"Jack, are you going with Daddy to catch the bad guys?" Grace tilted her cherubic little face up at him, innocence shining in her big eyes.
Jack gave her plump cheek a playful pinch—the feel of it was addictively soft. Now he understood Danny a bit more. The instinct to protect one's young was hardwired into any decent human being. And kids like Grace? Adorably illegal. The kind of daughter who'd trick you into becoming a doting father before you knew what hit you.
"Yes, but I'll come back to play with you, okay?" Jack pinky-swore with her and smiled reassuringly at Rachel before hurrying back to his room.
He'd packed light for this trip—only one spare magazine and not even extra rounds. But he had remembered to bring bug spray, cooling balm, and mosquito repellent—plenty of that.
Stuffing his old 1983-style canteen and two bottles of water into a backpack, Jack slung it over his shoulder and headed downstairs. Barely three minutes later, Danny's Camaro screeched into the Hilton's front entrance.
"Where are the others?" Jack asked as he slid into the passenger seat and buckled up.
"Chin and Kono are meeting up with HPD. The two missing officers were from their department," Danny said, flooring the gas pedal as they shot onto the highway. "Your FBI friends stuck the witness in a hideout out in Kahuku. The place is remote."
"Yeah," Jack nodded. "An abandoned sugarcane farm."
His phone hadn't stopped buzzing. Back in New York, Elise was sending him a steady stream of compiled intel.
"The defendant's name is Allen Brenner. He's a major figure in the Baja Cartel, running their entire sales network. Julie Master is the only witness they've got. According to the prosecution, she's their only chance at getting him behind bars."
Jack flipped through the files quickly, summarizing the key points for Danny.
"I don't get you feds," Danny said with a grimace. "Kahuku backs right up to tropical jungle. Not a single bar of cell service. Would've made more sense to stick her in a hotel."
Jack shrugged. "The agents guarding her had a satellite phone. But they've also gone dark. According to the local field office, after what happened to the last few witnesses, they had no choice but to relocate her somewhere isolated."
He held up a few photos on his phone—bloody, brutal scenes that made Danny's lip curl.
"These are former witnesses against the Baja Cartel. They weren't shy about public executions. Didn't care about collateral damage either."
"And Julie? How's she involved with all this?"
As they hit the highway off-ramp, Danny slowed and rolled down the window, flashing a hand signal. A deep blue Ford F-150 flipped on its lights and merged behind them, followed by two HPD cruisers.
Jack glanced out the window. Kono was driving, Chin in the passenger seat, waving.
"She used to be an accountant for a shipping company here in Honolulu. Turns out that company was part of Allen Brenner's smuggling network. One night, a dock worker stumbled on a container full of—let's say 'premium cargo'—while loading a ship."
"Drugs?" Danny asked, completely unsurprised.
"Cocaine. Allen Brenner shot the guy on the spot. Julie saw the whole thing. He tried to kill her too, but she got away."
Jack's voice softened slightly. "She's smart and brave. Managed to get all the way to New York before we found her."
"She's also really pretty," Danny noted, sneaking a look at the photo Jack had zoomed in on. "Let's hope she's still alive. If she's not in court by 5 PM today, the judge is legally obligated to approve Brenner's bail."
Jack's mood darkened. What had started as a simple escort mission was now a rescue op with a ticking clock—and on an unfamiliar island covered in dense tropical terrain.
They drove for nearly an hour along the winding coastal road. Then they turned off onto a dirt path. The paved highway vanished behind them, replaced by a bumpy, narrow gravel trail that made the suspension on the Camaro groan in protest.
The Hawaiian Islands were famously volcanic. Oahu, like its siblings, was formed by volcanic eruptions along the Pacific Plate. The terrain was steep, uneven, and often treacherous. Though the island was only 1,600 square kilometers in total, it held two sprawling mountain ranges. Its highest peak, Mount Kaʻala, rose 1,228 meters above sea level.
Kahuku sat at the island's northern tip. Honolulu was in the south. Straight-line distance: 40 kilometers. But with all the winding roads, it had taken them over 90 minutes to get there.
Finally, the broken outlines of a rundown farm appeared through the dense green.
The farm's fence had long since disappeared beneath climbing vines. But someone had been maintaining the place—barely. A single stilted wooden house stood amid sparse fruit trees, and the grass had been cut.
"Stop the car," Danny said sharply.
He sensed something was off.
In front of the house, two cars sat still: one unmarked sedan and one HPD patrol vehicle. Something—or someone—lay sprawled on the ground between them.
Jack leapt from the car, drawing his sidearm. "Have HPD set up a perimeter and cover the road. We'll check it out."
The F-150 stopped behind them. Chin grabbed a lever-action shotgun from the backseat and joined them. "I've got your six."
Jack ducked low, keeping out of the house's line of fire, and sprinted toward the prone figure.
"Who is it?" Chin crouched behind the sedan, shotgun ready. Danny and Kono hunkered behind the rear bumper.
It was an older man—white, maybe late fifties or early sixties. White dress shirt. Shoulder holster. An old-school agent, judging by the classic Glock 17 lying next to him.
"Looks like one of ours," Jack muttered. Then he blinked. "Wait—he's still breathing!"
The man had taken two shots—one to the chest, one to the gut. The blood had already soaked the grass beneath him, and there was no sign of a chest rise. Insects buzzed in the humid air.
But when Jack pressed two fingers to his neck—
A faint pulse.
Weak. But there.
______
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