Fire Prayer by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

Christ.
    â€œYou’re a stupid lunatic, you know it? Breaking in here in the dark.” Connor grunted to his feet. “You want me to call him?”
    Tanner knew he referred to Skelly, not the police. “Sure. He home?”
    â€œYeah.” Connor walked to the desk, still in the dark. The numbers on the squat, solid phone glowed softly. Tanner heard seven tones as Connor punched the keys, then the sound of a woman’s irritated voice over the line coincided with the crunch of feet on the gravel outside. “Connor, is that you again? I told you—”
    Connor slammed the phone down as the door opened.
    Skelly took in Tanner’s form, hunched and still seated on the floor, and his shoulders slumped. “Shit, Connor.”
    â€œHey, I’m protectin’ the business.”
    â€œWe don’t need protection from Tanner.”
    â€œI’m not so sure.” Connor gave Tanner an evil look and loudly cracked the vertebrae in a neck the size of Tanner’s waist by jerking his head from side to side. He clomped off.
    Tanner watched his departure. Connor reminded Tanner of a semi-tranquilized rhino. No intellect, and powder-keg impulses. Rhinos might be more predictable.
    â€œYou okay?” Skelly reached down and pulled Tanner to his feet. “You’ve got a raspberry on your cheekbone. That hurt?”
    â€œI guess I startled him.”
    â€œYeah.” Skelly snorted. “You and everyone else. He took a swing at Bob Crowder last week.” Crowder was the easy-going handyman who kept the kayaks in good repair. He lived out by Halawa Bay and had three kids of his own, plus he’d taken on his sister’s three because of her deteriorating health. Usually two or three of the adolescents were around the shop, helping him, so they’d probably seen the altercation, too.
    Tanner winced at the image. “Thanks for coming down so fast.”
    â€œGood thing Luke called ahead.” Skelly sighed. “Connor’s supposed to take a group out this weekend. He’s in no shape right now for a group of tourists, though. He’ll get ’roid rage if some kid can’t figure out how to fasten the lifejacket.” His eyes met Tanner’s and a plea crept into his voice. “You got plans for the weekend?”
    â€œLuke’s got a game tomorrow afternoon. When do they get in?” Tanner’s mind raced over the logistics.
    It was an hour drive to where the road ended at Halawa Bay and Hawai‘i EcoTours had a supply hut filled with boats, camping equipment, and an assortment of gear right on the beach. At the hut, he’d need to load the boats with camping paraphernalia, tie them together, and paddle his way up the coast. He wanted to make sure everything would be perfect for the visitors when they arrived. Fresh water, the outdoor shower set-up with solar heating, canvas tents.
    â€œI pick them up at the airport tomorrow afternoon, but they’re not going out in the boats ’til Saturday.” Skelly’s voice was so hopeful that Tanner had to smile, which reminded him he had a fat lip. No, Connor couldn’t take these people out.
    â€œIs Crowder there?” Tanner asked. If he was, the effort would be easier not only because he’d have help loading the boats, but because he and Crowder—and maybe a couple of his kids—could each take a kayak. This would cut the set-up time in half.
    â€œI can get him there,” Skelly said eagerly.
    â€œWhat’re you going to tell Connor? He’ll be way huhu .”
    â€œHe’ll be pissed, but I’ll make it look like I need him somewhere else.”
    â€œIf I go out early tomorrow, I can still get back for the game,” Tanner said thoughtfully. “I’ll need you to set up the second campsite, but you can do that Sunday while we’re paddling to Saturday night’s site.” He watched the worry lines lift from Skelly’s brow and