by Cathryn Cade
At seven forty-five that evening, Daniel threaded his way through the crowd to the back, where a large table was roped off. A sign lettered by a local graphic artist read Hope Loa Kū’oko’a o David.
He spoke briefly with the manager and sat down to wait for the others. The waist-high brick wall of the lanai wrapped partway around this smaller area, dividing it from the brewery’s main lanai, full of the usual assortment of tourists and locals. A group of giggling, young women in brief sundresses walked through the lanai and into the bar, to the interest of a table of young navy men from Oahu.
Daniel watched the girls without interest. They were too young, too skinny. Unbidden, Claire Hunter’s breasts filled his mind's eye. They’d filled out her little top like two ripe papayas, begging to be freed from their lavender peel and enjoyed. His groin tightened, and he moved restlessly on his chair. Damn, she was irritating as sand in his shorts.
In a few moments, his father and David walked in. Carved from the same big tree, Daniel thought with an affectionate sculptor’s eye. Although Homu’s hair was silver and his broad, golden-skinned face lined with age, he was still a handsome man.
Daniel watched David ignore the admiring looks women of all ages cast as he sauntered through the tables in a black silk T-shirt and shorts. It had been that way since his little brother hit puberty. There’d been a time, not so long ago, when David would have been looking back and choosing his next casual hookup. He was a nice guy; women loved him.
But since he’d met Melia, Daniel hadn’t seen him look at another woman. Of course, the two had been through Pele’s fire together—that kind of thing had a way of tempering attraction into either love, or fear and hatred. In their case, love.
That didn’t stop the women from looking, though. Wouldn’t change anytime soon either. The Ho’omalu men aged slowly and well, thanks to Pele’s patronage. She took good care of her ho’omalu, her guardians.
David rolled his eyes at the sign. “‘David’s final liberty’? You make me sound like a sailor heading out on a long sea voyage.”
Daniel clapped him on the back, grinning. “In irons, brah. Fo’ life.”
Homu reached over to give Daniel a hug, never shy about showing affection in public. “Thank you for coming to dinner with us. You made your mama happy.”
Daniel patted his father’s back.
“Ah, here comes Hilo,” Homu said.
His brother sat down, face wreathed in smiles. “Where is the beer?” He spread his hands in comic dismay. “What good is freedom with no beer?”
Daniel signaled, and the pretty waitress hurried over to take their order for two pitchers of the beer brewed on site. When she’d gone, Daniel leaned forward, sobering.
“The others will be here soon,” he said in a low voice. “I wanted to talk before they arrive.”
His father and uncle nodded. The casual geniality of the dinner party was gone, replaced by grim purpose.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking,” David said. “Whoever dropped that kula for Apana might have dropped more.”
“If they have, it will be found,” Daniel told him.
“How do you know?” David challenged. “There are thousands of miles of coastline out there, brah. Denas Helman doesn’t know what happened to his brother Stefan and his men at Nawea, no one does, but who knows where he and his men may try again? The organization may have lost one of their leaders, but they’re still powerful.”
Daniel allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. “Got some friends on it.”
David groaned. “They wouldn’t happen to eat fish, would they?”
As Daniel shrugged, their father and uncle chuckled.
“Kanaloa watches after his own,” Hilo murmured.
“As does Pele,” Homu added.
“’Ae, yes, but we still don’t know how the hell they got da kula here this time,” David went on. “Customs is going over every plane and passenger with fine-tooth combs.”
“Apana found his cache in the water,” Daniel said. “Probably came in that way too.”
“By sea?” David frowned dubiously. “What about Coast Guard inspections?”
“Wouldn’t inspect every tourist boat,” Hilo put in, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “How ’bout da big-ass yachts? We get a few every month, right in Kailua Bay.”
“Have to be a real big one to come clear from the mainland,” Homu reminded him.
“Well, we get plenty big boats in here. Lot of money floating around these islands.” Hilo looked at Daniel. “You might as well tell them, boy.”
The hair on the back of Daniel’s neck stood up as he looked into his uncle’s eyes. “I have a feeling,” he said. Hilo nodded. “There is something brewing in the seas. Trouble comes by water this time.”
In another family, his brother and father might have stared at him in incomprehension or made some kind of joke. But the Ho’omalus shifted in their chairs like large predators gathering themselves to spring. Homu nodded slowly. “Then you’ll keep looking. And when you find something, you’ll tell us.”
It was not a request. Daniel didn’t take it as such. “’Ae.”
“And you’ll call me when you need my help,” Hilo added.
They all knew they couldn’t risk Kona kula getting loose on the island. The Helman cartel had managed to disperse some several weeks before, and a local who lived on the mountain above Nawea, Keone Halama, had swallowed Stefan Helman’s story hook, line and sinker that his kula was an herbal religious concoction. He’d raved about the wonderful traditional visions he’d had and tried to force David to hand a cache of the drug over to him.
But mainland law enforcement had warned the Hawaiian police that the Helmans dealt in hard drugs, and there were rumors they had a new hallucinogen that was not only more powerful but even more addictive than meth.
David had mingled with a group on a dive trip to Nawea to catch the smugglers in the act and wound up saving Keone and Melia as well. He’d been forced to use his own Ho’omalu powers, calling Pele’s fire forth from beneath the island to destroy the drugs and the men who possessed them.
Keone was now a sadder and wiser man, but there were many native Hawaiians who longed to return to the old religion and, like him, might not be swayed by warnings about the drug’s dangers. As for Akeo, Daniel figured he’d just been in it for the money and drugs.
“I want in,” David began, his eyes turbulent. “Those po’ino tried to—”
“Shh.” Homu looked past him and raised a hand in greeting. “We’ll talk more about this later. Hi, Frank. Come sit.”
Frank Lelua, a short, wiry Hawaiian with a deeply lined face from spending his life on the water, smacked David on the shoulder before sinking into one of the chairs. Since he was followed by the waitress with their beer, conversation lagged until they all had full glasses of Kona brew before them.
“To David,” Daniel said, raising his glass to his brother. “And his bride.” He smiled, but there was a fierce edge to it. The Ho’omalus could not avoid the battle to come, and indeed he looked forward to the chance to kick some ass, but their fight wouldn’t include David—not if Daniel had anything to say about it. David had responsibilities now—a new ohana.
“To David and his bride.” They all drank.
“And to the keiki,” Hilo added. “Been a while since we had one around.”
Homu nodded, indicating his sons. “Although it seems only yesterday these two were tumbling about my feet like puppies.”
David grinned at his father. “I can’t wait.”
“Yeah, diapers, sleepless nights, spit-up on your shoulder,” Daniel said dryly. “No ka oi, da best.”
The other men laughed. David did too, clearly not worried.
“How was the dive trip today?” Hilo asked Frank.
“Good.” Frank nodded. “Happy clients. No one got seasick; no one fell in.”
“Kailua Harbor sure is busy,” Homu said casually. “Lot of boats. I even saw one of those big yachts dro
p anchor this morning.”
“Saw her too,” Frank said. He narrowed his eyes reflectively. “The Hypno—nah, some fancy foreign words. The Hypnautique, that was it.” He drawled the word, exaggerating the last syllable.
“Weird name,” David said. “Sound like da kine magic.”
Frank snorted. “Or something else. No telling where the millions came from to buy a boat li’ dat.”
David nodded. “Some kine kula, yeah? That would be just like those po’inos, like da Helmans, to wave their drug money under our noses.”
Frank, an ex-cop, gave him an odd look. “How come you know so much about them?”
David shrugged. “One of them died above Nawea Bay, so I was curious. Don’t like what I’ve learned. That family is into all kinds of bad shit on the mainland. Don’t think Stefan Helman was just here on vacation.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed, and Daniel shared a look with his father. Frank had taken the bait; time to let him chew on it.
“David’s been surfing the Internet again,” Daniel joked. “No wonder he looks so peaked—like shark bait, brah.” Shark bait was the nickname islanders gave pale haole newcomers.
David, who glowed with life and health, grinned. “Nah, I got something betta keepin’ me indoors.”
Daniel hid a pang of envy behind a chuckle. His brother deserved every bit of happiness he’d found.
“You meet Melia’s friends this evening?” Hilo asked.
“Yeah, had dinner at the Royal K.” David looked at Daniel, his eyes twinkling. “So, now you’ve met the bridesmaids— What d’you think?”
Daniel nearly choked on his swallow of beer. “Ah…they’re okay. That Bella, she looks Hawaiian.”
“What about Claire?”
“What about her?” Daniel cursed his surly response as his little brother’s eyes twinkled, and the older men’s gazes all swung his way.
“The two of you argued through dinner,” his father observed slyly. “I’m sorry you don’t like her.”
David snickered. “He likes her. If the air had been any hotter on their side of the table, the tablecloth would have had scorch marks.”
Homu and Hilo chuckled, and Daniel’s cheeks burned. Kanaloa save him from his family, who wanted only the best for him.
They just didn’t understand that he was only one reckless move away from landing back in trouble again. Last time, the family’s lawyers had gotten him out of it, but if he made another wrong move, he doubted any judge would be so merciful, even a Hawaiian one.
Damn him for a fool for sitting next to Claire at dinner and for giving in to the temptation to place that lei around her neck. Her scent had mingled with that of the flowers, heady and enthralling.
And damn him further for hanging on her every word too. She was not only sexy as hell, she had a sense of humor. Empty peanut-butter jars indeed. He didn’t want to like her, didn’t want to chuckle at the memory of her little sidelong glance as she’d made her joke.
Relief from his introspection and his family’s meddling arrived in the form of two more large males. “Here are Jack and Gabe.”
David rose, a huge smile splitting his face as he hugged first the big blond man and then the short, stocky Hawaiian. Jack Nord was a successful realtor in California, and Gabe Paalani managed a thriving sporting-goods store on Maui. Both had played football with Daniel and David for the Rainbow Warriors. The two had flown in for the wedding and to spend some time at Nawea Bay. Gabe’s wife would fly over in the morning.
When they were settled, Homu raised his glass. “We’re here to celebrate, kanakas. To my son David and his beautiful bride.”
With a chorus of agreement, the others raised their glasses to David and drank. He smiled around at all of them.
“You shouldn’t be drinking, brah,” said Daniel in mock disapproval. “With a keiki on da way, yeah?”
“Yeah, gimme that beer,” said a new voice. A young Hawaiian, tall but much slighter than David and Daniel, reached over David’s shoulder and snagged his nearly full glass.
“Zane, you fool,” David protested as his younger cousin drained the glass and then banged it on the table before David, empty. “Buy me another one!”
Zane grinned at him as he dodged David’s long arm to slide into the last empty chair, beside Daniel. “Nah, Daniel’s buying tonight. He’s the best man, yeah?” He gave Daniel a teasing look edged with admiration, lifting his fist. Daniel tapped it with his own. His younger cousin had been following him around since he was old enough to toddle, wanting to do everything Daniel did, related to the sea, anyway.
“That I am.” Daniel signaled the waitress. She handed David a new glass, then raised her eyebrows questioningly at Daniel. He nodded, and she hurried off.
In a few moments, the sound of a ukulele and a drum could be heard, approaching along the lanai.
David was talking, but as the other men all looked past him, he turned and then groaned good-naturedly.
Two lovely Hawaiian girls in bikini tops, leis and little sarongs approached through the crowded tables, doing a slow hula shimmy to the beat of the drum. All the other patrons watched with delight as they danced their way through the tables. One held an arm out before her, laden with leis. When she reached their table, she ceremoniously paused before David. The other girl took a fragrant lei and draped it around his neck. Then she repeated the process with each of the other men.
With a nod, the ukulele music changed, speeding up, as did the drumbeat. With sharp yips, the two girls began a fast, rollicking hula that sent their slender, sarong-clad hips shimmying, while the graceful motions of their hands told a story.
When the song ended, the two bowed to David. The other patrons broke into spontaneous applause, along with the Ho’omalu party.
“Mahalo,” David said.
Daniel signaled to the musicians that they should circulate around the lanai, and the little troupe moved on, to the delight and applause of the other brewery patrons.
“Any more surprises?” David asked Daniel dryly.
“You mean besides the extra hot peppers on your side of the pizza?”
“That’s it—I’m having the kalua pork.”
“I’ll eat his share of the pizza,” Zane said. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always hungry, surfer boy.” Daniel looked at his cousin’s slender frame and shook his head. “Got nothing to show for it either.”
Zane grinned. “You’re jealous ’cause you’d sink da board, you tried to catch a wave.”
“Don’t need a board. Anyway, sandwiches, pizza and salad are coming. I told them right after the hula.” The meal at the Royal K had been delicious but light. He could eat some more, and his father and David no doubt would too.
“We must all eat, keep up our strength,” Hilo said. “Tomorrow’s our turn to make hula, yeah?”
“’Ae!” They raised their glasses high. Tomorrow night was luau. Melia’s family would be here from the mainland, and the other guests as well.
“We start the imu tonight,” Homu said. “Nice big pig from da Yee farm.”
The party broke up early. The Ho’omalu men were proud of their kalua pig roasts. Hilo and Homu would both be up in the wee hours to help stash the pig in its bed of hot coals and banana leaves, where it would roast slowly half the night and the following day until the meat was tender, smoky and falling off the bones. The caterers would serve it with a huge spread of local favorites and some of Melia’s new recipes that she’d created using local ingredients.
But after he said good night to the men of his family in the parking lot, Daniel headed off in a different direction. He wanted to know what the locals were talking about.
The Kolohe was tucked in behind a tattoo shop on the main road across the side of Mauna Loa. Set on the uphill side where real estate was cheaper, there was no ocean view and no umbrellas in the drinks. The food menu was limited to whatever patrons brought in from one of the local cafes. The tattoo shop was closed, a crooked sign h
ung on the doorknob, but light spilled across the gravel parking lot from the open doors and windows of the bar.
Daniel sauntered in and glanced around. The woven grass blinds were all rolled up to let in the soft night air. The Sons of Ni’ihau sang of their white, sandy beaches from speakers mounted high on the wall, over a glassy-eyed swordfish wearing a dirty captain’s hat.
And behind the bar stood Kahni, with bold eyes and long, streaked hair, her impressive breasts stuffed into a low-cut dress. Without asking, she produced a bottle of Kona Red and set it on the bar. Daniel smiled at her, handed her a twenty and slid onto a barstool.
“How you doin’?”
She smiled back, deposited the bill in her till and made change. “Okay, how you?”
She set his change on the bar and leaned forward. He let the money lie, enjoyed the view because she expected it, and took a pull on his beer. Didn’t taste as good as the tap brew he’d been drinking, but he wasn’t here for the beer. And her breasts weren’t as pretty as another pair he’d seen today, but he wasn’t here to compare.
“You busy later?” he asked.
She tossed her long hair, preening. “Yeah, sorry. Already got plans.”
He nodded, realizing with an inward groan that he felt no disappointment. Damn, Claire Hunter had thrust her pretty fingers into every cranny of his life. Sand in his shorts, hell—she was more like chunks of lava rubble.
Before he’d met Melia, David had had a series of flings with haole tourists. Daniel’s one try had been a spectacular fail. After convincing him and herself she was ready and willing for rough play, the little fool realized too late she was in over her head. Although he’d stopped as soon as she asked him to, driven her home, even tried to see her the next day to make sure she was all right, she’d accused him of rape, and he’d narrowly escaped the charges. For a man as private as he, through nature and necessity, it had been an exercise in public humiliation.
