Chapter 8 #2
Lu stiffened on my lap. The last time I’d done a mission for Kahoku, I’d nearly been shot in the head. She didn’t know that specific detail, though now she knew it had been Jameson who’d saved my life. I increased the pressure of my backrub.
“He’ll have to get over it,” I said sternly.
“We’re going to need to talk money soon too,” Tangaloa muttered. “Finding Nishi might be the easy part. Getting her back is going to take resources we don’t yet have.”
“Sometimes clubs absorb their members’ businesses,” Red offered. “Who owns this farm?”
I did not look at Tangaloa as I said, “I do, though technically my sister is also on the deed.”
Red nodded, his eyes shifting like his brain was taking notes. “What about the porn business?”
“That’s me.” Because I’d never taken her name off of the paperwork, Lu was still listed as a business partner.
She’d been with me at the start. It hadn’t felt right to remove her even after she left me.
Once I’d gotten the business out of the red, I continued to put money away for her.
As far as the IRS was concerned, it was all my salary, but it went into an account in her name. “I also own a surf shop.”
“How big? You’re going to need something with high turnaround that you can clean money in.”
I shook my head. “It’s too small. A shack, really. Just a place for the locals to get some supplies through.”
“What about Shakaloha?” Tangaloa asked, looking at me.
My eyebrows went up. “You still shipping through him?”
Tangaloa nodded. “And he’s looking to expand to the Mainland.”
“You run guns through Janko?” Lu asked, her voice aghast. “And here I thought he was one of the few around here who wasn’t corrupted.”
Most of us chuckled. Tangaloa shrugged, the picture of innocence. “It’s a good deal. He gets free security and I get free beer.”
“What is Shakaloha,” Aftermath asked, “and why do I know that name?”
Tangaloa, Lu, Hiro, and I all made the shaka hand signal, holding up our thumb and pinky finger on one hand, before putting our thumb to our mouth and chugging back like we were taking a swig of a longneck. “Howzit!”
Red and Aftermath looked at us like we’d all lost our minds.
“Local brewery,” I explained. “Its owner is a Jamaican named Janko and a friend.”
Red blinked like he was clearing his head. “Well, if he’s already helping you move your guns,” he said to Tangaloa, “it doesn’t hurt to ask him to help you clean your money, too.”
“Still need to have money that needs to be cleaned,” Hiro muttered from under their breath.
As irritating as that statement was, it wasn’t untrue. “I won’t deal in drugs,” I stated openly.
“Many of us don’t,” Aftermath informed me.
Suddenly, Hiro jumped up. “Oh! Oh! Who’s a genius?” They looked pointedly at me and then blinked like they were waiting for my answer.
I looked around, confused. “Me?”
Hiro snorted, “No, dumbass, me.” Then they paused again like they were still waiting for something from me. Finally, Hiro sighed, their shoulders slumping sadly. “Tell me I’m a genius, Aloiki. I’m feeling down today and need praise.” They batted their eyes at me with the plea.
It really would be like kicking a puppy if I refused.
How the fuck did they do that? Lu had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing but I felt her body shake.
Her tight little ass jiggled on my lap, rubbing up against my cock.
If she didn’t stop, she was going to end up bent over the table with me inside her.
This conversation and our audience forgotten.
I let out a long frustrated sigh, because I knew Hiro well enough to know that they would not tell me why they thought they were a genius until I complied. “You’re a genius,” I growled out between gritted teeth.
Their smile could have lit up a disco ball. “Oh, stop,” they waved their hand at me. “You’re going to make me blush, and your girl’s right here!” They cackled. Then turned their computer around to show me the screen. “Look who just showed up at a defunct dry cleaners in Waiks.”
On the laptop screen was live footage of at least four men toting in boxes before dumping the clothing into a massive laundry bin. What was weird was that they were all wearing gloves and medical facemasks. And all were wearing the orange and silver Bloody Scorpions cut.
With limited spacing and planning, we were hard pressed as to where to put the two captured Bloody Scorpions.
Hiro had already taken their pictures and fingerprints to try to narrow down who they were, since neither was carrying a license or identification.
One was a mix between African American and Caucasian while the other looked Mexican.
In the long run, neither the color of their skin nor their ethnicity mattered. They would still bleed the same.
When Tangaloa, Aftermath, Red, and I got to the laundromat, the Bloody Scorpions opened fire without hesitation.
Thanks to Tangaloa’s Boy Scout attitude to always be prepared, he had a spare gun for me to use as my usual method of attack was now useless.
I was going to have to start carrying a gun now. Fuck.
Aftermath took a graze to his shoulder, but otherwise we only had superficial injuries.
The Bloody Scorpions, however, could not say the same.
Three of them lay dead inside the laundromat, one of them fled out the back and was still out there, and two of them were now hogtied while we cleaned out my tack room so we could string them up like butchered pigs.
I was pissed that one got away, but there’d been a lot of bullets flying.
We didn’t notice until it was too late. I had to call an old friend on the force, Kayl Ele, to come help us clean up the mess.
Thankfully no civilians were killed, but some were badly injured.
Red had tackled a woman with a baby stroller, saving her in time from the hail of bullets coming at them.
Kayl, Tangaloa, and I had gone to school together.
The three of us still hung out on occasion, but less so since Kayl had gotten a big promotion last year.
He was now a Sergeant with the Honolulu Narcotics Unit.
And since there was a suspicion of heroin in addition to the dead bodies, who better than a Narco cop to call?
Tangaloa already paid Kayl on the side to keep him and his people away from his guns, so I didn’t think it was a stretch to think we could offer him a little something more to let us walk away with two living Bloody Scorpions.
Upon rolling up onto the scene, Kayl was understandably pissed. Can’t say I was doing much better. My people had been hurt. I had not agreed to join the Royal Bastards to turn my island into a warzone.
But we needed answers before I could make these Bloody Scorpions pay for their crimes against my people. Virgil already had his boat gassed up and ready to go.
Lu was at Mal’s house with the other Ol’ Ladies. She knew what was about to happen. I swore not to keep secrets from her, but that didn’t mean I was going to allow her to witness what was about to happen.
On the off chance these Bloody Scorpions actually knew what happened to Nishi or if she was still alive, I did not want Lu to hear it from them. I would be the one to tell her, while we were naked and I could comfort her as needed.
“We’re going to need to come up with a better place to do something like this,” Tangaloa muttered to me as we watched the others clear out the last of the tack.
I nodded. “Somewhere with a drain.”
“Some equipment wouldn’t hurt either,” Mal said from the other side of Tangaloa. “I brought you what you asked for, but you’re going to need to get your own supplies in the future. Thankfully what you wanted I no longer use with my Little Owl. Otherwise you’d be buying me replacements.”
It was not a shock to either Tangaloa or I that Mal was a sexual Dominant.
The guy oozed power and authority. Also, I’d heard Holly refer to him as ‘Sir’ the night I’d called him to ask if he could watch Kensi and Nadia for the twins.
What did surprise me, though, was that he didn’t use the stereotypical BDSM arsenal with Holly.
If I’d hazarded a guess upon meeting him, I would have said that Mal was one who enjoyed achieving pleasure through some pain.
I never would have guessed him to be a Pleasure Dom.
What we asked for were bondage items and some impact toys, like a whip and flogger. To my shock, Mal said he had to get them from storage. I was more than curious to see what it was that he had in his dungeon if those items were the ones in storage.
We watched as the others attached Mal’s St. Andrew’s cross to a pulley system that was supposed to help lift hay up to the loft. Since the twins lived up in the loft, the system hadn’t been used in a while. Spare hay bales were kept in unused stalls within the shed row barn.
One Bloody Scorpion was currently being strapped to the cross so it could be lifted into the air. He was naked and the cross would be facing downward so he was hanging parallel to the stall floor.
The other Bloody Scorpion was currently squeezed into a tack box with some of the mice the twins kept upstairs to feed their pet snakes. To fit him inside, the twins had had to break both of his arms and dislocate both shoulders, but they were able to close the lid and flip the lock.
“The barn would be a good setup and cover,” I mused, thinking out loud. “But we’d have to get rid of the boarders.”
“Can you afford to?” Tangaloa asked. His question was pure honesty, not an insult.