Page 2 of Deadly Aloha
Finally, I turned my attention to my phone. “Why the fuck do I care about two of your people coming to my island to hunt down some fucking Bloody Scorpions? I’m not in that life anymore.”
One of the reasons I—begrudgingly—respected Jameson was because he took no shit and he gave no shit. We weren’t ‘friends’, at least not in the invite-your-buddy-over-for-beers way, but the one thing I knew we weren’t, was enemies. Because one didnotsurvive being an enemy of Elrik Jameson. We were…acquaintances at best. I don’t think I’ve seen or talked to him in the nearly five years since he saved my life. Yet, there was no question as to why he called me from his arsenal of endless contacts strewn around the world:no oneknew the underbelly of my island like I did.
Well, maybe one person, I amended as I glanced at my ex-brother-in-law.
“You are if I say you are,” Jameson shot back at me. “This is your favor. Do it, or make an enemy you can’t afford to.”
I scowled, my hackles rising. I didnotlike being told what to do, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Ididowe him.
Fuck. My grip on the edge of my counter tightened. Tangaloa handed out the joint without prompt, and I quickly took it. “Fine,” I said, smoke billowing from my mouth at the word. I took another hit. “Where do I meet your people?”
Tangaloaand I rode up on the Hilton at Waikiki. It was a massive resort that drained money from tourists faster than a corner whore drained the balls of frustrated husbands. I remembered some news coverage once saying that it was‘twenty-two acres of paradise within paradise’. The Hawai‘ian culture was monopolized by people who had no idea what it meant to be Kanaka ?Oiwi. My ancestors walked these islands long before James Cook was even born, let alone captained the ship that discovered our home.
Tourists were annoying. They cared for the perfect Polynesian experience without caring what their trash was doing toourparadise. I might be a dirtbag who had fed a man alive to a shiver of sharks for threatening my sister, but I would never do anything that threatened my land. As far as I was concerned, the laws of nature overruled the laws of man every time.
We wandered through the hotel lobby filled with suitcases, screaming kids, and a lot of fake leis. Looked like hell to me, not paradise. It was why I always wore a rubber, regardless of what the girl or girls in the shoot claimed they were on.Iwas never getting saddled with a crying baby or a paternity suit.
The sweet scent of artificial coconuts infused the air around the large pool area complete with water slides, ocean view, pool bar, and a sea of white lounge chairs. Jameson hadn’t been kidding when he said I’d know his men when I saw them. Even amongst a variety of tourists of all shapes, colors, and ages, they stood out like dorsal fins.
One was a mountain of a man, even larger than Tangaloa. My ex-brother-in-law was six-five, muscular, and clean shaven. Like me, he had the darker skin of someone who had the islands in their blood for generations. Unlike me, he had arms the size of tree trunks, but I had better abs and a bigger dick. Given Tangaloa’s profession, some were surprised that I was the leader of the two of us.
With them sitting down, I couldn’t tell how tall the big one was. He had brown hair and a full beard, but his eyes were covered by a pair of pink sunglasses of all things. I was honestly surprised they covered his wide face. He wore slippahs—thoughhe would call them shoes or flip-flops—and a pair of swim trunks, but that did not make him a tourist. Even with the girly glasses covering his eyes, I could tell he was alert for anything.
His companion looked like he was avoiding bursting into flames. He had on so much white sunscreen that he’d be kicked out of a wedding for trying to compete with the bride. Of the two of them, he was the one huddled under the shade of their shared umbrella at their round table. He also was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, pants, and tennis slippahs. A large sunhat hid his hair, but the number of freckles on his face hinted at his ginger roots.
Neither man was paying attention to Tangaloa nor me as we approached. Both were watching the pool intently, where two very beautiful women were standing in the water having a conversation with a tourist troll.
The big man’s grip on his chair intensified, and I knew he was seconds away from springing. I gave Tangaloa a quick nod, and he waded into the pool to save the troll’s life. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty, and did not deserve the slow, painful death the Royal Bastard brother was no doubt plotting for him. Since the big guy was wearing a wedding ring, it didn’t take a genius to guess that one of the women was his wife. I didn’t know which belonged to which, because I couldn’t see their hands, but both were beauties. One couldn’t blame the troll for trying, but he’d missed the mark on that one.
Plus, enough Hawai‘ian blood had been spilled at the hands ofhaoles.
I pulled out the seat between the two facing the pool as Tangaloa took the troll by the scruff of the neck to march him away from the women. “Sheath your claws,malihini. The kid’s young, notlolo.”
Both turned their attention to me, and I realized that I hadn’t snuck up on them. They might have been focused on their women, but they weren’t unaware of what was around them.
“What did you call me?” the big one demanded.
“Malihini,” I repeated. “Tourist, newcomer, non-kama?aina.”
He blinked. “What?”
I cracked my neck, already frustrated. “Not native to Hawai‘i.”
“Why didn’t you just fucking say that then?” he snapped.
“Because you’re on my island, asking for my help. I talk how I talk and won’t change that for you.” I held my hand out to him. “Aloiki Ka’ana’ana.”
He hesitated before taking my hand, but I had a feeling that was because he was trying to process my name, not out of malice. “Mark Jacobs, but you can call me ‘Aftermath’.”
I nodded to him before turning to the vampire sitting across from him. “Matthew Phillips.” He offered his hand too. “Everyone calls me ‘Red’.”
I saw his cheeks flame up under the layer of sunscreen. “Can’t imagine why.” His cheeks blazed hotter.
I sat back just as a waiter approached us. I ordered a beer for both Tangaloa and myself. A friend owned a local brewery,Shakaloha, and their signature lager was a favorite of mine. Since both already had drinks, I didn’t ask them if they wanted anything. Besides, they were grown-ass men who didn’t need me to order them refills or pick up their tab.
Like Aftermath, I was wearing only shorts and slippahs. I would turn vegan before I wore a shirt. I took my papale-style hat off and placed it on my knee.
“How do you know Jameson?” the one who was trying to pass for a polar bear asked.
