Chapter 7
Presley gripped the report that Hale Pau, the investigator, had completed between her shaky fingers. To her right, the Waylen sat on a trailer in dry dock. The fire had damaged her starboard hull. The circuit board and electronics for the navigation system, among other things, needed to be replaced.
“Your vessel is now a crime scene,” Hale said. “We appreciate yours and Remi’s statements. But we’ll need anyone else to also give a statement who had access to the catamaran before it set sail.”
“I’m happy to provide you a list.” She glanced at the sheet of paper.
Gas leak.
Specifically, the gas line had been tampered with.
As well as the generator, which they had been lucky worked the first couple of nights.
“Most of my people are back near The Resort. My entire base of operation is at the marina right next door.” She waved the document. “May I keep this?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s for your records.” Hale nodded. “You mentioned that you live above your office and lost power the night before the charter.”
“The entire marina did.”
“For how long?” Hale asked.
“About forty-five minutes.”
“Why didn’t the generator kick in?”
“There was a coolant leak.” She shrugged. “Topper had it serviced three months ago. I know that to be a fact because I called the company and was there the day they came. The generator isn’t that old, so it doesn’t make sense. But Topper fixed it immediately, and it appears to be working fine now.”
“I’ve had a chance to speak with Melissa and she’s reported that neither she nor her husband have any enemies. What about you?” Hale looped his fingers into his belt.
“The only person who has a beef with me is my ex-husband, Vernon.”
“Your business partner?” Hale lowered his chin.
“It wasn’t a very good marriage, and the divorce got ugly,” she admitted. “Lucky for him at the time, my business was making more than his. Then, to add insult to injury for me, his main source of income went belly up. He got partial ownership in my family”s blood, sweat, and tears. I’m working my ass off to buy him out. Especially now that he’s come into money.”
“No offense, ma’am, but you sound bitter.”
“That’s because I am. When Vernon and I got married, my folks were still alive. That business was theirs and they never intended for him to have any piece of it. My father warned me about not having a prenup.”
“Has your ex ever threatened you? Was he abusive in any way?”
“No to both questions,” she admitted. “About the worst I can accuse him of outside of being a prick is he cheated on me once, and he could be cruel.”
“Cruel how?”
“If he got pissed off, he’d tell me I looked fat. Or blame me for the miscarriage that I suffered. He told me that if I had been a better wife and cared for him better, he wouldn’t have stepped out. It was little digs meant to belittle me here and there, but then he’d always apologize.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did he get almost half the business in the settlement and not alimony?”
“It was considered a material asset. At the time of the divorce, the only things we had were that and the house, which he bought me out of.” The longer she stood there by the dry dock next to the damaged catamaran, the hotter the blood in her veins became. It flowed through her body like the lava coming out of the volcano.
“Let’s get back to this charter,” Hale said. “I know we’ve gone over this, but I want to clarify some things. The guests were friends of Vernon’s?”
“I don’t know if they were friends or not. Vernon told me that Frank was a business associate. An important one. Something about trying to close a deal. Vernon was adamant that I personally take the charter out, even though this boat was scheduled for service this week.”
“This is what I’m not understanding. Vernon has nothing to do with the day-to-day operations, right?”
“Generally, no. But he does this sometimes. He’ll book something for someone he knows, overriding me, exerting his power as co-owner. If I can accommodate the customer, I’ll do it. However, oftentimes I can’t, and it causes problems. Once, Vernon went behind my back and contracted a captain and crew from another company to take out one of my boats for a three-day charter after I told him we couldn’t do it.”
“You’ve never hired outside your own employees?”
“I’ll contract other captains or crew. All my chefs come from a service company. But I go through certain channels to do it. I don’t bring anyone aboard I don’t know. That particular instance, I had an early scuba run and when I returned, the boat was gone.”
“In this situation, what was the deciding factor to allow the charter to go, even though the boat needed service?”
“Vernon told me if his deal with Frank went through, he’d sell me his half of Driftwood Tours for half the market value.” She swiped at her cheeks. The one thing she hated more than crying, was doing it in front of people. “I want that man out of my life. That boat.” She jerked her finger over her shoulder. “Is only two years old. It was basic service. I’m anal about shit like that. Waiting a week shouldn’t be an issue because I’m so meticulous in how I care for my boats. I have the service records to prove it.”
“Ma’am, I can say with a fair amount of confidence that this wasn’t an accident.” He folded his arms. “Who’s at fault? That I don’t know yet.”
Which meant she was a potential suspect. As was everyone who worked for her.
But so was Vernon.
That man was a lot of things, but why would he do this? He’d never raised his hand to anyone that she’d ever seen. He could be mean with his words, but he wasn’t violent.
“I think I have all that I need for now,” Hale said. “Will you be heading back to the other side of the island?”
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
“All right. Please don’t leave the area. I understand you have a business to run, but if you need to go out on a charter, I need to know about it.”
“I’m happy to send you my schedule,” she said.
“That would be most helpful.” Hale took the sunglasses perched on the top of his head and lowered them over his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” She stood there, frozen in time, watching Hale stroll toward his dark sedan.
“Hey.” Remi stepped from the maintenance shed. “That looked intense.”
“It was.” She folded the document and tucked it in her back pocket.
“Did he mention any suspects? Have any idea who did this? Because I can think of only one person who has it out for you.” Remi tilted his head and pursed his lips.
“Yeah, we all know Vernon and I don’t like each other much and we fight like motherfuckers. He’s a lot of things. A liar. A cheat. A scam artist. But why the hell would he try to blow up a boat with a client he’s trying to do business with?”
“Because that would get you out of his life.” Remi arched a brow.
She didn’t need to be reminded of that.
“Let me call Mano. He’ll be able to find out what kind of deal Vernon was working on with Frank. That might give us some insight.”
“All right. But make sure Mano gives us the friends and family deal. I always give him a discount when he comes for a charter.”
“Come on. Knowing him, he’ll do it for free.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Remi laughed. “Let’s head home.”
“I need to call Waylen and let him know what’s going on.” She pulled out her cell and tapped the screen, pulling up his contact info.
It went straight to voicemail.
She didn’t want to give him the details over the phone.
“Hey, it’s me. I’ve got some news from the investigator. Give me a call when you can. Thanks.” She tucked her cell in her back pocket. “Let’s roll.”
“So, you and Waylen, back in the saddle again. I have to say that warms my heart. The two of you were always a great couple.” Remi tossed his arm over her shoulders. He was a big guy at six foot three. He had to be close to two hundred and eighty pounds. He was as wide as a pickup with a personality to match.
“I’m not sure I’d call us a couple. However, I will say it’s been damn good to see him again. He’s different but the same, if that makes any sense.”
“He’s just older. More mature. Kind of a softer, gentler version of his younger self, and his eyes lit up like the best starry night when he climbed up on the boat. It wasn’t shock. It was like everything he’d been missing in his life showed up.”
“Oh my God. You’re a cornball.”
“I speak the truth,” he said, giving her a hip check. “And you’ve got a little grin every time you speak of him.”
“I absolutely do not.” Heat rose to her cheeks like she was a schoolgirl. Ever since Waylen left, Remi and his then-girlfriend, now wife, Akela, had become the two people she trusted the most with her vulnerabilities. Her emotions. Her tears. She could tell them anything and not fear being judged. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But he’s not here indefinitely. He has a return ticket to the mainland. I’m not going to set myself up to be hurt.”
“The two of you being in the same space and not allowing your love to bloom is a recipe for heartbreak for both of you.”
“It’s twenty-three years of complications.”
“That may be true. But you’re still in love with the man and don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise.”
She leaned into Remi’s strong frame as they crossed the parking lot. “The problem is I never stopped.”
Waylen leaned back in his chair, eyeing the stage. Ohana’s wasn’t just any tiki bar. It was the place to be. The fact it was for sale had Waylen’s mind spinning with possibilities.
Crazy ideas.
But he wasn’t the only one who had thought how cool it would be to own a bar or move to Big Island.
However, right now, it was simple chatter. A big idea. A concept. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The waitress brought over two pitchers and a tray of appetizers.
“I think I can speak for everyone that staying a little longer and being on call in case the Brotherhood Protectors need us is no sweat off our backs.” Raider raised his frosty mug. “Hawk is about as good as they come.”
“Here, here.” Harlan clanked his glass. “I could get used to this life.”
“What? You’re not going to start listing out all the negotiating employment points?” Lane asked with a chuckle.
“We haven’t even opened that can of worms yet.” Harlan snagged an onion ring. “But when we do, trust me, I’ll have something to say.”
“You always do,” Kian said. “It’s what we love about you.” He slapped Harlan on the back. “See any hot chicks you want to hit on for a one-nighter?”
“I seriously don’t understand why you bother.” Harlan shook his head. “That gets real old, real fast.”
“Not for us.” Waylen reached across the table and placed a few wings on his plate, doing his best to put that damn piano out of his line of sight. But the fucking thing taunted him, begging him to sit down on the bench and run his fingers across the keys. “We enjoy watching you get indignant about it.”
“That’s a mighty big word, even for you.” Harlan waved his fried treat. “How’s your friend Presley doing?”
“Freaked out, and I don’t blame her.” Waylen had wanted to get in his rental and drive back to the marina the second he’d learned an intentional cut to the line had caused the gas leak. The idea that anyone wanted to hurt Presley made him want to put his fist through the wall.
Better yet, smack-dab in the middle of her asshole ex-husband’s face.
Based on everything he’d learned, it had to be him. But Hawk needed him to do some high-tech computer work in the morning regarding a different problem. He couldn’t say no. Not if he and his team wanted to discuss working for this outfit.
Remi had promised to watch over Presley until Waylen could get there sometime tomorrow.
Mano had gotten a lock on Vernon.
The bases were covered.
He trusted Mano and Remi as much as he did the four men he currently sat with.
“Have you spoken to the investigator?” Lane asked.
Waylen nodded. “A guy by the name of Hale Pau. He knows Hawk. Respects him and the organization. Mentioned they’ve worked on a case together before. He promised to keep me in the loop if and when he’s got something solid, but so far, he has very little but speculation to go on. He can’t be sure she was even the target. It could have been anyone on that boat.”
“But that’s not what you think,” Raider said.
“Nope.” He rose. “I’ve got to hit the head.” For most of his life, when he was troubled by something, music helped him gather his thoughts so he could make sense of any situation. As a teenager, he didn’t hide his abilities. He openly played the piano or the guitar. And he sang. It was a passion he shared with his father. That and fishing.
He continued when he moved to Maryland, but it didn’t feel the same.
His father had died.
And he no longer had Presley at his side.
So, when he entered the Naval Academy, he gave it up, except for when he was all alone or with his mother. That was hard for those four years. But because he always lived alone—except for his short marriage—he could sing and play to his heart’s content.
He strolled by the stage. The damn piano might as well have had fucking fingers, reaching out and grabbing him by the heart and yanking him right up on that wooden platform. He studied it for a moment. It was old and weathered but playable. Tapping a finger on one of the keys, he ignored Raider yelling across the bar, asking him what the hell he was doing.
The last time he sang in public had been on Big Island.
At his father’s funeral.
It was a bittersweet memory.
“Fuck it.” He pulled back the bench and plopped his ass down. Cracking his knuckles, he rolled his neck. “This one’s for you, Pops.”
He turned the mic on, lowered it to the proper position, sucked in a deep breath, and let his fingers hover over the keyboard.
This wasn’t a mainstream song and not everyone loved music from the seventies, but this was one of his father’s favorites and he loved to change it up a little.
He pounded the first keystrokes, shifting his gaze to his buddies. He cracked a slight smile. “Whoa,” he belted out as he continued playing, leading up to the lyrics of the song.
Kian sat there with his jaw practically in his lap, bug-eyed.
Raider and Harlan were glancing between each other and the stage with shocked expressions.
Lane shook his head and waggled his finger.
When Waylen began singing, his team was on their feet. Every single one of them, including Kian. They whistled, clapped, and even sang along.
Although Waylen tripped them up a little when he sang Bad, Bad, Waylen Brown instead Leroy, but that’s how he and his dad used to sing it. Made people laugh and his friends were no different.
Waylen ran his fingers across the keyboard, showing off a bit. Chills crawled over his skin from his toes to his neck. The good kind of chills. The ones that oddly made you all warm and tingly.
His buddies went wild.
“You lied to me, you lovable bastard,” Lane shouted.
They were the best. He couldn’t ask for a better support system than those four. No matter their quirks. Their annoyances. Their flaws. They were the kind of men who showed up when they were at their own rock bottom.
When the song ended, he let out a long breath, dropping his hands in his lap.
Everyone in the bar cheered and begged for another song.
But one was enough. At least for tonight.
He stood and made his way back to the table. A few people stopped him. Thanked him for his service and for the song.
“My God. What other talents are you hiding from us?” Harlan slapped him on the back. “That was amazing. I had no idea you could do that.”
“Thanks, man.” He pulled back his chair, snagged his beer, and chugged. While he truly loved playing and singing, he loathed being the center of attention.
“It was cool that you changed the name from Leroy to Waylen. But did I hear you toss in a Presley?” Harlan laughed.
“Back in the day that’s how I always sang it, so old habits die hard, I guess.” Waylen shrugged.
“Don’t sing, my ass.” Lane leaned across the table and gave him a little punch in the shoulder. “I’m a little in awe of you right now.”
“Don’t be. It’s not that big of a deal. I was just fooling around. It wasn’t that good.”
“Are you kidding? You could go on one of those singing shows and be a star,” Raider said. “I’m not busting your balls either. You’re seriously that good. Why have you never told us you could play the piano or sing like that?”
“Yeah. I’m wondering that myself.” Kian folded his arms over his chest. He had that tight look on his face that indicated he was a little hurt. Kian was the kind of man who could be seriously misunderstood. He had this rough, tough exterior. But, deep down, he was about as sensitive as they came. He didn’t often show it, but when it came to this group, when he did, it came out sideways. “It’s weird that you kept that in the vault.”
“It was something I did with my dad. He was a great singer. And a songwriter. It was a passion of his and he passed it down to me. But after he died, it seemed all wrong and I just stopped. Being back here and having his memories flood my brain, I wanted to pay a little homage to the old man.”
“That’s damn fucking sweet.” Kian squeezed his shoulder. “But you better not be keeping more secrets. It will break my heart.”
“Sometimes you’re like a toddler who didn’t get his way.” Raider shook his head.
“Don’t worry. I think that might be the last one.” Waylen’s cell vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out.
“It’s Presley. I better take it.” He raced toward the parking lot. “Hey, babe. Everything okay?”
“No. It’s not,” she said with a shaky voice.
He could tell she’d been crying and Presley didn’t cry. At least not openly. She had a weird ability to control it better than most.
“What’s wrong?” He stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sank to his heels.
She hiccupped. “Someone broke into the Driftwood Tours office. They ransacked it. Went through all my files. I can’t tell if they took anything. But they didn’t stop there.” She spoke so fast he couldn’t get a word in if he tried. “Whoever it was decided to go upstairs to the apartment and took my personal laptop.” A loud gasp followed by a few sobs filled his ears. “And Waylen is missing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Not you. My cat. They left the door open and he got out. He’s not an outdoor cat. Akela had been taking care of him for me.” More gasps.
“Babe. I need you to take a few deep breaths. Can you do that?”
Silence for a few seconds.
“Presley, is Remi with you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And the police?”
“Still here along with Investigator Hale.”
“Are they thinking this is tied to the gas leak?” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“They certainly aren’t ruling that out.” She let out an audible sigh.
“Make sure Remi stays with you. I’ve got to make a phone call, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell Hale to call me after he wraps up and get all the names and numbers of the police officers. I want to talk with them.”
“Okay. But are you sure you can break away? I thought you?—”
“Babe. I’m not going let you go through this alone. I’m leaving here within the next twenty minutes. I’ll call you from the road.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Anything for my Cilla,” he said.
“You can’t ever call me that again.”
“Why not?”
“Do you know what Elvis Presley’s father’s name was?”
“Vernon,” he whispered. “I see your point and I promise I’ll find a new nickname for you.”
“Don’t want one,” she said. “I’ve got to go.”
“Stay safe. I’ll see you soon.” He ended the call and quickly brought up Hawk’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Hawk. It’s Waylen.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got a situation with Presley Miles. Her place was robbed and ransacked and I have reason to believe it has to do with what happened to her boat. I hope you’ll understand if I skip out tonight to help her sort through what’s happening. I believe she was the target?—”
“Waylen. Slow down,” Hawk said. “And my answer is you have the full backing of the Brotherhood Protectors.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“I’d still like your help. I understand your IT skills are extensive. So, I’ll send you the file. You can work on it remotely. It’s not a high priority—at least not right now. In the meantime, do you need backup? Because you do have your team or anyone else I have available at your disposal.”
“I don’t believe so. The police are still with Presley. But if I do, I’d of course like to be able to call on my buddies.”
“Fair enough. Keep me posted daily.”
“Will do.” The phone went dead.
Now it was time to tell the team before packing an overnight bag. Whatever he couldn’t stuff in his rucksack in five minutes, he’d buy along the way. He didn’t need much.
All he really needed was to protect Presley.
He couldn’t let anything happen. He cared for her too much. More than he’d allowed himself to admit over the years.
His mother was right.
His love for her had never faded.