Chapter Two
Hurricane
Two Days Later
Yesterday, we spent the day trying to take it easy.
After how Kaia was when we arrived, I wanted her to have as much rest as possible.
I wanted her to see a doctor to be checked out, but my wife—always the stubborn one—said she wanted to wait until we got home so she could have Dr. Adams check on her properly.
We decided not to tell the club about the pregnancy until we’re back home. Being so far away, we don’t want them worrying about us. But since we’re in Hawaii, we’ll drop by Oahu Defiance and see how things are run here.
I called ahead to their president, Pono, to see if we could stop in.
So today, we’re off to the clubhouse on 11th Street in Ewa Beach, just under half an hour from the resort where we’re staying.
We’ve rented a car, much to my disgust, but Kaia wanted to be able to get around while we’re here, so I guess it was the right choice.
But my choice will always be a Harley because there is nothing like the sun in your face and the wind in your hair.
When we pull up to the tall gates with what looks like ocean waves weaving through the bars, and I’m certain palm leaves are fabricated from iron, I know they’re meant more to impress than to protect. In terms of security, they’re pretty lackluster, but they certainly look damn nice.
My eyes shift to Kaia, and she grins. “We need to up our game on gate presentation.” Rolling down my window, I pop my head out to see the prospect sitting in a deck chair, sunglasses on, Hawaiian shirt under his colors, sitting back almost like he’s asleep under his tropical bucket hat.
I turn back to Kaia, who grins at me like she’s loving this.
I spin back to the prospect with brows drawn and harshly slam my hand on the horn, and its obnoxious blast causes the prospect to jump out of his skin.
He falls off the deck chair, his hat flying off his head, one of his flip-flops going in the other direction as he pulls out a gun and aims it at us.
Kaia and I laugh as he pants for breath while I raise my hands. “Calm down, prospect. Hurricane, President of NOLA Defiance. This here is my Old Lady.”
He lowers the gun, takes a long breath, and slowly stands from the sandy ground. “Well, thank fuck for that! We hardly get people coming ‘round here. You scared the crap outta me.”
Shaking my head, I exhale. “You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the job then, should ya?”
He slips his foot back into his flip-flop, picks up his stupid hat, and stows his gun. His hand pushes through the window, opening for me to shake. “Name’s Parker, but here they call me Haole. Nice to finally meet ya, Pres.”
“You too, Haole. They’ve given you a road name already, even though you’re still a prospect?” I ask.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, brah. It’s more of a nickname Wipeout gave me when I turned up here. It hasn’t left me since.”
“Does it mean somethin’?” I ask, and Kaia grins with a small snort.
Haole nods. “It’s a term for tourists who are not native to Hawaii… kinda derogatory. They call me that because they think I dress like a tourist. But I don’t care. I love this place, and I’m not leaving anytime soon. I don’t care if I do look like a tourist.”
“You do need to be more focused on your protection detail, brother, because if I were someone comin’ to attack the club, you’d all be in deep shit right now.”
Haole nods in agreement. “I hear you. Not a lot goes on here. We’re such a chill club, but I’ll do better.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, prospect, you gonna let us in?”
Haole dips his chin, spinning for the gate, and pushes a button. “The guys will be inside, probably playing pool or eating or some shit, but they will be inside. Just head on in.”
“Thanks, Haole,” I reply.
“Yes, thank you,” Kaia calls out past me as I drive into the parking area and park next to the limited number of bikes in the lot.
This club is small.
As Haole said, not a lot goes on here, and it’s obvious.
Certainly, not the kinds of drama we see on the mainland.
So they don’t need as many bodies as we do.
This feels more like a group of guys hanging out together to have a good time than a Defiance club.
Don’t get me wrong, I know they could kick some serious ass if they needed to, but there’s no edge of danger here.
Turning off the engine, I smile at Kaia. “Here we go.”
We hop out of the car and walk toward the entrance.
The doors are open, and as I go to walk inside, Kaia slaps her hand on my chest almost violently, stopping me from taking my first step inside the clubhouse.
I glance down at her, furrowing my brows as she takes off her shoes, then places them on the rack outside the door, where a bunch of other shoes are located.
I scrunch my brows and let out a snort. “You’re kiddin’?”
She grins, glancing down at my feet. “You’re in my country now, baby. You have to do as I say. Take off your boots.”
I scrub at my beard. “What the fuck for?”
“Because it’s tradition. It is considered rude to enter someone’s home wearing shoes. Now, get those boots off.”
Groaning, I bend over, yank off my boots and socks, then place them on the rack next to Kaia’s sandals. “Happy?”
She smiles, leans on her toes, and kisses my cheek.
“Very. Now c’mon, let’s meet the brothers.
” Kaia yanks me through the clubhouse doors, where the smell of something cinnamon wafts through the air, and my stomach growls in appreciation.
The clubhouse appears more like a resort than a biker hangout.
The walls are white with gray accents, bamboo fans hang from the ceilings, and a giant skylight sits in the middle of the clubhouse, letting the beautiful Hawaiian sun through.
A slow smile crosses my face as I spot the telltale pool table and dart board.
The bar is over by the other wall, lined with bamboo, giving it that exotic Hawaiian Island feel.
Even potted palms in the corners make this place feel—I don’t know—loved?—like someone loves to take care of the place.
“Hūi!” A gentle but motherly voice gains our attention as she steps out of what I assume is the kitchen.
“Your poi cinnamon rolls are ready. Come get ‘em while they’re still warm.” She’s short and curvy, but her smile and general aura light up the entire room.
And the way the guys all turn to her, smiling in appreciation when she called out to them, lets me know she is a much-loved club member.
She is probably the reason this place is so immaculate.
Kaia smiles at me, inhaling deeply. “Do you think we should interrupt?”
I dip my chin, clearing my throat. “Sorry, brothers, don’t mean to be a pain in the ass. Just wanted to let y’all know we’ve arrived.”
The woman slaps the hands of one of the guys who was going to grab a second cinnamon roll, and he chuckles as she walks past them, heading for us with the plate.
“Aloha, welcome to Oahu Defiance. I’m Aunty Malia.
We are so pleased you are here with us. Our president, Pono, is in a meeting, but he will be out shortly to greet you.
In the meantime, please make yourselves at home and enjoy one of my famous cinnamon rolls. ”
Kaia smiles so wide, her shoulders bob up and down in excitement. “I’m Kaia. I’m so freakin’ excited to be here,” she replies, eagerly taking one of the sweet-smelling treats without hesitation.
I smile at Malia. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Hurricane, President of NOLA Defiance. This is a great place you have here,” I tell her.
Kaia takes a huge bite of the roll, letting out a moan that should only be reserved for when I fuck her.
My eyes widen, and Malia chuckles. “I’m glad you approve. Would you like one, Hurricane?”
I put my hand up as if to say no, but Kaia stares me down with a glare that if she could shoot lasers, I’d be dead right now. So, instead of dropping my hand, I grab one. “Thank you, Malia.”
Kaia groans in disapproval.
Malia chuckles, placing her hand on Kaia’s shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He doesn’t know our culture and customs. He can call me Malia.”
My eyes widen as I turn to Kaia for guidance. I never fucking know what I’m doing wrong. She shakes her head, turning to me. “No, he’s here in your country, in your clubhouse. He can learn. Hurricane, you need to call her Aunty Malia or just Aunty. It’s a respect thing.”
Respect is something I can do.
“My apologies. I know a little bit about Hawaiian culture, being married to Kaia, but having never been here and seeing it all firsthand, I’m a newbie to all this. I apologize, Aunty Malia.”
“Oh, sweetheart, there is nothing to forgive. Come, let’s meet the others.” She turns and starts walking toward the other guys while I glance at Kaia and grimace. “Was I a real dick just now?”
She chuckles. “No, you’re doing fine. Just take a bite of the roll before we meet the brothers.”
Nodding, I bring the sugary treat to my lips and take a huge bite.
The coconut milk cream cheese glaze hits my lips first, and the cinnamon bursts as I chew into the soft center of the roll.
My head snaps to Kaia, and she chuckles, grinning at me like she understands the heaven that has exploded in my mouth.
“Fuck me!” I groan through my mouthful.
She licks her fingers clean, devouring the last of hers as we follow Malia to the other guys by the pool table.
As we approach, I scarf the last of my roll down, and they all turn, smiling big, happy grins.
Malia steps up to them, jabbing one of them in the ribs.
He jumps up and spins, turning to face us.
He’s the size of a damn truck. His muscles are massive but stocky, and tribal tattoos cover his body, but he has a kind face beneath all the alarming stature.
He puts out his hand for me to shake. “Hurricane, I presume?” he states.
“Yeah, this is my Old Lady, Kaia. Thought we’d pop in seein’ as we’re here on vacation.”
He chuckles, turning to Kaia. “How long since you’ve been back home?”
She lets out a wistful sigh. “A really long time.”
“Glad you could pop by. I’m Mauka, the club’s VP, and you’ve already met my Old Lady, Malia. This here is Koa. He’s the Sergeant at Arms. Next, we have Wipeout, who’s our resident surfer and tech genius. Then we have our enforcer, Chopsticks. I’m assuming you met Haole, the prospect out front?”
I tilt my head. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s good to meet y’all.”
Kaia glances around the clubhouse. “So it’s just you guys, then?”
Mauka chuckles. “We don’t need many brothers or the facilities to recruit more. We don’t get a lot of trouble. We do our thing, keep to ourselves, run our business, and it seems to work well for us.”
“And what is your business?” I ask.
The guys all look at Mauka, and he grins. “I’m not at liberty to say. If Pres wants to tell you, he will, but I won’t discuss club business without consent.”
Raising my hands, I smile. “I get you and understand completely.”
“I hear there are some out-of-towners in here?” a deep, bellowing voice calls out.
We turn to see a tall, well-built man who looks like The Rock, if I am honest, walking toward me.
What is it about these Hawaiians? They’re all so fucking big? Puts my muscles to shame!
“Pono?” I ask.
He steps up, towering over me. I’m easily six foot two, so I’d hate to guess how tall this guy is. Pono offers his hand for me to shake. “Hurricane?”
“Thanks for lettin’ us drop by, Pres. It’s always good to call on other chapters and see how they do things.”
Pono nods, dropping my hand from his tight grip. “You want to know what our business is? We have to know we can trust you first. Being Defiance doesn’t automatically gain trust. Trust is earned,” he states.
Makes sense.
I wouldn’t spill my guts to him about everything that happens at The Plantation back home if he were to rock up in the NOLA clubhouse, so it’s all good.
“Fair call. Your business is your business. I’m only here as a fellow president to extend my hand and see if there is anythin’ we can do to help each other out.”
Pono grips my shoulder tightly, squeezing it as his eyes shoot to Mauka. “Matter of fact, there might be something we need to discuss. Let’s head to the Chapel. Aunty, you okay to take care of things out here?”
Malia wraps her arm around Kaia and smiles wide. “Oh, you know us ladies will get up to no good while you boys are talking shop.”
“That’s my girl.” Mauka chuckles before leaning in and kissing Malia’s cheek lightly. She looks at him lovingly as the rest of the guys take off for what I assume is the Chapel. I glance at Kaia, and she smiles at me, letting me know she will be fine while I mingle with the brothers.
I’ve always felt in control.
I command the room.
But right now, I am out of my fucking depth.
I’m in a foreign territory, at another club where I hold no rank, and the weight of that lies heavily on my shoulders.
I am a no one here, and that fact alone is incredibly humbling, and it puts everything into perspective.
While I might be the head honcho in New Orleans, my rank means nothing outside Louisiana.
I need to remember that and keep my personality in check.
For the sake of my club, my Old Lady, and my children—both for the one back home and the one who isn’t born yet.
I recite internally to myself, You are a no one here, Hurricane.