Chapter Two
Hogan moved quickly to set things straight while Kai was in the bathroom.
The drop-down electric bed had been lifted to the ceiling after the dirty linens had been stripped, and fresh ones tucked in tight.
He set the washer dryer unit running, as he’d done multiple times in the past week, keeping the space ready, orderly, giving himself a job when the silence got too loud.
Now, with Kai up and moving, they could sit at the dinette like real people instead of patient and caretaker in the bed.
The van was a marvel. Bathroom across from the sliding door, fully equipped galley kitchen pressed against the opposite wall, storage running along the corridor, and at the back beneath the electric drop-down bed, a dinette that could seat four comfortably.
Swing the doors open and the whole place flooded with sun, air, and the kind of Hawaiian view that reminded Hogan there were still things worth saving.
He’d made toast, an omelet that hadn’t burned thanks to the ridiculous stovetop, and set a pot of coffee down just as the bathroom door clicked. Hogan looked up—and stalled.
Kai stepped out barefoot, a pair of running shorts slung low on his hips, shirtless.
His skin was darker than Hogan remembered, tanned deep from years under island sun, and the planes of his chest and shoulders spoke of the swimmer and surfer he’d been.
Black hair, too long, curled damp against his temples.
Brown eyes sharp even under the shadows of exhaustion.
Even covered in bruises in varying degrees of purple and yellow, the man was beautiful to look at.
He’d lost weight, though, and Hogan’s gaze lingered on the dressing taped across his side. The bandage needed changing.
“Sit,” Hogan ordered, already reaching for the med kit. Kai arched a brow but obeyed, dropping onto the bench seat. Hogan crouched, peeled away the old dressing, and swore under his breath at the angry line of staples. “Needs cleaning.”
“You say that like it’s a personal slight against you,” Kai muttered.
“As the doctor and nurse all rolled into one who is caring for you, it is personal,” Hogan shot back.
He worked fast, steady, cleaning the wound site, and blowing on the red skin when Kai flinched, replacing the dressing with fresh gauze.
When he was done, he grabbed a clean t-shirt from the storage cabinet and dropped it in Kai’s lap.
“Wear it before you bleed all over my shiny van.”
Kai smirked, pulling it over his head. “Your van?”
“Temporary custody,” Hogan corrected, sliding into the seat opposite. He poured coffee, set a plate in front of Kai, and arched a brow. “But I am so going to get one of my own. This thing is sweet! Now, eat. Then talk.”
Kai stared at the food like it might bite him. Then he picked up a fork, took a careful bite, and sighed like the omelet had been sent down from heaven. Hogan let himself feel smug about that. He waited until Kai had worked his way through the omelet and a slice of toast before he started in.
“So,” Hogan prompted. “Why the colonel? Why risk your neck when Eli got taken for that evil son of a bitch?”
Kai’s gaze lifted, steady, unreadable. Then he leaned back, coffee cradled between his hands. “Because Eli wasn’t the only one that needed saving that day. I couldn’t let that bastard win—not again. Not when the fucker took my sister.”
Hogan’s brows tugged. “Sister?”
Kai nodded slowly. “Not by blood. By ohana. I grew up in an orphanage and became close with a boy and a girl. We made our own bonds. Me, Kael, and Leilani. She’s the one I mean when I say sister.”
Hogan absorbed that in silence, watching the way Kai’s mouth tightened around the name.
“When Eli was taken, I made sure he got clear,” Kai went on. “Put a bolt through the colonel with my crossbow. My brother—Kael—he saved Leilani and got her out. She’s home now, with her ohana. She is happily married, pregnant with her third. Happy and healthy, but most importantly—safe.”
Hogan shifted, the word catching. “Ohana?”
Kai’s lips curved faintly. “Means family. The kind that doesn’t let you fall. Not ever.”
The air between them thickened. Hogan stared from across the dinette, processing what he had heard, cataloging the stubborn tilt of his jaw. He thought about the week he’d spent spoon-feeding him soup, changing dressings, listening to him breathe just to make sure he still did.
“Sounds like you did what you had to,” Hogan said finally, voice even. Then he leaned back, sipping his coffee. “But that’s not the end of the story, is it?”
Kai’s eyes glinted over the rim of his mug. “No,” he admitted. “Not by a long shot.”
He set the mug down and turned his left arm over, tapping the long scar that ran down his forearm.
“Once they had Eli and me in the car, they were going to take me out before we even got to the airport—which I considered to be very rude—so I leapt from the car. Was left with this cool road rash scar as a cool reminder of what I promised. Eli needed me, and I made damn sure I kept my word. That bolt through the colonel was me keeping it.”
Hogan’s eyes narrowed, following the pale line of scar tissue. “And you’re glad about that?”
“Damn right I am,” Kai said quietly. “Eli’s safe now. Building something that matters. That therapy wing at the Ridge? It’s more than bricks and mortar—it’s a promise kept. It’s giving him a future. And those new therapists are really going to add value to that space.”
Hogan froze, coffee halfway to his mouth. “How the hell do you know about that?”
Kai’s smirk returned, faint and smug. “I make it my business to know things, Ace. You’d be surprised what I keep track of.”
Hogan snorted, but the edge in his gaze sharpened. “One day, you’re going to explain exactly how you know half the shit you do.”
“Maybe,” Kai said, deliberately mysterious. He leaned back, cradling his mug again, eyes glinting with something that was part defiance, part amusement. “But today is not that day.”
****
Kai sat back against the bench seat, mug of coffee warm between his palms. He catalogued his body like he always did after a bad fight—injuries listed and ranked.
His side ached, the staples pulling whenever he moved.
His shoulder and ribs burned where the bruises had settled deep, and his face was still tender from the mottled bruises that had spread across his cheek and jaw.
His left forearm no longer hurt, but the road rash scar was still ugly, red-brown and raw-looking.
He flexed it experimentally. No pain, just memory.
His head was clearer than it had been when he first woke up, though a low throb still lingered like an unwanted echo.
Tired, thin, weak, but alive. For now, that was enough.
The coffee helped. Bitter, strong, too dark by some standards, but it steadied him. The heat in his hands was grounding, and he clung to it while Hogan’s eyes never left him. Kai could feel the weight of that gaze like a hand pressing on his chest.
Hogan, however, didn’t give him the luxury of silence. “If there was a good reason for helping the colonel, then why were you in the wind straight after that?” Hogan asked. “Why not stick around, explain yourself?”
Kai let the words settle. He sipped his coffee, deliberately slow, avoiding Hogan’s stare.
How did he say it? That he was DEA, yes, but also something darker.
That sometimes he was judge, jury, and executioner—alongside men who made their living ending lives for clients rich enough to demand the kind of justice courts couldn’t provide.
That everything they did was investigated, checked, double-checked before a trigger was ever pulled—but in the end, death was still the result.
It wasn’t simple. It wasn’t clean. And he didn’t think it was something Hogan would take lying down.
The truth sat sharp on his tongue, but he swallowed it down. He skirted the edge instead. “Some explanations don’t keep you alive long enough to give them.”
Hogan’s jaw ticked. “You never say what you mean, you know that?” His voice carried frustration, low and sharp. “All smoke and mirrors.”
Kai met his gaze, steady. “Better that than nothing.”
“Kūkae!” Hogan snapped suddenly. The Hawaiian curse word landed hard in the space between them, and both men froze. Hogan’s brows furrowed, surprised at himself, as though the word had slipped past a gate he hadn’t meant to open.
Kai’s chest tightened. He remembered the first time he’d used that word with Hogan, years back, in a half-lit alley when things had been hot and reckless.
Hogan hadn’t known the meaning then, but he’d laughed, pulled Kai closer, and said it like he owned it.
Kai could still feel the scrape of brick against his back, Hogan’s mouth at his throat, his voice muffled when he’d tried out the word himself.
He hadn’t pronounced it right the first time—Kai had corrected him, laughing—and Hogan had repeated it until he got it right.
The memory burned, vivid and sharp, threaded with want.
And now, hearing it from Hogan’s lips again.
.. Was his memory starting to come back?
And if it was, what did that mean for the secrets Kai still held?
The silence stretched. Kai sipped at his coffee again, pretending his hand wasn’t trembling slightly around the mug. Hogan’s eyes flicked to it, catching the tremor, but said nothing.
Kai cleared his throat, voice rough. “I had to leave Wyoming that night. Truth is, I shouldn’t have even been there, but it was life and death. I had to come but I couldn’t stay.”
Hogan’s eyes sharpened. “Whose life?”
“People I love,” Kai answered simply. The words slipped out before he could temper them.
Hogan’s expression shifted, something dark and unfamiliar threading through it. Jealousy. Kai recognized it instantly—and the bastard in him enjoyed it, just a little.
He softened his tone, though. “I know you’ve got more questions, Ace, but I’m tired. And this headache’s starting to build into a real motherfucker.”
Concern flickered across Hogan’s face. His lips pressed into a line before he sighed. “We’ve been here a week,” he muttered at last. “Long enough to make me wonder if we shouldn’t move and what the hell comes next.” He looked away, exhaling through his nose.
Kai set his mug down carefully, pushing it aside as though the space it took up mattered. “Then we don’t stay. I’ve got a place, it’s off-grid and it’s safe. Close enough to help if we need it, far enough and private enough that no one stumbles across us. Somewhere I can heal.”
Hogan arched a brow. “And after you heal? What then?”
Kai’s smile was faint, humorless. “Then we start planning.”
“Planning for what?” Hogan’s tone was dry, but his eyes had sharpened.
Kai leaned forward, forearms on the table, voice low and deliberate. “For protecting the people we love. And maybe—just maybe—for a little revenge.”
The words hung between them, heavy with promise. Hogan studied him, eyes narrowed, searching for the cracks Kai always kept hidden. Kai let him look, knowing he wouldn’t find the whole picture. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But Hogan muttering that curse again—Kai couldn’t stop the thought from circling.
If his memory was bleeding back through the cracks, then everything Kai had tried to protect him from was at risk of coming to light.
And if Hogan remembered the alley, remembered the heat of that first reckless kiss, remembered Kai the way he truly was .
.. then nothing between them would ever be the same again.
Kai straightened, covering his unease with a shrug that hurt more than he let on. “Let’s pretend we’re just van lifers on the trip of a lifetime, prepare what we will need to be off grid for a week, then we’ll head out.”
Hogan smirked faintly but didn’t press. Not yet. But Kai had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long before he did.