Lazily sprawled out on a beach chair, sipping ice-cold cola and watching a group of beautiful girls splashing around in the ocean in their swimsuits, Jack felt like his life had finally reached peak perfection.
Next to him, a group of bikini-clad models were playing beach volleyball. Jack snapped a quick photo of the moment and casually forwarded it to Reacher—who, God knows where, was probably wandering again.
Under the team's collective "pressure and persuasion," the big guy had finally agreed to carry a phone. Of course, he didn't promise to keep it charged, but he did agree to plug it in and turn it on occasionally. That was his final compromise.
Knowing Reacher's personality, Jack figured that once the man gave his word, he'd follow through. So he'd taken a quick pic just to poke him—remind the drifter that the U.S. had an island state too, and he might enjoy a little walkabout here sometime.
Two smooth, jade-like long legs appeared beside the beach chair. Jack tilted his head, pulling down his sunglasses slightly. Through a beam of sunlight, the thin fabric of a bikini traced out curves as perfectly shaped as a camel's toe—mouthwatering, to say the least.
"I don't offer sunscreen application services. No massages, either. The chairs on my left and right are already taken," Jack drawled lazily.
Days of feasting had dulled even the sharpest of appetites. Even the most gourmet dish would fail to tempt someone this full.
Anna scoffed in annoyance and plopped down beside Jack, tossing a document folder onto his chest.
"All the paperwork's done. A small apartment in Pearl City, just like you requested. I stocked it with meds and emergency rations. Weapons will have to wait till I make some black market connections here."
Jack opened the folder, skimmed it briefly, then nodded and tucked it into his travel bag. "No rush on the weapons. Hawaii's gun laws are super strict—not worth the trouble."
Anna had arrived in Hawaii a week later than everyone else, here for a swimsuit photo shoot. She was now officially a signed model under a Shangri-La entertainment subsidiary.
Her workload was light—no press tours, no mandatory shoots. At the company, she was practically invisible.
Modeling was only her side gig. Jack had assigned her to establish safe houses in strategic regions and keep them maintained and secure. The rental docs in the folder were her first report card—and Jack was pretty satisfied.
The Hawaiian Islands were volcanic in nature, and due to terrain and development factors, the most populated island, Oahu, wasn't actually the largest.
The biggest island, simply called Hawaii (a.k.a. The Big Island), was still growing thanks to its ever-erupting volcanoes.
Oahu, where Honolulu (the state capital), Pearl Harbor, Hanauma Bay, and Waikiki Beach (where Jack now lay sunbathing) were located, ranked third in size—but housed two-thirds of the entire state's population.
Pearl City, as the name implied, sat right next to Pearl Harbor. The apartment Anna had rented was near the city center, with plenty of alleyways and easy access to transport—hidden in plain sight.
For a former field operative, her execution was flawless. Jack checked the photos and found nothing questionable.
"If that's all, I'm heading out. Those two lionesses you call girlfriends are looking at me like they're about to eat me alive," Anna muttered as she glanced toward the beach, where Hannah and JJ were headed over with the rest of the girls. She wisely opted for a tactical retreat.
One-on-one, she feared no one. But both Hannah and JJ at once? No thanks.
Of course, a demon who'd gotten that close to her prey wasn't about to leave without one last bite. Leaning down, Anna whispered close to Jack's ear, her breath warm against his earlobe. Her silver hair cascaded down, shielding them from the prying eyes on the beach.
"Do I really have that little appeal to you?"
Jack could only roll his eyes. He knew she was being deliberately provocative but had no choice but to cough lightly, place a hand on her shoulder, and gently push her away. He dodged the question entirely.
"Your body's got a ton of lingering injuries. Arthritis, too. Yet you keep running to the beach. I'll find time to treat you later."
"I'll look forward to it." Anna didn't quite understand his real meaning but took it as confirmation, leaving with a victorious smile.
"Who was that pretty lady just now?" Alexis asked with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as the girls gathered under the umbrella. Hannah and JJ remained silent, but Alexis had no problem stirring the pot.
"A banana boat and one of my signature cocktails. Zip it," Jack bribed the underage girl with alcohol like a true lawbreaker.
Not that he felt guilty—he hadn't kept anything from JJ or Hannah. They knew everything about Anna, including what had happened in Paris and her current role.
"How about throwing in a seafood dinner too?" Clay chimed in, joining the fun. Shirtless, wearing only swim trunks, he had his baby girl strapped to his chest in a "dad gadget." She giggled and waved her tiny hands.
His wife, Stella, had bounced back impressively after giving birth and looked stunning in her swimsuit, smiling sweetly as she watched her husband joke around with friends.
This trip to Hawaii was a rare full-team bonding experience for the Fugitive Task Force. Clay had brought his wife and daughter, Jubal and Elise had brought their kids, too.
The scene with Anna was minor gossip at best. Everyone was far more entertained watching Aubrey desperately try to win over Elise's six-year-old daughter these past few days.
After promising a seafood dinner, Jack was about to collapse back into his chair when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat—but he relaxed a bit when he saw the caller ID: Dana Mosier's office line. Probably nothing too urgent.
Jack had been low-key anxious about this whole trip. It was rare for the whole team and their families to vacation together. If some disaster a la Conan occurred, it would be beyond bad luck.
Now the vacation was almost over. Their flights were booked for the next morning. Dana calling now likely meant there was a new task lined up.
"Okay, no problem. I'll handle it. No need for anyone else to change their plans. I've got it." Jack hung up, relieved, and turned to the team.
"Nothing serious. The local FBI office has a witness escort request."
The Honolulu FBI office was in the middle of a WPP (Witness Protection Program) assignment. The witness in question was key to a murder trial scheduled for the day after tomorrow.
The witness was already in the program, but the Marshals hadn't had time to assign protection, so the FBI had stepped in.
With the Honolulu office short on agents, only one was available to protect the witness. They'd heard about the team from New York vacationing here and asked Dana if someone could take over escort duties post-trial—meaning get the witness back to New York safely.
"You sure going solo is fine?" Jubal asked—not because he doubted Jack's skills, but because it felt wrong to leave him behind.
"I'm good, really. Gives me a chance to rest a bit longer," Jack replied, flopping over on the chair.
The past few days had drained him. Anna's appearance had stirred drama with his girlfriends. He'd just now managed to calm things down. Frankly, he was emotionally and physically spent.
A small solo assignment was just what he needed—a few more quiet days in paradise. Even the most well-seasoned appetite got tired of steak and lobster. A little detox was good for the soul.
The next morning, Jack saw everyone off at the airport, then headed to the "Five-O" Task Force HQ.
The office was noticeably bigger than the Fugitive Task Force's back in New York—and just as well-equipped. Clearly, this was not a budget-strapped department.
Jack was chatting with a young, pretty Asian woman when Danny walked in, holding two takeout boxes alongside another Asian man.
"This is your version of 'the team can't function without me' because your partner Steve McGarrett's away, and you're in charge?" Jack teased, noting how relaxed Danny looked.
At least in New York, Jack pretended to be on duty—even if he was pulling weeds in the garden.
Danny looked smug and gave him a wise-old-man expression. "You need to learn the rhythm of island life. People here drive slower than you walk in New York."
Then he got down to introductions. "Jack, this is Chin Ho Kelly. Jack, meet Chin. And the lovely lady beside you is…"
"Kono Kalakaua. We already met." Jack extended a hand to the middle-aged Asian man. "Jack Tavoller. FBI."
Chin, immaculately groomed, gave Jack a handshake and then stared up at him, silently measuring his height before looking over his face, then back at Danny with visible skepticism.
"This is the legendary 'nephew' you keep talking about?"
"Even without blood ties, Danny treats me more like family than anyone else ever has," Jack replied.
Before he could finish, Danny jumped up and slung an arm around Jack's shoulders like a proud dad. "Jack's a decorated Supervisory Special Agent in the FBI. The guy literally blew a hole the size of a pond in Central Park to save New York!"
Chin and Kono stared in stunned silence. Jack quickly corrected him, saying he didn't blow up Central Park—just left a hole.
As the group settled in to chat, Jack noted that "Five-O" had a structure similar to his Fugitive Task Force—except more like a serious crimes division within the state police.
The team had four official members. Steve McGarrett, currently away, was a former Navy SEAL and Naval Intelligence officer, now holding the rank of lieutenant commander.
The other three—including Danny—were with the Hawaii State Police. Interestingly, Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua were cousins, though Jack could see zero resemblance beyond the fact they were both Asian.
What Jack found particularly refreshing was that Kono didn't fit the stereotypical image of Asian-American women in Western media. No forced eyeliner, no overexposed gum-showing smiles. Just soft lipstick and a natural, dimpled grin—like the girl next door.
During his stay in Hawaii, Jack had noticed many native girls like her. Grounded, confident, and proud of their cultural heritage—more so than Asian immigrants trying hard to blend into Western norms.
Maybe it was thanks to his "Danny's nephew" status, but Jack quickly found himself being treated as one of the family. The cousin duo even gave him a list of fun local spots that tourists rarely knew.
Jack found himself regretting not coming sooner—maybe his team could've bonded with these two as well.
Just then, Danny suddenly remembered. "Wait, weren't you supposed to be on that morning flight back to New York?"
"Plans change," Jack said with a shrug. "My colleagues are on their way back already." He then explained the new witness escort assignment.
Due to confidentiality, the local office hadn't told him where the witness was being kept. All he knew was that the exchange would happen after the trial tomorrow—meaning Jack had the rest of the day free.
As they discussed where to take the "big nephew" next, Danny's phone rang. Jack glanced at the screen—Rachel. Danny's ex-wife.
To Jack's surprise, Danny declined the call without hesitation.
"I thought things were getting better between you two?" Jack asked, raising a brow.
Danny, unfazed, replied, "You know what the greatest invention in the world is? Voicemail. The guy who invented that? Definitely had an ex-wife."
He waved his phone. "This is our truce. I call, she doesn't pick up—goes to voicemail. I leave a message. She calls, I don't pick up. She leaves hers. That way, we never fight in front of our daughter."
Jack blinked in stunned silence. Then Chin and Kono nodded with equally amused expressions.
Jack turned to Danny with an absolutely serious face. "Uncle Danny, you do realize you're only making me more afraid of marriage, right? Thanks for being such an inspiring role model."
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