Nonetheless, I went along with the cover story, Dad and I had come up with before mom got home from her civilian job as a clerk at the Army base's Exchange store. "Yeah, that tumble off the couch was crazy. I mean, he hit the coffee table at just the right angle. It really banged Dad up. Did you um…have a chance to check him over?"
"Ugh, no. You know Dad," Mika answered with a frustrated shake of her head. "He insisted he was fine and that it was just a little black eye."
Yes, I did know Dad. And I also knew he probably didn't want Mika seeing the other bruises on his body—the ones that couldn't possibly have been put there by that same scapegoat coffee table.
"Mom said you found him lying on the floor when you got home. Did he show any signs of disorientation? Did it seem like he'd blacked out?" Mika asked, a worried frown puckering her brows.
"No, he was just lying there…kind of rolling around in pain." Another truth, but it didn't include the part about him begging me not to tell Mom and Mika what happened. That he'd bet big with all the money Mika had given him over the summer and that thugs had busted into the house to beat him up for the debt he owed them—the money he'd already spent to pay all the bills my mother's job couldn't possibly cover.
Mika shook her head again, but now she looked more sad than frustrated. "I just hate this setback. The new drugs were working so well. Can you make sure to tell me when his next doctor's appointment is? I'll try to get the time off so that I can come with you and advocate with the doctor to take another look at his regimen."
"Sure," I lied to Mika even as I made a mental note to forget I told her any such thing. She was only here until the end of August, just a few more weeks, so it shouldn't be too hard to avoid the subject until she left.
"Aunt Jazz! Aunt Jazz! How about your news?" Albie asked.
I looked down, surprised to find him still hanging off my waist. The conversation with Mika had been so fraught, I'd almost forgotten we were still mid-hug.
"Yes, what is this news?" Mika asked, a smile wiping away the worry on her face. "Albie wouldn't tell me, and mom swears she has no idea what he's talking about."
That was because I hadn't told her or Dad. If I had been smart, I wouldn't have even told Albie. But the kid loved to talk, and he asked all the questions. Mika, Dad, and Mom might not have wondered why I'd been living like a nun for the last two years, but he'd grilled and grilled me about why I never went out and what I was doing with all the money from my surf lessons.
"Oh, it was nothing," I answered Mika. "Brad's dad was talking about maybe selling Pacific Oahu Surf, and I was thinking about buying it. We were supposed to meet about it today, but I decided not to."
I kept my voice casual, even though it was all I could do to keep tears from stinging my eyes as I told her this. I'd been so close to making that dream come true. So close.
Mika's eyes widened. "Wait, you were going to buy your own business? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you do it?"
I shook my head. "It was a dumb idea. There's too much going on here. Maybe, I'll revisit it at a later date. When Dad's feeling better."
"When Dad's feeling better?" Mika repeated. "But Jazz—"
I cut her off before Mika could remind me about the obvious—that there was no getting better from what Dad had. "Listen, Miks, I'm crazy tired. I just want to get something to eat and go to bed."
And of course, Mika being a good big sister, immediately backed down. "No, I get it. We were about to head out ourselves."
Did I feel guilty as hell as I hugged her and Albie goodbye? Yes, yes, I did.
Also, after they left, I realized I no longer had anyone to distract me from thoughts of the true version of tonight's events.
I could hear my parents in their room, watching a re-run of This is Us way too loud. I should go in and say hi, tell them I'm home and check on Dad.
But instead, I went to the kitchen and scooped some of the leftover sinigang stew Mom had going in the slow cooker all day over a bowl of microwave rice. Evading Mika's questions had been hard enough. I didn't feel like lying straight to mom's face just yet. I'd already done enough of that this afternoon. I'd given her the super-sketchy rundown of what had happened to Dad then rushed off, supposedly to meet a surfing client. But I was actually hurrying to withdraw life savings from the bank before they closed.
As soon as the pleasantly sour broth stew hit my tongue, I knew I'd made the right decision. They didn't call basically every dish that came out of the Philippines comfort food for nothing.
By the time I was done scarfing down dinner, I couldn't say I had forgotten what had transpired that night. But as I made the trip to my parent's room, I could almost not feel the Fae King's hands squeezing my ass as I humped his clothed dick in a frenzy. Almost….
I found my parents sitting up in bed laughing along with This is Us, my dad's favorite show. Wow, it was only Tuesday, and it had already been the craziest week I've ever had, but here they were laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.
The sight of them didn't upset me, though. It reminded me why everything I did tonight was totally worth it. Sure, my dad had shrunk a lot since his diagnosis, and his rich brown face was now mottled with a purplish bruise around his eye. But he still held my pretty little Filipina mother's hand and laughed uproariously at all of Randall's jokes, no matter how big or small they were.
They were okay. And they'd stay okay. That was all that mattered, even if the Fae King's phone gift burned like an omen in the back pocket of my jean shorts.
"Jazzy, you alright, anaak?" Mom asked when she noticed me poking my head through the door.
Anaak…my child…my heart squeezed at the Tagalog endearment she still used with my sister and me even though we were now both older than she was when she gave birth to us. Her soft question made me even more determined to keep her out of this mess.
My father also regarded me, and with even more worry in his eyes than my mother's—he never would have sent me to pay off his debt. But he probably had his suspicions about where I disappeared to so quickly after Mom got home.
"I'm fine. Everything's fine," I assured them both. "Just checking in before I call it a night."
Guilt flashed across my father's face. But my mother said, "Oh, your father's doing much better. I'm just still so upset about what happened. That new drug was going so well, but he still had that nasty fall. Do you think it's already wearing off? Mika says that's not how drugs work, and your dad says he just stood up too fast, but I'm scared."
I bet she was. I glanced at Dad. Only a portion of the guilt in his expression was because of what he'd done with my sister's money, I suspected. Before the bad deal he'd made with K Diamond behind our backs, Dad was a good person, an honorable person who served his country and prided himself on paying his debts on time. Plus, Mom was the love of his life. I knew he probably hated lying to her even more than I did.
Which is why I pasted on a smile and just said good night before leaving them to their dramedy.
However, that smile fell off my face as soon as I got back to my room and pulled out my phone—no, scratch that—phones. I had two of them now.
The iPhone sat on my bed, silent and blank, but it somehow still managed to come off as dangerous. Meanwhile, angry text messages from Brad covered my old Galaxy's whole screen.
BRAD: What do you mean you're not coming?
BRAD: Jazz?
BRAD: Jazz?
BRAD: WTF? Dad was set to turn down a bunch of other buyers because he wanted to sell his biz to you AT A DEEP DISCOUNT. This is real messed up, Jazz. Is this because I dumped you?
BRAD: Because if this is because I dumped you, that's real messed up too.
Okay, well, the guilt wasn't entirely done with me yet.
I sighed and started composing a much longer message to Brad about how sorry I was and how I'd bailed because of a family emergency, not because of our breakup. Did he think I was sitting around heartbroken over him? I'd barely given him a sec
ond thought since he forced me to choose between him and staying in Hawaii to be with my parents after Mika and I figured out how sick dad truly was when he collapsed at Christmas dinner.
I mean, my ex thought it was a choice, but it had taken me maybe two seconds to be like, "Brad, bye" after he laid it down.
Still, Bill, Brad's dad, had been my first serious surf coach. And I hated that I'd stood him up at the last minute. He deserved better than that, just like my dad deserved better than the diagnosis that had stripped him of so much pride.
But halfway through my apology to Brad, the previously silent iPhone vibrated with a new text message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: I don't know why.
I knew immediately knew who was sending me the text messages—the Fae King, obvs. But I didn't understand what it meant. So I picked the iPhone up and answered with a string of question marks.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You asked me why I did what I did. I don't know.
I hesitated, then answered.
Well thank you. You were right. I should have said that.
A few seconds ticked by without an answer. Then….
UNKNOWN NUMBER: What you gave to Kuang? Was that your life savings?
No.
That was my first prideful answer. But then I had to add...
It's my two years of life savings.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: What were you saving up for?
It's kind of dumb. This far-fetched dream. It was probably stupid of me to think it would have worked out anyway.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Tell me.
I hesitated again, even though his command from earlier still rang in my ears. If I text, you answer it. No matter what. But that didn't mean I had to be truthful or respond with the answer he was demanding—
Another text message popped up.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: If you dreamed of it, I don't think it's stupid. You wanted to know my why. I want to know yours.
Whoa, was the Fae King actually asking about my hopes and dreams. A weird but warm feeling fluttered in my stomach. And before I could think too hard about it, I answered.
A surf school.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You surf? Well enough to teach it?
Yes.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Are you any good?
I'm a terrible stripper, but I'm an excellent surf teacher.
It took a while for another response to come through. I was almost ready to return to my Brad apology text when a new message from the Fae King finally arrived.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: OK then. We'll say two years.
I frowned at the screen and sent another row of questions.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You said it took you two years to save up that money. I'll take two years from you. For the next two years you belong to me.
You belong to me. I couldn't say for sure if the emotion that stilled my heart was fear or…something else. But I typed back…
What does belonging to you entail?
Again, it took a long time for him to respond. Even longer than the first time. But I waited, too on the edge of my seat to even think about texting Brad back. I would have waited all night if that was what it took.
Luckily, I only have to wait five minutes.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: What's your name?
I hesitated, not sure if I should just hand my name over to a criminal. But then he was in some kind of business with K Diamond. He could probably get the information if he wanted it.
Jasmine. But everybody calls me Jazz.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: OK, Jasmine, let's start with surfing lessons.
That kaleidoscope of butterflies…they were back. They fluttered in my stomach as I typed….
Yeah sure I can do surfing lessons. That's not a euphemism for something else right? Also what's your name?
I waited for him to answer those questions with a few more primed to go. But this time, no reply came. I didn't even get a "Read" notification under my message.
6
HAN
A few weeks later
There must not have been any other emergencies in Oahu that night. What appeared to be every fire truck and police car on the island responded to the call for the three-alarm fire in Mililani.
Good, Han thought as he watched the two-bedroom house get eaten alive by flames from the apartment building located across the street.
Sirens filled up the air as emergency vehicles arrived, and the middle of the night clang brought every other resident in the apartment building to their street-facing windows. That meant Han was able to slip sight unseen out of the apartment he'd broken into to observe the results of his handiwork from afar.
He felt sorry for the current tenants of the two-bedroom as he left. If the cheerfully boring local news was any indicator, not much happened in Oahu. So when they returned from their jaunt to Kona later in the day, they'd be the only ones in the building who missed seeing the house fire that everyone would be talking about.
Ah, well, life was full of disappointments, wasn't it? Perhaps someone would show them a video of the fire that had killed the former dock worker less than a decade after he decided to retire early. They could commiserate over how suddenly a life can be snuffed out. Though, they might also wonder why the grizzled older man would not only have lighted a scented candle before bedtime. And why he'd also left it unattended, so that it could be tipped over—perhaps by his cat who, unlike its master, somehow managed to escape the flames and was found outside by a neighbor without so much as his fur being singed.
It didn't matter. Like the firefighters, the weekend vacationers wouldn't ruminate on the mystery too hard…or find any evidence of the sleeping pills that had been swapped out for the dockworker's heart medication before that unfortunate fire. People were strange and irresponsible, they would all conclude, before declaring it an open and shut case.
A sense of pride and accomplishment filled Han as he drove away from the scene in the economy Kia he'd bought a few days after arriving on the island—not to save money, but to keep his actions on behalf of the 24K as covert as possible.
After parking it in a paid spot a few blocks away from his luxury apartment building, his driver Yaron picked him up in an Infiniti QX80, the kind of car that was more on-brand for their triad members.
The two exchanged no greetings after Han slipped into the backseat.
Yaron had become a man of very few words after being transferred from Victor's detail to Han's nine years ago. Han vaguely remembered the older Filipino man as a friendly, chatty guy before that. And though he'd asked both his driver and his brother, neither would talk about why Victor could no longer stand the sight of him.
In any case, Han didn't mind Yaron's silence. The role Han played within their triad was usually one of charm and finesse. With Yaron, he could be quiet without any obligation to be social.
So in that manner, they drove back to his high rise overlooking the Gold Coast. And when Yaron dropped him off, he slipped from the car without a word of goodbye, happy to be done with even that small bit of social interaction.
Another recent change.
He used to enjoy being the life of the party, charming and bagging beautiful girls and keeping vampire hours for both business and fun.
But as he entered his penthouse apartment shortly before dawn, there was a hollow feeling in his chest. He needed to get back to Rhode Island, back to the life he knew.
With that in mind, he texted Phantom as he stepped into the elevator.
Last package?
Last package was their code for the last name on their list. The only name Han felt slightly bad about erasing from the rolls of the living on behalf of the 24K.
The rest of the names belonged to men the 24K Dragon had paid handsomely over a decade ago to stay quiet about what happened that night when the wife of one of their local security guards had discovered their sex trafficking ring. Any of those guys could be the secret key witness in the case the state of Hawaii was preparing to bring against the 24K.
However, the last packa
ge was an innocent who'd stumbled onto the wrong crime scene at the wrong time.
Usually, that would've made his job easier. But in this case, not so much.
The issue was that she worked as the live-in nanny for Holt Calson, the CEO of Cal-Mart. This meant she was by far more protected than any of the other names on his list. It had taken them weeks to figure out she wasn't in residence at his Connecticut estate. She changed phones constantly—perhaps at Calson's behest. And though Phantom had gained access to her email, like many women her age, she rarely used it. It had cost Phantom much of his free time to sift through several emails from her son's school before he finally found a lead on her whereabouts.
An email to one of the child's teachers stating that they would be in Hawaii for the entire summer.
Unfortunately, the trail ended there. Though Phantom was able to track down a flight registry with her name on it, he could not figure out what happened to her after that flight. No rented car. She just disappeared with no indication of where she'd gone.
He'd sent men to surveil her parents' house. But they'd seen no signs of the woman and her child before one of the local police officers who lived just a few houses down came over to question them about why they were loitering on their street.
PHANTOM: Still looking.
The message came through just as Han walked through the door, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He wanted to cross that last name off his list and get the hell out of Hawaii but killing an innocent….
I was an innocent before your father's gang tricked me into coming here! You're just like him! Just like him! An image of his mother hit him like a punch. She stood in the doorway of his bedroom, and he stood over his father's dead body….
HAN: Her Ruthless Mistake: 50 Loving States, Delaware (Ruthless Triad Book 4) Page 4
