Saints and Sinners: The Complete Series

by Eden Butler

  “I understand that.” Kona’s smile was easy, and it lessened some of the tension constricting Gia’s chest. But then he nudged Kai, pointing at her, making her lineman glance her way and that tightness returned. “Her uncle was a bastard, but man did he get my fat ass in shape.” Kai nodded, glancing at Gia before he grabbed his beer, not commenting to his cousin.

  Gia saluted Kona with her drink, a memory of Luka and Kona barely managing Uncle Mike’s laps up the stadium during spring training coming to her mind. “I do remember. Those laps looked brutal.”

  “Thought you only met Kona once,” Kai said, looking into his glass.

  She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here, not with Kona listening, but wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t retreat if Kai wanted to know the truth. Gia was tired of hiding from it.

  “I told Keola I’d met him. That wasn’t a lie.” She glanced at the man in question, dismissing his frown when he looked between she and Kai. “I told you my uncle got me into the athletic department. I was the water girl that semester. I knew…a lot of the players.”

  Kai sat back, abandoning his beer to watch her, his expression going blank. He didn’t speak, didn’t do much more than keep his focus on Gia’s face. “I thought the apartment was your ‘friend’s.’”

  “Friend. Cousin.” Kai shrugged, dismissing her mild accusation. “Does it matter?”

  “We only use that place for parades,” Kona admitted, his expression tightening as he looked between them. “What am I missing here?” He waved the waitress away when she came by to offer him another beer.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were related?” she asked Kai, not bothering to look at Kona or acknowledge his question.

  “I didn’t tell anyone.” Kai leaned forward, elbows on the table, his mouth held into a tight line. “Didn’t much matter. Third cousin no one knew about until I started playing ball? Who the hell gave a shit?”

  “Brah,” Kona said, his voice carrying loud enough that both Kai and Gia finally looked at him. “That’s not fair.” Gia had never seen Kona angry. Not even when she yelled at him in the team house. Back then, she’d been a scrappy nothing girl taking on a giant. But there was real hurt on his features now, something that reminded Gia of the look Kai had given her that night in her apartment when he found her Polaroids. “If we’d known…”

  “I don’t blame you, man,” Kai admitted, his features relaxing. “This,” he said, pointing between he and Gia, “this has nothing to do with…” He paused, scrubbing his face before he picked up his beer and finished it, finally turning his head to face Kona. “I was a kid and you were a star. You didn’t owe me a damn thing and you still offered, and you didn’t need to. Shit, how many damn Kais are there in our ohana?”

  Kona laughed, slapping his cousin’s back. “Fuck’s sake, at least five.” He turned to Gia, his head shaking. “Our family isn’t known for their creativity. This poor buggah comes in probably thinking he’s unique, and he looks like every other asshole with the same damn name.”

  Kai nodded, leaning back to let the waitress refill his glass, his attention on the beer, on his cousin’s laughter, anywhere, it seemed, but Gia.

  “How many have you met so far?” Kona asked Kai, slipping his glance to Gia before he focused on his cousin.

  “Just the one that owns the bar in Kaimuki.”

  “Ah, yeah. That asshole lives at Tommy’s. Never had more ambition than to be a beach bum.”

  The admission shed light on a few things. If Cat had been looking into Kai and came across several with different last names, none of which were in the system then there wouldn’t have been info on them. Thinking on it, Gia knew she should have realized how tight-lipped their family would have been. They probably had gotten used to people digging for information on Kona. She remembered reading about his and Luka’s birth father. The man had abandoned them when they were little. There was supposedly an entire family that Kona didn’t even know that might be interested in meeting him…and getting access to his money. Look what had happened to Kai in his town, his own family taking advantage of his generosity.

  Of course Cat hadn’t been able to find out the truth.

  The pendant he’d worn when Gia first met him in her office. It had to be Luka’s.

  “And your girls,” Kona said, sitting up to look at Gia, bringing her out of her thoughts. He seemed eager to keep her engaged in the conversation. “What was your roommate’s name? The little redhead? Man, Brian had a thing for her.”

  “Claire. Claire Lambeau.”

  He snapped his fingers, grinning. “That’s right. What happened to her?”

  “She’s a D.A. in L.A. county. Never married. No kids.” Gia picked up her glass and took a long sip, remembering the horror stories Claire had told her of the cases she handled the last time they had dinner. “Given her job, I can’t say I blame her. All those exploited and abused kids? All the broken homes and abandoned wives and children? All the families destroyed by violence? Seems like an awfully big risk to have a family in this crazy world.”

  “Nah, you can’t look at it that way,” Kona said, that perpetual smile stretching across his face. “I wouldn’t trade my pēpēs for anything.”

  Kai looked at his cousin and for the first time since they’d sat down, he didn’t frown. “That’s the truth,” he admitted.

  Kona nodded, returning Kai’s smile. “How old is your little girl?”

  “Almost nine,” Gia answered for Kai, her eyes widening when both Kai and Kona glanced at her. She licked her lips, playing off the answer with a shrug. “We…used to live in the same building,” she explained, looking at Kona, not daring to watch Kai. “And when…Keeana…well. It’s hard not to love that little girl.” The admission had cost her, and she wondered what was behind the look Kai gave her. He continued to watch her, looking half torn between wanting to grab her and hold her, and fighting the inclination to tell her to fuck off.

  Gia couldn’t blame him. She knew how stupid she’d been.

  “Well, I can understand that,” Kona said, pulling out his cell. “I’m going to act like every proud father on the planet and bore you with pictures of my pēpēs.” He flashed through images of Keira, who didn’t look a day older to Gia than she did when they were in college. The woman was still beautiful, her smile still bright and wide as she held two children in her arms. One was a girl with enormous black eyes and a riot of ringlet curls that fell down her back. She couldn’t be more than two and smiled a wide, toothy grin at the camera. “Mack…Makana,” Kona said, his smile broad and his eyes soft. “She’s two, and I’m useless when it comes to her. She had me wrapped around her finger the second she came out.”

  Gia laughed, catching Kai’s slow grin across the table. “Like her mom?”

  “Exactly,” Kona said, scanning to the next picture. “This is Koa. Named for my late kupunakane…”

  Gia’s eyes burned and something thick lodged in her throat as a whip of memory raced into her mind. Another Koa, that sweet old man who deflected his daughter so she and Luka could be alone.

  “When did he…pass away? Your grandfather?”

  Kona’s frown was quick when he glanced at her. “Just after my first Super Bowl win. Cancer.” He nodded to the image, taking half a second longer to look away from Gia’s expression before he showed her his Koa. Of course he’d be curious about her question. Kona never knew that she’d met his grandfather. He never knew anything about her and Luka.

  “Koa is three and a half and a holy terror. Just like I was. But he dotes on his baby sister and thinks his big brother is a superhero.” Again, Kona nodded, flipping to the last picture. “Here he is, our oldest. Ransom.”

  “He’s gotten big,” Kai said, leaning forward to see the picture on Kona’s phone. “It’s only been two years since that family reunion, yeah?”

  “He’s been at CPU for three years. Packed on a good ten pounds of muscle. Works hard.” Kona offered his cell to Gia, his smile wavering whe
n she held it in her hand. “Who does he remind you of?”

  It was cruel. That face. That smile. The twist of his mouth. The right cheek dimple. All these small seemingly inconsequential things that should not have meant anything at all individually, when Gia looked at them. If it had only been the dimple on this boy’s face. Only the smile or that twisting smirk then maybe she would have been able to see it and feel nothing but the long buried ache that had lived in the recesses of her heart like the fracture she told Kai had never really healed.

  But all of these things together? On that tall, wide frame, in that uniform?

  Gia could not help the well of sorrow that rose in her chest. She could not stop the heat that flooded from her gut and seemed to rise, to surface as she looked down and saw the cruelest memory of her lost love living again in the beautiful, breathless face of his nephew.

  She hoped, with her head down and her hair obscuring her face that they would not see. Gia hoped that one look would be sufficient. The tears would dry the second she passed the phone back to Kona. But she seemed unable to do anything but stare down at that smiling face; stare and watch and wonder what would have…could have been for what felt like the millionth time.

  It was stupid. It was pointless. It would change nothing at all.

  Gia did it anyway.

  “Hey,” Kona said, leaning forward, his hand against her arm when she looked away from him. “Gia?”

  The cell vibrated against her palm when she gripped it, then stilled as she passed it back to Kona, her focus on the activity of the patrons she could see outside the doors. She tried to be discreet. Gia tried to use the back of her hand so Kai and Kona would not see her wiping her face. But there was no hiding from them.

  There was no hiding from anyone anymore.

  “It was Luka?” Kai said, his tone flat, unsurprised.

  She jerked her gaze to him, not shocked when Kona’s grip on her arm tightened. There was probably make-up clotted under her eyes and tracked in a black line down her face. The tears would not stop.

  “Was it?” Kai asked, his voice softer. When she nodded, he slumped against the chair. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” she said, giving his words back to him.

  “Gia…” Kona said, moving his hand from her arm to her wrist. “Tell me…I don’t…you and Lu?”

  She had never let him go. She kept that fracture splinted, wrapped so tightly that there was never any regrowth. Gia had made a point to never speak his name because what she lost was hers alone. Luka Hale had been for her and never had anyone shared in that.

  Until now.

  Until Kona.

  She watched this big giant, his eyes wide and searching, his touch tightening like she had a secret to unearth that would give back part of his brother. She alone could unmask something he thought he’d never have again. It was only then that Gia realized Kona had likely thought what he lost was his alone too.

  “I…oh, God, Kona, I loved him. And he loved me.” He moved his head, a frown working to pull down his mouth and she knew he’d argue. He’d likely tell her what he had years before—Luka didn’t love anyone but himself. Gia wouldn’t let Kona take that from her. “The night he…when Keira called him? To go and get you…” Kona nodded and that grip on her wrist got even tighter. “He was with me. We didn’t want to tell anyone…”

  “The flying pig,” Kona said, eyes wide now, his face going pale. “Kuku sent it to you?”

  The dam that had set and settled inside her, laid high, built to never break, toppled like a tsunami had thrown it apart. Gia crumpled, dropping her face into her hands, tears streaming as Kona caught her, letting her use his massive shoulders, take his solid comfort as she sobbed.

  “He did love you, hoaloha,” he told her. “My kuku promised me…he told me Luka didn’t die not knowing…he said he loved someone. He told me about the pig. Ah…G…I had no idea it was you.” Kona kissed the top of her head, patting her arm. “I’m glad. I’m glad you loved him too.”

  “I’ve…never loved anyone like…oh, God, Kona…I loved him so much.”

  It was several long minutes that Gia rested against Kona’s shoulder, letting that giant man hold her, telling her in soft, muttered whispers how happy he was that his brother had known love and how grateful he was that Luka had given it in return. They seemed stuck in their own space, locked in the past, lost to everyone but the memory of the man they both loved so fiercely.

  “Mr. Hale, you have a message,” the waitress interrupted, her voice low, her manner apologetic, as she passed Gia a napkin, offering her a sheepish smile. “Mr. Pukui,” she nodded to where Kai had been sitting. “He asked me to give you this.”

  Gia looked up, her stomach twisting with dread when she realized only she and Kona sat together at the table.

  “Shit,” Gia said, hurrying to dry her face. She stood, grabbing her purse, ready to go after him but stopped when Kona called her name.

  “He left,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “And it doesn’t look like he’s coming back.”

  Kona handed Gia the note the waitress had given him and frowned, feeling the weight of something heavy tucked between the folded page. She opened it, falling into her seat when she spotted Luka’s black obsidian pendant.

  “I gave it to him when he was a kid,” Kona explained, leaning forward, one hand scrubbing over his face. “I was so…fucked up still and he needed…something. He needed some sort of guidance. I told him Luka always wore that because it had taken bravery for him to get it. Kai said when he needed to be strong, he’d wear it.”

  Gia shook her head, looping the leather strap between her fingers. “He…wore it, the day I met him.”

  “That makes since. He’d need to be strong to meet you.”

  But she didn’t agree. If anyone needed strength now, it was Gia. She looked down at Kai’s note, her eyes burning as she read his scribbled words.

  KONA,

  This doesn’t belong to me.

  It’s always been Luka’s.

  So has she.

  I can’t compete.

  -K

  23.

  KAI

  NEW ORLEANS WAS QUIET. There was a storm coming in from the north and the skies had turned black, but the river hadn’t gone choppy yet. Kai still liked watching and waiting. He liked the anticipation of what would happen. Stupid, he knew since the past week had been like a tsunami.

  Luka Hale.

  Kai’s blood.

  He was competing with a dead man.

  No, scratch that. He wasn’t a man. He was a boy. A twenty-year-old kid who would never age. He’d be perfect and kind and flawless in everyone’s eyes forever. He had sacrificed his life for his brother. He was a fucking martyr and he took Gia from Kai without even trying.

  How the hell could Kai compare to that?

  “Can’t,” he told himself, downing his coffee as he watched a large tugboat smooth down the river. Behind him, he heard Keola singing. It was some Macy song she’d been obsessed with for a straight week now. They’d moved past the low, constant migraine-inducing irritation and into supplication and acceptance. He was getting used to the feeling of accepting the things he could not change. But he was still going to delete that fucking song from Keola’s playlist the second his pēpē left with Nalani.

  The music started again and his daughter’s high pitched tone-deaf squeal sounded and Kai wished for bourbon instead of the dark roast that filled his throat. He had the mug to his mouth, considering how much it would take to drink that blasted tune from his head when the music stopped completely and Keola squealed.

  Kai glanced over his shoulder, squinting as he spotted his girl dancing inside, moving her hands in that way most excited nearly nine-year-olds do when they’re keyed up about one thing or another.

  “Keiki?” he called, turning around, stepping toward the open balcony door. Kai stopped before he reached it, forcing a half smile and friendly nod to Gia
when Keola brought her out onto the balcony.

  “Makuakāne! Look who it is! Miss Gia came to visit.”

  “I see that,” he said, rubbing his mouth, disregarding the weeks’ worth of growth on his face. “And did you ask Miss Jilani if she wanted something to drink?”

  No need not to enforce good manners even if Kai didn’t know how to act around her.

  “No,” she told him, her frown quick. “Well, I thought about it, but auntie just texted that she’s almost here. I’m about to leave.” She frowned at Gia, her shoulders slumping. “I wish I could stay but Aunt Nalani is taking me shopping. She says I’ve outgrown all my clothes.”

  “That happens,” Gia said, her smile open, like she wanted to soak up every inch of Keola’s face. Kai couldn’t deny it—she might not love him; she might never stop loving a dead man, but she did love his daughter. “And don’t worry about missing the visit.” She glanced at Kai, moving her eyebrows up as though asking a silent question. “If your dad says it’s okay, I’d love to spend the day with you one Saturday when you’re free.”

  “Aren’t you busy?” Keola asked, tilting her head. “Makuakāne said you’ve been so busy that’s why you haven’t been around.”

  Gia opened her mouth, glancing at Kai, but not looking directly at him before she took Keola’s hand. “I always have time for you, sweetie. I promise. You just make sure it’s okay with your dad and tell me when you’re free and I’ll clear my schedule, okay?”

  “Great!” Keola jumped when the phone sounded from inside the apartment. “That’s auntie. I’ll go meet her in the lobby.”

  “You will not,” Kai said, walking after his daughter. “Wait for her…”

  He followed her toward the door, stopping as she backtracked to give Gia a hug before she moved out of the balcony and back into the apartment. Kai didn’t let her leave until he heard his sister on the other line of the speaker, calling from the lobby and walked with his daughter to the elevator.

  Gia waited on the balcony, and Kai slowed, pausing to check out the thumbs up picture Nalani had sent him of her and Keola in her car. Gia stood staring at the river, her arms crossed, her hair moving in the breeze. Seeing her there, unmasked, her expression free from anything, made Kai forget everything but the memory of how she tasted, how she touched him.