

### KILLER CONNECTION

### A Hawaii Mystery Novelette

By R. Barri Flowers

Copyright 2015 by R. Barri Flowers at Smashwords. All rights reserved.

_KILLER CONNECTION: A Hawaii Mystery Novelette_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Maui Mermaid, the special lady who helps make every day paradise for me.

To the many fans of my Hawaii fiction as well as new readers who have a love for the Hawaiian Islands and enjoy a great read. Aloha!

* * *

OTHER BOOKS BY R. BARRI FLOWERS

FICTION

Before He Kills Again (A Veronica Vasquez Thriller)

Dark Streets of Whitechapel (A Jack the Ripper Mystery)

Dead in the Rose City (A Dean Drake Mystery)

Fractured Trust (A Renee Steele Legal Mystery)

Justice Served (A Barkley and Parker Mystery)

Killer in The Woods (A Psychological Thriller)

Murder in Honolulu (A Skye Delaney Mystery)

Murder in Maui (A Leila Kahana Mystery)

Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery)

Persuasive Evidence (A Jordan La Fontaine Legal Thriller)

Seduced to Kill in Kauai (An Exotic Thriller)

State's Evidence (A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller)

TEEN FICTION

Christmas Wishes: Laura's Story (A Young Adult Holiday Fantasy)

Count Dracula's Teenage Daughter (A Transylvanica High Novel #1)

Danger in Time (A Young Adult Time Travel Mystery)

Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay (A Young Adult Haunted House Mystery)

Out for Blood (A Transylvanica High Novel #2)

Summer at Paradise Ranch (A Young Adult Adventure Series)

Teen Ghost at Dead Lake (A Young Adult Haunted House Mystery)

TRUE CRIME

Masters of True Crime: Chilling Stories of Murder and the Macabre (editor)

Murder Chronicles: A Collection of Chilling True Crime Tales

Murders in the United States: Crimes, Killers, and Victims of the 20th Century

Serial Killers & Prostitutes: True Cases from Jack the Ripper to the Long Island Serial Killer

Serial Killer Couples: Bonded by Sexual Depravity, Abduction, & Murder

The Sex Slave Murders: The True Story of Serial Killers Gerald & Charlene Gallego

TRUE CRIME SHORTS

Dead at the Saddleworth Moor: The Crimes of Ian Brady & Myra Hindley

Killers of the Lonely Hearts: The Tale of Serial Killers Raymond Fernandez & Martha Beck

Mass Murder in the Sky: The Bombing of Flight 629

Murder at the Pencil Factory: The Killing of Mary Phagan 100 Years Later

Murder of a Star Quarterback: The Tragic Tale of Steve McNair & Sahel Kazemi

Murder of the Banker's Daughter: The Killing of Marion Parker

Terror in East Lansing: The Tale of MSU Serial Killer Donald Miller

The "Gold Special" Train Robbery: Deadly Crimes of the D'Autremont Brothers

The Amityville Massacre: The DeFeo Family's Nightmare

The Pickaxe Killers: Karla Faye Tucker & Daniel Garrett

The Sex Slave Murders 2: The Chilling Story of Serial Killers Fred & Rosemary West

The Sex Slave Murders 3: The Horrific Tale of Serial Killers Leonard Lake & Charles Ng

PRAISE FOR R. BARRI FLOWERS

"Vivid details of police procedure one would expect from top criminologist. A gripping novel in what promises to be outstanding series." — Douglas Preston, New York Times bestselling author on MURDER IN MAUI

"Gripping, tightly woven tale you won't want to put down. Author neatly contrasts natural beauty of tropical paradise with ugliness of murder and aftermath." — John Lutz, Edgar winner and bestselling author on MURDER IN MAUI

"Flowers delivers the goods. An exotic setting, winning characters, and realistic procedural details make MURDER IN MAUI a sure hit with crime-fiction readers." — Bill Crider, Edgar winner and author on MURDER IN MAUI

"Flowers once again has written a page-turner legal thriller that begins with a bang and rapidly moves along to its final page. He has filled the novel with believable characters and situations." — Midwest Book Review on STATE'S EVIDENCE

"A clever mystery with many suspects.... Vividly written, this book holds the reader's attention and speeds along." — Romantic Times on JUSTICE SERVED

"A model of crime fiction.... Flowers may be a new voice in modern mystery writing, but he is already one of its best voices." — Statesman Journal on JUSTICE SERVED

"An excellent look at the jurisprudence system.... Will appeal to fans of John Grisham and Linda Fairstein." — Harriet Klausner on PERSUASIVE EVIDENCE

STATE'S EVIDENCE will make the top sellers list because it's fast-paced, intriguing, satisfying, and I highly recommend it to you." — Romance Reader At Heart

"A rocket of a read. Not only a heart-thumping thriller, this is that rare novel that is downright scary." — John Lutz, Edgar winner and bestselling author on BEFORE HE KILLS AGAIN

"MURDER IN HONOLULU is an exquisitely rich and masterfully constructed mystery. R. Barri Flowers now lays fitting claim to the beautiful island paradise as his territory.... A savvy, smooth, and sumptuous read that's as hot as Waikiki beach sand." — Jon Land, bestselling author

"It gets no better than this! R. Barri Flowers has written another thriller guaranteed to hold onto its readers!" — Huntress Reviews on DARK STREETS OF WHITECHAPEL

"Selected as one of Suspense Magazine's Best Books." — John Raab, CEO/Publisher on THE SEX SLAVE MURDERS

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

Killer Connection

Murder in Maui – Bonus Excerpts

Murder in Honolulu – Bonus Excerpts

Seduced to Kill in Kauai – Bonus Excerpts

Kaanapali Beach Paradise – Bonus Excerpts

About the Author

* * *

**KILLER CONNECTION**

A Hawaii Mystery Novelette

Her biggest mistake was letting him into her apartment—a man she knew and thought she could trust. She was wrong on both counts. She didn't know him at all, and certainly anything resembling trust had gone out the window.

She was sure he was going to kill her, unless she could somehow find a way to escape. But his imposing presence was blocking her from getting past him and out of the bedroom. Her heart was racing like crazy and she thought she was going to pass out at any moment now.

It was only through sheer willpower that she remained on gimpy legs. She didn't want to go down without a fight. She knew about the others and the unspeakable things he had done to them. Now he had his sights set on her and, unless she thwarted his plans, she was about to become another victim of the Aloha Black Scarf Killer.

She pretended to succumb to his advances and sensed a slight relaxation in his contorted facial expression. But the moment he touched her, she cringed.

Knowing there was no turning back, she hoped to catch him off guard by kneeing him as hard as she could in the groin.

Somehow he had anticipated this move and blocked her leg with his arm. His eyes burned with anger and he growled: "You stupid bitch! You shouldn't have done that—"

Frantically, she tried to push him to get away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and in the same motion slammed his fist hard into the side of her head. She instantly saw stars and felt dizzy just before everything went black.

He caught her before she went down, carried her to the bed, and tossed her on it like a rag doll. Now she was his to do with as he pleased.

And he fully intended to do just that.

Climbing atop her, he sandwiched her waist between his powerful legs. He ripped her dress open, exposing braless breasts, which he immediately began to squeeze, closing his eyes for a moment of indulgence. When she began to stir, perhaps from his intimate touch, he waited until she opened her eyes before continuing. He wanted her to be conscious to witness his pleasure and violation of her womanhood—then death.

She squirmed beneath him and he could see the sheer terror in her eyes, which added to his gratification.

He tore her panties off, unzipped his trousers, and forced himself into her. He could tell that she was trying to resist as much as she could, as if by pure willpower.

But his will was even stronger. And his body.

He had his way with the bitch, and then some.

A half an hour later, he lifted up from the now lifeless body. He tied the black silk scarf around her neck in a nice neat little bow, smiling at his craftsmanship.

It was done.

Now he had to get back to his normal life before anyone else was the wiser as to his identity, forcing him to deal with that person too.

* * *

Kiyoshi Yoshida had just gone through the worst year of her life, and that was putting it mildly. She'd lost her twin brother and husband, costing Kiyoshi nearly everything she held most dear, including her home, career, and most of her friends. She would never wish this on her most hated enemy, though she wasn't sure such a person existed. Not anymore.

Kiyoshi still felt chills of disbelief when she thought about it. Her brother, Sergio Matsuko, one-time dedicated and decorated homicide detective for the Honolulu Police Department, had stunned nearly everyone who knew him when he was identified as the Aloha Black Scarf Killer. This perpetrator had raped and murdered seven women in the city over two years, leaving a black silk scarf around each victim's strangled neck as his calling card. His reign of terror finally came to a fiery end when he died in a house fire as the authorities were closing in on him. Sergio's death was ruled a suicide and the scorched evidence implicated him as the so-called Aloha Black Scarf Killer, including the murder of his fiancée. Before that, Sergio had been the lead detective in the investigation into what turned out to be his own heinous crimes.

Kiyoshi thought she had known her brother almost as well as she knew herself. After all, they were biological twins and, as such, seemed to share the same impulses—sometimes they were even able to read each other's minds. But she'd had no clue that Sergio had such dark and deadly tendencies and was not sure where they came from. Native Hawaiians, they had a normal childhood and loving parents with no family dysfunction to relate to this. And Sergio seemed to love his job. He had even planned to have his own family after years of enjoying bachelorhood.

Yet these things remained a question mark in the final analysis, with the greater emphasis being on what Sergio had been accused of doing to innocent women.

For Kiyoshi, the pressure of having to defend her brother against the indefensible and being the victim herself of threats and character assassination became almost more than she could handle. Perhaps the final straw came when her husband, Andrew Yoshida, filed for divorce six months ago—nearly six months after Sergio's death. Andrew had said that he could no longer handle all the negativity and pressures associated with being married to the sister of the city's most infamous serial killer.

Kiyoshi felt that was just a lame excuse for a man who was used to pressure as one of Honolulu's most powerful criminal defense attorneys. She was sure he had bailed on her because it would be much easier for him to pursue other women without a weakened and scarred wife to tie him down.

Indeed, Kiyoshi had known about her husband's affairs and constant wandering eye. She had tried to ignore it, determined to keep the marriage together—even when her heart and body were no longer in it.

With her divorce finalized, and her brother laid to rest next to their parents, Kiyoshi felt it was time to reinvent herself and escape the notoriety of a rapist-killer run amok by bloodline. At thirty-one, she'd turned her back on a successful career as a fashion designer and left Oahu altogether, hoping to somehow erase the painful memories in the process.

Taking little more than the essentials and her savings, Kiyoshi sold or gave away much of her share of the Ewa Beach property settlement of a failed marriage and moved to Maui. She'd found a nice condo in Kihei on the island's south shore, seemingly the perfect place to simply blend in and go about her business without being reminded of a past she would just as soon forget.

Two weeks later, at the end of June, Kiyoshi had her first job interview in her new home away from home. She sat alone in a tiny waiting room at Taguchi and Fleming, an upscale clothing store in the luxurious resort community of Wailea. She had applied for the job of salesperson, with the requirement of being fashion savvy and having flexible work hours. It was not exactly what she left behind in Honolulu, but it would do for now if she got the job.

_I don't need anything too complicated right now_ , she thought. Just a steady paycheck to supplement her savings from years of penny pinching and perhaps a premonition that the day would come when she would need a little nest egg to fall back on.

"Ms. Yoshida—" Kiyoshi heard the deep voice. She looked to her right and saw a fifty-something, lean man with short gray hair. He flashed an almost fatherly smile and said: "I'm Fujio Taguchi."

Kiyoshi stood as if on command and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Taguchi," she said nervously.

"Nice to meet you," he responded and Kiyoshi watched his steady sable eyes give her the once over, as if to see if she was physically up for the job.

She felt slightly self-conscious but shook it off quickly, knowing that she presented a more than respectable image as an attractive, fit, Hawaiian woman. Kiyoshi ran her hand through her long brunette hair and smiled at him.

"Let's go into my office," Fujio said, proffering his arm in that direction.

Kiyoshi nodded as she followed him to his modest office.

"Please, have a seat," Fujio told her, indicating one of two chairs in front of his desk.

He put on silver-rimmed glasses and picked up her application, then glanced at Kiyoshi. "I see you're from Honolulu." Before she could respond, he said: "My youngest brother lives there. I try to visit two or three times a year, but I'm always happy to get back home." He looked up. "So how did you end up on Maui?"

Kiyoshi had expected this question might come up, all things considered, and she had prepared an answer that said only what was necessary.

"My family lived here when I was young," she told him. "I needed a change from Oahu. Maui's a bit more laidback and seemed like a good fit at this time in my life."

Fujio studied her every word, as if searching for some variation in Kiyoshi's inflection, before seemingly accepting her answer at face value.

He smiled. "Yes, it's definitely laidback here, and a great place to relocate to." After a pause, he said: "I have to say, you seem way overqualified for this position. Are you sure a simple sales job is what you want?"

_Definitely not long-term_ , Kiyoshi thought, but responded levelly: "It's exactly what I'm looking for right now—something not too stressful where I can help customers walk away in style."

Fujio beamed. "I like that." He took off his glasses and eyed her in earnest. "Of course, we can't pay you what you were used to making in Honolulu. But we are competitive for this industry on a local level. If that's all right with you, then you've got yourself a job."

Kiyoshi didn't have to take long to think about it _._

She smiled and said: "When do I start?"

* * *

Two days later, Kiyoshi started her new job. In spite of a few butterflies, she was intent on fitting in while keeping a low profile. The other salespeople seemed friendly enough and made her feel welcome.

This was especially true of Melissa Purdy. Around the same age as Kiyoshi, Melissa was from San Diego and had the classic California girl good looks. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was tall and thin.

"If any of the male co-workers try to make a move on you, don't pay any attention," Melissa warned. "Most of them are either married, involved with someone, or both. But it never seems to stop them from making complete asses out of themselves."

Kiyoshi laughed. She could already tell that she was going like Melissa.

"Thanks for the advice," she said, "but I have no intention of getting involved with anyone here. I just want to put in my hours, make the boss happy, and collect a paycheck."

Melissa rolled her eyes. "I see that Fujio has already made an impression on you as to what he expects from his employees."

"It's more what I expect from myself," Kiyoshi told her honestly. "Getting involved with middle-aged men looking for some fun on the side is definitely _not_ part of the package."

"You're going to do just fine here," Melissa said with approval. "For the record, most of our customers already seem to know what they want. Sometimes they just need a little push in the right direction."

"I think I can manage that," Kiyoshi said.

"Good, then you can put it to the test right now," Melissa told her, looking over her shoulder. "That guy over there seems like he can't take his eyes off you."

Kiyoshi turned around and saw a man standing near a row of silk shirts. He did seem to be gazing at her as if entranced, and Kiyoshi felt a shiver of uneasiness. Then, as if a child who knew he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have, the man seemed to give up any pretense to the contrary and headed in her direction.

"If you need any help, just holler," Melissa said with a wink.

Kiyoshi sneered at Melissa as she made a quick retreat.

She faced the man again and decided to meet him halfway, offering him a bright smile.

He was tall with a solid frame, in his mid-thirties, and had black hair and blue eyes.

"Aloha," she said cheerfully as they stood face to face. "Can I help you find something?"

He stared at her stone-faced at first, but then his lips gradually shifted to a half grin.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Is there a restroom somewhere? I think I had too much coffee at work."

Kiyoshi colored, hiding her disappointment that he apparently was not interested in buying anything. "Yes, it's on the second floor near the women's accessories section."

He regarded her once more and said evenly: "Mahalo. Have a good day."

"You too."

Kiyoshi watched him walk away without looking back, and wondered what that was all about, if anything. She could swear that there was more on the man's mind than merely needing assistance to find the bathroom. But maybe it was just her imagination.

And past memories that still spooked her from time to time.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, which was just fine with Kiyoshi. She wanted to get her feet wet on the job, without having her blood pressure raised by real or imaginary demons.

_Just don't try to create more trouble than you need,_ she warned herself, and resolved to live by those words even as she feared that trouble sometimes had a way of following her.

* * *

Kiyoshi was exhausted when she got home, though her day hadn't been particularly strenuous. She chalked it up to the mental and physical adjustment to a new life and the dark secrets she carried like the plague. Secrets that had taken away her brother's life and, in many ways, her life.

The condo she rented was small by the standards of the spacious home Kiyoshi once shared with Andrew. It was a one bedroom, one bathroom, air conditioned unit with a living room, dining area, and small kitchen.

Stripping off her work clothes, she took a nice, hot shower. Afterwards, she made herself a salad and watched television. Then she watered her plants and did a few more chores before calling it a night. Kiyoshi slipped into bed and read a couple of chapters of a contemporary novel, before giving in to sleep.

That was when the nightmare began. One that had become recurrent ever since Kiyoshi's twin brother died a killer. In the dream, she saw herself being stalked by a faceless, dark figure. There seemed to be no escape for her, no matter where she hid or how far she ran.

Even more disturbing was the fact that Kiyoshi found that waking up from the nightmare proved to be far more difficult than falling asleep to it, forcing her to endure the frightening scenario in all of its stark horror.

* * *

He watched from the shadows as the bedroom light went out. He knew then that she was in bed sleeping—all by herself. She had mistakenly thought she could escape him by leaving Oahu and the life she had known there for Maui.

Escape the memories of brotherly love, rape, and murder.

Escape the press that seemed determined to bring her down with the brother she thought she knew so well.

Escape the husband who had abandoned her when she most needed him.

_Well think, and think again_ , he mused. There was no escaping who you were. He would see to that.

He was about to awaken this island in ways it had never seen before.

And Kiyoshi Yoshida would find that her nightmare had begun again.

And, like before, she would be caught squarely in the middle.

Only this time, he would make sure that she got exactly what she deserved.

* * *

Connor Jansen stood outside the Taguchi and Fleming clothing store, staring at it through molten steel eyes, as though it were the center of the universe. In fact, it was where Kiyoshi Yoshida worked and, right now, she was the most important living person to him.

The most important dead person was her twin brother, Sergio Matsuko.

Connor wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow. The thirty-three-year-old true crime writer contemplated the events that brought him to this moment.

It was more than a year ago that he'd been contacted by his publisher, Stellman & Richwine, to write a true crime book about Honolulu's notorious Aloha Black Scarf Killer. Through his sources, Connor had come to believe that the killer was a convicted felon named Arnold Kravitz. Proceeding on that basis, Connor had already gathered all the information he needed on the serial murderer and his victims for the book. The only thing remaining was for the killer to be caught, tried, and convicted.

Then the system threw Connor a curve when Kravitz was inexplicably dropped as a suspect. Taking his place was the lead investigator on the case, Honolulu Homicide Detective Sergio Matsuko, whom the police now believed was the killer. But before they could nail him, he died in a fire at his own house, apparently set by his hand. Though the body was burned beyond recognition, Matsuko was identified through dental records and DNA. Moreover, evidence found at the scene corroborated circumstantial findings that implicated Matsuko for the rape and murder of seven local women.

This shocking turn of events had forced Connor to toss out everything he thought he had on the crime spree and start over from scratch. But Sergio Matsuko had proven to be an enigma. There was nothing in his past or occupation to plant the seeds for his sexual homicidal rage. And Connor liked to make his bestselling books as complete as possible to give the readers a real three-dimensional feel for the perpetrators he wrote about.

That was where Kiyoshi Yoshida came in.

As Matsuko's only living relative and twin sister, no less, she was the one person who could perhaps best shed some light on any hidden demons he had growing up or in adult life that may have caused him to go from successful cop to psycho serial rapist-killer.

Then Kiyoshi disappeared before Connor could interview her. But she'd already made it clear that she was not interested in selling her story or otherwise contributing to, as she put it, "trashing her brother's good name."

It had taken Connor weeks to track down Matsuko's elusive sister, who had quietly relocated to Maui and taken a job in retail, obviously content to maintain a low profile for the time being. Now he intended to get what he needed from the lady, then she could do whatever the hell she wanted to try to forget what her brother did to seven innocent women and their families.

But Connor had not reached bestseller status from his true crime books by being a fool in business or a jerk on a human level. Each case had to be handled differently. For this one, he would have to take a more delicate approach in getting Matsuko's attractive sibling to open up.

He had it on good authority that since her divorce from attorney-husband Andrew Yoshida, she had remained uninvolved. He intended to change that—at least for the short-term. On the chance that she might have heard of him and what he was up to, Connor had chosen to use a fictitious name, as he did so often in his books to protect the innocent. Only this time it was to try to better understand the guilty.

_Craig Garrett sounds like a good name_ , Connor thought. Craig was his middle name and Garrett was the last name of an old girlfriend from high school. He doubted she would appreciate the usage, since they had departed on less than ideal terms. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

But it could help him a hell of a lot.

Connor took a deep breath before moving his taut, six-foot-three frame towards the door, catching it as another person exited the store. As he glanced around, he was sure he could find a few new things to outfit himself nicely.

_But first things first._ He made his way through the store until he saw the person he was looking for.

Kiyoshi Yoshida was talking to a male customer. It took her only a moment to look in his direction. He smiled casually while noting that she was even better looking in person than when he'd seen her on television defending her brother until all hell broke loose and his guilt was something even she had no choice but to own up to.

She had a lovely complexion, a dainty little nose, and big brown eyes. Pouty lips with a touch of gloss curved nicely at the corners. He liked her shimmering long brown hair. About five-foot-seven, she was slender with just the right amount of curves. He tried to imagine the feel of those curves beneath the stylish black and white print dress she wore. She had long, shapely legs that were accentuated by black high-heeled sandals. He could definitely see the fashion designer beyond the saleswoman.

Connor decided now was as good a time as any to make his move. He approached them and gave the customer a hard _get lost_ look, which the intimidated man did.

_Now I have the lady all to myself_ , Connor thought, and flashed an innocent smile. Now it was time for him to get to work.

"Aloha!" Kiyoshi greeted him warmly.

He flashed his teeth. "Aloha."

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"As a matter of fact I am." He weighed his options before continuing. "I just relocated to the island with barely more than what I'm wearing. I guess what I need is a little bit of everything..."

"Oh really." Kiyoshi raised a brow in anticipation of making a big sale. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place for that."

He smiled. "I couldn't agree more. By the way, my name's Craig Garrett."

"Kiyoshi Yoshida," she volunteered.

"Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand to shake hers.

Kiyoshi shook his hand while noting his stylish clothing. She wondered what line of work he was in. The fact that he was handsome and physically fit was certainly a bonus.

"Are you looking for dressy attire or more casual?" she asked.

Connor grinned. She was a good salesperson, not to mention sexy as hell, even if unintentional. "Let's start with a casual look first."

She smiled. "Great choice. Come with me."

He followed her to an aisle with chinos and shorts. She pulled a few of each from the rack and he liked them all. _What's not to like?_ he thought, including the lady herself.

Connor wondered what had possessed Kiyoshi's ex-husband to let her get away. Moreover, he found it unsettling to know that her twin brother had been a brutal serial killer. He'd read the research on the deviant tendencies genetically linking persons who were twins, but he didn't believe for one moment that Kiyoshi Yoshida was anything like her brother.

"You're pretty good at this," Connor said after she had expertly sold him a new wardrobe that was sure to keep him looking stylish, and then some. It would cost him a pretty penny, but it was worth it to get on her good side.

Kiyoshi smiled modestly. "I'm just doing my job."

"I'll accept that," he said, while thinking: _And I'm just doing mine_ _._ "Have you been doing this long?"

"Long enough to know what I'm doing," she responded with a smile.

Connor chuckled, while watching her ring up his items. "I suppose so." He paid in cash, since he was using a fictitious name. "Say, do you know any good places where a person can get a bite to eat around here?"

"It depends on what type of food you like."

"Pretty much anything will do," he said.

"Henry's Hawaiian Cuisine is two blocks away," she told him. "Also, not too far from here is the Mainland Café, which serves dishes you can find on the mainland."

Connor smiled. "Henry's Hawaiian Cuisine sounds appetizing." He paused, glancing at his watch. "I don't suppose you're free for lunch, are you?"

Kiyoshi cocked a thin brow. _Is he asking me on a date?_ Did that mean he was single? Or was he simply looking for someone to talk to as a newcomer to Maui while eating?

Lunch hardly constituted romance, she realized. Not that she was necessarily looking for romance, though she had been on her own for months, for all intents and purposes.

And lonely.

Still, she didn't want to appear too anxious or needy. Nor was she all that desperate to go anywhere with a perfect stranger, even though he was very nice on the eyes and apparently had plenty of money to burn.

Connor sensed her hesitation and knew he needed to pour on the charm if he were to achieve his objective. He happened to know for a fact that she had gone to lunch around this time the day before.

"You have to eat some time, right?" he pressed. "Or does your employer not allow you to take a lunch break? I promise I'm harmless—"

Kiyoshi sensed that even if that were true, there was more to this man that he'd let on. She was intrigued, if not unnerved by it. Intrigue seemed to win the battle, along with his undeniable charm.

"What business did you say you were in?" she decided to ask, knowing full well he had not volunteered such information. She didn't imagine he was a drug dealer or, worse, a serial killer. But one never knew these days. Indeed, more than one man in her life had proven to be something less than she'd ever imagined.

"I didn't say," Connor responded tactfully. "But since you ask, I'm a corporate consultant." That wasn't too far from the truth, he thought. After all, it was his former profession before the lure of fortune and freedom from the corporate world bit him in the ass and he began writing true crime books for a living.

Kiyoshi was duly impressed and decided perhaps it was fate that he should come to the store and they should meet as two people who had recently moved to Maui.

"I go on lunch break in ten minutes," she told him.

"Great." His crooked grin nearly made her melt.

Kiyoshi checked her enthusiasm with a dose of reality as she scooped up the bills he had put on the counter. "Right now, I better get back to work before I lose my job."

"No problem." Connor took the change she handed him, put it away, and said thoughtfully: "I'll wait for you outside."

Kiyoshi watched briefly as he walked away, wondering if this could be the start of something special. Or was it just another dead end that seemed to be the story of her life lately.

* * *

Henry's Hawaiian Cuisine was packed with hungry noontime patrons as Connor and Kiyoshi stood in a line that practically went out the door. They had walked the two blocks to the restaurant at Kiyoshi's suggestion. As an extra safety precaution, she'd asked Melissa to come out and get a good look at Craig Garrett, even though she was pretty sure he meant her no harm. But then neither had Sergio; yet her brother had harmed her immeasurably when she discovered his true identity. Then there was Andrew, who had abandoned her in her hour of need, hurting Kiyoshi in ways that not even Sergio had.

During the walk, Kiyoshi got a whiff of Connor's woodsy cologne, which seemed to come to life with the warm summer air, appealing to her senses. She had nearly forgotten how it felt to be with a sexy man.

Now she wondered if maybe they should have gone somewhere else to eat, given the crowd at this place.

"This is definitely going to take a lot longer than my one hour lunch break," she said with frustration.

Connor agreed and endeavored to do something about it, lest he blow his chance to get some information from Sergio Matsuko's sister. He looked at Kiyoshi and said: "Excuse me. I'll be right back..."

Kiyoshi watched as he walked up to the front of the line and said something to the twenty-something hostess. After first seeming put off by his words, the woman suddenly did an about face and looked directly at Kiyoshi, beckoning her to come forward.

They were given the only available table by the window and the promise that a waitress would be with them shortly.

Kiyoshi was speechless through the whole thing. It was only after they were seated and the hostess had sashayed away that she looked at him with wide eyes and said: "What on earth did you say to her?"

He smiled, as if he possessed some magical elixir that could hypnotize anyone into doing what he asked.

"Oh, nothing much," he said, downplaying it. "I just told her that I believe in _big_ tips for friendly hostesses, and proceeded to slip something in her pocket to make her a believer as well."

Kiyoshi narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "A big tipper, huh?"

"When I have to be," Connor said. "And now was one of those times. Besides, I'm starving!"

"I see," she said.

Though trying not to show it, Kiyoshi was taken with the man, even if she hardly knew him. This made her a bit leery. If she hadn't known better, she would believe that he somehow planned this whole thing all along—including picking her as his saleswoman. Of course she realized that was crazy, and decided to just enjoy the unexpected company and lunch.

After ordering, Connor lifted his glass of iced tea and gazed at Kiyoshi, perhaps longer than he should have. But he couldn't help it, given her gorgeous features. He still found it hard to believe she was the twin sister of a dead serial killer. He could imagine taking her to bed under different circumstances. But this was all about business and he would do well to remember that when all was said and done.

"So tell me about yourself, Kiyoshi," Connor began deliberately.

Kiyoshi hesitated. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, where are you from, for starters?" When she tensed up, he added: "I'm guessing you were probably born in Hawaii."

She sipped some water. "Yes, Honolulu."

He smiled. "Great city. I've done business there."

"Where are you from?" she asked cautiously.

"Originally, Oklahoma," he told her truthfully. "But my job has had me moving around quite a bit over the years. Hopefully I'll get to stay put for a while."

Kiyoshi considered this. She doubted he would know anything about the ordeal she'd been put through in the last year, but she was still guarded about opening up old wounds.

After a moment or two, she decided there was little harm in revealing bits and pieces about her past life. And she was curious to learn more about him.

"So how do you like it here so far?" she asked.

He grinned. "From where I'm sitting, the island agrees with me. Especially if I can get to know _you_ better."

Kiyoshi blushed and wondered if that was even possible. If his time on the island was cut short, it wouldn't be worth her while to get too close. Or should she simply just enjoy their time together, no matter how long he was a Maui resident, and not expect anything more than he was able to give?

Connor was careful not to arouse undue suspicion with his questions as their food arrived. "Do you have family here? Or are they mostly in Honolulu?"

Kiyoshi was put off somewhat by the twenty questions. It reminded her of the sharks in Honolulu who tried their best to wring a story out of her about Sergio. But she refused, unwilling to exploit her brother's tragedy for money or other gain. Or even to satisfy those who thought they knew Sergio, but didn't. Apparently she hadn't really known him either—at least not as much as she thought she had. But she knew enough to respect his death and dignity. Not to mention save herself from having her life torn apart any further.

Could Craig have possibly known who she was and only asked her out to dig up old news?

Kiyoshi rejected this unlikely possibility, suspecting that he was merely trying to become better acquainted as someone who had taken a liking to her. She had all but forgotten what it was like to go out and do the flirting and inquisitive thing.

She took a bite of macadamia nut crusted mahi-mahi. "I don't have any family here," she said. "I came to Maui for a fresh start." The admission surprised her, given that he was a stranger.

"Oh?" He looked genuinely surprised. "So you left Honolulu to get away? I'm sure you had your reasons."

"It's a long story," she said evasively. "I'd rather not talk about it now. Maybe someday—"

Her words told Connor that this was not necessarily the last time she planned to see him. Meaning there was no hurry to force anything out the lady, which was fine by him, as he enjoyed her company more than he'd planned to.

"That's cool," he said agreeably.

"And what about you?" Kiyoshi asked. She studied him the way one might a specimen in a dish, noting that he wasn't wearing a wedding band. "Are you here by yourself?" Though he was clearly coming onto her, she didn't dare presume he was single.

"Yes, I'm here all by myself," Connor responded, sensing this was what she wanted to hear. There had been women in his life, including a special one who turned out to be not so special. But he'd never gone down the aisle for one reason or another. He was not opposed to marriage, if the right woman came along. Perhaps someone like Kiyoshi Yoshida, were his interest in her not for getting the scoop on her brother.

"Is there anyone in your life?" Connor thought to ask, though he suspected he already knew the answer, given that she was having lunch with him and no longer had a husband in the picture.

_I wish_ , Kiyoshi mused. Or did she? Hadn't she had enough of disappointing men to last a lifetime? But maybe there was still hope.

She used a napkin to wipe her mouth. "Not right now," she told him.

Kiyoshi could tell that he seemed pleased by this and she couldn't help but wonder if he intended to be her knight in shining armor ready to sweep her away.

Connor sipped iced tea. "That's good to hear."

She blushed, but refused to make something more out of this than it was. "How do you like the food?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject to a safer topic. It was obvious by looking at his nearly empty plate that the food agreed with him.

"The scallops were excellent," he told her, licking his lips. "Thanks for telling me about this place."

Kiyoshi smiled. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It was the least I could do after you helped me with my new wardrobe." He flashed his trademark grin. "Besides, I admit I had ulterior motives..."

Her brow lifted slightly. "And what might those be?" She held her breath, hoping the question wasn't too leading or the answer too disagreeable.

Connor regarded her thoughtfully. "I wanted a chance to get to know you better other than as a saleswoman. I hope that's okay with you."

Kiyoshi contemplated this. She certainly had not moved to Maui with romance in mind. But maybe since they were both new there, it could be a new beginning to explore the possibilities, whatever they might be.

She met his steady gaze and responded perhaps a little too enthusiastically: "That's fine, Craig."

* * *

Across the crowded restaurant he watched as Kiyoshi and Connor chatted like old lovers. He wondered what the hell they were talking about, as he sipped wine and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. When some skinny broad in skimpy clothing tried to beat his time in the process of taking his order, he dismissed her with the charm he had perfected when he wanted to. There was no time to flirt or be flirted with. Right now, he just wanted to keep an eye on Kiyoshi Yoshida and the true crime writer who had ingratiated himself into her life.

He wouldn't tolerate Connor Jansen getting in the way of his plans for Kiyoshi. She was a bad girl and had to be punished for it—in due time. And Jansen would get his too if it came down to that.

Now he watched as the two got up and headed his way. He lifted his menu at just the right angle to block his face as they passed by, unaware of and oblivious to his presence. Which was exactly what he had in mind. Anything else would ruin his plans.

And he couldn't allow that.

He was in the driver's seat here and would dictate the way things went.

And when.

* * *

The walk back to the store was pleasant enough for Kiyoshi. They didn't say too much, as though fearful of spoiling the impromptu lunch date, each picking and choosing their words carefully. Craig Garrett struck Kiyoshi as a man who rarely wasted words, saying only what he thought was relevant or necessary to get his point across. She wondered about him though. She suspected there was much more to the man than he had let on. The question was would he ever allow her to know that part of him? Or was she expecting too much, considering she had also held back details about some major aspects of her life.

And with good reason.

_Just go with the flow,_ she told herself _. Enjoy his company and don't probe too deeply, any more than you'd want him to._

Connor enjoyed a good run every now and then, but had never appreciated a good walk just for the sake of it, especially with such a beautiful lady. He hoped they got to do this more often. Maybe even after he got what he needed from her, assuming she didn't hate him afterwards.

When Kiyoshi brushed against his side, Connor felt it to his very being, instilling desires in him he preferred not to have for her. Business and pleasure never mixed very well, he'd learned that all too well.

In this case, though, he just might have to make an exception to the rule. Connor glanced at Kiyoshi as they neared Taguchi and Fleming.

"Well, here we are," he said disappointedly as they stood in front of the store's double doors.

Kiyoshi smiled at him, feeling almost as if her prom date had taken her home and they had entered the awkward zone on the front porch. "Guess I'd better clock in for the afternoon shift."

"Yeah." He paused and then asked what he had planned to all along. "Look, I know we don't really know each other, but could I call you?"

Kiyoshi hesitated, largely for effect, knowing she wanted to see him again. For whatever reason, maybe a crazy one, she felt a connection with him. She looked up at his waiting eyes and said sincerely. "I'd like that."

He beamed and quickly removed a cell phone from his pocket. She gave him her number and he keyed it in.

"I _will_ call you," he declared, putting the phone away.

"I hope so," she said.

Before she could turn away, Connor surprised her with a quick kiss on the cheek. She took it as a gentlemanly, friendly gesture, but enjoyed the touch of his lips on her skin as a woman who had been without even that much affection in so long that it had a rippling effect throughout her body.

Kiyoshi suspended these thoughts, as her gaze happened to drift over the shoulder of Connor to a man who stood at the end of the block. _It couldn't be_ , she told herself, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Connor noted her change in demeanor, as if she had seen a ghost. "What is it?" he asked.

She blinked, steadying herself, and looked again. He was gone, replaced by others moving about. Had she seen something that wasn't there? What other explanation could there be?

"I thought I saw someone I knew," Kiyoshi stammered, forcing herself to look at Connor. "But it's not possible. I guess sometimes the mind...eyes...can play tricks on you."

"I guess so." Connor looked in the direction that had unnerved Kiyoshi moments earlier. He made a mental note of this for the record, and then waited until she was inside before heading to his car.

Kiyoshi's knees were shaking as she entered the store. She could have sworn that she had just seen her brother Sergio standing on the corner looking at her, as if to haunt her. But he was dead, and the dead did not come back to life no matter how much she wished for another chance to talk to him so she could understand why. Apparently, moving to Maui had not been enough for her to totally exorcise the demons she carried in having had a twin brother who was a serial killer.

_Get yourself together, girl_ , Kiyoshi admonished herself. Ghosts and visions of dead people don't exist. Not in the real world.

She chose to turn her attention to the living and specifically Craig Garrett. He was definitely flesh and blood and someone she hoped to see again.

* * *

_Damn it!_ He cursed, blending in with others on the sidewalk. She had seen him. He was sure of it.

Or maybe he had disappeared quickly enough so that she questioned what she saw.

Yes, he was convinced that what she saw was just an illusion that she dismissed like one would the notion of seeing an extraterrestrial being. His secret was safe for now, but he would have to be far more careful in the future.

It was important for him to keep a low profile from this point on. Otherwise his plans would be ruined, forcing him to act prematurely.

He didn't want Kiyoshi to suffer any more than she already had.

When the time was right, everything would come out in the open. Only then could he hope to make things right. Or was that asking too much after everything that had happened?

* * *

After his successful lunch date with Kiyoshi, Connor got into his rental car. When he was on the road, he grabbed his cell phone, scrolled down the list to the number he was looking for, hit dial, and put it on speaker.

The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered: "Hello."

"It's me," Connor said, though it was obvious.

The man on the other end was Tony Nakamura, a Honolulu private investigator Connor used from time to time to supplement his research and investigative skills.

Nakamura's voice rose with recognition. "Hey, what's up?"

"I need you to do something for me..." Connor said, pausing to collect his thoughts.

"I'm listening..."

"I need you to find out everything you can about Kiyoshi Yoshida, right down to the last detail," Connor instructed. "I want to know everything about her relationship with Sergio Matsuko and her ex-husband Andrew Yoshida. Find out who her friends are or were and, most importantly, if she has any enemies."

"Is that _all_?" There was cynicism in Nakamura's tone.

"For now," Connor said. "Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all. Whatever you need."

"Let me know when you have something. The sooner the better."

"I'll be in touch," Nakamura said.

Connor disconnected. In spite of his determination to get the dirty details on Sergio Matsuko, he didn't want Kiyoshi caught in the crossfire. Or at least he wanted them to somehow be able to get past this once she learned that he had not been honest with her. Or was he deluding himself to believe that they could actually have a relationship when he was writing a book about her brother—the Aloha Black Scarf Killer.

At the moment, something else was bothering Connor. Kiyoshi had been spooked by someone outside the store. But who? Did it have anything to do with her running away from home?

Was she in danger? If so, Connor wanted to find out and protect her, if he could. Assuming he was able to get closer to her without blowing his cover.

* * *

Connor drove the short distance to his condo in Wailea. It was an oceanfront suite and had a nice sized lanai to relax on with a drink. He took a moment to do just that, but knew he didn't have the luxury of enjoying too much fun and frolic. After all, he did have a deadline for completing his book. Whether he got what he needed from Kiyoshi in that regard remained to be seen. He was already starting to have second thoughts about deceiving her. A good part of him would just as soon leave her out of it, especially now that some romantic vibes had passed between them. But he really did need to see this thing through and could only hope that the end truly did justify the means.

His cell phone rang, giving Connor a start. He took another sip of beer and grabbed the phone off the glass table.

It was his editor, Garth Sutherland. "So how is everything in Maui?"

"Pretty much what you would expect—laidback, gorgeous scenery, and perfect weather," Connor said.

"Have you had a chance to talk to Kiyoshi Yoshida yet?"

"I had lunch with her a couple of hours ago."

"And...?"

"And I have yet to get anything meaningful out of her," Connor muttered apologetically. "I'll need a little time to see what she knows, if anything."

Garth groaned. "As you know, Connor, time is money in this business. This project has been delayed long enough as it is. The new Vice President of Sales at Stellman & Richwine is on my ass to do it or lose it. Do you follow me?"

Connor's jaw tightened. He was being told in no uncertain terms that they were not willing to wait much longer to receive his manuscript, even if there had been extenuating circumstances for the delay.

"Yeah, I think I do." He switched the phone to his other ear, as if that would somehow lessen the blow.

"I know you like to go the extra mile to make sure you have all the bases covered in your true crime books," Garth said, his voice softening. "That's one of the things I admire about you. But, in this case, we may just have to go with what you've got, if Ms. Yoshida can't or won't give us the inside scoop about her psycho killer twin brother—and quickly."

"I understand," Connor told him.

He did want to get together soon with Kiyoshi Yoshida, but not entirely for the sake of his true crime book. The beautiful lady was capable of pushing his buttons all by herself.

* * *

Later that evening, Connor turned on his laptop computer. He was soon looking at the manuscript he'd appropriately retitled: The Aloha Black Scarf Killer: A Cop Turned Serial Madman.

Connor scrolled through it until he came to the section about the victims. He noted that each victim apparently knew the perpetrator. Each one was attacked in her own residence with no sign of forced entry. The killer had chosen his victims carefully: young, single, professional, trusting beautiful women who had everything to live for.

And, to one son of a bitch, something to die for.

The first victim's name was Alicia Townsend. The twenty-eight-year-old reporter had recently divorced and, according to friends, just began dating again. Her badly beaten, violated body was found in her apartment three days after she had been reported missing by worried colleagues.

At the time, little significance was given to the black scarf draped around her neck, aside from being the likely murder weapon of death by strangulation. Only when victim number two was discovered two weeks later had it become apparent that a serial killer was on the loose on the streets of Honolulu.

And the clock was ticking for five other women who would meet the same fate.

Connor bristled at the thought of it. Though writing about the horrors of true crime had made him a good living, he'd be less than human if he didn't feel for the victims. They didn't deserve to come face to face with the likes of the Sergio Matsukos of the world.

And Kiyoshi didn't deserve to be left with the legacy of a twin who threw away a good career as a police officer to become a rapist and killing machine.

But this was the hand she had been dealt. Now she had to bear the burden of what her brother did. Or at least help fill in the blanks, so the world could see the full picture of his pure evil.

Suddenly Connor felt an overpowering need to talk to Kiyoshi—not sure if it was to dig for more dirt on her brother or if it was just to hear the sweet sound of her voice.

He grabbed his cell phone from the desk, pulled up Kiyoshi's number and tapped it, wondering what the hell he would say to her that wouldn't make him seem like an ass. Or worse, a man who was dying to see her again for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

She could sense him coming after her. It was in the dark of night and she was in the middle of a forest filled with towering eucalyptus and palm trees. She had no idea how she got there, only that, unless she escaped, he would find her and kill her.

She began to run barefoot, not sure which direction she was headed. As though possessing built-in radar, he seemed to be able to follow her every move, getting closer and closer.

She stumbled, but managed to recover quickly, using fear as her motivator. She ran and ran, taking short breaths to try to maintain her energy. He was behind her, though she could not see him, seemingly determined to get to her.

Without rhyme or reason, she was back in her condo now. Wearing only a sheer nightgown, she ran down the hall, not daring to look back only to find him there.

She went into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. But instead of locking him out, she had locked herself in—with him.

He stood there gloating. She could not see his face, only a dark hooded figure. He raised large hands and went for her throat. She stumbled backwards, tripping and falling onto the bed.

He now loomed large over her and she began to hear eerie laughter that seemed to echo throughout the room.

As he swooped down on her, she let out a piercing scream, certain it would be the last sound she ever made...

Kiyoshi woke up in a cold sweat. She was shaking and her heart was pounding a mile a minute. She'd had the nightmare again. This time it seemed more terrifying than ever. She was sure that if the faceless monster had succeeded in his quest, she would not have snapped out of the disturbing sequence of events, for he would have taken her life, even while asleep.

Kiyoshi suddenly realized that her cell phone was ringing. She took another moment or two to regain her bearings in the darkened surroundings. She could make out the bed, the armoire, and even the black and white framed picture of a landscape on the Big Island of Hawaii. With her eyes half shut, Kiyoshi focused on the nightstand where her phone was. Beside it was a lamp. A glance at the digital clock on the other nightstand told her it was ten-fifteen p.m.

She was perturbed that someone was calling her this late. But another side of her was eternally grateful that the person had called, forcing her to wake up and escape her hellish dream.

She fumbled with the lamp, turned it on, and then lifted the cell phone. The caller ID did not reveal who the caller was.

"Kiyoshi...?" the deep voice said, as if unsure. "It's Craig Garrett."

The name and the man quickly registered in Kiyoshi's brain. "Hi, Craig." She tried to get the sleepiness out of her voice.

"Did I call at a bad time?"

_Yes and no_ , she thought, but said: "Not at all. I was just sitting here watching television."

"Same here," he claimed. "Then I decided I'd rather talk to the lovely lady I had the pleasure of meeting this morning...and afternoon. If that's okay with you—"

Kiyoshi took a breath. He was definitely a charmer—and it was working on her.

"Yes, it's okay," she told him. "It's nice to talk to you again, too."

She sat up, no longer feeling scared from the dream, as though Craig were there protecting her.

_Why do I feel that way when I just met him...and really don't even know him_ , she mused uneasily.

"With all these new clothes I bought from you, I'm not sure I'll be able to decide what to wear with what."

"Oh, something tells me you won't have any problem whatsoever," Kiyoshi said.

She listened to his rich laughter through the phone and could tell that he had just been playing with her. Or was it the other way around?

"Are you a fan of jazz?" Connor asked, hoping she would say yes.

"I love jazz," Kiyoshi admitted, though she hadn't listened to it much lately.

"Great. I've been doing a little bit of scouting since I came to Maui, and there's this Hawaiian jazz supper club that recently opened in Kihei. I was hoping that if you didn't have any other plans, we might go there tomorrow evening for a bite and enjoy some live singing."

_Another date with this handsome man?_ Kiyoshi thought excitedly. With jazz as an extra incentive? She couldn't think of a reason to say no, but more than one to say yes.

Still, she wasn't entirely comfortable trusting anyone other than herself these days.

She waited another moment before responding: "I'd love to go to the club with you, Craig..." Then she added: "But if you don't mind, I think I'll meet you there. It's, uh, not that I—"

"Don't worry about it," Connor said. "I understand. I'm still a stranger. You can never be too careful, even in a peaceful place like Hawaii—especially these days."

Kiyoshi nodded in agreement as though he were there. He spoke as if from experience. Had he been or known someone who was a crime victim? She doubted he could match her dark tale of criminality that hit way too close to home.

"Mahalo for that," she said, feeling more comfortable with him in the process.

"No problem," Connor said.

He had no intention of pressing her too hard, too soon, no matter what his editor had in mind. He was willing to take baby steps to get her to talk about her brother. "The club is called Maui Jazz Sounds Lounge."

"I know the place," she told him.

"Good. Let's meet there at seven-thirty," he suggested.

"That works for me." Kiyoshi had to admit that she loved hearing his voice and could imagine talking to him all night—which might be better than going back to sleep, under the circumstances.

But Connor apparently had other ideas. "I'll see you then."

"You will," she promised.

They exchanged one or two more pleasantries and said goodbye.

Kiyoshi got up reluctantly, her throat suddenly parched as if she'd been in the desert. She slipped into her slippers and walked across the room, still thinking about the man named Craig Garrett. She wondered if it were possible that something could really come out of this for both of them. He obviously liked her and she was beginning to like him more and more.

In the kitchen, Kiyoshi turned on the light and took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. She drank about half of it and put it back in the fridge. When she turned toward the small dining table, she noticed that one of the two placemats was slightly crooked, as if it had been used by someone. Being a stickler for detail, she took pride keeping things orderly and symmetrical. It used to drive Andrew up a wall, but he dealt with it.

She was almost certain that the placemat in question—the one she never used but kept ready for company—had been moved. But then the rational side of her thought: _Who could have moved it_ _?_

Since there were no signs of forced entry, Kiyoshi chalked up her fears to paranoia. Perhaps it was borne out of living alone for the first time in years. Or scary dreams. Or even the fact that maybe she was starting to lose it, following the experiences of the past year.

Kiyoshi jumped when she thought she heard a sound. She couldn't be sure from which direction it came.

She tiptoed out of the kitchen and, holding her breath, made her way to the front door, where she was relieved to see it was locked. Now she checked the windows. Also locked.

Somehow, even this did not ease her mind. She inspected all the rooms. Only after she was satisfied that no boogeyman was in the condo, did she exhale a slow breath of relief.

_Get a grip_ , she admonished herself. _No one's after you. At least not in the real world_.

By the time she went back to bed, Kiyoshi had calmed down. She prayed that the nightmare would not return. All she wanted was a good night's sleep. Maybe she would dream about Craig Garrett instead of a cloaked, faceless stalker or killer. Was that asking too much?

It wasn't long before Kiyoshi drifted off to sleep. The frightening dream did not follow her.

* * *

He watched her in the darkness. She was lying on her side in the fetal position, seemingly in a deep, peaceful sleep. He had a strong desire to reach out and touch her, to feel her long hair between his fingers, to smell her sweet scent up close and personal. But he restrained himself, fully aware that it wasn't part of the plan to make his presence known prematurely.

Touching her would have to wait.

And so would killing her.

He stood in the shadows for a while longer, enjoying the view and sense of power, before slowly backing away.

He left the room in measured steps as his eyes adjusted to the darkness while he retraced his path to the front door. Looking back, he thought: _Until next time, Kiyoshi—_

He stepped out into the warm night, quietly locking the door behind him with the key he had given himself to Kiyoshi's place, her world, and everything in it.

He had parked down the street on the mere possibility that she might wake up with the sound of his car starting, look out the window, and put two and two together.

After he drove away, he chuckled, pleased with himself, while thinking: _This is going to be much easier than I thought. Not even the meddlesome true crime writer will be able to stop me from doing what I need to d_ _o._

The softness of his features suddenly took on a decidedly sinister edge. Time was running out for Ms. Kiyoshi Yoshida.

* * *

Kiyoshi pulled into the parking lot of Maui Jazz Sounds Lounge and immediately saw Connor standing by a car. He seemed to zero in on her and waved, as though guiding her into a spot right next to his car.

Kiyoshi was filled with apprehension as she shut off the engine and knew that there would be nothing else standing between her and Craig Garrett. It had been such a long time since she had been attracted to anyone and it scared her, given her past misjudgment of the one man she thought she'd be married to forever.

Not that she viewed Craig as marriage material, per se. After all, it took two to want to tie the knot and her failed marriage was much too recent to want to go down that road anytime soon. Especially with a man who probably wouldn't even live here very long before he relocated again. Besides, he probably wasn't looking for anything more than a fling. Still, she was keeping her options open for whatever the future may hold.

"Aloha," Connor uttered and smiled handsomely as he took Kiyoshi's hand like a gentleman, helping her out of the car.

"Aloha," Kiyoshi responded in kind with a smile, trying to hide the awkwardness and giddiness she felt.

Connor surveyed his date. Kiyoshi wore a lovely turquoise and white print dress and white strappy sandals. He looked up again at her beautiful face and ruby lips. "You look wonderful," he said.

Kiyoshi blushed from his intense gaze and had to look away for a moment to catch her breath. "So do you," she said honestly, admiring his black chinos and light blue tropical print silk shirt, which she had sold him. But she knew that it was the man himself that made the clothes, rather than the other way around.

Connor smiled. "Thanks," he said warmly. "Why don't we go in and see if this place lives up to its name."

"Ready if you are," Kiyoshi told him. She was pretty sure the place would measure up, since the local media had given it high marks.

* * *

They were seated at a candlelit table close to the stage, where an attractive, shapely Hawaiian woman wearing a strapless red gown was already singing and wooing her audience.

"She's really good," Kiyoshi said enviously.

"Yes, she is," Connor agreed, looking up at the singer. The truth was he was more tuned into his date, along with his stated objectives for being with her. They studied the menus, while Connor allowed his imagination to run wild, wishing that Kiyoshi was the main course he feasted upon.

The waiter came and took their order. Momentarily, he returned with a bottle of red wine, half filling two wine goblets.

"So what else can you tell me about yourself, Craig?" Kiyoshi decided to take the initiative, knowing he probably wanted to ask the same question of her. She preferred not to reveal too much about her life until she knew if he was someone she really wanted to share it with.

The question almost seemed to catch Connor off guard. He regained his composure and, after tasting the wine, said what sounded like a cliché even to him: "What would you like to know?" In truth, he was reluctant to divulge any more than he had to for fear of tripping up while using his Craig Garrett pseudonym.

"Have you ever been married?"

"Nope," Connor said matter-of-factly.

"You're not the marrying type?"

"I wouldn't say that," he responded defensively. "I'd love to get married someday—when the right woman shows up and we click."

"I see." _There might be hope for him yet,_ Kiyoshi mused dreamily. She looked at him, curious as to who else was in his life, if not a wife. "Do all of your family members live in Oklahoma?"

"My dad lives there," Connor muttered. "My mother died when I was thirteen." He paused. "I'm an only child."

Maybe he'd told her more than she needed to know. Or maybe a part of him wanted her to get to know the _real_ him, beyond the façade.

Connor sipped wine again and could tell that she was processing what he'd said thus far. He decided to let her ask away. It might make it easier later for him to get some of the answers he wanted.

He grinned, finding it hard to take his eyes off her. "Any other questions?"

Kiyoshi couldn't help but think that he seemed to have pat answers lined up in his head in anticipation of her questions. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Was it?

She sipped wine and savored the taste before asking another question. "What does a corporate consultant do exactly?"

Connor had anticipated the question. "Well, in my case, a corporate consultant advises his clients about everything from organizational issues to money management to changing careers."

"Hmm. Sounds interesting."

"It can be," he said, and added from real experience: "It can also make you feel like you're running in a track meet, but going nowhere fast. People pay you a lot of money for advice, but they don't necessarily want to take it."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Kiyoshi mumbled to herself. As a former fashion designer to some of the richest, influential, and most well-known people in Honolulu, she was often paid well enough, only to find that her stylistic approach did not always conform to one's personal preferences. So that was something they had in common. She wondered what else they had in common, other than living on Maui.

* * *

Kiyoshi dined on tenderloin steak and organic mixed greens; while Connor had grilled salmon and coconut rice. They ate in silence while the lady on stage sang a stirring rendition of "Harlem Nocturne" that held the audience captive.

Connor gazed at Kiyoshi across the table, seemingly caught up in the music and food, and thought of how much he'd like to kiss her. But, for now, he'd settle for getting some information about her brother Sergio Matsuko.

First he'd focus on her intimate past. He waited till they made eye contact. "You told me there was no one in your life at the moment—which is good to hear, under the circumstances. Does that mean there _was_ someone?"

Kiyoshi stopped eating as if there was a dead fly on her plate. She tried not to think about her ex whenever possible these days. But she knew it was a fair question.

"I'm divorced."

Connor detected sadness in her voice and maybe a little bitterness. He was pretty sure that Andrew Yoshida had hurt her badly when he bailed out at a time when she needed him most. "I'm sorry," he said, knowing full well that it would do little to alleviate her pain.

"Don't be," Kiyoshi told him. "It was something that was coming long before it happened." She paused. "I guess you could say we just weren't meant to be."

Connor mused over her words and then ate some rice. "What about your family?"

Kiyoshi considered the question and Connor knew that she was trying to decide how much to reveal.

After a moment or two, she said: "My parents are dead..."

"No siblings?" he prodded.

She nibbled on the steak pensively before looking up. "I had a twin brother."

Conner lifted a brow expectedly. "Had...?"

She winced. "He died in a house fire."

_Yeah, what a tragedy_ , Connor thought cynically. The bastard murdered seven women and deserved to die the way he did.

But he didn't feel that Kiyoshi should have to suffer because of it. He reached a hand across the table and covered hers with it. "I'm sorry, Kiyoshi."

She reacted to his touch, making no attempt to remove her hand.

"So am I," she said contemplatively.

"How long ago?" Connor hated having to play this charade, but it was a necessary step to lead to another.

Kiyoshi blinked back tears. "Last year," she said simply.

"An accident?"

Kiyoshi looked at him like he was her enemy, but then her features eased. She was sure that the questions were innocent enough, though she almost felt like this was an interrogation.

_This is where I draw the line_ , she told herself, even if she did feel comfortable enough with Craig Garrett to tell him as much as she had. What man out there would want to be involved with the sister of a man who killed himself after brutally violating and murdering seven women, including his own fiancée? If whatever was going on here between them had to be temporary, she didn't want to see it end yet.

Kiyoshi met Connor's steady gaze. "Yes, an accident," she lied.

But Kiyoshi wondered if it really was a lie. She still found it hard to fathom that Sergio would have decided to go out in such a horrible way—even if he was guilty of those terrible crimes. The police believed otherwise and the facts seemed to be on their side, whether she cared to accept it or not.

Connor wanted to press further, but held back. He had made a breakthrough. That was enough for now. As a true crime writer, he knew from previous interviews with family members of killers that most of them wanted to talk about the father or brother, mother or daughter, son or cousin, or other familial offender—and usually said that such person was always good until this or that changed him or her. This was what he needed from Kiyoshi to complete the picture about Sergio Matsuko.

And he sensed that she was just about there, which in many ways bothered the hell out of him for he was really starting to like her as a woman.

* * *

It was dark when they left the club. Connor had been in no hurry to see the evening end. Between the gifted jazz singer and the beautiful presence of Kiyoshi, he imagined he could have stayed there all night. Even as he walked Kiyoshi to her car, Connor was thinking about how he might be able to extend the evening without scaring her off.

He decided to try the direct approach. "Do you want to go back to my condo for a nightcap?"

Kiyoshi looked up at him, not really seeing the color in his eyes, but reading the shadows of desire across his face. She hadn't been intimate with a man since her divorce and the thought of being wanted again sent shivers of desire up and down her spine. She wanted to be with him.

_Why not?_ she thought. They were both single, nice looking, intelligent people who happened to be attracted to each other. Maybe it was time for her to let someone in her life again.

Maybe Craig Garrett was that man.

But another part of Kiyoshi remained wary, not wishing to be hurt and not in the mood for rejection.

She decided to take a middle of the road stance. "If I come, do you promise to behave yourself?"

Connor took that as a sign that she was more than interested. "Oh, you have my word on that," he said coolly. "I'll be as much of a gentleman as you want me to be."

Kiyoshi couldn't help but smile at that. "All right. I'll follow you."

Her heart was suddenly filled with anticipation of what may or may not occur before the night was through.

Connor was also keeping an open mind, between wanting the lady in the worst way and wanting to keep a safe distance for the long haul.

* * *

Kiyoshi took a glance around the condo. Nice, but it seemed to suggest temporary more than anything. Was Craig planning to leave the island even though he told her he had relocated there? Was there really room in his corporate consultant life for someone else?

Kiyoshi turned the question on herself. She had been scarred by the two men she trusted most. She wasn't sure she could dare think beyond more than one day with a man.

Even a successful and charming man like Craig Garrett.

Connor wondered what Kiyoshi was thinking as he opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses. Perhaps she was thinking about her brother. Or maybe she was thinking about the company she was presently keeping and wondering if there was any future there.

He wondered the same thing. He had come to Maui to get information for his book. Now he wasn't so sure if that was the right thing to do where it concerned Kiyoshi. Perhaps it was time he came clean and laid his cards out on the table. Or was that a surefire way to end things before they even began?

Connor handed Kiyoshi her wine. Their fingers touched in the process, causing a spark to ignite within him. He had to use every ounce of willpower he had to resist the urge to run his hands all over her body in that moment. He knew had to respect her and his purpose for befriending her, and keep his libido in check—at least for now.

He tasted his wine and asked curiously: "So tell me, Kiyoshi, aside from being gorgeous and a great saleswoman who can appreciate jazz and good food, what else do you do with your time?"

Kiyoshi stared at the question while finding it hard to think about anything other than his powerful manly presence at the moment. Over the rim of her glass, she said: "Well, I run on the beach three times a week."

Connor grinned. "No wonder you're in such good shape. I do a little running myself when I can find the time."

Kiyoshi flashed him a challenging smile. "Maybe we could run together sometime," she said, picturing his long, muscled legs in shorts. "I mean, if you want to..."

He knew she was just trying to protect herself from getting hurt again. Though his travel plans were pretty much open after he completed his mission, she was making it hard as hell to want to leave. He stepped a little closer. "I'd love to hit the beach with you for a good run whenever you like."

She beamed. "Great. I'll keep that in mind."

"What other things do you like to do?" he asked, wanting to keep the dialogue going.

"Read good fiction," she told him. "I'm a big fan of cozies and women's fiction."

_I wonder if she's ever read any true crime books by Connor Jansen_ , Connor mused, allowing himself to take a little ego trip for a moment or two. He quickly got over it, realizing that it was probably better if she hadn't read any of his books, considering the circumstances. He doubted she would want to read his next work, featuring her brother as the protagonist, and maybe her as a supporting character.

"That's cool," he told her sincerely.

"What are your interests?" Kiyoshi asked. She was very aware how close their bodies were, and had no desire to back away.

He studied her for a moment before responding. "I enjoy reading, too. Mainly nonfiction books about history, investing, and psychology."

"Those are good subjects," she told him.

Connor sipped his drink, and then sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. "As you might imagine, I love to travel—especially to Australia and Europe."

"I've been to London and Paris," Kiyoshi said, sitting beside him, "but I've never been Down Under." She was envious that he had gone to places she had only dreamed of.

"I'm sure you would like it there," he said. "The Aussies are very welcoming."

"I don't doubt that," she said. In fact, one of her best friends in Honolulu was Australian. She had continued to support Kiyoshi even after the news broke about Sergio being a serial killer.

Lowering his gaze to meet hers, Connor let his libido speak for him. "You smell good enough to kiss."

Kiyoshi wasn't sure if it was the wine talking, unbridled longing, or both. She felt a bit tipsy and maybe a little crazy, so she said daringly: "Then why don't you?"

That was all Connor needed to hear. He put his hand under her chin, raised it, and lightly pressed his mouth to hers. The sweetness of her juicy lips made him sway and want more.

He pulled back with reluctance and met her eyes. Kiyoshi stared back desirously.

"That was nice," she said, knowing it was much more than that. It was _fantastic_.

Connor read between the lines and was sure they were both on the same page: they wanted each other badly. Even if he knew this was stepping over the line, he couldn't pretend Kiyoshi Yoshida wasn't having this effect on him.

And, dammit, he wouldn't pretend.

He took her glass and set it down, then gently held her cheeks, waiting to see if there was any sign of resistance. Seeing none, he kissed her again, this time more passionately.

Kiyoshi felt as light as a feather. She wrapped her arms around Craig's sturdy neck, so she wouldn't lose the power of his mouth assaulting hers. It gave her the courage to put everything she had into the kiss, making her head spin with delight and her toes tingle.

They found themselves swirling and dancing, their lips never parting, as they made their way into the bedroom.

Managing to break free from the kiss, Connor threw caution to the wind, giving way to his overpowering attraction to her. He would deal with the ramifications later.

He started to remove her clothing and she followed suit in removing his before they sank down onto the bed for a night of passion.

* * *

He had followed Kiyoshi and the true crime writer to the condo complex and watched as they entered the elevator. After more than an hour of waiting, he decided that they were planning to spend the night together. And it irritated the hell out of him. Connor Jansen had overstepped his bounds in deciding to bed Kiyoshi in the course of using her to get information for his damn book. And vulnerable as she was, she had succumbed to his charms and her needs.

_Damn them both_ , he thought angrily.

As much as he wanted to put a stop to this and regain control of the situation, he bit his lip instead and practiced the type of patience he had perfected over the years in carrying out his plan.

_Let them have their fun_ , he mused. _Enjoy it while you can—it won't last long_.

He stared up at the building from the street for a while longer, as though in a trance, before walking away.

In his car a block away, he took a drink from the bottle of vodka before starting the ignition and driving off. His thoughts turned to his first victims in Honolulu. The thought of the women squirming beneath him as he had his way with them before strangling them with a scarf turned him on. They deserved no less.

As did Kiyoshi Yoshida, who had defended her brother admirably before getting out of the city, indeed off the entire island. It hadn't been difficult to track her down. Especially when the true crime writer was just as determined to locate her, leading him right to Sergio Matsuko's pretty sister.

Very soon it would be time to add her to his list of victims and there was nothing she or Jansen could do about it.

* * *

Kiyoshi's eyes adjusted to the darkness as Connor lay beside her on the king-sized bed. The blinds on the windows were open just a crack to allow in a hint of summer moonlight.

"You were terrific," Connor whispered in her ear.

"So were you," Kiyoshi said, as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. They seemed like a perfect fit in bed. _Maybe too perfect_ , she thought uncomfortably. The more she knew about Craig Garrett, the more she felt she didn't know. But now was not the time for regrets.

Was it?

She sat up, noting the time, while clumsily covering herself with the sheet.

"It's late," she muttered. "I think I should go."

Connor raised a brow in surprise. "Please, stay the night," he said. He wanted to be able to touch her, hold her, and be with her again this night.

Kiyoshi thought about it only briefly. She would love to spend the night with this handsome man and excellent lover, but she was afraid she would have one of her nightmares. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was crazy or something. Then there was the fear that she might somehow reveal to him that her twin brother, once a well-regarded cop, had died a cold-blooded rapist and serial killer. This was information she preferred not to share right now, if ever.

She caught Connor's pleading gaze. "I can't," she said solemnly. "It has nothing to do with you. I just like sleeping in my own bed."

_Maybe it is for the best_ , he told himself. This way he would be free from the type of intimate entanglement he had hoped to avoid, while continuing to pursue whatever Kiyoshi could tell him about Sergio Matsuko.

As if they could ever go back to the way things were before.

"I understand," he told her, and tried to put on a good face.

Kiyoshi almost wished she could stay covered like that forever. Or at least for as long as her body was an open invitation for his eyes. Then she thought: _I'm being silly. He's already seen all there is to see, and then some_.

She slid across the bed and stood up, awkwardly saying: "I'll just get my clothes." She proceeded to do just that, picking up pieces of clothing that were scattered across the floor.

Connor got up as well and went for his clothes, hating himself for not being straight with her from the beginning in relation to what had just happened between them. He wondered if it was even worth it to keep up the charade, especially when he desired other things much more now from the lady.

* * *

The following day, Kiyoshi was back at work. Though she tried to keep her mind on the job at hand, her thoughts were very much on last night's surprising events.

She was exhausted when she got home from Craig's place, and had fallen asleep almost the moment she hit the bed. _Maybe that's the secret to escaping my nightmares_ , she pondered. Be very tired and relaxed at the same time. Oh, and it probably doesn't hurt to have passionate sex beforehand.

Kiyoshi smiled at the thought, realizing her body had involuntarily reacted in response.

"I never knew stocking shelves with shirts could be such fun," Melissa teased her.

Kiyoshi rolled her eyes. "You're a barrel of laughs by the minute, girl."

Melissa studied her. "So did anything happen between you and Mr. Big Spender from the other day that I should know about?"

Kiyoshi hedged, but then thought: _Why not tell her?_ She had already confided in her that they'd had lunch and exchanged some stolen glances.

"We went to a jazz club last night."

"Oh really," Melissa hummed. "It sounds like things are starting to get interesting."

_You don't know the half of it_ , Kiyoshi thought gleefully. _And you won't_. Some things should remain private between a man and a woman, unless, of course, you're really close to your girlfriend. They weren't there yet.

"Don't make more out of it than it is," Kiyoshi said lightheartedly, though truthfully she was not quite sure what it was she and Craig had.

Melissa put something resembling a frown on her face. "Just be careful. You're entitled to have your fun—heaven knows I could use some myself. But there are sharks in Wailea just like Honolulu."

"I'll try to remember that." Kiyoshi smiled uneasily, wondering if Melissa had some insight regarding the sharks she'd had to deal with in Honolulu. Was Craig Garrett not to be trusted when all was said and done? Or could he turn out to be everything that Andrew wasn't?

Kiyoshi had put the last shirt on the shelf and was about to go on break when she spotted Fujio Taguchi standing near the hats. He was talking to a man who looked familiar. Then it hit her. It was the man who had seemed transfixed on her the other day, though he tried not to show it. To add insult to injury, he never even bought anything as far as she knew.

_Who was he?_ Kiyoshi was a little more than curious. Did he work at the store?

Then the man in question saw Kiyoshi. Once again, he pretended he hadn't seen her. He said a few more words to Fujio, and then made a hasty retreat in the opposite direction from where Kiyoshi stood, as she tried her best not to gawk at him.

It was only after Fujio made his way toward her that she decided to satisfy her curiosity.

Fujio smiled at her. "How's your day going so far, Kiyoshi?" he asked casually.

"So far, so good," she told him, and noted over his shoulder that the man had gone out the front door. Kiyoshi regarded her boss and asked nonchalantly: "That man you were just talking to...he looks familiar. Who is he?"

Fujio shrugged. "I didn't catch his name, but he was looking for directions to a place. I'm afraid I wasn't much help." He paused. "Who does he look like to you?"

"No one I know," she replied maybe a little too forcefully. "I think I've seen him around the store."

"Oh," Fujio said, scratching his nose. "Well, that's a good thing. We always like repeat business."

Kiyoshi forced a smile, while thinking: _But he didn't buy anything the first time, and apparently not this time either_. Strange, but hardly a criminal act, she realized.

She went on break and turned her thoughts to more pleasant things like Craig Garrett, and if and when they would get together again.

* * *

That evening, Connor got a call from private investigator Tony Nakamura.

"Hey, I've got something you'll want to hear," he said cryptically.

"Yeah, I'm all ears..."

"When asking around about Kiyoshi Yoshida, I found out that someone else has been asking about her," Nakamura said.

"Who?" Conner asked.

"Well, he didn't give his name, but based on the description, I'd say it was Arnold Kravitz doing some snooping on Sergio Matsuko's sister."

Connor stiffened. Kravitz, once the chief suspect as the Aloha Black Scarf Killer, had been cleared when Matsuko was fingered as the serial killer. Kravitz had been quick to talk to the press, claiming a rush to judgment had all but ruined his life. As if he hadn't done that all by himself since he had a rap sheet a mile long.

So why the hell was he inquiring about Kiyoshi?

"I did some checking," Nakamura said, "and it looks like Kravitz left Oahu about the same time you did—with a one way ticket to Maui."

Connor tensed. "You think he's after Kiyoshi?"

"You tell me," Nakamura grumbled. "The man's definitely not on vacation, though apparently he was fired from his current job before he became fixated on her."

"I certainly don't like the sound of that," Connor said. "Anything else?"

"Not yet. I'll get back to you if I come up with something else."

Connor heard him disconnect. He stood up. Could he have been right all along about Arnold Kravitz being the Aloha Black Scarf Killer? Had he actually set up Matsuko to take the rap and then killed him to seal the deal?

Or was Kravitz just a sexual stalker who somehow got his kicks out of terrorizing Kiyoshi, or worse, doing her bodily harm?

Whatever his reasoning, Connor was more than a little concerned that he was on Maui and had likely targeted Kiyoshi.

Connor called her number, hoping she would pick up. She did not.

He left her a voicemail to warn her about Kravitz as a potential danger to her. Connor did not mention how he knew this or that he had been operating under a fictitious name to get information about her brother.

That was something he wanted to tell her in person. Now was as good a time as any, assuming she was home. He'd also feel better if he were able to watch out for her until he could see what Arnold Kravitz was up to.

Grabbing his keys, Connor left the condo, hoping that Kravitz hadn't already gotten to her.

* * *

Kiyoshi had just finished an evening run and gotten back to her place. She had thought about inviting Craig to jog with her, but didn't want to seem too needy, too soon.

Or maybe he needed her even more?

The notion was pleasing to her as she went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. While drinking, she noted that her cell phone, which she had left on the kitchen counter, was buzzing. She was just about to pick it up when she heard a sound. It seemed to be coming from her bedroom.

Or was it just a noise outside that carried right into her condo?

She left the water and phone on the counter and went to check.

After cutting on the bedroom light, she glanced around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She breathed a sigh of relief.

_There I go again, jumping at every little sound_ , she scolded herself.

Just as Kiyoshi was about to go back into the kitchen, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Suddenly, out of nowhere, standing before her was a man. She recognized him as the man she had seen twice in the store.

"Don't scream, Kiyoshi," he warned. "Or I'll have to hurt you."

She steeled her nerves, even though her heart was pounding. "Who are you?"

He grinned. "My name's Arnold Kravitz. Perhaps you've heard of me..."

Kiyoshi tried to cut through her fear to recollect the name, which did sound familiar. Then she remembered. Arnold Kravitz was initially suspected to be the Aloha Black Scarf Killer until the investigation shifted to Sergio.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a crooked smile.

"I know you were cleared of any wrongdoing in the serial killer case in Honolulu," she told him.

"Yeah, I was."

"How did you get inside my condo?"

He dangled a key in front of her. "I had one made from yours when I broke in a few days ago."

It pained Kiyoshi to know that she hadn't been imagining it when she had sensed a presence in the condo. The thought that he could have been watching her taking a shower or in bed made her sick.

"What do you want?" She wondered if she should try to make a run for it.

"The same thing that true crime writer wanted and got from you," he said coldly. "And so much more..."

Casting aside the ominous nature of his words for a moment, she lifted a brow, perplexed. "True crime writer?"

He nodded. "Connor Jansen—the man you've been hanging out with."

"No, you're mistaken," she told him. "His name is Craig Garrett and he's a corporate consultant."

Arnold laughed derisively. "Is that what he told you?" He laughed again. "Jansen is a big time true crime writer. He's writing a book about your brother and only cozied up to you to see what juicy tidbits he could get out of you."

Kiyoshi found that hard to fathom. Why should she believe a word out of the mouth of some creep who broke into her condo and probably planned to rape her, or worse?

On the other hand, she always felt there was something off about Craig, in spite of his charms to the contrary, that made her not totally trust him. Had he really just been using her to get information about Sergio? Was his romantic interest in her all a façade?

The idea that she had started to feel something for someone, only to have been played for a fool bothered Kiyoshi to no end. But at the moment, she had a far more unsettling situation to deal with.

On impulse, she tried to get past her intruder, but he grabbed her.

"Not so fast," he said sharply. "We have some unfinished business here—which I'm really going to enjoy."

Looking into his eyes, Kiyoshi could see pure evil in them. This told her all she needed to know about her predicament.

"Don't do this," she pleaded.

He grinned and chuckled. "They all said the same thing and it didn't do them any good. And it won't do you any good either, _bitch_!"

Kravitz pushed her down hard onto the bed. As Kiyoshi tried to think of a way to escape, she saw him remove something from his pocket. It was a black scarf, just like the Aloha Black Scarf Killer—or Sergio—had used to strangle seven women in Honolulu.

Was Arnold Kravitz a copycat rapist and killer?

Kravitz flexed the scarf and laughed. "As you've probably figured out by now, your brother died an innocent man. _I'm_ the real Aloha Black Scarf Killer. Setting him up as the fall guy was almost too easy and it got me off the hook from the authorities harassing me about the crimes."

Kiyoshi was speechless. Sergio was innocent just as she had always believed deep down inside. He had been framed by a psychopath, destroying her brother's good name and ruining her life in the process.

"Had to lay low for a while, so the cops didn't suspect that your brother wasn't the real killer," Kravitz said smugly. "But seeing you on television trying to defend him was a real turn on. I knew that sooner or later the Aloha Black Scarf Killer would reemerge and I would start again with you."

Fearing she had no way out of this nightmare, but not wanting to die as a rape victim of a serial killer monster, Kiyoshi tried to get up. He threw her back on the bed.

"No one's going to save you," he said confidently. "And I'm _really_ going to enjoy this..."

Just as she let out a piercing scream while imagining the horrors he was about to inflict upon her, Kiyoshi watched in awe as a figure seemed to come out of nowhere, confronting Kravitz. Caught off guard, Kravitz tried to attack him, but the man used martial arts skillfully, battering him with swift hands and feet. A final kick to the temple sent Kravitz crashing to the floor, and he was out like a light.

Only then did the man face Kiyoshi. She put her hands to her mouth in shock, not believing her eyes. "Sergio..."

* * *

Connor tried to call Kiyoshi again as he drove to her condominium complex. He had sized up her situation before he formally met her, so he knew where she lived. The fact that she wasn't answering her phone bothered him. Had Arnold Kravitz gone after her? Had he unwittingly led Kravitz straight to the sister of Sergio Matsuko?

Connor could only imagine what the career criminal had in mind when he came to Maui. It surely was nothing good.

_If anything happens to Kiyoshi, I'll never forgive myself_ , Connor thought. Especially now that he had begun to develop feelings for her, in spite of deceiving her as to who he really was.

All he asked for now was a chance to make things right. He would be damned if the likes of Arnold Kravitz ruined that.

Pulling up to the condo, Connor raced toward Kiyoshi's unit. He noticed that the door was slightly ajar, causing his heart to skip a beat.

Cautiously stepping inside, he immediately called out to her. There was no answer.

He walked toward the bedroom, where he spotted Kravitz on the floor. It looked like he had really been worked over. He was handcuffed and appeared to be alive. A black scarf lay next to his hand.

Connor wondered if Kiyoshi had singlehandedly brought Kravitz down after he likely tried to assault her.

Then he looked up and saw her stranding there beside a man who looked very familiar. A man Connor believed was dead. _A serial killer._

Sergio Matsuko.

"You're alive...?" Connor managed to get the words out.

"Yeah, I'm alive," Sergio said calmly. "And so is my sister, no thanks to you."

Connor gazed at Kiyoshi, who looked shaken up but otherwise unharmed. She was glaring at him with contempt, which told Connor that his secret was out of the bag.

But before he dealt with that, he eyed Matsuko again, recalling that his burned corpse had been identified through DNA and dental records. So how the hell could he be standing right here in front of him?

"I didn't come back from hell," Sergio said, "if that's what you're thinking. My death was a setup—all designed to flush out a serial killer."

Connor cocked a brow, a bit confused as he glanced at Kravitz and back. "You're telling me that you faked your own death?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying—painful as it was, especially for Kiyoshi."

"He didn't kill those women," she said tersely. "The real Aloha Black Scarf Killer is Arnold Kravitz."

Connor looked down at the fallen man again, and the scarf next to his hand. He faced Kiyoshi, realizing that had her brother not been there, Kravitz might have succeeded in his plan to rape and murder her.

But even with that logic, Connor was still trying to wrap his mind around the notion that the man he had based his book on as the Aloha Black Scarf Killer was the wrong culprit. How could he have not seen this?

He looked at Matsuko. "How did you manage to pull this off?"

"With the help of the Honolulu Police Department," Sergio responded. "We were pretty sure Kravitz was our man, but we didn't have enough evidence to make it stick. That's when I came up with a plan to make myself a target—baiting him to come after me. He did, and actually shot me, but I was wearing a bulletproof vest. I pretended to be dead while he planted evidence and set the place on fire." Sergio paused before continuing.

"Unfortunately, he managed to get away before we could take him down. So we used a cadaver to fake my death as the Aloha Black Scarf Killer, hoping to draw out the _real_ killer: Arnold Kravitz. I tracked him here to Maui, where I knew Kiyoshi had moved, and kept an eye out on her while waiting for Kravitz to go after her as part of his sick, twisted plan to murder the sister of the man he had framed. His admission to Kiyoshi that he was the real killer was caught on tape, and we also found plenty of solid evidence at his residence. We've also got him for attempting to murder Kiyoshi."

Connor took this all in and looked at her. "I'm glad you're okay."

She rolled her eyes. "Save it, Craig Garrett, Connor Jansen, or whatever the hell your name really is."

"I can explain," he muttered lamely.

"Don't bother," Kiyoshi said, sneering. The betrayal she felt for being used in the worst way by the true crime writer under false pretenses was overshadowed by her happiness knowing her brother was alive and innocent. "Just leave me alone—and Sergio, too."

All things considered, Connor knew he was in a really bad place right now where they were concerned. But he was not a quitter. He wanted to do right by Kiyoshi and her brother, even though he would have to practically go back to square one to get the facts straight for his true crime book on the Aloha Black Scarf Killer.

* * *

Two months later, Kiyoshi was sitting in her Honolulu office in the One Waterfront Towers, where she had reclaimed her life as a fashion designer. Her brother's career as a homicide detective was back on track. His undercover work and personal sacrifice was applauded by the police department and the media for helping solve the Aloha Black Scarf Killer case, leading to the arrest of serial killer Arnold Kravitz.

After recovering from his injuries suffered at the hands of Sergio Matsuko, Kravitz was abruptly taken into custody and charged with seven first-degree murders, two attempted murders, and an assortment of other crimes. His trial was set for next year.

Kiyoshi's phone rang and her assistant told her that Connor Jansen was waiting to come in. She smiled thoughtfully. They had started dating again after the dust settled regarding Connor's breach of trust for lying about his identity in order to gain access to her. He had explained himself as best as possible, insisting that his feelings for her were genuine.

Wanting to believe him, and knowing her feelings toward him were real, Kiyoshi decided to let Connor back into her life on the condition they take it one day at a time. Both she and Sergio had even agreed to be interviewed for his book, wanting to make sure that the true story came out, which included how she was targeted and pursued by Arnold Kravitz, nearly costing Kiyoshi her life.

She sucked in a breath and told her assistant to send Connor in. She stood to greet him.

He entered, holding a bouquet of roses. "For you," he said with a boyish smile.

Kiyoshi beamed and put them to her nose, inhaling. "Thanks! They're lovely."

Connor grinned. "No lovelier than you."

He kissed her on the cheek, welcoming the opportunity to be given a second chance to show her who he really was. Relocating to Honolulu was the first step to demonstrate how serious he was about making things work between them. The publication of his true crime book on the Aloha Black Scarf Killer had been pushed back a year, giving him time to rewrite much of the story and ending, including Arnold Kravitz's trial and certain conviction. It also gave Connor more time to romance Kiyoshi and earn back the respect he had nearly thrown away.

"So are you ready for lunch?" he asked her.

She flashed her teeth and responded, "Yes, most definitely."

# # #

The following are bonus excerpts from the medical thriller/police procedural

MURDER IN MAUI: A Leila Kahana Mystery

By R. Barri Flowers

Prologue

The handgun was loaded methodically. Time for payback. Now they would know what it felt like to be humiliated. And only then could some peace of mind come.

And just maybe a life again.

First things first. There was a job to do and the doer was determined to exact some vengeance against those deserving.

Stuffing the gun in a pocket, the soon-to-be-killer downed the rest of a glass of liquor before heading for the door.

It was a relatively quiet evening by Maui standards, what with the constant throng of tourists practically taking over the island. This was a good omen. No need to draw undue attention or have to take out someone who didn't deserve to die.

The doer got into a vehicle and began the drive down Mokulele Highway toward the South Shore.

Arriving in Wailea, the car was parked not far from the Crest Creek Condominiums.

Then came the wait, certain they would show up. After all, their routines had been studied and memorized.

Ten minutes later both arrived in separate BMWs. The tall, handsome man left his car first and casually looked around as if lost before heading toward a condo.

The woman waited an appropriate amount of time before stepping out of her car. She was attractive and leggy with long blonde hair.

She joined the man in the condo.

It didn't take much to imagine what they might be doing inside, having already witnessed it firsthand.

She was the loud type; while her lover was more focused on rough actions speaking for him.

Glancing at a watch, the doer decided it was time to get this over with.

Moving quickly toward the condo, the doer resisted the temptation to look around in the dim light, knowing this small impulse alone might cause someone to hone in on a passing stranger.

Pausing at the unit and listening carefully for any sounds within, there was nothing perceptible due to the thick walls, which would work well for the purpose in mind.

The gloved hand turned the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

Inside two goblets of wine sat on a table in the living room. Clothes were strewn about the hardwood floor as if they couldn't get them off soon enough. Muffled sounds could be heard upstairs.

The doer climbed the steps, moving steadily. The master bedroom was just down the hall. Laughter and moaning grew louder, along with the frenetic movement of bodies.

The two were on the bed naked having sex. She was on top, galloping like a stallion, while he had one hand clamped firmly on her breast and the other gripping a buttock.

Removing the gun, a few brisk steps toward the pair followed. Before they were even aware of another presence in the room, it was too late. Bullets were systematically pumped into the pair until the killer was satisfied there was no life left in the room other than one.

Chapter One

Leila Kahana had been with the Maui County Police Department for seven years, working in the Criminal Investigative Division as a detective and composite sketch artist. She'd joined the homicide squad three years ago and had seen her share of murder victims in various types of positions, ranging from fetal to awkward to dangling. But none made her olive skin flush like the present victims. A Hawaiian man and white woman, both in their thirties, were naked and locked in coitus; the woman slumped astride the man.

Identified through their driver licenses as Doctors Larry Nagasaka and Elizabeth Racine, both had been shot at point blank range in the head and the woman had bullet wounds in her back. The two were literally lying in a pool of their own blood.

The call had come in this Tuesday at 8:30 p.m. with a report of gunfire at the Crest Creek Condominiums, one of the new and expensive developments in the exclusive Wailea Resort. Neither victim lived at the residence that, according to records, was owned by the Medical Association of Maui.

"Looks like they went out with a bang, no pun intended," her partner, Detective Sergeant Blake Seymour, said as a police photographer took pictures of the decedents.

Leila winced, hoping Seymour didn't notice how uncomfortable she felt seeing the victims locked in the sex act. Not that she had anything against sex, other than being without for the past six months. It just seemed like some things should remain private and not exposed for everyone to see. Or at least not a bunch of gawking law enforcement personnel.

But then Leila didn't imagine the pair knew they would be murdered at the worst possible time. Or best, depending on how you looked at it.

"I guess we can pretty much rule out murder-suicide," she said, as there was no murder weapon found anywhere near the bodies. Not to mention they were shot multiple times and in difficult positions, making it all but impossible that either victim could have been the shooter.

"I agree. Not unless one or the other was a glutton for punishment and Houdini at the same time."

Leila wrinkled her nose. "There was no sign of forced entry either. And it doesn't look like anything was taken. Once you get past their messy remains and clothes scattered around, the place is immaculate. Not exactly evidence of a burglary."

Seymour flexed his latex gloved hand and lifted a shell casing, dropping it in a plastic bag. "Someone invaded the place all right, and found exactly who they were looking for. The question is, under what circumstances and who got the jump on the lovers?"

Leila made it a point to never try and get inside a killer's head too soon. The evidence had a way of leading them down the right path, even if less than straight and narrow. She looked again at the victims.

"No reason to believe they were expecting company. Obviously it didn't deter the killer. Whichever way you slice it, this was definitely personal."

"Sure looks that way. Whoever did this definitely wanted to make a statement. They didn't have a fighting chance."

"So we'll fight the fight on their behalf."

Leila stepped aside as the photographer took pictures of the corpses from a different angle. She believed the killer not only wanted to execute the pair, but humiliate them, too.

She instructed other CSI members to document the crime scene including identifying, collecting and processing any possible physical evidence.

Following Seymour downstairs, Leila couldn't help but wonder if anyone ever used the place other than for sex. If only her house were as tidy. Or maybe that would make it seem too artificial rather than a place to live.

She noted the door key on a cabinet off the foyer. "I'm guessing one of the victims used this to get in. Probably left the door unlocked and that's how the killer got in."

Seymour looked. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still, you never know. If the killer had a key, he or she might have tossed it aside, no longer needing it once the deed was done." He said to a nearby CSI, "Dust this key for prints."

"Sure thing."

Seymour did a quick scan of the area. "Would've helped if they'd had a first rate security system."

Leila blinked. "Maybe the association didn't feel one was needed."

"A costly error in judgment, though something tells me the victims were here on their own time taking care of business, so to speak."

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes.

Seymour managed a weak smile.

Leila approached Officer Tasia Gould. "Who called this in?"

"A neighbor." She lifted a notepad. "Barbara Holliman."

"We'll need to speak with Ms. Holliman."

"And anyone else in the immediate area who was home when the call came in," Seymour added. "Someone must have seen the shooter."

Tasia nodded. "That's usually the case, even if they didn't realize it at the time."

Leila looked up at Seymour, who was nearly a foot taller than her five-four with most of it muscle. "You think this is an isolated incident?"

He shrugged. "Guess that will depend on why someone wanted the doctors dead while caught in the act."

Leila refused to speculate on motive beyond the obvious that the killer knew the doctors. Not till they had more to go on regarding the victims.

And perpetrator.

* * *

Leila sat in the passenger seat as Seymour drove. Both were trapped in their own thoughts about the latest case to bring them out into the night. For her part, Leila never considered one investigation to be any less or more important than the next. When dealing with human beings and loss of life through violence, all cases deserved their best efforts.

She glanced at Seymour's profile. He was nice enough looking, if not the most handsome man she had seen. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and he'd recently grown a mustache, which Leila hadn't decided if she liked. They had been partners for two years and she still didn't know him very well. At times he could be moody, witty, or a million miles away.

Seymour was currently separated from his wife. Leila suspected he wanted to get back together with her, but tried to pretend otherwise. She wasn't sure what to tell him, having no experience in that department.

At thirty-two, Leila had never been married. Born in Hawaii to conservative Polynesian parents who believed it was her duty to marry an established Polynesian man, Leila wasn't opposed to marriage as much as being with someone she didn't love. That included her last boyfriend, who had turned out to be a real jerk.

Leila preferred to be on her own for now till someone came along who really made her want him.

She looked again at her partner. "Why are you so quiet over there, Seymour?"

"Just thinking about disappointing my daughter." He paused. "I was supposed to pick her up for the night. Then duty called."

"Is it too late now?"

"She's probably asleep."

"She knows you're a cop. I think she'll understand." Easy for her to say.

"Yeah, I suppose." Seymour sniffed. "I still hate letting her down."

"So find a way to make it up to her."

"I'll think of something."

Leila's mind returned to the grisly crime scene. They were on their way to notify next of kin before the press could. This was one of the hardest parts of the job, along with tracing the winding path that had culminated with a double murder.

* * *

The address they had for Larry Nagasaka was in nearby Kihei. It was a beachfront estate surrounded by swaying palm trees in a gated community. Seymour could only imagine what a place like this went for. Certainly way out of his league.

Apparently the doctor wasn't entirely at home here though, considering he'd chosen another location to have sex.

The door was opened by an attractive petite Asian woman with long raven hair, almost as though she'd been expecting them.

"Yes?"

He identified them. "And you are...?"

"Connie Nagasaka."

"Is Dr. Larry Nagasaka your—?"

"Husband. Yes." She frowned. "What is this about?"

"Could we please come in?" Leila asked.

Connie met her eyes and nodded. She led them into a large foyer. "What's happened to Larry?"

Seymour cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to inform you that your husband's dead."

A hand flew to her mouth. "How?"

It was always the initial reaction Seymour tried to gauge in determining if such news came as a total shock.

"He was shot to death."

"Where?"

"At a condo in Wailea."

Connie's nostrils flared. "Was he with _her_?"

"Who?"

"His lover."

Seymour glanced at Leila, deferring to her.

"You knew your husband was having an affair?"

"He made no secret of it. Neither did she."

Leila glanced at her notes. "Two people were shot to death tonight. Your husband and a woman named Elizabeth Racine."

Connie started to cry. "I told Larry she wasn't worth it. He never listened to me."

"Mind telling us how you spent your evening?"

She favored her sharply. "At home. By myself. I've gotten used to it."

Seymour chewed on his lip. "Do you know anyone who would've wanted your husband dead?" He was still trying to decide if she belonged on that list.

"Maybe Liz's husband, Kenneth," Connie answered matter-of-factly. "Few men can tolerate a cheating wife."

* * *

Leila eyed Seymour after they reached the department issued dark sedan. "She wasn't exactly a grieving widow."

"Not everyone takes the news the same."

"Especially when you have an adulterous husband who happens to be bringing in what has to be big bucks."

Seymour opened the door. "Think she did it?"

Leila imagined Connie pumping bullets into the lovers. "Anything's possible. Or maybe someone did the job for her."

"Like Kenneth Racine?"

"Hey, stranger things have happened. Maybe he'll save us all some trouble by fessing up."

She wasn't holding her breath. From Leila's experience, most homicidal spouses were anything but accommodating. They usually preferred to blame everyone else for their problems, including the victim.

Or, in this case, victims.

Seymour pulled into the parking lot at Maui General Hospital where Doctor Kenneth Racine was on duty as medical director of the Behavioral Health Unit.

Leila hated hospitals, an emotion born from fear of having her tonsils removed as a child and added to by the death of her father ten years ago after spending the last two months of his life in a hospital bed.

They were directed to the third floor, where a nurse pointed toward a forty-something, tall man with thick gray hair. He seemed agitated after snapping his cell phone shut.

"Dr. Kenneth Racine?" Leila asked.

"Yes?"

She lifted her ID. "We're detectives with the Maui County Police Department. Could we have a word with you in private?"

His brow furrowed. "Look, if this is about those parking tickets, I swear I'll pay them. Things have just been a little crazy around here, you know?"

"We're not traffic cops," Seymour said curtly. "This is a homicide matter—"

Kenneth's head snapped back. "My office is just over there..."

They followed him to the office, where he left the door open.

"You said homicide?" He looked at Seymour.

"Afraid we have bad news. Your wife, Elizabeth, was murdered."

Kenneth's eyes bulged. "That's not possible! Liz is at a seminar in Honolulu."

Leila blinked, wishing that had been the case for his sake and hers. "We believe a woman found shot to death at a condo in Wailea tonight is in fact Elizabeth Racine."

He lifted his cell phone and pushed a button. "Yes, I need to speak to Elizabeth Racine. She's a guest there." A few moments passed. "What do you mean there's no one registered there by that name?"

Leila regarded Seymour. She wondered if Racine's reaction was mainly for their benefit.

He hung up, eyes downcast. "They said she never checked in, even though she had made a reservation."

Leila supposed it had been smart to cover her tracks. That was, until someone made certain they ran out for good.

"Larry Nagasaka was also murdered at the condo," she said.

"Larry—" Kenneth gulped. "Are you telling me my wife and Larry were having an affair?"

"Sure looks that way."

"That bloody bastard."

Leila didn't disagree, but that was beside the point. "You had no idea your wife was seeing another man?"

Kenneth sneered. "Isn't the spouse always last to know?"

"Not always," said Seymour. "We need you to account for your whereabouts tonight."

"You're kidding, right? You think I actually had something to do with this?"

"Wouldn't be the first time a vindictive spouse offed his wife and lover."

Kenneth took a step backward. "Look, I loved my wife and would never have wanted her dead, no matter what. I've been working my ass off here since three o'clock trying to keep this unit together."

* * *

"His story seems to hold up." Seymour stood beside Leila in the elevator.

"Even in a busy hospital, people can sometimes see what they want to," she said.

"True. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch to believe Racine could've taken a break from his duties to get rid of a cheating wife and her lover."

Leila ran a hand through her hair. "Aren't doctors supposed to be in the business of saving lives?"

Seymour gave her a deadpan look. "That may well depend on whose life it is."

He drove on the Honoapiilani Highway to West Maui where Leila lived.

"Do you want to get a drink?"

Leila didn't look his way. "Tempting, but I think I'll call it a night, if that's okay. It's been a long day."

"You're right, it has been, and that's fine."

"Another time?" She faced him.

"Yeah." He turned to look at her and back to the road. A few minutes later Seymour dropped Leila off at home. "See you tomorrow."

"Count on it." She gave a little smile and waved.

Seymour drove off, thinking she was probably the most levelheaded cop he knew, including himself. And also the best looking, which may have been the problem. He loved her new hairstyle, a short bob with sloping edges. Of course he kept his compliments in check, not wanting to make either of them uncomfortable in what was a good working relationship. Partnering up with Leila might not have been his first choice, but she'd earned his respect and taught him a few things along the way.

Seymour took the Kahekili Highway to the place he was renting in central Maui. Unlike the resort areas on the west and south sides of Maui, there wasn't much here to excite tourists. The fact that real people like him lived and worked in central Maui made it more to his liking, aside from living alone for the time being.

He would've preferred going to the house he once shared with his wife, Mele. That was before he screwed up, got caught, and was kicked out four months ago. She had yet to file for divorce, but since there was virtually no real communication between them, he feared it was only a matter of time.

When they did talk, it was mostly about their eight-year-old daughter, Akela. They had adopted her when she was less than a month old after learning that Mele was unable to have children. Akela was the one thing in his life Seymour was most proud of. He hated having to disappoint her. But he was a cop and had been for twenty of his forty-six years. Someday Akela would understand that people like him were needed to go after the bad guys in the world. Or at least within Hawaii. Until then, he would continue to try and balance the things most important to him.

Seymour thought about the crime that left two doctors dead. There was nothing more to be done tonight other than hope they caught a break and made an arrest.

As to what drove the killer to taking the two lives was pure conjecture at this point. But it didn't mean he wasn't up to some guesswork. Obviously the victims thought they had the perfect place for their affair.

Well, they were dead wrong.

They had ticked someone off. Or maybe one had been targeted and the other was just collateral damage.

Either way, a killer was on the loose and that was always cause for concern for you never knew what one might do next after experiencing their first kill and finding it agreed with them.

* * *

Read the entire MURDER IN MAUI, available in eBook, audio, and print. The book is also available in the MURDER IN HAWAII MYSTERIES 3-BOOK BUNDLE by R. Barri Flowers, in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Google.

# # #

The following are bonus excerpts from the private investigator island mystery

MURDER IN HONOLULU: A Skye Delaney Mystery

By R. Barri Flowers

Chapter One

The name's Skye McKenzie Delaney. I'm part of the twenty-first century breed of licensed private investigators who live by their wits, survive on instincts, and take each case as though it may be their last. The fact that I double as a security consultant for companies in and around the city of Honolulu, where I reside, gives me financial backup not afforded to all private eyes. This notwithstanding, I take my work as an investigator of everything from cats stuck in trees to missing persons to crimes the police can't or won't touch very seriously. If not, I wouldn't be putting my heart, soul, and body into this often thankless job.

I also happen to be happily divorced—or at least no longer pining for my ex—and not afraid to get my hands dirty if necessary in my business. I get along with most people, but won't take any crap from anyone should it come my way.

Before I became a security consultant/private eye, I used to be a homicide cop for the Honolulu Police Department. Stress, fatigue, burnout, and a real desire to get into something that could provide more financial security and flexible hours, without the downside and depression of police work and know-it-all authority figures, convinced me to change careers.

During my six years on the force, I spent my nights earning a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice Administration. I'm hoping to get my Ph.D. someday when I no longer need to work for a living and can devote my time to further educating myself. In the meantime, I'm getting an honorary doctorate in private detectiveology, where every case can be a real learning experience.

On and off the job, I carry a .40 caliber or 9-millimeter pistol Smith and Wesson—depending on my mood. And I'm not afraid to use either one if I have to, as it sure beats the alternative of ending up as just another private dick on a cold slab in the morgue.

If I were to describe myself character-wise, the words that come to mind are feminine, adventurous yet conservative, streetwise though I often rely on intellect to get me over the hump, and kick-ass tough when duty calls.

I've been told on more than one occasion that I'm attractive—even beautiful—and sexy as hell. I leave that for others to decide, but I'm definitely in great shape at five-eight, thanks to a near obsession with running and swimming, along with not overdoing it with calories. I usually wear my long blonde hair in a ponytail. My contacts make my eyes seem greener than they really are.

I recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. All right, in truth, it wasn't much of a celebration. I spent the entire day holed up in my house with my dog, Ollie, contemplating the future and happy to put much of my past behind me. That included my ex-husband, Carter Delaney, whose greatest contribution to my life and times was making me realize that no man was worth sacrificing one's own identity and integrity, even if it meant losing him in the process.

I did lose Carter five years ago, after deciding I had no desire to share him with his mistress (and probably others I didn't know about). It was a decision I firmly stand by today and am definitely the better for.

At least I convinced myself that was the case even as I came face to face with the subject in question on a muggy afternoon at the end of July. I had just filed away some papers when he walked into my office literally out of the blue. It was his first visit to my office since I joined the ranks of private eyes. I had once worked for the man as a security consultant. That turned into lust, sex, love, marriage, and divorce, and now we were little more than distant acquaintances.

The tremulous half-smile that played on Carter's lips told me that he was not entirely comfortable being there. I felt just as awkward for probably the same reason: the _ex-spouse syndrome_ , which would forever keep a wall of regrets and painful memories between us, thick as molasses.

Never mind the fact that Carter Delaney was still every bit the physical specimen I had fallen in love with another lifetime ago. Tall, fit, handsome, and perennially tanned with dark hair and gray eyes, he almost looked as if he had just stepped out of the pages of Good Looking Digest. Though it was hotter than hell outside, he was decked out in an Italian navy designer suit and wing-tipped burgundy leather shoes. He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist as if he needed to be somewhere else.

At thirty-eight, Carter Delaney was a successful businessman. A former Honolulu prosecutor in the career criminal division, Carter had walked away from the job after excelling at it for the lure of cold hard cash in the world of commerce. He had turned his smarts and acumen into a successful Internet-based international trade company.

It was during the early stages of this success that I entered the picture. Carter had hired me, wanting to have the best security devices for both his home and business. The rest, as they say, is history.

At least it was.

We had managed to avoid running into each other for nearly a year now, which suited me just fine. I wasn't looking for history to ever repeat itself, so quite naturally my curiosity was piqued as to why he was here now. Rather than appear too overeager, I decided to wait and let him take the lead.

"Hi," I said tonelessly as I eased back into my chair and scooted it up to my gray workstation desk. I shuffled some papers to at least give the guise of being busy. In fact, I was going through somewhat of a dry spell right now with the sluggish economy and all. This was particularly true on the private eye side of things, where potential clients seemed more willing to go it alone or rely on an overworked criminal justice system to solve their problems.

I wondered if Carter was here for a social call or if he was looking to hire me as a security consultant again.

"Nice office," he said, though the words seemed to squeeze through his tight-lipped smile.

I agreed with his assessment, as I'd paid enough for the roomy one-woman, air-conditioned unit in a high rent downtown office building that had all the tools of the private eye trade.

Carter hadn't taken his eyes off me since entering the office. It made me just a little uncomfortable. I wondered if he was trying to undress me with his penetrating gaze, as if he hadn't seen the merchandise before.

Either way, it was not winning him any brownie points, if there were any left to win.

I glared at him and said dryly: "Glad you like what you see."

He immediately turned his eyes downward, as though searching for something. When he looked at me again, Carter's smile had faded as he said, clearly for my benefit: "I've been meaning to stop by, see how things were going, but between work and—"

I was only too happy to bail him out in this instance, though I had the feeling he was stalling. For what, I had no earthly idea.

"Don't torture yourself, Carter," I told him. "It's a little late for a guilt trip. Or have you forgotten that we're not married anymore?"

At least not to each other. Six months to the day after our divorce was finalized, he and the mistress tied the knot. Rumor had it she was pregnant at the time. Rarely did I take rumors seriously but, sure enough, the newlyweds did produce a baby girl shortly thereafter. I didn't want kids—at least not until I had done the career thing first. Carter didn't want to wait for me or my career.

To this day, we've never discussed whether that was the beginning of the end or just the beginning of his wandering eyes. Either way, it did little to erase my self-doubts, what might have been, or what had transpired since.

"Like it or not, a part of us will always be married, Skye," he declared, "at least in spirit."

"I don't think so," I said, sneering. "In spirit or otherwise. What's done is done."

"Maybe you're right." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Do you plan to tell me why the hell you're here?" I decided to be blunt, since he seemed willing to take his own sweet time. And in my business, time was money. He didn't have to know that it was only trickling in at the moment. "Or am I supposed to guess what reason my ex-husband might have for paying me an office visit?" I asked.

I honestly couldn't think of any reason for him to be there. Other than maybe to check out my office digs out of curiosity or get a glimpse of what he'd given up back in the day.

He chuckled. "Still as impatient as ever, I see."

I frowned. "Guess some things never change..."

We eyeballed each other for a moment or two of stubborn reflection. Finally, he asked coolly: "Mind if I sit?"

I indicated either of two brandy-colored cluster armchairs. He sat down and for some reason I was glad that my desk separated us.

Carter sat there staring blankly at me, as though in a trance. I stared back and waited with uneasiness at this unlikely get together.

I suddenly felt compelled to ask: "So how's your wife and...?"

At about the same time he was saying: "I'd like to hire you..."

My question could wait. If I hadn't known better, I thought I just heard Carter Delaney actually say he wanted to hire me! If the notion wasn't so absurd, I might have burst into laughter at that moment. Instead, I forced myself to say: "I'm listening—"

He shifted in the chair unsteadily. "I think Darlene is cheating on me..."

He was referring to wife number two. I'd always detested the idea that someone named Darlene took my place in his life. It was as if her name was _darling_ —somehow making her more endearing than I ever was to him.

Apparently, a certain someone must have concurred.

I resisted the urge to say what goes around comes around. _Oh, what the hell_ , I thought. _Let's hear what else he has to say_ _._

"Really?" I said. "Now isn't that a terrible thing to suspect—" I couldn't resist smiling when I said it, in spite of myself.

Carter peered at me beneath thick, dark brows, clearly annoyed and perhaps embarrassed. "I'm not looking for sympathy or amusement," he said.

I got serious again. "Could've fooled me." A well-timed sigh. "Exactly what is it you want from me?" I dared ask, almost afraid of his answer.

He recomposed himself, and after a moment or two said: "I'd like you to follow her around, see where she goes, who she talks to..."

I suddenly found myself laughing, almost hysterically, probably to keep from crying. When I finally stopped, I said: "You can't be serious!" But something told me he was. "You don't really expect me, of all people, to spy on the very bitch-slash-bimbo you left me for, do you?"

His brow furrowed. "Can you lay off the name calling? I was hoping this would be a bit more civilized—"

I was almost enjoying this. _Almost_. "Get real, Carter. You didn't come here for civility. That ended between us the day you decided I wasn't enough for you."

He gave me a quizzical look. "Remember who kicked out who? It's not like I'm asking you to do something illegal. Isn't this the sort of work a private investigator does? Or is my money not green enough for you?"

I leaned toward him; anger building up that I thought had been buried for good. "Don't patronize me! It's not about money. It's about respect! You've got a hell of a lot of nerve showing up in my office and asking me to snoop on your wife. I'm afraid I don't come _that_ cheap—" I took satisfaction in making that abundantly clear to him.

He actually seemed shocked by my reaction, and maybe even hurt. "Dammit, Skye, I didn't come here to insult you. I came because I need your help." He batted those charming eyes at me emotionally. "You think it was easy for me to come to you with my, uh, problem? Hell no, it wasn't, but I did because I thought you'd understand."

"Sure, I understand all right," I told him. "You're feeling betrayed, humiliated, and agony over your suspicions. Am I right?" I was sounding like a still bitter ex-wife and found it to be oddly refreshing.

Carter sighed, sounding exhausted. "You're never going to give up the spiteful ex-wife routine, are you? What happened between us is history. Right or wrong, I can't do a damned thing about it now." He hoisted to his feet so fast he nearly toppled over. "I guess it was a mistake coming here. I thought you were professional enough to take on _any_ case without letting your personal feelings get in the way. Obviously I was wrong." He turned his back to me and headed for the door.

Carter always had an incredible way of being able to manipulate people—especially me—into seeing things his way. Not this time! I was not about to be conned into feeling guilty or unprofessional because I refused to take a case that was far too personal and could only stir up feelings that I would just as soon forget, if that was possible.

I stood and asked what seemed like a legitimate question under the circumstances. "Why me? Surely you could have found some other private eye in Honolulu to follow your wife around—one who didn't happen to be your ex-wife."

He turned around and gave me a look that implied the answer should have been as obvious to me as it was to him.

"Do you even have to ask why?" He clenched his jaw. "The last thing I want or need is to make public to already jittery investors _my_ private business...or the fact that I think my wife—the mother of my three-year-old little girl—is cheating on me. You're the only private detective I felt I could count on for a _discreet_ investigation that wouldn't come back to haunt me." He lowered his head. "I guess in some ways it already has—"

I suppose I took it to heart that he trusted me enough to feel that I would handle such an investigation with the utmost discretion. But, all things considered, I wasn't sure that I could trust myself as much.

"I can recommend someone—" I offered as a goodwill gesture.

"Don't do me any favors," Carter muttered irritably as he turned toward the door, gave me a final heated glare, and vanished much the way he had appeared.

I slumped back down into my chair, angry that he had put us both in an unenviable position. In truth, things had not been all that great for us even before the other woman entered the picture. Carter's obsession with getting ahead at all costs and his insistence on meticulousness in every aspect of our lives clashed heavily with my somewhat lower aspirations and lack of perfect order in my life. And our differences over when children should become part of the picture hadn't helped matters either.

The final straw came when I learned of Carter's affair and the reality that he didn't really seem to give a damn that the cat was out of the bag. It was more like a big relief to him. And when confronted with the option of me or the other woman, he was unable or unwilling to make what I believed to be the intelligent choice.

I sought to hold my ground where it concerned my ex. It had been over between us for a long time. I owed him nothing but the painful memories of days gone by. Neither of us had even pretended to be friends once our relationship had officially ceased. (I even turned down a generous divorce settlement, preferring to leave the marriage with only what I brought to it. At the time, it seemed like only a clean break could allow me to regain my dignity.) What was the point when we had gone too far beyond friendship to go back?

As far as I was concerned, that overused cliché applied perfectly when I thought of Carter Delaney. He had made his own damned bed and now had to lay in it—but not with me!

* * *

The privilege of sharing bed space with me in the post Carter Delaney era currently belonged to Ridge Larsen. A homicide detective for the Honolulu Police Department, Ridge had transferred from the Portland Police Bureau in Oregon just after I had gone into early retirement. He was forty, divorced, and handsome in his own rough-hewn, square-jawed way with crafty blue eyes, a shaven bald head, a thick dark moustache, and six foot three inches of solid muscle.

Ridge and I had been dating for the past six months. I wouldn't exactly call what we had serious, insofar as my wanting him to put a ring on my finger. Being on my own for some time, I had become extremely possessive of my independence and privacy and was in no hurry to share my space with anyone on a permanent basis. Ridge seemed to understand and fully accept this, being of the same mind after a disastrous marriage, which probably accounted for half of why we seemed to work so well together.

The other half was that he tolerated my infrequent but not very pretty mood swings, knew when to leave me alone, was a great cook, and an even better lover.

An added fringe benefit of having Ridge around was that he came in handy during those not so rare occasions when I needed official snooping or able-bodied assistance in the every day and sometimes dangerous world of private investigations.

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting the current Mrs. Carter Delaney," hummed Ridge in bed, his strong arm holding me close to his taut body, "but from what I've heard, the former prosecutor's wife is hot stuff."

I jammed my elbow into his ribs and watched him wince. "I wouldn't know about that," I said tartly. "And now is _definitely_ not the time for you to fantasize about my ex-husband's wife."

The afterglow of making love for the past hour was dimming quickly.

Ridge groaned. "I wouldn't dream of fantasizing about anyone but you these days." He planted a nice kiss on my lips. I enjoyed the taste of him. "I only go for pouty ones with long blonde hair and a smokin' hot body."

I soaked in the compliment and felt my annoyance beginning to wane.

Ridge sat up and asked nonchalantly: "So are you going to take the case?"

I looked at him dumbfounded while partially covering myself with a satin sheet, as if he hadn't already gotten a bird's eye view of every inch of me. "What case?"

"Delaney versus Delaney," he said cutely. "Sounds like pretty routine stuff to me." He grinned. "Let's face it, it took guts for him to come to you of all people for help."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Give me a break! Guts or not, why the hell would I want to find out for poor Carter if his wife is fooling around on him?"

"What are you afraid of?" Ridge asked.

"I'm not afraid of anything," I insisted. Except for maybe not being in full control of my own life at all times, I thought. But I knew it didn't work that way in the real world. We were all victims of circumstances for which we often had little to no control.

Ridge eyed me suspiciously. "You don't still have the hots for your ex, do you?"

I stared at his chest, then into his eyes, rolling mine. "What do you think?" He gave me that look all men have—the one that says they need to hear the words of reassurance. "No, I'm _not_ still hung up on Carter Delaney," I said with an edge to my voice. "You of all people should know that, Ridge. I don't make a habit of sleeping with one person while fantasizing about another—" I hoped that would erase all doubts.

It didn't.

"Prove it," Ridge challenged me, "if only to yourself and maybe to Delaney. Take his case just as you would any other client. After all, it's just business, right?" He twisted his lips and added: "Who knows, you might even find it therapeutic."

I sneered at him. "Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil."

He grinned crookedly. "Just wait till you get my bill. I don't come cheap."

I could vouch for that, as his expensive tastes included having a sometimes difficult girlfriend.

Reluctantly, I climbed out of his king-sized bed and gathered up my clothes that were scattered about the floor as if a tornado had passed through.

"What are you doing?" Ridge asked with a frown.

"I'm going home," I told him.

"Why? I hope it wasn't anything I said or didn't say."

I slid into my jeans and zipped them. "It wasn't. I have to feed my dog—"

He got out of bed. "Can't it wait—maybe for a couple of hours?"

"No," I said. "Ollie starts to get antsy when he goes practically all day without eating." I looked around, but couldn't find my cami, which seemed to work to Ridge's advantage.

He came up behind me and wrapped massive arms around my waist. "Are you sure you aren't just a little pissed at me?"

I wriggled out of his arms and gave him a sincere look. "There's nothing to be pissed about."

_At least not with you_ , I told myself, reserving that for my ex at the moment.

Ridge looked relieved. "Good. I just don't want you to throw away Delaney's money for all the wrong reasons."

He was starting to press his luck and my patience.

I sighed and told him: "This may come as a surprise to you, but what's wrong for one person may be totally right for another—"

So maybe I was a little pissed at Ridge for seeming to represent the typical male in sizing up the situation. It was as if there was no room in the scheme of things for emotional baggage or ethical principles where it concerned making money. I wasn't sure I bought into that or if he really did.

I found my top, which had somehow ended up beneath Ridge's black denims. He gathered up his clothing.

"Any chance we can start the night over?" he asked lamely.

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Don't ask more of yourself than you're capable of delivering."

"Try me," he dared.

Though a repeat performance was pretty damn tempting, I grinned and said, "Isn't that what I just did?" while glancing at the wrinkled bed coverings that betrayed the hot and heavy activity that had taken place there tonight.

"At least let me drive you home," Ridge offered.

"My car will get me there just as quickly," I said, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "You can walk me to the door, though."

He grumbled and hugged me as we walked in step through his ranch style home on Keeaumoku Street in the Makiki section of Honolulu that wasn't far from my office.

I could never be upset with Ridge Larsen for very long. His intentions were usually anything but self-serving. Yet I couldn't help but wonder if by pushing me into this case, he was more motivated by his own insecurities than any self-doubts I may have had.

My instincts told me that both were likely to be tested before this thing was over.

Chapter Two

I left Ridge's house at eight o'clock, feeling a bit worn down for a day that had begun with Carter and ended with Ridge. At the moment, I was happy to be going to my own little piece of paradise, where I did my best thinking alone.

I had a one-year-old Subaru Forester that fit quite nicely into my current monthly payment budget. I drove to Waikiki, where I owned a nice house on a palm tree lined, dead-end street not far from the beach. I purchased the two-story plantation style home shortly after my divorce was finalized from an elderly couple who decided to move back to the mainland. It was my good fortune to be in the right place at the right time to get the property, which had been well maintained and reminded me of the home where I grew up on the island. My parents had been beach bums who island hopped before settling into Oahu and having me.

I could hear my dog barking when I pulled into the driveway. Ollie was a five-year-old German Shepherd, named after my late uncle who was as mean as a junkyard dog and ornery as ever. In fact, more often than not, Ollie was just the opposite—sweet and gentle as a lamb, as long as he was not provoked.

Opening the front door was all he needed to make me eat my thoughts, as Ollie literally attacked me. Okay, so it was just his way of playing and asking me "Where the hell have you been all day?" Or maybe "I'm hungry as a dog. What's for supper?"

We ended up wrestling for a few minutes before I turned on the ceiling fan in the living room, then fed Ollie his favorite dog food. He wanted more, but I wasn't about to let him get fat on me. That wouldn't help either of us.

After freshening up and changing into a sleeveless shirt and denim shorts, I allowed my sore feet some freedom from footwear, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen. I made myself a salad and ate it with two slices of wheat bread and a glass of red wine. Ollie loved to hang out on the kitchen's cool ceramic tiles more than anywhere else in the house.

However, the kitchen floor still took second place to the backyard. When he began to grow restless, I got the picture, letting him out of the house to run around in our nice sized, fenced in yard. I joined Ollie a few minutes later and tossed a Frisbee around for him to chase, making sure he stayed clear of my vegetable garden.

Back inside, I watered the flamingo flowers, vanda orchids, and heart leaf philodendron I kept throughout the house, which helped give the place a Hawaiian botanical garden look.

By the time I was ready to call it a night, I had tucked Ollie in his basement hideaway, read a couple of chapters of a John Lescroart novel, and watched the news.

Before drifting off to dreamland, I had more or less decided that, for better or worse, I would take on the task of spying on the current wife of Carter Delaney. Business was business, I convinced myself, even if it happened to involve my ex-husband and his ex-mistress. I still hadn't decided if I wanted his suspicions to prove false or right on the money.

Only time would tell...

* * *

Read the entire MURDER IN HONOLULU, available in eBook, audio, and print. The book is also available in the MURDER IN HAWAII MYSTERIES 3-BOOK BUNDLE by R. Barri Flowers, in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Google.

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The following are bonus excerpts of the Hawaiian sexy suspense novel

SEDUCED TO KILL IN KAUAI

By R. Barri Flowers

Chapter One

My so-called perfect life in the paradise of Kauai, Hawaii began spiraling out of control and into the abyss of hell itself on what started out as a typical Saturday morning in mid May.

All right, so it wasn't so typical in recent terms. My wife, Victoria, and I made love for the first time in weeks. Yes, I mean weeks, not days. In fact, I had practically forgotten what it was like to do something in bed other than read, sleep, and often feel sorry for myself.

It was Victoria's surprise suggestion that we change the pattern. At least for this day. She had said without prelude that she was in the mood for some great morning sex and a feel-good orgasm. Even during the days at the beginning of our marriage when things were hot and heavy more often than not, we _never_ had sex in the morning. She had complained that it was too light outside. Too embarrassing. Too tight. Too little lubrication. Too this. Too that.

I finally got the message and quit trying.

But that morning everything was different. Victoria—still as gorgeous as the day we met, with long golden hair and bold blue eyes—was on top of me like an animal in heat. For an instant, I actually thought she was having a nightmare and attacking what she thought was the bad guy trying to get her. Then she began to laugh and kiss me, hum and kiss, and moan and kiss, till she was shaking all over. She opened her legs and fitted me expertly between them before galloping atop me as if I were a prize-winning stallion to do with as she pleased.

I knew then that this was no damned nightmare, but rather a dream come true for both of us.

I only hoped I didn't wake up anytime soon.

Not till I had the time to milk the dream for all it was worth and then some.

We must have gone at it for at least an hour of no holds barred, primeval sex, and she didn't want to stop even then. But, unfortunately, my energy level had reached the point of no return. I was just three months shy of my fortieth birthday and no longer possessed the staying power that once carried us for hours on end. Whereas, at thirty-six, Victoria was apparently just beginning to reach her stride.

I hadn't figured out yet whether this was a onetime deal thing or if it was the beginning of something that I could certainly learn to live with.

We got up from our sex romp and Victoria fixed me a kick-ass breakfast fit for a king. I liked this royalty treatment. I had gotten used to things like stale donuts and Pop-Tarts for breakfast, which didn't really do much to fill me up for the day ahead.

I had to wonder if I'd done something right that I inexplicably forgot about. Like win the lottery. Not likely, considering there was no lottery in the state of Hawaii.

Maybe I was being rewarded for the time I helped an old lady across the street when I was a kid. Or maybe it was because I finally remembered to put the toilet seat down that had ignited all this.

Had Victoria finally sold her first novel to a publisher after years of trying? She was a firm believer that she could never be taken seriously if she self-published her material.

When I got tired of guessing and was unable to simply count my blessings without knowing just what the hell they were, I asked her directly: "So what's going on, Victoria?"

She fluttered her curly lashes and raised those big, bold blue eyes at me innocently, and said: "What do you mean?"

"Why the new you this morning?" I dipped a perfectly sliced piece of waffle into maple syrup. "Am I missing something here or have I just gone into the Twilight Zone and entered a mysterious and exciting new existence?"

She licked her generous ruby lips. "Are you complaining?"

"No, not at all," I had to admit. "I'd just like to know what's come over you. Was it something I said or did? Or is this just your way of telling me you're ready to be my woman again—in every way?"

It reminded me of that old song "Love Potion Number Nine." Had she suddenly fallen under the spell of a love, lust, and affection potion?

Though certainly piqued, another part of me wondered if sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone. Not push it too far, so that things backfired.

But the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

Victoria gave me an amused look from across the table. "Nothing's come over me," she said sweetly. Then she seemed to think again, as if even she knew that could not stand up to scrutiny.

I waited for an explanation.

"All right," she said. "So maybe I'm tired of treating you like crap." A sigh. "No, that's not it either." She chuckled, and then almost immediately put a more serious almost tearful look on her face. "I guess I'm just afraid of losing you, Jack—"

I didn't know I had given her reason to believe such. We had been together for ten years now, nine as man and wife and five living in Hawaii. While we'd had more than our fair share of fights and disagreements over the course of time, neither of us had ever threatened divorce. Or even a separation.

Why start now?

Did she know something I didn't?

Or was she genuinely concerned at this stage in our lives that we might be drifting apart to the point where a split was inevitable?

I sought to allay her concerns and extinguish my own strange feelings that things would somehow never be the same again.

With my gray eyes narrowed the way they get when I want to express my sincerity, I told her: "You are never going to lose me, except to death when are both too old to even realize one of us is gone. Don't you know that I worship the ground you stand on and have ever since we first met?"

She flashed that drop dead, thousand-watt smile that sold me back then, and still sent a chill up my spine. "I don't know what I was thinking," Victoria said. "I guess it's a woman's prerogative to get a little insecure at times, usually for no reason at all other than just for the sake of it."

Since I felt that I had the upper hand on this one, I wasn't about to let my leverage slip away.

"Now that you mention it, things have gotten a bit sour between us," I said. "I think maybe we should use this morning's little adventure to start over."

"Is that so?" she asked playfully.

I sipped my coffee and regarded her, wearing only one of my shirts and looking sexy as hell. I suddenly felt turned on again.

"Yeah," I hummed. "How about picking up where we left off back in the bedroom."

Victoria moistened her lips with syrup and said teasingly: "Now you're being greedy."

I blushed salaciously. "Guilty as charged."

She laughed. "Well we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

I didn't respond, though I couldn't help but feel there was a double meaning to her words. For the moment, I was more than ready to push any skepticism from my mind and use the renewed vigor and enthusiasm for a second round of intimacy.

Victoria suddenly sprang to her feet like she had just spotted a snake within striking distance. "I've got a great idea," she said. "Why don't we go into Lihue today?"

I scratched my graying black hair. Lihue was the county seat as well as commercial center of Kauai County. It was also usually a place Victoria avoided at all costs, making me wonder what she was up to.

"I go there to work five days a week," I pointed out. "Why would I want to on my day off?"

We lived on the south shore of Kauai in the resort area of Poipu Beach. The two-story, custom-built oceanfront home with spectacular views of Kukui'ula Harbor and Spouting Horn—the amazing phenomenon renowned for crashing waves fifty feet into the air—had damned near everything we could ask for, and more. It was our own little slice of heaven and the one thing we both seemed to agree on ever since purchasing it three years ago.

Apart from giving us the opportunity to enjoy the good life in style, it was also supposed to provide Victoria the inspirational setting to get her creative juices flowing as a would-be writer. That hadn't often been the case, not counting this morning. Her writing still came and left with her mood, which had been lousy lately.

Again, this morning had seen a different and improved Victoria Burke emerge from the shadows. Knock on wood. Maybe the writing had hope yet, I considered optimistically.

Maybe we did as well.

In my reverie, I hadn't realized that Victoria had gotten up and was now on my lap, where she planted a coffee laced kiss on my mouth.

"Oh, pretty please," she said in a whiny my-way-or-no-way voice. "It'll be fun, you'll see. We'll go to some of those cute little shops in the Kukui Grove Shopping Center and drink lattes or red wine. And when we get back, the fun can really begin—"

"I thought the fun was about to begin again now," I groaned.

"It will," she promised. "Before you know it we'll be back, and I'm all yours for the taking and you're mine for the giving."

I had the distinct feeling this was a bribe. I was damned if I didn't and rewarded if I did.

Not much of a choice, all things considered. But after this morning she could have told me to jump off Wailua Falls and I probably would have.

"You win," I said.

Victoria put her warm cheek to mine and whispered in my ear: "No, silly, we both win."

I took her at her word on that one.

I hadn't considered at the time that winning was entirely subjective.

Chapter Two

I drove my Mercedes down Highway 50, wondering why we were headed to Lihue instead of making love. I was still trying to figure out if my wife was up to something. Or were my suspicions totally unwarranted?

"So why did you really want to go out?" I had to ask.

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"Isn't there usually one?" I countered.

"Not in this case, if you're looking for some ulterior motives," she said. "I just felt like being impetuous."

"You mean like having sex this morning?" I asked, hoping I wasn't stepping over the line and jeopardizing a very good thing for future reference.

"Something like that," Victoria said as she put her hand on my knee. "We used to hang out together all the time. Now you're always too busy—or I am. Maybe this is just my way of trying to get past that."

I couldn't argue her point. Between my job in advertising and her doing whatever, there seemed to be little time these days to enjoy each other's company outside the house. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to turn back the clock and work on our marriage in the process.

I touched her hand that was still on my knee and smiled. "I'm glad we're doing this."

She smiled back. "Me too."

Nevertheless, I was eager to get back home and resume our sexual activity.

After finding a spot to park, we visited a few stores in the open air shopping center, picking up some items along the way. Victoria seemed to be in her element, while I was exercising patience in wanting to appease her.

I opted to wait outside while she went into a fragrance store. Since I liked her natural scent more than any perfume, I left it up to her to buy whatever suited her fancy.

It was a nice day in Kauai, as was usually the case, with the temperature in the upper seventies and only a few puffy clouds in the sky. It was a far cry from my upbringing in the Midwest, where it was often either too hot or too cold for my liking.

My trip down memory lane was interrupted when I heard the throaty voice say almost inaudibly: "Can you spare a little something...?"

I looked slightly to my right and saw a tall Hawaiian woman standing there in tattered clothing that looked at least a size or two too big for her body. At first glance, I guessed her to be well into her thirties, if not forties. But upon closer inspection, something told me that beneath the street person façade she was more likely in her mid to late twenties.

Her thick, long hair was jet black and unkempt, suggesting it had not been washed for some time. The same could be said for her face. Her cheeks were smudged as if she had been rolling around in soot. She had heavy bags under her exotic brown eyes, which seemed to reveal everything she had been through. None of it good. She had a dainty nose and a half moon cleft in her chin. I could almost imagine her full mouth being covered with rich red lipstick in another lifetime.

But that was then and this was now.

My guess was that she was homeless—or damn near it. There was a homeless shelter not far from there and I wondered if she had drifted from it to the shopping center.

On almost any other day, I would have rejected the slightest temptation to help out this woman who was invading my space. Never mind the fact that I had donated plenty of money in the past few years to help keep the shelter afloat.

But there was something different about this woman that got to me. Maybe it was the pain in her sad eyes that told me she had had a rough turn in life above and beyond all others.

Or maybe it was because I had nothing better to do at the moment than take pity on someone of lesser means than myself.

Or maybe it was because she reminded me of someone I'd tried hard to remember and forget—my sister Caroline. She had taken to the streets when I was still in grade school. It was her way of liberating herself from a bad, abusive marriage, overbearing parents, and an addiction to cocaine.

The price she paid was heavy. At one point, Caroline was found living in a dumpster, strung out on drugs, and half frozen to death. The lifestyle caught up to her soon enough. She never even made it to see her twenty-third birthday, much less mine.

I blamed her for what she did to herself, simply because it was easier than blaming everyone else.

I met the homeless woman's unflinching eyes and removed my billfold from my back pocket. After leafing through some fifty dollar bills and several twenties, I backtracked and pulled out a fifty dollar bill and placed it on her hand, which had opened wide like a flower.

She flashed me a hint of a smile and said in a stronger voice: "Mahalo."

Almost simultaneously, I heard the bell from the fragrance shop, indicating someone had come out. I turned to look at Victoria's face. She was not smiling.

I glanced toward the woman who was already in full stride, as if to escape having to deal with my less than sympathetic wife. She was probably in search of her next handout. She turned her head in my direction as though for the last time, before disappearing into a shop.

Don't ask me why, but I had a sinking feeling that my generosity would come back to haunt me.

At least it seemed that way as I met the chilling gaze Victoria leveled at me.

* * *

Read the entire SEDUCED TO KILL IN KAUAI, available in eBook, audio, and print. The book is also available in the MURDER IN HAWAII MYSTERIES 3-BOOK BUNDLE by R. Barri Flowers, in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Google.

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The following is a bonus excerpt from the sexy contemporary novelette

KAANAPALI BEACH PARADISE

By R. Barri Flowers

The Hawaiian island of Maui could be seen below, surrounded by some of the clearest, bluest water in the Pacific. As the private plane flew over the area known as Hana, the two people on board were treated to a breathtaking view of the island's magnificent northern coastline with its lush bamboo forests, tropical flowers, and slashing waterfalls.

Within moments, another spectacular landmark came into view—the Kaanapali Palms Hotel. The pilot was particularly interested in the hotel as was the co-pilot, though to a lesser degree. And why wouldn't they be? After all, one was the CEO and majority stockholder of the hotel and the other a minor stockholder who was just an inheritance away from claiming that same title.

"There she is," Ben Crawford said proudly to his daughter, Leigh, beside him as he peered out the window at Maui's newest and, he believed, best luxury hotel.

The Palms, as Ben referred to it, was twelve stories high, and sprawled across thirty acres of lush tropical gardens and waterfalls that tumbled into idyllic pools. It was located within the Kaanapali Beach Resort Area, known for its three-mile long stretch of beautiful white sand beach and clear blue water, and home to Maui's most elegant hotels. The area had become a playground for beautiful, perfect, tanned bodies; tourists from around the globe as well as natives; celebrities and non-celebrities; sexy, sex-seekers; and any combination thereof.

"Oh, Daddy," Leigh gushed, "I love it. Is it really ours?"

"You bet it is, honey." He glanced over at his nineteen-year-old daughter who was too damned pretty for her own good, and his.

She flashed him a devastating smile that left Ben weak in the knees—just as her mother had done before her—and he couldn't help but think what he rarely said out loud to her.

_I love you, Leigh. And_ _I love it when I can make you happy. You sure as hell have made me happy. Just like your mother did_ _before she was taken away from us_. _But now it's just you and me, kid, and I don't want to lose you too. To others, I may be a businessman first, but for you, Leigh, I'm a father first. And what I can't give you, I'll buy you!_

At least the hotel was hers to play in whenever she saw fit. It was also a place where he very much wanted his guests to relax and play, hoping it would soon be the "go to" resort on Maui.

* * *

Read the entire KAANAPALI BEACH PARADISE, available in eBook and audio.

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**About the Author**

R. Barri Flowers is the bestselling author of literary, relationship, mystery, and thriller fiction, as well as young adult novels.

Mysteries and thrillers include the Murder in Hawaii Mysteries bundle of Murder in Honolulu, Murder in Maui, and Seduced to Kill in Kauai; Before He Kills Again, Dark Streets of Whitechapel, Killer in The Woods, and Murdered in the Man Cave.

Other adult fiction includes the epistolary novel, Graduate Circles, sentimental contemporary romance bestseller, Forever Sweethearts, and time travel romance, Billy the Kid's Wife.

Teen fiction includes Count Dracula's Teenage Daughter, Out for Blood, Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay, Summer at Paradise Ranch, and Teen Ghost at Dead Lake.

The author's books can be found in audio, eBook, and print.

Follow R. Barri Flowers on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Goodreads, Google+, LinkedIn, YouTube, Flickr, Booktrack, LibraryThing, iAuthor, and www.rbarriflowers.com.

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