by Meryl Sawyer
Or maybe it was just her imagination.
Dana stood at the edge of the party, gazing across the paddock area to the imu. The underground pit had been dug and lined with dried banana leaves. In the Hawaiian tradition a kalua pig was being slow-roasted, while the paniolos were tending a spit where a steer was being cooked. It would be another two days before the feast was ready and all the guests had arrived for the luau.
Dana couldn't imagine any more people at the ranch. Already the helipad was surrounded by helicopters, lined up like bees around a hive. Many wealthy Hawaiians owned jet helicopters. It was by far the easiest and fastest way to travel between islands and land in even the remotest of spots like the ranch. Big Daddy owned a sleek Bell Ranger that was as fast as many jets, but Dana wasn't impressed.
Nor was she awed by Coltrane's rich friends, who were gathered tonight outside the main barn for a western party. Dressed in their Saturday night best with polished cowboy boots and fresh leis on the crowns of their hats, paniolos sat on bales of hay playing traditional Hawaiian tunes on slack-key guitars and ukuleles.
Dana wandered toward the stables where Big Daddy kept his Arabian horses. Without the trades blowing to muffle the sound, she could hear the lowing of cattle. The nearest range was a great distance from the house and the barn area was concealed by tall trees. Unless you came down to the paddocks, Kau Ranch seemed more like a resort than a working cattle ranch.
"Hey, babe. Where ya goin'?"
Dana turned and managed to smile at Rob. The last time she'd seen him he'd been chatting with her sister. It was almost as if she'd imagined what had happened between them on the beach. Maybe that was for the best. She certainly didn't know what to say.
They walked into the stables, the scent of horses and fresh hay eclipsing the smell of smoke. Like everything else on the ranch, the stables were a show-place. Every bit of tack was in place, bits shined, leather gleaming. Even the horses were brushed to a glossy finish as if they might step into a show ring at any moment.
"Let's see what's out back," Rob said, and she knew he wanted to have a private conversation.
"Do you think the stable's bugged?" she asked when they were outside.
Rob leaned against the rail of the training ring. "Around here you never know." He flashed her his bad-boy grin; she told herself she was immune, but it wasn't true. "I've reconnoitered and come up with a plan."
She folded her arms and stared down at her new cowboy boots. He was going to do it; he really was going to break into Big Daddy's suite.
"After dinner there'll be Western dancing," Rob said with a smile. "That should be a hoot for the mainlanders who think all Hawaiians do is the hula."
"Big Daddy isn't very creative. Every year he has a Western night a la Hawaii so they can see what the up-country is all about. Tomorrow night will be the hula show, complete with Fijian fire eaters. The next night at his luau he'll have a big-name band from the mainland."
"Well, tonight they're serving okolehao during the dancing. I figure everyone will be in the bag after one drink."
"You're right." The home-brew made from the potent roots of the ti plant was the same drink they served at Coconut Willie's as Sex on the Beach. Rob could handle it, but she wasn't touching the stuff.
Rob gazed thoughtfully across the empty ring. He was wearing a black polo shirt and Nikes because she'd forgotten to tell him that there would be a party with a Western theme. No matter what he stood out from the crowd, but tonight even more so because everyone else was in Western attire, wearing outfits that cost more than any paniolo made in a lifetime of riding the range.
"Have you noticed the security men?" he asked.
Dana shook her head. She'd been too busy brooding about Rob; she hadn't paid much attention to the guests.
"They're the guys that are standing around— drinks in their hands—but they aren't drinking. They're watching everyone."
"I could ask Vanessa about them. She might know."
"I asked her if she knew a couple of the guys, and she didn't. She hasn't a clue that they're security men."
Dana had barely spoken to her sister today. Vanessa had returned from Makawao with lots of shopping bags. She'd waved, but hadn't stopped to talk. Tonight she'd arrived late to the party and went right to Rob's side.
Don't be jealous, Dana chided herself. After listening to Rob's story this afternoon, her feelings about him had changed. She… well, she wasn't sure exactly how she felt, but she didn't want to compete with her sister. A man could never come between them. They'd been through too much together. And now they were being threatened again. This was not the time to allow herself to become jealous.
"Here's the plan," Rob said. "When the dancing starts well join in, but we'll stare into each other's eyes like teenagers with rampaging hormones. No one will be surprised when we leave together. They'll figure we're going to hop in the sack."
A scuffling noise distracted them; it was a paniolo coming out of the bunkhouse. Rob waited until the cowboy had passed before speaking.
"I'll sneak up to Big Daddy's and see what's there. You watch and see when he leaves the party. I'm betting he stays to the very end. Isn't that what a good host does?"
"I guess," she mumbled. Really, she couldn't imagine herself doing this. "You're going to give me a walkie-talkie so I can warn you when he's coming?"
"Right. I've got the state-of-the-art devices. I just bought them for my security company. They're the size of a pack of cards. That way you can slip it in your pocket if anyone comes along."
"If someone sees me, how'll I explain not being with you?"
"Tell them we had a fight."
He had an answer for everything, Dana decided, but somehow she knew it wasn't going to be so easy, not with all those security men snooping around.
"Keep Big Daddy in your sight all the time. I figure he'll leave with Minerva and spend a little time in her bungalow. He certainly can't take her up to his suite if he's got all that electronic equipment up there." Rob looked over his shoulder toward the dance area. "Just be certain you warn me when he's coming."
Dana swallowed hard, praying nothing went wrong. Big Daddy's suite occupied the entire second floor of the west wing of the house, but there was only one way in. She would have to warn Rob in plenty of time if he was going to get away without being seen.
Rob tried his damnedest to two-step, but he kept landing on Dana's toes. The caller was attempting to teach the greenhorns from the mainland Western dancing Hawaiian style. Rob had shuffled his way
through the Boot-Scooting Boogie and Slapping Leather with about as much grace as a hog on ice.
"Okay, partners," yelled the caller. "Ready to try the Tush Push?"
Rob pulled Dana closer, his nose brushing her fragrant hair. He'd had his hands on her all evening. He hadn't been crude, but he'd certainly given everyone the message. They were lovers.
"That's it," he said with a laugh. "We're outta here. Forget the Tush Push. I'm not bumping butts with a bunch of people I don't know."
Dana barely smiled. What was wrong with her? he wondered. She'd been strange since they'd left the beach. Just when he thought he'd forged something meaningful, she froze up.
Women. Go figure. Obviously, he was a big zilch in the relationship department. His experience with Ellen proved that. Dana, though, liked him—no matter how she acted. He'd tried not to come on too strong, reminding himself that she needed a sensitive man, but it was damn hard. He was the kind of guy that went after what he wanted. And he wanted Dana.
Good thing he hadn't told her everything. He'd told her just enough about the events following that fateful night to begin a relationship. She didn't need to know all his secrets—until he could really trust her. Trust? It was as foreign to him as life on Mars. Yet he knew at some point he was going to have to take a chance. And pray that history didn't repeat itself.
He kept his arm draped around Dana's shoulders as they made their way off the dance floor. The entir
e party had been held outside under a canopy of black sky dominated by a silvery lovers' moon. The trades had finally kicked in, making it cooler than when the party had begun and blowing the haunting scent of tropical flowers into the night air.
"Everyone seems to be having fun," Dana observed. "Hardly anyone's left."
Except Vanessa. She'd left—alone—a half hour ago. Rob didn't mention this to Dana. He wasn't certain what was going on between the sisters, but he was going to have to do something about Vanessa. He didn't appreciate her smile. He'd seen it on too many women's faces. It said "yes" before he'd even asked the question.
They walked silently toward the grove of kiawe trees that screened the family compound from the working part of the ranch. He took her hand, lacing their fingers together and giving her a reassuring squeeze. She didn't squeeze back, but she didn't pull away either.
"This is where I hid the walkie-talkies." Rob brushed aside the fronds of the fiddlehead fern and pulled out the plastic bag. He handed Dana hers. "You're clear on how to use it?"
She nodded, her beautiful face solemn in the bright moonlight. "Press the button to talk. Release to listen."
"You're not worried, are you?" Stupid question.
He could see that she was. "This is a no-brainer. If anything unexpected happens, just use your head."
"I'm worried that Big Daddy will catch you."
"What can he do? Kill me?" He chuckled, but he could see that she'd lost her sense of humor. "If you stay in the shadow of that banyan tree over by the corral, you'll see Big Daddy when he leaves. Follow him—at a distance—and warn me. Give me enough time to get out of there."
"I will," she promised, and he turned to go. She caught his arm, then brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. "Good luck."
Rob grinned as he sprinted up the gentle slope to the main house. Damn all, she was coming 'round. Slowly, to be sure, but Dana did care about him. He couldn't remember when he last felt this good about life. About himself.
Having just one entrance to the upper-level suite that Big Daddy occupied made him nervous. He wanted another way out—in case. What he'd do if he were cornered was a crapshoot at best. The tree ferns that brushed the second floor weren't sturdy enough to climb down. A smart guy always had a backup plan.
Ten minutes later he was winded but he was in Big Daddy's suite. The plantation shutters were closed. After the brilliant moonlight the room seemed unusually dark, except for the strange pinpricks of light. Rob pulled the walkie-talkie from his hip pocket.
"Ribbit," he croaked, hoping he sounded like one of the multitude of up-country bullfrogs that inhabited the koi ponds. The code word was supposed to let Dana know he was inside, without alerting Big Daddy through one of his bugs.
"Ribbit," came her soft reply.
Okay, she was in place and Big Daddy hadn't moved. Time to go to work. He jammed the walkie-talkie into his pocket and yanked out his high beam flashlight. He flicked it on.
"Holy shit. You've got to be kidding."
16
Dana answered Rob's "ribbit" with a sigh of relief. He was inside the suite and Big Daddy was still at the party, dancing with Minerva. Glancing down at the luminous dial of her watch, Dana prayed their luck would hold. It shouldn't take Rob more than a few minutes, should it?
A skein of clouds swept across the moon, and she took advantage of the dimmer light to move away from the tree trunk. Rob had been clever in selecting the banyan tree as a lookout point. The tree was hundreds of years old, with a trunk as big as a giant redwood and exposed roots that spread out like tentacles. An octopus on tiptoes, she'd once told Jason when describing the tree. Some of the roots came up to her knees, while garlands of moss hung from the branches. Anyone looking this way probably wouldn't notice her. Still, she was jumpy, on edge in a way that she'd never been until now.
The music stopped and the caller announced a short break. Couples began to drift away from the dance area, heading for the guest cottages. A rain-scented wind whistled through the tree, fluttering the trailers of moss, heralding a shower.
"Please don't let it rain," she prayed in a whisper. It would be nothing more than a tropical shower— over in minutes—but it would end the party. In answer to her prayer, a strobe of moonlight hit the ground and seconds later the moon broke free.
She checked her watch and saw that Rob had been in Big Daddy's suite for less than five minutes. It seemed like two lifetimes. She waited, the walkie-talkie pressed to her ear, so she wouldn't miss the double ribbit that would signal Rob was out. What, was keeping him?
"Oh, my God," she said out loud. Big Daddy was walking away from the party, his arm around Minerva.
Dana stifled a gasp of alarm. Be calm. At the very least Big Daddy would walk Minerva to her bungalow at the far end of the complex. That should give Rob plenty of time to complete the search and escape.
Dana edged out of the sheltering shadows of the banyan and followed them. When she reached the kiawe trees that screened the bunkhouse and corrals from the house, she paused, again thankful for the concealing shadows and the moon playing tag with the clouds.
Looking over her shoulder, she checked to see if any of the security men that Rob had pointed out were following her. The only people behind her were a couple who'd imbibed too much okolehao. They were weaving and singing an off-key rendition of "Home on the Range."
Why did she have to wear an outfit without a pocket? She wedged the small walkie-talkie into her bra as best she could, deciding she didn't want to meet anyone and have them ask what she had in her hand. The cowboy boots she'd thought looked so cute with her denim skirt magnified every footstep as she walked along the crushed-lava path. Ahead, Big Daddy and Minerva turned right instead of left.
"Where are they going?" Dana muttered to herself. "That isn't the way to Minerva's bungalow." Should she ribbit three times, the signal to Rob that he had to get out immediately?
"Not yet," answered the logical side of her brain, the one that remained calm even when she was on the verge of trembling. It didn't appear that they were going to Big Daddy's, and they weren't going to Minerva's either.
She hung back, conscious of how much better lit this area was. Now the moon was beaming, working against her, as was the "nightscaping," installed to showcase the fabulous yard. The low-voltage lighting illuminated craggy red lava rocks surrounded by lacy ferns and clusters of vibrant orchids.
Spotlights washed the branches of the trees, creating artful pools of light and shadow. Small tulip lights that were hardly noticeable during the day craned their necks downward, lighting the serpentine path through the gardens to the guest cottages. The lagoon and stream were well lit too.
Rob had planned so carefully, anticipated so much, but he hadn't thought about the light. Or he simply hadn't warned her. There wasn't anyplace for her to hide. How was she supposed to keep an eye on Big Daddy if he went in somewhere? He and Minerva were out of sight now. She had no choice but to follow or lose track of him and jeopardize Rob.
"What's taking you so long?" she whispered downward as if Rob could hear her through the transmitter barely stuffed into her bra. Of course, he couldn't. She'd have to depress the button to send a message, but somehow talking to herself made her feel better.
She rounded the corner and spotted Big Daddy's white hair. It suddenly dawned on her where they were going. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was taking Minerva into the grotto. He had been monitoring their conversations and thought the grotto was the perfect spot for kinky sex.
"Rob will howl, simply howl, when he hears this," she told herself.
Coltrane disappeared into the jungle of ferns with the wealthy widow. Dana quickly scanned the area and decided she should sit on a chaise by the pool where she could still see the entrance to the grotto. If anyone approached she could pretend to have passed out from too much okolehao.
"That won't work." Now she was talking out loud. Get a grip! Just because there were three nude women with one buc
k-naked man in the spa, didn't mean they knew what she was doing. Quite the opposite. They were swilling Okolehao, too inebriated to even notice her.
Dana changed directions and ambled along the lava rock path. Keep moving, but keep the grotto in sight. She wandered along—deliberately unsteady on her feet as if she, too, had imbibed too much— and checked her watch. Now Rob had been in there almost eight minutes. Had someone caught him and he hadn't been able to signal her?
She meandered down by the cabanas and slowly turned, hearing a volley of laughter and a series of cannonball splashes. It didn't take much imagination to know the spa had become too hot and the nude group had jumped in the pool.
Without warning, the ferns at the entrance to the grotto parted and Minerva Mallory's red head emerged. Dana halted, hoping the shadows concealed her. Big Daddy followed Minerva. They never looked in her direction. Instead, they walked down the path toward Minerva's bungalow.
"That was a quickie," Dana wanted to yell and insult Big Daddy. What kind of a lover was he? Well, maybe the noise from the pool discouraged them. With luck they'd try again and give Rob a little more time. Surely, he had to be finishing up by now.
Naturally her luck had run out. Big Daddy walked Minerva to her door, but didn't go in. He turned quickly and headed back up the trail toward Dana.
She ducked into the shadows off the path and took the shortcut to the koi lagoon, where she'd be far enough away from Big Daddy to pull out the walkie-talkie.
"Don't panic," she warned herself in a tight-lipped whisper. "You have plenty of time." Before the thought could calm her, she tripped on a piece of lava rock that was hidden by creeping vines. She pitched forward, arms flailing, and stumbled into the stream that fed the koi lagoon.
