Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(32)

“I can sympathize. My ex-husband left me three years ago for one of his clients. It’s tough, especially on the kids.”

“It was horrible. My mother fell into a depression so there was no one to watch over my three little brothers but me.” A flash of anger surfaced and flared in her eyes. “I hated Kiana for taking my father away from us.”

“How did you and Keiki get along?”

“Growing up with three brothers, I always longed for a little sister. All of a sudden, I had one. Whether I wanted her or not.” She laughed, but it was a harsh mirthless sound. “Then I discovered if I hung out with Keiki, there were boys surrounding me. For the first time ever. They might have been her cast-offs, but they were good enough for me.”

Interesting family dynamic. Was Walea’s husband one of Keiki’s so-called “cast offs?”

The man in question suddenly ran down the stairs. He frowned when he noticed us together. In an icy voice, his acne-scarred chin almost touching mine, Henry told me to “Stay away from my wife.”

I stepped back, relieved when Steve called for me from above deck. I darted up the steps to find a very anxious sea captain holding a tablecloth in his hand. Steve and the crew had waited to cast off because both Timmy and the regular bartender were late. Timmy had finally shown up, but the bartender had called to say his car had been rear-ended.

Before I knew it, I was serving drinks and yummy pupus while maneuvering between passengers who jumped from their seats every time Amanda spotted a whale. At the rate she kept pointing out marine mammals, it looked like the humpbacks were enjoying far more romance on their Hawaiian vacation than I was on mine.

Steve had talked me into wearing a makeshift sarong. I wasn’t certain the blue-flowered tablecloth that had morphed into a flowing Hawaiian garment was necessary, but it made me feel somewhat exotic.

“All I’m missing is a flower,” I complained to Steve as I pointed to the yellow hibiscus clipped over Amanda’s ear.

Steve smiled and grabbed a tiny orchid from the bar supply. He tucked it behind my ear, apologized for putting me to work, and told me I was the most beautiful woman on board the boat.

I’m such a sucker for a compliment, especially when an azure-eyed Adonis is the one whispering it in my ear.

My previous boating experiences consisted of me sitting on my butt and watching the shoreline. Balancing a tray of drinks on deck was like roller-skating on a surfboard. I assumed I’d eventually acclimate to the boat’s movement, but as the shoreline receded, the choppiness increased. My primary goal was to avoid dumping mai tais or daiquiris on the passengers. So far, I’d limited my spills to my own washable garment.

I’d begun to wonder if I would ever get an opportunity to talk to Timmy when Steve announced the evening’s entertainment would begin.

A reprieve at last. After promising one Australian matey I would return with refills once the show ended, I set my tray on the bar and told Amanda I was going below deck to talk to Timmy.

The boat rocked and I teetered on the stairs, grabbing hold of the railing. I finally spied Timmy in the corner, his dark head bent over a small bench. Noise from the ship’s engine must have muffled my footsteps. When I tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around faster than a whirling dervish on speed.

One muscular arm wrapped around my neck, squeezing off my windpipe. His hot breath burned the hairs on my nape. Choking, I struggled to push his arm away, but I stopped when I felt the prick of something sharp pressed against my tender skin.





Chapter 23





My body shook with fear and my trembling became so violent, my sarong threatened to slip from R-rated territory into an X-rated tell-all.

“Sorry. You kine spook me.” Timmy removed his arm from my neck and slipped the Swiss army knife back into his pocket. “Why you not upstairs?”

I gathered a large breath to calm myself down then let it out. Bad idea. Remind me not to wear a garment secured by only one knot the next time I’m assaulted from behind. I snatched the top of my sarong with both hands and hitched it up to its original PG version.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “Is this a bad time?”

Timmy turned his back to me. He shoved a brown paper-wrapped parcel into a canvas knapsack. He threw the bag into a small storage locker, attached a silver padlock to the door and clicked it shut.

He swung around, a tiny crescent-shaped scar on his cheekbone flashing white under his angry gaze.

“Fo’ what you want with me?”

I wanted answers. Lots of them. If only I could think of questions that wouldn’t upset this intimidating young man. I knew our time alone together was limited so I decided to barge ahead.