Finding Kenna (SEAL Team Hawaii #3)(51)

He’d tipped a measly ten percent, but Kenna was honestly pleased he’d left her a tip at all. It seemed the more obnoxious a customer, the less they always gave. She still needed to package up the leftover hula pie they hadn’t been able to finish, and had just turned to head back to the kitchen for a box when the little boy stood and wandered off toward the beach, as his father bitched about something or other. Since Duke’s was an open-air restaurant, there weren’t any walls between the tables and the beach. Just a couple of stairways with maybe four or so steps each.

The boy had been looking wistfully toward the beach and ocean throughout the meal, and Kenna smiled to herself when she saw him give into his longing to get a closer look.

But his father obviously wasn’t happy with his son wandering off. He sprang out of his seat and took the few steps required to reach him, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and jerked him backward.

Kenna could only stare in horrified shock as the man smacked his son across the face, then swatted his butt, hard. “You do not leave our sides!” he shouted, pointing a finger into the boy’s face. “Hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit your ass back down. Now.”

Kenna already had her phone out. There was no universe she lived in where she would not report abuse. Didn’t matter if it was an adult to a child, a man to a woman, or even a woman to a man. She quickly explained to the police what had happened and implored them to hurry as the family was getting ready to leave.

She managed to stall them by lingering in the kitchen for much longer than she would normally when a customer was waiting for something. But she needed to give the cops time to get there. Luckily, just like the other day, they arrived quickly, and Kenna met them at the front of the restaurant. She explained what had happened and pointed out the man.

The second the man saw the police officers headed his way, he completely lost his cool. He stood up and started swearing loudly. Kenna watched from a distance as the officers tried to have a calm and rational conversation with him, but when he drew back his fist to hit one of them, all bets were off. They had the man on the ground with his hands cuffed behind him before he could follow through with his physical threat. One officer hauled him up and out of the restaurant, while the other stayed behind to talk to his wife and son.

On his way past her, the man glared and hissed, “You’ll be sorry, bitch. You’re nothing! Lower than the dirt on my fucking shoes. You shouldn’t have fucked with me. I’ll—”

“Come on,” the officer said harshly, cutting off whatever threat he was going to spew next. “I think you’re in trouble enough, let’s not add threatening your waitress to that list, shall we?”

Then he hauled him down the small hallway toward the exit…and hopefully right to his cop car sitting at the curb on Ala Moana Boulevard.

Kenna was a bit shaken at the hatred in the man’s tone, but did her best to shake it off. She looked back at the table where his family were still sitting. The little boy had a large red mark on his face from his dad’s abuse, and was quietly playing with a toy police shield the officer had obviously given him.

Kenna couldn’t hear what was being said, but she prayed the woman would press charges. If anyone dared to hit her child like the man had done to his son, Kenna would’ve lost her mind. She hurried back into the kitchen to grab a fresh piece of pie and a side order of French fries. She’d noticed the little boy seemed to love them, while he’d only nibbled on his hamburger. She supposed that giving him more of the greasy fried potatoes maybe wasn’t the healthiest thing, but she wanted to comfort him in some way. And since she knew he enjoyed the fries, that was the first thing she’d thought of.

As Kenna suspected, when she approached the table, the woman was shaking her head and telling the officer she didn’t want to press charges.

Mentally sighing, Kenna knelt by the boy’s chair.

“Hey, I brought you some French fries to take home. The cook said he made too many and was about to throw them away. I figured you might want them instead.”

His eyes lit up, but before he accepted, Kenna saw him look over at his mother. She nodded at him, and only then did he reach for the container.

Kenna put the piece of pie on the table. “And I brought you a full slice of hula pie instead of the half-eaten one from your dinner.”

“Thank you,” the woman said distractedly. Kenna could tell her mind was on other things. Probably how mad her husband was going to be when he was released and able to return to their hotel room.

“Can I call you a taxi?” Kenna asked.

“No, thank you,” the woman said.

“We’re gonna need your statement,” the officer told Kenna.

She nodded.

“You shouldn’t’ve called the police,” the woman said quietly.

“And your son shouldn’t ever be hit in the face. Especially not by his father,” Kenna returned.

The woman looked away without meeting her gaze.

Kenna sighed again. She hadn’t exactly saved the boy or the woman from being abused further. In fact, there was a chance she’d made things worse, and she fervently hoped that wasn’t the case…while adding a silent prayer that maybe, just maybe, the woman would eventually realize her son’s well-being was more important than staying with her bully of a husband.