Restless Waters Read Online Free

What I spied was a different kind of bird from any I’d ever seen before.
    This one had long, blond Rasta braids that were badly in need of shampoo. Attached to the braids was a teenage Caucasian boy. He sat, perched on a branch, wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt, with Maori tattoos on his limbs and a flashlight lodged in his mouth. Ooh, yeah. He clearly looked like your typical Fish and Wildlife agent, otherwise known as the ever-so-clever Mr. I. M. Kuhl.
    I silently observed as he navigated a long pole with a hook on the end. He guided it with expert precision along the tip of a skinny branch above him. Then I spotted his target: a prehistoric-looking creature with a bony shark fin crest atop its head, four pencil-thin legs, and a supple prehensile tail.
    A mind-boggling two-and-a-half feet in length, the reptile shone bright turquoise green in the moonlight. I recognized it even from where I hid. The critter was none other than a veiled chameleon, which originated in Yemen and Saudi Arabia.
    The bad news was that not only can it snare birds in midair, but females will lay up to thirty eggs twice a year. In other words, this horny chameleon spelled big trouble for the remainder of Hawaii’s native creatures.
    The kid skillfully finagled the pole so that the reptile was forced to step onto its end. Then he gingerly lowered the lizard, dumping it into a sack next to him, as it loudly hissed in objection.
    I walked over to where two more bags lay beside a skateboard on the ground. Rasta Boy must have heard my footsteps, for he whipped the flashlight from his mouth and aimed it at me.
    “Hey, leave those things alone! That’s my private property,” he angrily protested.
    “Not anymore, they’re not,” I replied, and picked up the sacks. “You’d better come down here now. We need to talk.”
    “Damn straight about that,” he seethed, sounding much like the captive chameleon.
    Rasta Boy tied the burlap bag around his waist and carefully made his way to the ground. Then he once again removed the flashlight from his mouth, as though it were some kind of cork.
    “I don’t know who the hell you are, but this territory is already staked out, and my boss doesn’t take kindly to trespassers. So if you’re smart, you’ll give me back my things and get the hell outta here, bitch.”
    Rasta Boy tried to grab the bags from my hand, but I twisted sideways, neatly cutting him off.
    “And if you’re smart, you’ll shut up and listen. I’m with law enforcement,” I told him.
    “Yeah, yeah,” he jeered, clearly unimpressed. “Big fucking deal. I got ID too. So what?”
    The moonlight glittered along eight little hoops that ran the length of his ear, perfectly matching the front gold tooth in his mouth. Wouldn’t you know? He already outdid me in the jewelry department.
    “Listen, you idiot. I’m not fooling around. I’m a special agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.”
    Rasta Boy showed all the respect he apparently felt I was due by flinging himself at me through the air.
    If the kid was going to fight, he needed to learn better moves. I raised my knee and jammed it into his stomach as hard as I could, taking care not to hurt the chameleons. He yelped and doubled over, wrapping his arms around his waist.
    I was about to open the sacks and take a peek inside, only to be surprised as he recovered and smacked me hard across the face with his open palm.
    I don’t know which stunned me more: the fact that I’d been caught off-guard, or that my skin burned as if I’d been stung by a hive of angry bees. Rasta Boy took full advantage of the moment to grab the sacks from my hands and start to run.
    You little shit, I thought, watching his dingy hair fly through the air like links of uncooked sausages.
    I was damned if I’d let him escape. I began to chase him in an all-out race. But what I’d forgotten about was my foot. The cut from my earlier swim began to pound in time with my face. Even worse, I now found