Chapter 1

My cat Tiki was demanding, prone to violence, loud, and loving. She made her feelings about me abundantly clear: wherever I was, that's where she wanted to be—and to heck with the inconvenience to me or anyone else.

That's why, when I woke up alone in my big bed, stretching my very tall body to its limits so that my fingers and toes reached over both edges of the king-size mattress, I was surprised not to bonk into my big fat cat. Tiki was usually right beside me, on top of my legs, or attempting to drape herself over my head like a hot furry hat.

Which, since we lived in the warm tropics on the island of Maui, was not pleasant.

Also, because—fleas. *shudder*

Or the possibility of them, which I kept at bay by feeding Tiki those pills that made her fur toxic and luring her into a monthly bath.

If I could have trained Tiki to sleep somewhere else, I would've, but Tiki was a former feral cat, and just getting her to comply with basic human/feline interspecies politeness was a big ask.

I'd also have loved for her to sleep somewhere else because she was a romance killer with my boyfriend Keone when he tried to visit. Tiki didn't like us being together in what she considered HER bed; she was as possessive and jealous as that rather terrifying Hawaiian goddess, Pele.

I sat up and tossed my covers off, straightening my sleep tee, a mid-thigh number that featured Jessica Rabbit striking a come-hither pose. Aunt Fae had given it to me to assist with my relationship, which was endearing given she was a lifelong singleton herself. Auntie was all atwitter that I had a boyfriend, let alone one of Keone's hot pilot caliber. She thought Jessica Rabbit sent the right message.

I could hardly blame Auntie for being surprised by the ongoing presence of "Mr. K" as I fondly called him. I'd never had a relationship for this long. Ever.

Yep, I had issues. Somewhat like those of my cat, as a matter of fact.

"Tiki?" I padded across the floor of my enormous bedroom and climbed onto the bench seat that looked out behind the house. I peered out the wide bay window, scanning the grounds for my favorite one-eared, kink-tailed calico feline. If Tiki saw something huntable outside, she'd stalk off to catch it, but since we'd moved into these cushy digs where she was provided on-demand meals, she was getting lazy. She hadn't brought in a rat, bird, or lizard for months.

Alas, my reformed hellcat wasn't outside in the yard; nothing to see but mowed grass, swaying palms, and hibiscus bushes.

My gaze followed the empty street that wound past the cul-de-sac (of which we were the only house) to the hill at the top of the onetime subdivision. A Greek Revival mansion had been mapped out there by the gangster who'd planned this neighborhood, but the whole development had reverted to the state of Hawaii recently. New Ohia State Park was now owned by the public, and the Chang build site was to be turned into a children's soccer field.

I smiled with satisfaction; I'd had a little something to do with all of that.

I turned away from the pretty view and got dressed. I had an important job as the postmaster of the tiny town of Ohia, and as my friend and coworker Pua Chang always said, "The mail must go on."

My Aunt Fae was already downstairs, toasting a couple of slices of famous Hana banana bread in the countertop toaster oven of our former model home.

"That smells criminally good," I said, tucking the tail of a white polo shirt into my work pants. "Got enough for me, too?"

"Of course I have enough for you." Aunt Fae took an old-fashioned butter dish off the counter and opened the lid.

She'd had a friend packing up and sending favorite things that she'd left at her house in Maine, now that she'd relocated to live with me. This piece was one I remembered well: heavy old China in the shape of a little red hen sitting on a nest. You picked up the hen by a knob on her back in the shape of a round yellow chick. Butter rested inside, soft at room temperature and ready to soak into a sweet-smelling slice of slightly crisp, but moist, banana bread.

Yes, I liked food. At six foot one with an active metabolism, I could slather high calorie substances on whatever I wanted and zip my jeans without sucking in my stomach. I didn't take that for granted; I worked at keeping in shape. That level of athleticism used to be part of my career as a Secret Service agent; now it was just a part of my life.

I poured a cup of Kona coffee and slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar to watch Auntie spackle calories onto the banana bread. She handed me a yogurt and a spoon as well. "You need some protein with your sweets."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue; she was right. I dug into the yogurt first, watching the butter melting into the tasty banana bread toast. "Have you seen Tiki this morning?"

"Nope." Auntie pointed to Tiki's dish on the floor near the pantry. "But she's had breakfast already."

"Probably out hunting something." I finished the yogurt and bit into the banana bread. "Oh. My. Yum."

"Mmm," Auntie agreed through a mouthful of her own delicious treat. Silence reigned as we savored, smiling at each other.

I'd been used to my career-woman Secret Service solo existence but Aunt Fae, my beloved guardian, joining me as a roomie was the culmination of a longing to live with family that I hadn't dared put into words.

My phone chirped, making me jump. I was still getting used to the device working. New Ohia Park, where we lived, had a satellite Wi-Fi hookup that worked better than anything else in town. A glance at the screen showed that the call was from Security Solutions, an international firm where I was occasionally employed as an investigator. "Good morning. This is Kat."

"Hullo to my favorite Secret Service agent." My boss Sophie Smithson's plummy Brit tones were upbeat this morning. Sometimes she sounded like a mile of bad road; she had two toddlers at home. Rumor had it that was like SEAL training with additional sleep deprivation torture.

"No longer with the Service, Sophie. My resignation papers went through last week." I chased a blot of melted butter around my plate with a fingertip as a twinge of pain tightened my chest.

Was I sad that I'd left my former career? Once in a while, yeah—which usually meant I needed to go for a swim with the turtles or a surf with Mr. K to remind myself why I'd chosen a life in Ohia.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sophie cleared her throat. "Do you have a moment? I have a lead on a job for you."

"Sure. Christmas is coming. I could use some extra cash." I caught Auntie's eye, and she gave a thumbs up. The model home we lived in needed personalization, for sure. We'd moved into the place furnished in generic "beach chic," which was fine—but the house lacked the personality that items like Aunt Fae's butter dish conveyed.

Plus we'd always loved doing the holidays big. Between Auntie's pension and my postmaster salary, there wasn't much extra left over to buy gifts, decorations, and baking supplies, let alone specialty items like a partridge in a pear tree or an elf for the shelf.

"I'm pleased to hear that. This job is actually too small for Security Solutions to take on, but I told the woman who called us you might be able to help." I heard the rattle of Sophie's keyboard in the background as she spoke; she was a computer whiz and always multitasking. "Puny French fries, as they say, but urgent to the client. A woman in Hana is missing her beloved cat. She called us to help find it when her efforts failed to turn the feline up."

"Puny French fries? You mean, ‘small potatoes.'" English was a second language to Sophie and that occasionally showed up in her usage of slang. "Hmm. A missing cat?" I glanced instinctively at Tiki's empty food bowl. "I don't need to know more than that. I'll take the job."