesn’t your family own some good chunks of land here?”
“We do,” Malu put in. “We have the farm up on the mountain, some land on Maui, the marina and some other small places.”
“Including the Ahupua`a that includes Nawea,” Daniel added. “An Ahupua’a is a strip of land running from the top of the mountain, clear to the sea, widening out at the base. The islands were once entirely divided this way, with an ali’i, or chief in charge of each one. The chief and his people had access to every kind of resource, from farm ground to the sea.”
“How the hell did these people manage to get title to any of that without you knowing?” Jack asked, morbidly fascinated.
> Daniel shook his head. “The Great Mahele, back in the 1800s. They registered all the land, some of it too vaguely. Now there are lawyers suing on the grounds the old contracts aren’t valid because they weren’t filed properly.”
“Jesus.” Jack pushed himself out of his chair. “I need another beer.” His mind worked furiously as he grabbed another bottle from the melting ice in the cooler, twisted the top off and took a long pull.
“Hey, the girls are here.” Daniel levered himself out of his lounger, tossing his empty bottle into the recycling basket waiting on the sand beside the cooler. “Better go up.”
“And I’d better carry whatever Melia bought,” Malu said, rising to follow his brother.
“Can I help?” Jack offered.
“Here come Suzy and Benton Choy. You mind playing host for a few minutes? I’ll be back.”
“No problem. We’ll talk more about this land deal later, okay?” Jack took another drink of his beer. He was reeling from his friends’ horrifically bad news. He needed time to process, think about the implications.
As Suzy Kai tiptoed across the lanai on her escort’s arm, Jack nodded politely. The two wore their dress clothes, obviously not here for a swim. He felt underdressed in his damp trunks, as if he should whip a shirt on. Except they were on the damn beach.
“Here, sit in the shade.” Jack gestured at the two upright chairs on either side of a small table. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water, please.” Suzy smiled as if conferring a favor on him.
“And for me,” Choy said curtly.
Jack’s hackles rose at being spoken to as if he was a cabana boy, but he hid it behind his professional face. Walking around to the cooler, he chose another beer for himself, opened it and then grabbed two bottles of water. Beer in hand, he walked back around the loungers, set his beer down, handed one of the bottles of water to Suzy Kai. He tossed the other to Choy, who looked startled but caught it.