Beach My Life
Beach My Life
Hawaii Heat, Volume 3
Jamie K. Schmidt
Published by Jamie K. Schmidt, 2018.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Beach My Life (Hawaii Heat, #3)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Links
Glossary
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About the Author
Beach My Life is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright @2018 by Jamie K. Schmidt.
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Thank you.
To my MTBs who when I told them that 2018 was going to be the year of self-publishing dangerously (YOSPD), didn’t have me committed. Thank you, Denise, Gail, Heidi, Jane, Jamie B, Jamie P., Jennifer, Katy, Stephanie, and Tracy, for always having my back and being my most trusted bitches.
Chapter One
Joely Anderson walked out on the lanai to take a deep breath before she puked.
People were pigs.
As the head maid in the newly renovated and very popular Palekaiko Beach Resort, she thought she had seen it all. A mountain of sand in the shower? No problem. Leftover food rotting in eighty-degree temperature? Been there, done that. She’d even came across a dead body once. That nice gentleman, Mr. Frank, in room 301 had died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of ninety.
Drunks were the worse, though. Drunks who didn’t care how bad they left their bathrooms should have a special place in hell. Her walkie beeped, and she toggled on the button on her headset as she gulped in the fresh ocean air.
“Yeah?”
“Is everything all right?”
Joely straightened up, and self-consciously tugged down her uniform.
“Why?” She was on the fourth floor. Peering around the grounds, she didn’t see the head of security, Holt Kawena, but she wasn’t surprised he had eyes on her. He had eyes everywhere.
“I was wondering if we had a code one-hundred on our hands.”
That was a polite way of saying he hoped there wasn’t another dead body in the room.
“Nope, just smells like it.” She grimaced. “Where are you, anyway?” Looking all over the property, she ignored the beautiful blue ocean, the white sand beach and the palm trees that swayed in the brisk Maui breeze. She could see guests heading to and from the restaurant. Some had already situated themselves by the pool, even though the action over there didn’t really get good until after lunch. But she didn’t see Holt, who was probably wearing his signature khakis and a mild patterned Hawaiian shirt.
She would have recognized his muscular build anywhere. He was the kind of guy that the postcard photographers would take a picture of when he was out on his surfboard. Joely missed a lot of waves watching him. Holt had muscles that looked like he spent his time bench pressing smart cars.
When she first got hired, Kai and Hani, two of the bell staff, told her he was ex-special forces, and she made an ass out of herself thanking Holt for his service. Holt just looked like a member of Seal Team Six. He wasn’t ever in the armed forces.
Joely had a history of making an ass out of herself with him, so she just stopped trying to catch his eye. Then, there was the prostitution scandal—that she had been totally innocent of—and ever since then Holt watched her like a hawk. It was like he thought just because he didn’t catch her this time, didn’t mean she wasn’t up to something.
Her life wasn’t that interesting now, and that was just the way she liked it. Still, sometimes she wished she had a little more fun in her life. Her friends Amelia and Michaela were always trying to get her to go to Paint Night or Plant Night or Drink Night with them.
And while that was good, inevitably the night would end and so would Joely’s reprieve. Amelia would go back home to Dude—her husband, without a care in the world. The next morning Michaela would wake up next to her husband, Marcus, and they would plot their next business venture. On the other hand, Joely would get out of bed and go scrub toilets for most of the day, when she wasn’t working on staffing issues.
“I was just passing by,” Holt said, jarring her out of her thoughts. “when I saw you bolt out onto the lanai.”
“I’m thinking about jumping,” she muttered, eyeing the ground below her. Nothing but plumeria bushes and pavement.
“Don’t. We can’t afford the extra staff to clean up the mess.”
Joely snorted. The hotel was doing well. They probably could afford it. The renovations were almost done, and Holt’s uncle, Tetsuo, had found another property to harass.
“Speaking of messes, I guess it’s time to do the nasty.” She sighed. Then winced when he gave a small cough that could have been laughter. Not how she meant it. Not that Holt ever even thought of her like that anyway. Holding her breath, she went back inside. There was a lot of bleach in her future. As she scooped up the bedsheets off the bed, a man’s wallet dropped out. Figures.
She stuffed the sheets into her bin that she left in the hallway, and then went back in to pick the wallet up off the floor.
“Hey, Holt,” she said, toggling the microphone back on. “I just want to log that I picked up room 418’s wallet. It fell out of the bed.”
“Give me a money count just in case there is a problem.”
Making a face, she opened the wallet. She hated doing that, but she hated having to defend herself against a complaint that she took money even more. When she glanced down and saw the license photo, the wallet fell out of her nerveless fingers. She must have made a noise because Holt sounded alarmed.
“What is it?”
“I have to lea
ve,” she whispered, and ran out of the room.
“Talk to me,” he barked.
Whipping the headset off, she tossed the communication unit in her cart. Locking the door with shaking fingers, Joely pushed the cart to the elevator. But seeing the car was already on its way up, she panicked and bolted for the back stairs.
He found her. She wasn’t sure how he did. But five years later, after reconstructive surgery and a name change, it could not be coincidence that her ex-husband was staying at the same resort she was hiding out in.
Chapter Two
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.”