CHIEF DISTRACTION
A Romantic Suspense by STELLA KELLY
Also by STELLA KELLY:
Men Of The Secret Service Series
Alpine Safeguard
Tropical Safeguard
Capital Safeguard
Chief Distraction
Copyright: Stella Kelly
Published: June 5th, 2013
Publisher: WordCarver Press
The rights of author Stella Kelly are in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or copied in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.
Chapter One
Thick ashy smoke wafted past the front grill of the Landcruiser, limiting visibility. The stench, a mix of soot and sweet, hit reporter Blythe Davenport in the back of the throat. Jostling in the passenger seat, she hung on for dear life as Big Lou, her camera guy, maneuvered over the bumpy terrain. The sugar cane field was in full burn, an act that stripped away the unwanted vegetation making it easier to harvest the cane.
“Maui snow,” Big Lou commented. A heavy-set island native with a long black ponytail and penchant for heavy metal, Big Lou was a man of few words. Blythe liked that.
“I’ll take the real stuff back in Chicago. Less toxic,” she said, covering her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her stylish blazer. Her eyes watered from the pungent air.
Big Lou laughed, “You get used to it. Better than bein’ cold.”
“Hmm, maybe.” Blythe spotted a flash of swirling red lights through the billows. She nodded toward the glass. “It’s over there.”
Pulling the vehicle to the right, Big Lou parked beside an idling yellow fire truck. They sat for a moment, looking at each other.
“Do we really want lung cancer for a story?” she asked.
Big Lou shrugged. “You wanted authentic, this is it. Looks good on film.”
“Here we go then.”
They hopped out, instantly engulfed by the thick smoke. The smell almost knocked Blythe over, the sickly sweet aroma triggering her gag reflex. She tried to hold her composure, willing herself to get the story and get the hell out.
“Who do we meet?” Big Lou asked, knowing practically everyone on the island.
“Some firefighter. Wasn’t given a name.”
“Not the Chief?” Big Lou opened the back hatch and hoisted his camera up onto a shoulder.
“I’m sure the Fire Chief has better things to do.”
Blythe pinned her microphone to her lapel. Leaning toward the side mirror, she swept red lipstick on and thanked her lucky stars for waterproof mascara. Her heels sunk into the soft ground throwing her off balance. “Grounds pretty uneven. I should’ve worn flats.”
Big Lou shook his head. “After workin’ with you for a year, you wearin’ anythin’ but heels is askin’ the impossible.”
His laughter was always infectious. Blythe’s chuckle quickly became a cough.
“When you gonna catch the Maui bug and relax, city girl?”
“One of these days,” she answered, choking back more smoke. “That’s if I don’t go running back to The Windy City first.”
“You’ll come around. The island is it. Nowhere else matters.”
“You’re a little biased, Lou.”
He grunted and followed as she teetered through the churned-up earth, trying to avoid the stiff canes that shot up like green spikes. She circled the fire truck, wondering where the firefighter was. “It’s nine sharp. This guy can’t be too far.”
“Easy, Blythe, island time.”
“Right, island time.” She looked around for just the right spot, a difficulty through the hazy smoke. “Doesn’t matter where he is. Stand over there, Lou, and we’ll get the truck in the background surrounded by the fire. It’s perfect.”
Big Lou positioned himself at a distance, bringing his eye to the lens. He held up his hand, folding down his fingers in a silent countdown. Blythe straightened and put on her professional game face. “Sugar cane is the leading crop here in Maui and the cane burn is a necessary part of the harvesting process. But not to worry, this is a controlled burn and is watched carefully by our trusted Maui County Fire Department.” Half turning, she raised a hand to indicate the massive fire truck with the MCFD logo on the door and began walking around the front of the fire truck while she spoke. Big Lou followed as he always did, taking her cue.
“Just to my right you’ll notice how the fire is used to strip away the dried cane leaves. This helps boost the quality and quantity of the recovered sugar.” Inching closer to the flames, Blythe felt the heat lick at her back. The fire’s intensity mounted as she second-guessed her proximity.
“Hey, get away from there!” a deep voice commanded.
Looking left, Blythe strained to see its source, but heavy smoke sabotaged any chance of identification. “Excuse me, we’re rolling here!” she hollered into the abyss. “Keep rolling, Lou, I’ll pick it up from here and we’ll edit that out.”
Big Lou did what he was asked, not once wavering as a gust of wind came swirling out of nowhere, shifting the smoke and fire in her direction without warning. Disoriented, she choked on the dark murky cloud, unable to see her own hand in front of her face.
“Blythe?”
“I’m here, Lou. Keep rolling. Should clear in a minute.”
The wind picked up again, this time creating little tornado tunnels of dry soil and ash. Blythe knew that couldn’t be good, but it was too late to bail. The force knocked her off her feet, but she barely touched the ground before two capable hands came out of nowhere and caught her up in two strong arms. Within an instant they were in motion, moving quickly toward the awaiting fire truck. Completely shocked, Blythe had no choice but to hold on and ride out the rescue.
“Follow me,” her trusty rescuer instructed Lou. Effortlessly, the hulking, dark haired stranger lifted Blythe into the passenger seat of the truck and slammed the door. She sat in silence, alone. Bolting upright, she practically pressed her nose to the window trying to see something, anything, but hearing only muffled voices adrift in the eerie smoke. A moment later, she heard the Landcruiser’s ignition hum to life. The driver’s door of the fire truck clicked open and her rescuer jumped in. He wore a tucked white shirt and navy pants, an obvious uniform. Describing him as larger than life would be an understatement. It was more than his physical presence, so much more. He commanded the space. With a muscular build on a tall frame, he was extremely attractive in a rugged sort of way and Blythe had to consciously close her mouth.
“What the hell were you thinking?” These were his calming words of reassurance. Some hero.
“Excuse me?” Blythe balked. She watched as he shifted the truck into gear and eased it blindly through the field, following Big Lou’s red taillights. Her rescuer never once looked in her direction, only straight ahead. His profile was striking, but his curt attitude erased any sentiment.
Coming into a clearing as the smoke shifted direction, he finally laser-locked his chocolate brown eyes onto her. “I thought I said to meet me by the entrance of the sugar field?”
Feeling small and reprimanded, Blythe sat up taller and braced her arms against the dash. The terrain was rough and bucked her like a cowgirl at a rodeo. She’d never been in a fire truck before, though she’d always wanted to. His demeanor certainly overshadowed the thrill of the experience. “Listen, I appreciate your life or death reaction, but I was just fine.”
“Is that a thank you?”
“A thank you for what? Giving me whiplash and ruining my piece?” she snapped.
“Entering a blazing inferno for your ‘piece’ was practically suicidal. What if I hadn’t
been around to catch you? You’d be on your way to the hospital right about now, or …”
“Or what, the morgue? BBQ anyone?” Blythe jabbed sarcastically.
Looking straight ahead, she sensed him turn away to focus on the terrain. “I know your type, always angling for a story, willing to endanger anyone around you to get it. Twisting the truth into something it’s not.”
Blythe gaped. “I take offense to that. You don’t even know me!”
His eyes bore into hers again. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience with reporters and journalists. I know you better than you think.”
For once in her life Blythe was speechless. The brief silence between them made room for slight regret and she softened. “Listen, I am thankful, okay? You must be the fireman we were assigned for the interview, right?”
“I’m the Fire Chief.”
“The Chief?” Blythe barked, suddenly feeling squeezed by the small space. Surely he couldn’t be that Fire Chief. How many Fire Chief’s could there possibly be in Maui? “Oh. Well, sorry to inconvenience you.”
“It’s nothing.” Though his eagle-talon grip on the steering wheel, minus a wedding ring she noted, indicated it was far from nothing. She sensed he was just being polite, paying her lip service.
“Why don’t we start again? I’m Blythe Davenport, MCS News. And you are?”
His pause was obvious. Maybe a fresh start was the last thing on his mind. “Chief Makaio Kalani, but most people call me Mak.”
Blythe gasped.
“Something wrong?”
“Oh, um, no. Nothing. It’s nothing.” Blythe couldn’t wait to get as far away from Makaio Kalani as possible. She couldn’t risk him ever knowing who she was or how she’d been the one responsible for ruining any chance he had of a love life all those years ago. “So where are you taking me?
“Over to the entrance. Lou can get a shot of the cane fire in the distance as you interview me.”
“No. I can’t,” Blythe blurted. She racked her brain for an excuse. “I, uh, I’m too upset about what just happened. The smoke really affected me so…I should head home.”
Chief Kalani glanced over. “Why don’t I drive you to the fire station and give you the once over? I’m trained in first aid.”
“Absolutely not,” Blythe said, a little too curtly than she meant to.
His brow furrowed. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
She felt his eyes burning into the side of her face. Glancing at him peripherally, she sensed his confusion. She prayed he’d let it drop, not question her further. “Thank you, though,” she practically whispered.
The silence between them was as thick as the smoke surrounding the cane burn. Her heart slammed into her chest and the small space seemed claustrophobic. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay composed. But it took all of her concentration to still her trembling hands. She didn’t dare glance in his direction again. She couldn’t risk him ever knowing her identity, even if she had written that damning article about him all those years ago under a pseudonym.
After an uncomfortably silent ride, the Fire Chief pulled the long fire truck into the parking lot at the station. Lou’s Landcruiser sat waiting on the hot asphalt at a distance and Blythe’s hand was already on the door handle. Before the fire truck tires had come to a complete stop, she jumped out, mumbled a ‘thank you’ over her shoulder and practically ran toward Lou’s vehicle.
Chapter Two
Mak couldn’t shake the image of the auburn-haired reporter from yesterday’s cane burn. She’d jumped out of the fire truck so fast he’d barely had a second to register what was happening. All he could do was sit behind the wheel in shock and watch as she disappeared from his life faster than a drift of smoke on a windy day.
Today, Mak did everything in his power to distract himself from thoughts of the feisty woman who had entered his life like a force of nature. He organized the firehall’s office, worked out with his fellow firemen, and helped wash the fire trucks until they were gleaming in the sunshine. Despite the distractions, the image of her lovely face and killer curves reemerged in his minds eye. More than a physical attraction pulled his thoughts in her direction. There was something white-hot smoldering beneath the surface. What was it about her?
“Earth to the Chief, come in Chief,” called Pono from the other side of the station table. “I’ve been calling you forever. What’s up?”
Mak shook his head, clearing the images of auburn and the smell of hot cinnamon and spice. She was overloading his senses. “Nothing, just thinking about…nothing. Did you round up all the fire safety pamphlets?”
Pono scratched his head, looking down. “Nope. Not yet, but I’m on it.”
“We have to give those kids something to take home, otherwise they’ll forget what we’ve said before we even finish the presentation.”
“Don’t want that. It’s really great that you’re doing all this. Beats waiting around here.” Pono swung a chair around and straddled it, facing him.
Mak noticed how tired his colleague was looking these days. “Getting any sleep?”
Pono laughed, “Sleep? What’s that? I forget. This baby has us up at all hours, but I guess we asked for it. Mei’s a great mom. I can’t complain.”
Mak watched Pono’s mouth pull into a proud grin and wondered if he’d ever have the chance to be a father someday. First, he needed the right woman. That was his only obstacle. The way things were going it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Not on this island, and not with his reputation.
“She’s what, two months now?”
“Yep,” Pono leaned forward, resting his broad chest against the back of the chair. “Two months. Before I know it, she’ll be dating and I’ll be an old man like you,” he winked at Mak. “Guess I’d better look for those pamphlets.”
Mak pushed back his chair. “I’m heading over to my sister’s place. She needs me to fix the BBQ or something. Speaking of kids, I’m taking my nephews up the Haleakala volcano this weekend. At least they’re out of diapers, thank goodness.”
“Lucky you. I’m drowning in diapers,” Pono got up too, rubbing his eyes. He paused, as if forgetting what he was about to do.
“Man, you are sleep deprived,” Mak said as he walked out the open garage door toward his SUV. “Pamphlets, Pono, remember?”
“Right, pamphlets.”
Mak assessed the surfing conditions as he drove along the picture-perfect coast to his sister’s house. They were optimal, the waves beckoning him to play. Hopefully her BBQ would only require minor repairs. If not, he’d miss it all. There was nowhere else on earth he’d rather be than here in Maui and nothing else he’d rather do than fight fires and big wave windsurf.
In the silence of his contemplation, Mak’s thoughts drifted back to Blythe Davenport. She was obviously a Haole – not from the island. She seemed a little more worldly, more abrupt than most of the people around here. Still, Big Lou accepted her and that meant a lot. Big Lou always had an internal divining rod for judging people’s character. He could spot a phony a mile away and he always brought out the best in everyone with minimal effort. Put them at ease. Maybe Lou tolerated the reporter because of her looks. They were, after all, special. She’d acted so aloof in the cab of the fire truck, like he’d been on fire along with the sugar cane. Mak shook his head as something quickly donned on him.
She knows.
Blythe Davenport had obviously been around the island long enough to hear the rumors. With this revelation, Mak wilted in embarrassment, feeling instantly defeated and ridiculous. Pulling into his sister’s driveway, he decided to forget about the smokin’ hot reporter entirely. Call it self-preservation. Call it laziness. He simply didn’t want to deal with the drama of explaining his situation to anyone else at this point. If she chose to believe the rumors, it said everything about her. There was no point in giving Blythe Davenport a second thought.
“Shayla? You here?” Mak called as he entered the front door.
“Anakala Mak!
” came excited shouts from the living room. A moment later Mak was attacked by two small sinewy boys, one jumping into his arms and the other grabbing him around the waist.
“Hi, boys. Where’s your mom?” Mak grasped them tightly so they wouldn’t fall off.
“Out back. She’s gonna kill the BBQ,” the younger of the two said.
Mak smirked. Shayla was notorious for taking out her frustrations on the appliances, the furniture, whatever was around. Since her husband left her for another woman two years ago, she desperately needed an outlet for her pent-up aggression. Mak tried to be there to pick up the pieces, giving her a well-deserved breather once in a while.
“So, we’re going to conquer the volcano on Saturday. You guys up for it?” Mak threw one boy onto the couch before sitting in an oversized chair. He leaned back and squished the boy on his back between himself and the cushions.
“Help!” the boy yelled and giggled, pushing Mak’s back with all his might to get him off.
“Hey, you still there? Didn’t see you.” Mak smiled and pulled the boy out from behind him, cuddling him before letting go. The boy ran for the back door.
“Mom, Anakala Mak’s here!”
A moment later, Shayla waltzed into the room with hands covered in charcoal.
“What’s wrong with the BBQ?” Mak asked.
“Not working. What else is new?”
Rising from the chair, he laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “Lets have a look at it. I can fix anything.”
“Can you fix my life?”
“Nope. Only you can fix that,” Mak said, never pulling punches with his sister.
“I’ll fix yours if you fix mine. Deal?”
“No deal. My life’s just fine.” Mak lumbered through the kitchen and out the back door. He heard Shayla sigh, knowing she’d be rolling her eyes at his brave-faced comment.
Chapter Three
“Baste the ham in its natural juices,” Blythe read aloud from the Joy of Cooking cookbook propped up on the counter. “Baste? I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
The idea of cooking a full-fledge meal with all the trimmings was a foreign concept. She was more a grab-a-salad-on-the-run kind of girl.
Chief Distraction Page 1
