by Cathryn Cade
Moke reached over, put his arms around her and lifted her bodily onto his lap, where he held her close. He was quivering, she realized with surprise. She patted his chest. "Are you cold?"
"No, I'm pissed," he ground out. "Fuck...I wanna go back and break some heads."
"Hey, big guy, it was a long time ago. Anyway, the next place was with Vicky and her first husband. Me and two other kids, younger boys. It was...it was good. She was strict, but she really listened, you know? And she gave the best hugs ever."
He leaned his face into her hair. "Glad you ended up with her, tita. Tell me some more."
She sighed into his throat, twining his hair around her fingers. "I was already stealing more shit by then...couldn't seem to stop. At school, I was one of those foster kids, and you know, lot of the other kids had way nicer stuff. So sometimes, I'd just help myself to that candy, or that cool pencil, or that new toy. And when those kids from regular homes, with moms and dads and money, they'd be looking around for their treasure. I'd sit and watch them, and I felt powerful. Like I'd stolen a little bit of their happy, their privilege. And nobody knew. It was my special secret—the only one I had."
She thought for a moment. "I guess I started escalating when I was in middle school. Hormones and all those crazy emotions, you know? I started stealing shit off the teacher's desk, and from the convenience store on the way home. It was a rush. A guilty one, because I knew it was wrong, and I liked my teacher, it wasn't that I was mad at her, but...the rush was just bigger. I got to where I needed that. Whenever shit went wrong, I needed it. Of course, then I got caught—by the security cameras at the store. Shit, I was scared. I thought for sure Vicky would tell me to pack up my stuff, she was done. But instead, she gave me a hug, told me I was stronger than that, and took me to counseling."
"Good," he said, stroking her hair. "Did that work? I read where that's like the best way to get—not cured, but better. Counseling."
"Yep. They tried giving me anti-depressants too, but they just made me puke. I was not popular on the school bus for a while."
He snorted a laugh. "Fuck no. I remember—I'll tell you later. So you went to counseling. That when you decided to be one?"
"Yeah, it was. My counselor was totally cool. She had her hair in those rasta braids, you know, that just stay in, and get kind of knotted and fuzzy, but they looked cool on her. She also had a nose piercing. And she skateboarded. I wanted to be her...and she told me I could, if I worked really hard to get better, and got my grades up, and stayed out of trouble with boys. 'Cause boys were lusty, and not in control of their penises."
He gave a bark of laughter, his chest quivering again. "Lusty? She really say that?"
"Yeah, she did, and we laughed." She sighed. "I liked her so much. It still took me a long time to get well, though. But after that, when I gave in and stole something...this is weird, but I'd go back and put the stuff back. Almost got caught doing that a time or two."
"Ah. How you got so good at it, huh?"
She nodded.
"I just have one important question," he said gravely.
"Okay." She could take it, whatever he asked.
"Did you ever learn to skateboard? 'Cause I'd love to watch your ass and legs up on a board."
She elbowed him, and he fell back on the blanket laughing as he fended her off.
She lay on his chest, idly stroking his bicep. They were one of her favorite parts of him. "So did you steal anymore?" she asked.
"Nah," he said, playing with her hair. "I was tempted a time or two, but every time, it was like I could see the disappointment in Humo's eyes. So I went straight...in that, at least."
She lifted her head. "Do you mean to tell me you and your biker bros do things that are illegal?"
"Maybe," he said.
"Oh, you can't talk about it? Bros before hos?" She moved to slide off of him.
He held her there, his big hands on her ass. He gave her a squeeze. "No, it’s not that. It’s just, some stuff only the brothers know about. But don't start imagining we're out shaking people down and shit like that. Never—we just look out for our own. And sometimes...that may possibly mean the cops can't do anything, but..."
"You can," she breathed. "Okay. I get that."
"Good. Now, you wanna hear my puke story?"
"Euw!" she protested, although she did it laughing. "No. I wanna know about your dad. Are you going to see him again?"
He heaved a sigh. "Nah. Prob'ly not. Honestly, tita, I can't stand to be around him the way he is, and he doesn't wanna change. Better for both of us if I leave him in peace."
"Aw," she said, sadness for him piercing her heart. "Well, at least you tried, right?"
"Yeah," he said, sliding his arms up around her. "At least I tried. Now, you wanna sleep down here, or go up to the house?"
She pretended to think. "Hmm, go up and shower the sand out of my butt-crack and sleep in a nice comfy bed, or stay here? Just can't decide."
"Smart-ass," he said. "I could help you with that sand." He moved to demonstrate.
She let out a shriek, and struggled to get away. "Moke! You get your fingers out of there—no! I'll get you for that."
He let her go, chuckling. "Not sure how, 'cause you wanna play naughty with my ass, I'm all for it. Just sayin'."
She blew out a breath, blushing despite what they'd been doing just a short time ago. "Uh...maybe when we know each other better."
"Mm-hmm," he approved, his chuckle turning dirty. "Looking forward to that."
The scary part was, so was she.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The next few days were some of the happiest that Shelle could recall.
Knowing her Hawaiian idyll was nearly over made it all the more crucial she wring every bit of tropical sweetness from the remaining time, like juice from a pineapple.
She, Vicky and Dave chatted every morning over breakfast. Then Shelle went for a walk or jog, cooled off in the pool, and worked on her second paper. It was a lot more difficult than the research paper, but she worked on it steadily.
And around lunchtime, Moke showed up to take her out somewhere.
First, they went paddle-boarding in the bay. It was a lot more difficult than Shelle had expected. Both she and Moke fell a lot, which meant she had never laughed so hard in her life. Watching the big Hawaiian go into the water was like watching an evergreen topple. They got the hang of it after a while, and made their way out to the mouth of the bay, skirting tour boats and swimmers.
There, Moke pointed to the water. "Shelle, look."
A silver back broke the surface of the water, and then another. "Oh, my God," she breathed. "Is that...?"
"Da nai'a," he said with a huge smile. "Spinner dolphins. Just stay here, they're coming in to the bay. They feel like it, they'll come right to you."
Balanced on her board, moving lightly with the ripple of waves, Shelle watched in awe as the pod of dolphins swam right up to them, and around their boards. Looking down from standing height into the clear water, she could see them perfectly. They looked back, their eyes wise, mouths stretched in merry grins—okay, she knew they weren't really smiling, but they looked so joyful.
A few feet away, one suddenly rocketed into the air, spinning around before dropping back into the water. Shelle cried out in awe. Another followed, and another, while she and Moke watched and laughed.
Then one leaped up right beside her board, and she flinched and lost her balance, splashing into the water in the midst of the dolphins.
Laughing, Moke knelt on his board to steady hers while she crawled back on. She mopped her streaming face, and looked around. "Oh, did I scare them away?"
"Nah," he said. "They just moved on. You ready to paddle some more?"
She so was.
When they returned their boards to the rental kiosk on the beach, she hugged Moke, smiling up into his face. "Thank you. That was one of the most fun things I've ever done." And much of that was because she'd gotten to do it with him.<
br />
He draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her out of the way of a family waiting to rent boards. "Glad you liked it. Got another surprise for you tomorrow."
She bounced on her toes, a hand on his chest. "What? What is it?"
He shook his head, smirking. "Not telling you. Now, you wanna go get a beer?"
"Meany. Fine, I'll have a beer with you."
She tiptoed up to give him a kiss. He kissed her back, and then shook his head. "Changed my mind. Taking you somewhere private."
"Okay," she said breathlessly. Sounded like an awesome idea to her.
They ended up at Nawea again.
Tangled in each other and an edge of cotton sheet, Moke asked lazily, "You wanna go out for supper, or grill here? I caught another fish this morning."
She smiled against his shoulder. "Grill here. Your big fish are sooo tasty."
He chuckled. "Glad you think so. Pretty tasty yourself."
The next morning Shelle woke to a strange, loud rumble of sound. She lifted her head and looked around her, alarmed. Moke was gone, the bed beside her empty. What the hell was that?
Some kind of vehicle. A...oh, crap, a motorcycle?
Grabbing the nearest article of clothing, one of Moke's tees, she dragged it on and ran downstairs, opening the front door to peek out.
The throaty roar of a motor filled the morning air. And the sight that greeted her was ah-maz-ing. Moke, wearing only a pair of black shorts and water-sandals straddling a big, gleaming, silver-and-black motorcycle. His head was tipped to one side as he listened to the motor, his hair falling over his shoulder and arm. He squeezed something on the handlebar nearest to her and the bike revved.
Shelle stepped outside. He lifted his head, and their eyes locked. On the bike, he was serious, intent, all muscle and brawn, a male in his prime, in his element.
She walked straight to him, heedless of the pavement under her bare feet, or the loose pebbles on it.
He opened his arm to her, and she stepped in close, arms sliding around him, the rumble of the big motorcycle vibrating up through her, shivering into her core, leaving her wet and wanting.
"Okay," she breathed. "Now I get it."
He grinned wickedly. "Wanna go for a ride on a big machine, tita?"
"With you? Hell, yeah."
They ate a quick breakfast, dressed, and he took her back out to where the bike waited, along with two helmets. "You ever been on a bike before?" he asked.
"Just street bikes, though."
"Good," he said. "I get your road bike cherry." He laughed at the look on her face, and kissed her. Then he opened the saddlebag on one side of the bike, and handed her a shopping bag. "Here. You gonna need this."
Shelle opened the bag, and pulled out a soft, cream hoodie. HAWAII was embroidered on the front in matching thread, along with a dolphin leaping gracefully. "Oh, it's so cool," she said, her eyes wide. "For me?"
"Something to remember your trip," he said. "Put it on. We're going up mauka, up the mountain. Pretty up there, but cooler."
"Okay." She pulled the hoodie on, and smoothed it down over her hips. It fit loose and comfy, although too warm for the sun in which they stood. "What do you think?"
He nodded, smirking. "Nice."
"Thank you, Moke. When did you buy this?"
"Yesterday, before I picked you up. Got me one too." He pulled a soft black one out and donned it.
She grinned at the black shark embroidered on his. "Perfect, big guy."
"Good. Now, helmets."
"Can't believe you wear a helmet. That's awesome."
He made a face. "Don't usually."
But he was today, with her? That was really sweet.
He straddled the bike, showed her how to climb on after him, and keep her leg away from the hot tailpipe. "Don't be scared, I won't let anything happen to you."
She huffed. "Me, scared? As if."
He winked. "That's my tough tita."
Her arms securely around his waist, they rolled slowly up the drive, and stopped at the highway. "Here we go," he called.
They rode up winding roads, past homes and schools and little farms, and up into the rainforest. Trees and vines grew close along the road, and old lava rock had been piled into low fences, some joined by modern wire. A few cows and horses grazed peacefully in their lush meadows.
Moke stopped and turned off the motor for a little while, so they could listen to the sounds of the forest. Birds called in the trees, and something grunted, followed by rustling through the brush.
"Feral pigs," he told her. "Sounds like a mama with young ones."
She nodded, her chin on his shoulder. "I like the birds."
"Yeah." He patted her thigh. "Ready to go?"
They rode back down the mountain, and into town. He took her to supper at a little place along the road, where most of the other customers were locals. Moke ordered, so she could try some of the local foods.
Ahi poke, or marinated raw tuna, no. "It's too squishy," she told him, taking a hasty drink of beer to wash it out of her mouth.
He shook his head in mock sadness, then took a big bite and chewed blissfully. "Your loss, haole girl. Try the musubi."
Musubi, pronounced MOO-soo-bee, seemed to be mostly rice, with a layer of Spam in the middle, rolled in seaweed, and fried. Shelle dipped it in the sweet-spicy sauce and took a cautious bite. "Mm-hmm." She nodded. "Good."
She loved the calamari, too, little bits of deep-fried goodness. "Like it? That's squid," he told her, his eyes dancing.
She winked at him. "Yeah, I know. Had this before in Seattle."
"Dang. Thought I'd get to shock you with that one. 'Oh, Moke, I can't eat that! It's squid tentacles!'" he mimicked in a falsetto voice.
Shelle rolled her eyes at him, and grabbed two more pieces from the plate. "Careful, or I'll order an umbrella drink and make you share it."
"No luck, tita. They don't serve 'em here."
"That's okay. I'll fix you one myself when we get back to Nawea."
But he wasn't listening anymore. Face blank, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then put it to his ear. "Yeah?"
Shelle sat back in her chair, suddenly chilled despite the warmth of the evening. She wiped her greasy fingers on a napkin, watching him as he listened to his call. Something in the remoteness of his expression told her this was one of his 'brothers' from his club.
And that she probably didn't want to know what—or who—they were talking about.
As it would turn out, she was right.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Outside the cafe, dusk was falling. The street was full of headlights and taillights flashing. Cars, pickups and other motorcycles—locals off work, headed out for supper or down to a beach. And the tourists, poking along the sidewalks, or driving along craning their necks for street signs while their passenger held a phone, lit up with some traffic app.
Moke led the way to the motorcycle, which he'd parked in plain view of their table. Wasn't having any punk decide to steal it while Moke was using it.
The mood he was in, he'd probably smash the perp into a pulp on the sidewalk.
Rocker's words had been curt and to the point. "Moke? That merchandise we ordered has come in. Being held for us at the warehouse. I'm headed to Seattle, you need to get there too. We'll look it over, probably do some work on it before we turn it over to the final buyers."
"Right," Moke said. "How long do I have?"
"You got two tickets waiting for you, flight out tomorrow. I'll send you the deets."
"Ah. Okay. Back to you then."
He put his phone away, for now, and led the way outside into the warm evening.
Shelle followed him, her eyes wide, face serious. "What is it?" she asked quietly.
"Can't talk here," he told her as a group of young Asians trooped by, talking and laughing. "Too many people."
She climbed onto the bike behind him, and they nosed out into traffic, and headed down toward the mai
n drag. Traffic was stop and go, so they rode along slowly, until Moke had a clear lane to pass on the right. He rolled them past the long line of cars, checked the intersection and turned onto the boulevard, headed south toward Nawea. He took Ali'i Drive along above the condos and resorts until the last traffic light, where the buildings stopped, and they were riding through the dusk, the ocean rolling on one side, the mountain rising up on the other.
Fuck, he loved riding. And with Shelle holding onto him, her sweet curves pressed into his back, the ride was even better. He wanted to keep going, hit the throttle and ride all the way to the south end of the island, until the road petered out into rough lava plain, and there was nothing left but steep cliffs and the night and the sea, and that moon path shining bright on the water.
Another time, he'd take her with him and ride all night.
This time, he took the turn for Nawea.
Outside the house, he looked down at her, his hot haole tita, all hair and eyes, curves and attitude. "Time to go back," he told her.
She knew what he meant instantly. She still stood as tall and as straight, but at the same time, she seemed to shrink into herself. She put a hand on his waist, curled her fingers into his tee. "Did they...find the guys?" she asked. "The Rattlers."
He nodded, smoothing his hand down her back. "Yeah." And Albany, but he wasn't burdening her with that info, not yet. Albany was a whole 'nother level of shit, that would be the Flyers' business only. Until they turned him over to the law, that is.
She swallowed, her throat working. "Wait—who found them? The cops, or...your, uh, brothers?"
"Brothers. Seattle chapter."
"Okay. So you have to go and, uh, mete out justice?"
Moke couldn't help it, he chuckled. He pulled her into him, against his body and tipped his head down, laughing into her hair. "Fuck, tita. Sometimes you talk like a history book, you know?"
She hugged him back, but as she tipped her head back, her smile was half-hearted. "Moke. I don't want you to get in any trouble."