Page 1

CHAPTER 1

Arms crossed tightly over her chest, Brooklyn Alexander stared at her nephew and tried to maintain some semblance of calm. “Because I said so.” God, she hated the Mom-tone in her words. She exhaled, softening her tone. “Liam, we talked about this. No more video games after school with your friends until after the science fair. It’s this weekend, so it’s not like you have to wait long. Today is Tuesday. Sunday afternoon, once everything is over, you and your friends can play again.”

“But that’s so long,” Liam groaned, dragging out the word. His shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment. “There’s a new mod, and the guys are downloading it today. They’ll get to play it and finish before I even get to start.”

Brooklyn glanced at Liam’s friends, who were all sitting in front of their laptops staring at the screens as if they were still playing the game. She knew they were listening, so she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she softened her expression. “Liam, you love science. You were so excited about the fair. Your project is amazing—it deserves to be finished.”

“Fine,” Liam muttered, slamming his laptop closed. He stood and glanced around. “Where’s my backpack?”

Nakoa pointed toward Liam’s backpack which was by his feet. Snatching the bag off the floor with a dramatic huff, Liam started packing up his stuff.

“Where’s Ren?” Brooklyn asked. Ren was the fourth musketeer and Liam’s closest friend.

“He wasn’t in school today,” Nakoa offered.

“Or yesterday,” Keoni added. “We haven’t seen him since Monday when we played here after school. I heard one of the teachers say he’s out sick.”

“Liam, did you check on him? See if he needed anything?”

Liam grunted. “He said he’s fine.” His stuff all packed, Liam stormed toward the door of the coffee shop, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor. He ignored his friends when they called their alohas.

“See you later, boys.” Brooklyn shook her head and headed after Liam. She glanced at Dave, the café owner, who was standing behind the counter with a knowing grin.

“You’ve got your hands full,” Dave teased, his deep voice tinged with humor as he reached for the phone behind the counter.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she replied, managing a smile in return. “Thanks, Dave.”

And she meant it. Dave Akana was a gem of a human. He let Liam and his friends hang out in the back of his café after school, gaming on the café’s reliable internet. His rules were simple: no yelling and no swearing. As long as the boys respected the space and didn’t disturb other customers, they were welcome. Brooklyn appreciated his generosity more than words could express.

Dave’s Café was a cozy, unassuming place on a quiet corner of town. The fragrant aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries usually greeted her as soon as she walked through the door. The chatter of regulars added to the welcoming atmosphere. She couldn’t imagine a safer space for Liam and his friends to hang out.

Liam ran a tab for snacks—chips, cookies, sodas—all the essentials for an after-school hangout, which either she or her brother paid off at the end of the month. It was a small price to pay to keep Liam entertained and out of trouble. Dave understood that better than most. He’d told her stories of his own teenage years that raised the hair on her arms. To say his life had been rocky was an understatement. Baking had given him a direction and a livelihood, and he was determined to provide kids with a safe space where they could just be kids.

Brooklyn hurried to catch the door before it shut and stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk. The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the pavement. Liam was already stomping down the sidewalk, his backpack bouncing with each angry step. His lanky frame, all elbows and knees, was a growing resemblance to his father’s and grandfather’s tall builds. Brooklyn, on the other hand, had taken after her mother—short and curvy.

She tucked a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear as she followed in Liam’s wake, her scrubs rustling with every step. He was a great kid, she reminded herself. He was just upset. Jackson, Liam’s father, had called the night before with the news that he wouldn’t make it to the science fair. Liam had been crushed.

Jackson had sounded heartbroken on the phone, too, but the trip to Japan was a big opportunity. Brooklyn didn’t fault him for taking it even though it meant disappointing his son. Jackson had only been with the company for eight months, and they were already asking for his input on strategy. It was everything he’d dreamed of, and Brooklyn was thrilled for him. That didn’t stop her from wishing he could have been here for Liam.

Liam reached the corner and stopped, waiting for the light to change. Brooklyn quickened her pace. Maybe she could salvage the evening. “Liam!” she called. “Wait up. Let’s grab some takeout.”

Liam turned to face her just as the squeal of tires shattered the calm afternoon. A white van screeched to a halt in front of him, and the sliding door flew open. Two men jumped out.

Brooklyn’s heart stopped. Her world narrowed into a tunnel, and all she could see was Liam. Her purse slipped from her shoulder, hitting the sidewalk with a thud, as she broke into a sprint. “Liam!” she screamed, her voice raw with terror.

The men were on him, their hands yanking at his arms as they tried to wrestle him toward the van. They were young—teenagers, maybe—but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

Brooklyn didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. She threw herself at the man on Liam’s left, slamming her hand into his throat with a sharp cry. He staggered back, coughing and clutching his neck. Her grip on Liam’s arm was fierce, pulling him back as the other man, a stocky brute with bulging muscles, tightened his hold.

“Hey!” a voice yelled from behind them. “I’m calling 9-1-1!”

The stocky man froze, his dark eyes flicking toward the voice. With a curse, he let go of Liam, grabbed his coughing companion, and shoved him back into the van. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle roared across the intersection, disappearing into the chaos of traffic.

Brooklyn pulled Liam into her arms, her hands trembling as she checked him over. “Are you okay? Liam, are you okay?” Her voice cracked as she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders, searching for any sign of injury.

“I–I think so,” Liam stammered, his wide eyes swimming with fear. His small frame trembled against her.

“You’re okay,” Brooklyn whispered, holding him tight. “You’re okay, honey. You’re okay.” She repeated it like a mantra, as much for herself as for him.

“Are you two okay?” Dave’s voice broke through the fog. He jogged up to them, concern etched across his face. “Pika said you were in trouble.”

Brooklyn glanced over to see the man who had shouted standing nearby, holding her purse. He stepped forward and offered it to her.

“Pika—” she broke off when her voice trembled. She cleared her throat and then said, “I can’t thank you enough. You scared them away.”

“I think you did a damn fine job of that yourself,” Pika replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That throat strike was something else. You’ve got serious moves.”

Liam looked up, pride flashing across his pale face. “My aunt has a black belt in Taekwondo.”

Brooklyn managed a brief smile for him before turning back to her rescuers. “Thank you. Both of you. I’m... profoundly grateful.”

The wail of sirens cut through the evening air, and moments later, two police cars screeched to a halt. Brooklyn let out a shaky breath, the reality of what had just happened beginning to sink in.

Four police officers approached, their boots crunching against the pavement as they stepped out of their cars. The flashing red and blue lights cast a surreal glow over the scene, making Brooklyn’s heart race all over again.

“Ma’am, are you the one who called it in?” one of the officers asked, his voice calm but professional.

Pika moved closer. “Nah, it was me.”

Brooklyn tightened her arm protectively around Liam, who trembled as he crowded close to her side. Her voice wavered when she explained, “We were just on the sidewalk, and the van came out of nowhere. It stopped in front of Liam, and they tried to drag him in.”

The first officer stepped closer. He was tall and muscular, his uniform fitting a little too snugly over his broad shoulders. His sharp gaze flicked between Liam and Brooklyn. “You say this van just pulled to the curb in front of your son?”

“He’s not my son—he’s my nephew,” Brooklyn corrected, her voice firmer now.

“Okay. But it pulled to the curb in front of your nephew?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone rising slightly. “They tried to pull him in.”

The officers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. The first officer’s partner, wearing a badge that read Nakamura, stepped forward. He had a calm demeanor and a more approachable air, though his brow furrowed as he asked, “By any chance, were these guys young? Sort of looked like teenagers?”

Brooklyn hesitated, the adrenaline still bubbling through her veins. “Yes, they were. Well, at least I thought so at first. They might have been a little older than that now that I think about it,” she confirmed, her voice unsteady. “It was startling—terrifying, actually. They just grabbed Liam like he was a sack of flour. I... I have no idea why they would target him. I don’t even know how they would’ve found him. We aren’t usually around here on Tuesdays.”

The first officer, whose name tag read Peterson, crossed his arms over his broad chest. “They didn’t target him exactly,” he said, his tone matter of fact.

Brooklyn’s chest tightened, shortening her breath. “What do you mean?” she squeaked.

Dave moved closer to her, his reassuring presence a steadying force. Brooklyn glanced at him briefly before turning back to Peterson.

“We’ve had a rash of these things happening,” Peterson explained, his expression hardening. “Apparently, it’s the latest game. These teens roll up, grab a kid, drive around with them for a block or two—ten minutes tops—and then drop them off, holding them just long enough to scare the hell out of the kid. It appears to be some kind of gang initiation for the teens.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s some stupid trend they saw on TikTok or whatever social media crap they’re into these days. Anyway, it’s terrifying for the kid.” He glanced at Liam, his expression softening slightly. “But there’s no real harm done. Now, if we can find them, we’ll charge them with kidnapping. We want this to stop. But, in the end, it seems to be just a prank.”

“Peterson, we’re heading,” one of the other officers from the second car called. He gestured to his radio. Peterson nodded and then turned back to face them.

No harm done? What kind of BS was that? Brooklyn tightened her hold on Liam and glared at Peterson. “This isn’t a game!” she snapped. “It was terrifying—for me and for Liam. Don’t you want us to at least look at some pictures or sit with a sketch artist?”

Peterson smirked, clearly amused by her outburst. “Somebody watches too much TV. We don’t have that kind of manpower here. We don’t keep a sketch artist on hand. If you want to whip something up yourself or know someone who can, that’d be great. In the meantime, we’ll pull CCTV and security camera footage to see if we can figure out what kind of van it was.”

“It was a white Chevrolet Express Cargo van,” Liam said quietly, his voice trembling but certain. “Older model, probably early 2010s.”

Peterson raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “That’s awfully specific. You sure about that?”

Liam nodded, his chin lifting slightly. “I’m into cars. I recognized it. I even have one in my collection.”

Peterson snorted. “You still play with cars?”

Liam’s face turned red. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “I have a car collection.”

Brooklyn clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to slap the smug look off Peterson’s face. Instead, she placed a calming hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Alright,” she said through gritted teeth. “Can we just give you our information?”

“Sure,” Peterson replied, still smirking. He handed her a notebook and pen.

Brooklyn wrote down her name, address, and phone number with a shaking hand, then passed the notebook to Dave. He quickly jotted down his details before handing it to Pika, who added his information as well.

Peterson took the notebook back and nodded. “Okay, folks. Try to relax and have a good evening. We’ll be in touch if anything comes up.”

Without another word, he and his partner strolled back to their patrol car. The engine roared to life, and they drove off, leaving Brooklyn standing there with her arms around her nephew.

Brooklyn knelt in front of Liam, her heart still pounding. “How about we get some takeout and go home?”

Liam’s face was still pale and his body trembling, but he mustered up a tight smile and nodded. Brooklyn stood and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

She turned to Dave and Pika. Her voice broke with gratitude. “I can’t thank you two enough. You saved us.”

“I think you did a pretty good job of that yourself,” Dave said with a small smile.

Pika nodded. “Agreed. That cop didn’t seem too interested, but I’ll keep an eye out. If I hear anything, I’ll let Dave know. We can’t have this happening again. Kids shouldn’t have to live in fear.”

Brooklyn nodded, her throat too tight to respond. She started walking toward her car with Liam glued to her side. Her legs felt like jelly, and every step was an effort. All she wanted to do was lock the doors, pour herself a glass of wine, and somehow forget this incident ever happened.