Chapter 17 #3
I nodded my appreciation, and then waited patiently as Maisy said goodbye and gave well-wishes to the ten women her parents had been holding captive.
Deep in the Florida Everglades was a commune filled with an anti-government militia.
While their beliefs were quite radicalized, I completely understood the distaste for a government who had no respect for the culture they’d trampled over in their quest to gain mineral, food, and/or land rights.
No apology would ever change what had been done to my people, or the indigenous people of many lands.
The leader of the militia was called Bubba, and while I knew that was not his real name, I respected his choice to not offer it to me.
Just as he only knew me as Ano, which could be either my first name, last name, or pseudonym.
This was the first time I was meeting him in person, though we’d had various dealings over the years.
His people often found buried or hidden treasure in these parts that helped them fund their operation.
The large air boat taking us to the commune held myself, Maisy, our six captives, and Bubba, who was driving.
Maisy kept eyeing the rifle strapped to Bubba’s back, but I did not fret.
He let me keep my weapons after all. In addition to the money I had offered him, I also had gifted him a crate of grenades for allowing us onto his land, something very few outsiders had ever been allowed before. Here, we were the haoles.
Bubba’s people met us to help us unload our cargo. I glared at the man who offered Maisy a hand down off the boat, but did not voice a protest because my hands were full of her bound and gagged father.
Since Maisy could not remember all the last names of her tutors, it took some doing to track them down, including having to question her parents, but we finally got them all.
Multiple times a day, we FaceTimed with Samantha.
Maisy was missing her something awful—I was too—but Maisy had never been away from her daughter like this.
Thankfully Unko Saga was treating Samantha like she was royalty, and was spoiling her rotten.
We got endless pictures each day, including one of Samantha meeting a little boy at the playground.
I was ready to cut the kid’s balls off for touching my daughter before Maisy reminded me that his hadn’t even dropped yet. I was not going to handle puberty well.
Maisy wanted more kids, which I was very open to.
I’d grown up an only child and would love to have a house full of Little Bastards running around.
But with the news of my low sperm count, there was little chance that I would genetically be able to father any children.
We still had other options, including sperm donors or adoption, but we also agreed that that was a conversation for another day when we weren’t plotting her parents’ murders.
I talked to Aloiki a few times, too. Unfortunately, there was no news on Barnacle.
The guy had vanished, including not showing up for his day job.
Mako swore up and down that his cousin wouldn’t just bolt, but there was no evidence to say something else had happened.
Neo had been able to track his bike to Pali Highway, which was notorious for its near-vertical cliffs and sharp turns.
But Barnacle was a local, not some tourist with a rental car and lead foot.
He would know how to drive the Pali without an issue.
Unfortunately, Neo was unable to figure out where Barnacle went after entering the highway, so the current theory was there was an accident and he went over the edge.
The club was still looking, and I would help once I was back.
Bubba’s commune was camouflaged into the swampland by the canopy of the trees, well-placed nets, and fake foliage.
Unless you knew what to look for, it was highly doubtful you would find it.
And given where we were, one did not simply stumble upon it out here.
Additionally, this was also a former government site where they tested biological weapons, and it was still deemed a no-flight zone even though the site had been abandoned since the end of World War II.
Bubba guided us through as Lorna, Carl, and Maisy’s four tutors were dragged behind us by chain leashes attached to collars around their necks.
For good measure, I made sure they all wore the plastic choke collars that I had always thought inhumane on dogs.
It had been four days since Maisy had knocked on her parents’ apartment door, and none of them had been given any food or water.
None of them were looking—or smelling—good.
“Yer sure ya want ta watch?” Bubba asked as he led us up to a large metal shed. It was rounded like an airplane hangar with a moss-like covering on the roof.
I knew the question was not aimed at me, but Maisy. We’d already discussed this, though, and she was adamant about watching.
“Very,” I replied, not bothering to question her decision. If she wanted to walk away or wait outside, all she had to do was say so. She knew damn well that she did not have to hold back her thoughts or feelings with me.
Lorna tripped and stumbled, falling onto her bound hands and knees. But the man holding her leash did not even stop, simply pulling her along as she struggled to get back to her feet or risk choking.
Honestly, choking might have been the better way to go, in my opinion.
Inside the shed, there was a loud, low hum, like the constant surge of electricity.
It echoed off the metal walls, making the building seem alive.
Lights were flipped on, reflecting off the large mirror that took up the entirety of the wall in front of us.
In the reflection, I saw Maisy’s mom finally get back to her feet.
She was so weak and dehydrated that it took several tries.
Unfortunately for her, we were about to climb some stairs.
Metal creaked as we climbed, Bubba in the lead and then Maisy, myself, and each man leading a captive on a leash.
Other than Maisy’s presence, I wasn’t even sure if the tutors knew why they’d been kidnapped.
I was very open with all of them that this was a one-way trip for them.
They’d stopped fighting, though, after I started cutting off fingers and toes with rusty sheers I found in an alleyway of New York City.
I helped Maisy up onto the metal mezzanine that looked down onto a glass top of a giant beehive.
The room below was huge, filled up the wall, floor, and even parts of the glass ceiling with comb.
Holes in the outside wall allowed the bees entry and exit to forage, with hundreds of thousands of bees left behind to tend to the hive.
I was not allergic to bees, nor did I have a fear of them.
But overlooking a giant colony like the one currently below us was terrifying.
It made me question the validity of the glass panes that stood between us and the thousands, maybe even millions, of stingers below.
We were literally walking over the center of a giant hive of death and honey.
“African killer bees,” Bubba said to all of us as a whole.
“My lady has a fascination with them. Wanna know sometin interestin’?
They didn’t git their name from being more venomous than any other honeybee.
They got it from being so vindictive and ruthless that they have tracked attackers for miles and will sting ya so many times that the amount of stings kill ya.
‘cause once they start, they don’t stop.
Not even when you’re dead. They’ll die stingin’ yer corpse, and then they turn your husk into part of their colony. ”
Gags, chains, collars, and zip ties started to be removed from the six captives.
I took hold of Maisy’s hand and led her over to the wall behind Bubba.
We could still see and hear, but she was no longer close to the trapdoor.
Once the captives were free of their binds, the six of Bubba’s men who had led them up went back down the stairs.
All but one who remained guarding the top of the steps with a wicked-looking machete.
Lorna, Carl, and Maisy’s fucked up tutors were either too weak or too scared to move.
They likely were still trying to figure out what was going on.
Too bad for them that I didn’t feel like making a clichéd monologue about why they were about to die.
Whatever god they believed in could tell them before sending them into the fiery pits of Mordor for all I cared.
Bubba picked up a yellow controller, like the start/stop button for a conveyer belt. I had something similar at one of my warehouses that used to be a bottling factory. He handed it to Maisy, and instructed her which of the three buttons to press.
When she was ready, Maisy hit the button, and the metal floor beneath the six dropped away.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. The floor opened up, swallowing them whole like a giant maw, and then immediately snapped back.
I didn’t see any bees escape, though they were crafty buggers that could sneak in and out of places very easily.
But at least there wasn’t a swarm of them up here like what was attacking Maisy’s parents and tutors.
I felt kind of bad for the bees as we leaned over the railing to look as the six of them ran or tried to curl into a fetal position to protect themselves.
The weight of their drop had destroyed some of the hive, and if any of them had landed on bees or eggs, no doubt they hadn’t survived.
When Bubba had made this suggestion, I hadn’t thought of the harm dropping six grown adults into an active beehive would do to the colony.
I didn’t know if there was a way to make it up to the bees, and would have to ask Bubba’s wahine before we left.
Maisy’s grip on the railing tightened until her knuckles turned white. But she did not look away, barely even blinked. Her parents were the first to fall of the six, which made sense since they were the most malnourished and dehydrated.
I didn’t time it. We could have been there two minutes, two hours, or two days. I would not be the first to move, nor would I rush Maisy. This was her revenge, and we would stay until she was ready.
All I could do was walk up behind her, press myself around her, and hold her as a reminder that I was never letting go.
Maisy did not cry. She did not hold a vigil or say any prayers over the corpses of her parents that lay like rigid statues, their faces permanently warped in pain.
We had to have been in the shed a while because someone came up to offer us chairs or to bring us down to the main floor where she could watch through the mirror that could be turned into a monitoring window.
Maisy declined it all, remaining exactly where she was, until randomly she announced she was ready to leave.
They’d been dead for hours at that point.
I did not question her. Just took her hand and guided her down the stairs. We headed outside where we both paused to look up at the starry sky, undiluted by light pollution.
Maisy closed her eyes, face tipped up to the moon, and let out a long, deep breath.
“I feel like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted off my shoulders.
I feel like I’m finally free. My past can’t come back to haunt me, can’t reach forward and touch me.
You know the truth and you love me in spite of it. ”
“I love you. Period. Full stop. There’s no disclaimers, no defining factors. Just you, Maisy. That’s all I need. All I will ever need.”
She blinked her eyes open and turned to face me. “I love you, too. You’re the best part of me, Tangaloa. I’m honored to be your Ol’ Lady.”
Smiling, I bent down to kiss her before pulling her into my arms.
“What now?” she asked, face turned against my chest. “We can’t leave here in the middle of the night, right?”
“Bubba said he’s got a room for us. In the morning, he’ll take us back to civilization, and we’ll catch a ride back home. But I did have a thought.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I squeezed her shoulders. “Yeah. What if we only stop home long enough to pick up our daughter before we catch another flight out?”
Maisy pulled her head back enough to be able to look up at me. In the moonlight, I saw her face scrunch in confusion. “And go where?”
“Well, I believe I promised you dumplings. What better place to get them than in China?”
She stared up at me. “You’re serious?”
“Oh, I never joke about dumplings,” I deadpanned.
Excitement lit up her eyes in the darkness. “I’ve never had dumplings before.”
“I know.” Ducking my head, I kissed her forehead. “And it would be my absolute honor to get them for you.”
Maisy laughed and squeezed my ribs tightly. “Let’s do it! But on one condition.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“On the plane home, we finish that conversation about making Samantha an older sister.”
I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever smiled so widely in my life.
Contentment settled over me, and for the first time in such a long time, I realized how complete I felt.
I was Tangaloa Ano. Kānaka Maoli, Royal Bastard, arms dealer of both illegal and legal weapons, murderer, warrior…
and now father and soon-to-be kāne, husband.
I was no longer floundering out at sea. I’d found my anchor.