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Holt Kawena almost plowed into the maid’s cart when he rushed out of the elevator.
“Joely?” he called, but there wasn’t any answer. He resisted kicking the door to 418 down, and used his master key instead. The stench punched him in the face and he couldn’t blame Joely for making a run for it.
His eyes narrowed on the wallet on the floor. He strode over to it, and picked it up.
Timothy Andrews. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Age forty-five. From Minnesota. Two hundred bucks in the wallet. Three credit cards. One identification card from the Minnesota state Senate.
What was it about Mr. Andrews that made Joely cry out like a frightened kitten? Tossing the wallet on the bureau by the TV, Holt left the room, locking it behind him. If Joely wasn’t here, she must have taken the stairs.
“Cami, I need you to clean the fourth floor today,” he said, toggling on his microphone.
“Why not Joely?” Cami whined. “That’s her floor today.”
“She got sick. Room 418 needs a bio hazard suit to clean it, though.”
“Ugh great.”
“Sorry. Some days you’re the windshield...”
“And some days, you’re the bug,” Cami finished with a sigh. “She better not be at the fucking beach.”
Holt didn’t answer, but he didn’t think she was. He didn’t feel badly about giving Cami the extra work. Technically, it should have come from Amelia, but Holt was worried that Amelia would come and clean the rooms instead.
Cami was a slacker, who took advantage of Joely’s sweet nature. If she was one of his employees, he’d have had Cami whipped into shape or sent her packing long before now. Let her do some dirty work for a change.
Making his way to the front desk, he saw Makoa manning the desk and Kai booking excursions. “Have you seen Joely?” he asked Makoa.
“Nah, but we were going to go for a bike ride later.”
Holt frowned. He didn’t think there was anything between Joely and Makoa, but the idea of her wrapping her arms around him while they zoomed down the street didn’t sit well with him.
“Do you have a helmet for her?”
“Nah, we’re not going motobaik. We’re going wilwil.” Makoa made pedaling motions with his hand.
“Do you have a helmet for her?” Holt repeated.
“She got a hard head, just like me.” Makoa knocked on his skull for emphasis.
Willing himself not to roll his eyes, Holt asked, “When were you going?”
“After lunch.”
It wasn’t even after ten yet.
“When you see her, I need to speak to her right away.”
“Right away, boss.” Makoa saluted him.
Holt had his doubts that Makoa would even remember this conversation, but hopefully Holt would find Joely before lunch. His next stop was her room, but he didn’t expect her to answer his knock. He was tempted to use his master key there as well, but in the end just peeked in her lanai door. The blinds were closed, so that was a dead end.
Taking a walk down the path that lead to the beach, he constantly scanned both sides of the walkway, looking for a flash of her blue uniform or her strawberry blond hair.
Even if it weren’t for her glorious hair, Joely would stand out in a crowd. She had long legs and a sassy smirk. He liked that she wasn’t intimidated by his size and told him off when she thought he was being overbearing. He’d wanted to get to know her better, but there was something about her that set him on edge.
She was hiding something, lying to all of them. At first, he thought she was turning tricks for the tourists. Then when he caught the real prostitutes, he thought Joely might be a thief, but she didn’t take any of the bait he tried to trap the maids with. Two of them failed the test and pocketed a lone diamond earring. The rest of the staff—Joely included—reported just finding one and put it in a cup in the bathroom per their rules and regulations.
Then last year, she really had been hiding something from him. Michaela had been squatting illegally in their unfinished rooms, but since Michaela went on to marry one of the owners, Holt didn’t hold that against Joely.
Fishing out his sunglasses, Holt slid them over his eyes as he walked onto the Kaanapali beach. He knew this resort and the beach like the back of his hand, having grown up here when his uncle tried to get his father to give up the paniolo life. But while you probably could take the cowboy out of the alcoholic, you couldn’t take the bottle away from him.
Striding over to where Samuel Kincaide, aka Dude, hung in his hammock, Holt had no compunctions about standing over him, even if he was the co-owner of the resort with his brother Marcus.
“You’re blocking the sun, brah,” Dude croaked out.
“Have you seen Joely?”
“Not my turn to watch her.”
“Where’s Amelia?”
“She was heading for the front desk an hour ago.”
“She’s not there now,” Holt said, trying to maintain his patience.
When his father sold the resort to the Kincaide brothers, it was in dire need of a bulldozer. Years of neglect because Mel Kawena was a weak drunk who wouldn’t stand up to his wife’s brother, caused the resort to be on the edge of bankruptcy. Holt had desperately wanted to keep the resort in the family.
But his father had other ideas. Mel had taken the Kincaides’ money and literally ran. Holt hadn’t seen his father in over three years.
He could have blamed the millionaire haoles, but that would make him too much like his uncle, Tetsuo Hojo. So, he befriended them instead.
“It’s not my turn to watch Amelia either,” Dude said, stifling a yawn. And Amelia was his wife.
Marcus was the easier brother to deal with, but he was in California this week helping his wife with a case. They were both attorneys and practiced on the mainland as well as on the islands.
“I think we might have a problem with one of our guests. If you see either of them, tell them to call me.”
“Roger dat.” Dude gave him the shaka.
Walking away, Holt called Joely’s cell phone again. This time, surprisingly, she answered it. “Look, it’s not a good time.”
“Where are you?”
Her voice was shaky and wild, and he was worried.
“I’m at Whaler’s Village. I didn’t want to do anything touristy, but I was afraid to stay on the resort and I was afraid to walk on the road.”
He bristled at the fear he heard from her and increased his pace. It was a five-minute walk to Whaler’s Village. “Where are you?” he repeated.
For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer him, but then she spoke and he had to strain to hear her. “I’m in Trendy Topics.”
Holt made a face. “Why?”
“Because the last place he’ll be is in a tween pop shop.”
“Senator Andrews?”
“Did you talk to him?” Her voice rose alarmingly.
“No, I saw the wallet. Calm down. I’ll be right there.”
“Make sure you’re not followed.” She hung up.
Casually looking behind him, Holt leaned up against a wooden brochure stand. He waved off the time share wahine and waited a few minutes. Tourists bustled by him. A few waiters darted in and out hurrying from the restaurant bars to the beach. No one was paying him any attention or tailing him, certainly no one who looked like Senator Andrews.
As Holt made his way through the beachfront and into the back of the Whaler’s Village shopping mall, he continued scanning. He still didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. Bracing himself, he walked into Trendy Topics. All at once, his senses shut down in self-defense. His ears were assaulted by a loud noise that had a deep bass. Some of the kids danced to it. Taking off his sunglasses, he squinted into the darkness only to be blinded by the strobe light. The overwhelming smell of patchouli wafted into his nostrils. A hand touched his arm and he turned.
“Were you followed?” Joely asked.
Her face was so white that her freckles stood out in sharp contrast, and her green eyes were misted with tears. Holt wanted to bundle her up into his arms until color came back to her face.
“Let’s get out of here.” He took her by the upper arm, but was surprised when she dug her heels in.
“Are you working for him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Holt pulled her towards the front of the store, so desperate to get out of this nightmare place that he almost ran into a bikini display.
“Where are you taking me?” she said, twisting in his grip.
He let her go and she stumbled back. “Joely.” He held out his hand to her. “I can’t think in this place. Let’s go to the beach.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. He might see me.”
“I’ll be with you.”
“I won’t always be with you.”
Holt sighed. “I get that you’re scared. Tell me why.”
Hugging herself, Joely looked around. “You won’t believe me. You never believe me. Look, tell everyone I quit. If he asks for me, please just do me a favor and tell him you never saw me, that I was never here.”
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
She gave a half laugh and shook her head. “See, you always think the worst.”
“Just tell me what is going on. I’ll go back and get my car. I’ll meet you by the parking lot. We’ll go up to D.T. Fleming and paddle out. No one will bother us.”
Biting her lip, she looked around the store. “All right.”
“Fifteen minutes.” He tapped his watch. “Meet me in the parking lot.”
She nodded.
Holt sprinted back to the Palekaiko resort. His phone rang just as he was rounding the corner into the lobby.
“Oh,” Amelia said, hanging up the phone. “I was just calling you.”
Amelia was a pretty blond with enough energy to fuel a dozen cars. She was their concierge and did her job well. Why she married a slacker like Dude was beyond Holt’s imagination.
“Has anyone been looking for Joely?” Holt said.
“Just you.” Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet, but she’s afraid of the guy in 418. He’s a Minnesota senator named Timothy Andrews. Can you reiterate with the staff that it’s against company policy to give out any personal information about a staff member to a guest?”
“Sure. Is everything all right?”
Holt nodded. “It will be. But for right now, Joely and I are taking the day off.”
“You are?” Amelia looked shocked.
Holt knew he didn’t take time for himself ever and certainly not with Joely, but she didn’t have to look so surprised. “Just keep it on the down low. I’ll have my cell phone on me for emergencies, though. I’ll fill Dude in on everything later.”
“I want to be there when you do. Be careful.”
He nodded, and took his keys off the peg from behind the concierge desk.
“Hey, Holt,” Hani, the bell captain, said.
Looking up, Holt saw that Hani was leading a guest towards him. He wasn’t surprised to recognize Senator Andrews from his driver’s license photo. Assessing the man, Holt wasn’t impressed. Andrews was tall, but flabby, and he had a mean look about him.
A bully.
Rising up to his full height, Holt let them come to him. “Yes?” he said, politely. Maybe he’d be able to find out why Joely was so afraid of this asshole.
“This is Senator Andrews. He’s looking for someone. I didn’t recognize her, but I figured you might.” Hani turned to the senator. “Holt is the director of security. He knows everyone.”
“Thank you,” Andrews rapped out curtly. “You may go.”
Hani’s face was schooled in polite disinterest as he walked away, but he shot an unreadable look over his shoulder at Holt and shook his head “no” at him.
Interesting.
“What can I help you with?”
“Have you seen this woman?” Andrews shoved a picture in his face.
Plucking the picture out of the man’s hand, he studied it. It was definitely Joely. He could tell that by the eyes and the freckles. But her face was fuller and her hair was brown, cut short in a severe pixie cut. It showed off her cheekbones. Her nose was different too. And in this picture, she wasn’t smiling. This was not the woman who haunted his thoughts and laughed with her friends while surfing.
“No, can’t say that I have. Who is she?” Holt handed the picture back to Andrews.
Andrews frowned and glared at it. “She’s my wife.”
Holt forced himself not to react as his stomach dropped to his shoes. “What makes you think she’s here?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amelia practically standing on her tip toes to get a look at the picture.
“I saw a picture on the internet of her. She was wearing a maid’s uniform from this resort.”
Holt nodded. “Well, I can look in our system to see if she’s ever worked here.”
“I would appreciate that, son.”
Baring his teeth in what he hoped was a smile, Holt went around the desk where Amelia was and opened up a browser window.
“May I see?” Amelia said.
When the senator handed her the picture, Holt gave her a warning look.
“What’s your wife’s name, sir?” he said, watching Amelia stiffen in recognition. But she didn’t say anything.
“Annie Andrews. But she might be using her maiden name Post.”
Amelia watched over his shoulder as he googled Annie Post Andrews Minnesota. “I don’t see anything in our system for an employee by that name.”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia broke in. “I didn’t catch your name, sir.”
“Amelia is one of the owners of the resort, and our concierge,” Holt said.
“I’m Senator Timothy Andrews from Minnesota.”
“I see here,” Amelia said, typing information in their reservation computer, “that you checked in alone yesterday. Were you expecting your wife to come in today?”
“No,” he said, brushing his hand in the air. “I haven’t seen her in almost five years. We’re estranged.”
Amelia’s lips tightened and she handed him back the photo.
Holt could confirm that there was a woman named Annie Post who married Timothy Andrews. He saw the marriage announcement. He could see if there was a divorce filed, but he’d have to put a credit card in and he didn’t want to do that with the senator watching.
“Perhaps, then, she doesn’t want to see you,” Amelia said swiftly.
“We have unfinished business between us. I will find her.” Timothy slammed his fist on the counter.
“Easy,” Holt growled out. He couldn’t find any police or court reports from Minnesota.
“I’m sorry. I’m just very concerned about her. She has ... mental issues. She’s sick.”
Holt almost went over the desk. The urge to pummel this guy senseless was strong, but he refrained himself.
“I can ask around to the other resorts,” Amelia cut in. “All of our uniforms are similar.”
“They are?” Timothy said, frowning.
No, they weren’t, but it was possible that someone like Timothy wouldn’t notice that.
“Let me put a note in your file that if she turns up to contact you immediately. May I see your driver’s license?”
Bless her. Holt watched as Amelia typed in his driver’s license number, home address.
“Phone number, please?”
She was good. That would be more than enough to search for more details.
“Thank you,” she said, handing his license back to him. “Please enjoy your stay. May I recommend a tour to Molokini for some snorkeling?”
Timothy considered it, but then shook his head. “I’d like to speak to your service staff.”
“It’s 50% off today only,” Amelia said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “But the bus leaves in twenty minutes.”
“Really?” He pocketed his wallet. “Does that include lunch?”
“It does.”
Holt smirked in amusement as she then proceeded to charge him full price and print him out a voucher. “You can pick up the shuttle bus to Ma’alaea Harbor out front.” Amelia pointed to the entrance.
“I need to go back to my room and change, but I would still like to speak with the staff when I get back.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” she said.
When the senator left, Amelia turned to Holt. “What the fuck is going on?"
“I’m not sure, but Joely’s hiding out at Whaler’s Inn, terrified of that asshole. I’m going to take her out to D.T. Fleming and see if I can get to the bottom of this. When you talk to the staff, be firm. No one tells him anything, or they answer to me.”