Property of Sugar (Kings of Anarchy MC: Hawaii #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

KALANI

“Thank you for doing this! You really saved my ass,” Everly said as she came over to hug me.

“Don’t thank me. I’m only doing this because I need the money,” I said flatly. Dressing up like a mermaid and interacting with a pool full of six-year-olds wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day off. But I needed the money more than I wanted an afternoon to myself.

“You’re still saving my ass. Doesn’t matter why you’re doing it,” she said. “Follow me. I’ll show you where we’re changing and getting ready. You have the blue tail and wig. There’s waterproof makeup in the bathroom if you need to cover any tattoos or scars. Let me know if you need anything.”

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting on the steps of the pool, partially submerged in water, staring at my blue tailfins moving with the water.

At least it was somewhat cloudy, so I wasn’t frying in the sun while I waited for the party to begin.

And then it did. The birthday girl’s mother, Ashley, opened the sliding glass door and released a gaggle of sticky-handed children.

“Mermaids!” several girls squealed, followed by the sounds of little bodies splashing into the pool.

I stayed back and let Everly and Kala take the lead. They knew what they were doing, and I wasn’t comfortable around young children. I didn’t know much about them and didn’t know how to talk to them. So, I stayed by the steps, smiling and waving.

I thought my strategy was working brilliantly, until a timid little voice said, “Hi.”

I looked to my side to find the birthday girl, Hannah, holding on to the side of the pool as she watched her friends enjoy her party. “Hello,” I said. “Do you want to swim with your friends?”

She glanced at the group in the center of the pool and shook her head.

“You don’t want to?” I asked carefully.

“No,” she said softly.

I don’t know what it was, maybe I recognized a familiar sadness in her eyes, but I felt compelled to ask, “Why?”

“I can’t get my hair wet. I have to stay pretty for pictures. That’s what Mommy and Uncle Matthew said.”

“For your birthday pictures,” I said knowingly.

“I don’t like taking pictures,” she said.

“Me either,” I agreed and shot a glare at her mother. Ashley Mitchell seemed like the kind of woman who wouldn’t let her child have any fun so the pictures looked good for social media. What a cunt.

“You had to take birthday pictures, too?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think most kids do.”

“That’s what Uncle Matthew said,” she said quietly and slightly curled into herself.

My hackles rose. Something wasn’t right. I knew it, and I did not hesitate to press forward. “When did Uncle Matthew tell you that?”

“When he was taking pictures.”

“Today?”

She nodded. “Before I could have cake.”

“Can you play now? Since you’ve already had your pictures?” I asked, once again shooting a glare toward her mother.

“Uncle Matthew wants to take more pictures later.”

I couldn’t let it go. I knew I was walking myself into a situation I was not in a place to mentally handle, but I kept going.

“Do you want to sit with me on the steps?” I asked and motioned for her to come closer. “I’m not supposed to get my hair wet either.”

She didn’t answer me right away, but she slowly made her way over to me. We sat together in silence for several moments while I desperately tried to think of what to say.

“Why don’t you like birthday pictures?” she asked.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I guess they’re just boring,” I said, opting for a generic answer instead of revisiting the painful truth—I didn’t have any birthday pictures of me after my mother died.

“Hannah!” Ashley snapped as she briskly walked toward us. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“She’s been sitting here with me since she got in the pool,” I told her with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“It’s time to open presents. Everyone is waiting for you,” she hissed.

I turned and looked at the group of children still wildly splashing in the center of the pool. “Well, if it’s time to open presents, it’s time to open presents,” I said loudly and clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention.

Ashley briefly narrowed her eyes in anger before she forced a smile and turned to face the crowd.

“Why does she get to open presents twice?” a girl asked petulantly.

“Pictures,” Ashley said. “It’s time for Hannah’s pictures. Please, continue enjoying the pool. My apologies for the confusion.”

At the time, I didn’t know what came over me. Without an ounce of consideration, I reached over and scooped Hannah into my lap. “We’re ready,” I said cheerfully. “Where’s the camera?”

Ashley tried to mask her genuine reactions behind a broad smile, but I saw them—the irritation, the anger, the hate. “Just a minute,” she gritted out and stomped away.

“You made Mommy mad,” Hannah whispered.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “But she’s mad at me, not you.”

“She’s always mad at me.”

“Why?”

Hannah shook her head and visibly shrunk in my lap.

“Does she yell at you?” What in the hell was I thinking?

Hannah nodded.

“What does she yell about?”

“Pictures. And Uncle Matthew.”

Before I could ask her anything else, Ashley returned with a man holding a basic point-and-shoot camera.

“You must be the photographer,” I said. “Where would you like us?”

The man turned to Ashley as his forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Photographer? What the fuck are you telling people?”

Ashley’s face heated with embarrassment. “This is my brother, Matthew. He’s not a professional, but he’s good with a camera, so he’s acting as our event photographer.”

“Ah,” I said, as if I understood. I did, but not in the way she thought.

She wanted me to think he was doing her a favor.

He might’ve been, but she was also full of shit.

I didn’t believe for one second that a woman who could afford to live in a mansion in Hilo and hire mermaids for her daughter’s pool party would ask her brother to photograph the party with a fifty-dollar digital camera.

“Are we good right here? Or do you want us to move?”

Ashley elbowed her brother. “Oh, uh, you’re good right there. Perfect lighting.”

He was full of shit too. The lighting was awful for portraits.

I wasn’t a photographer, but I’d seen enough photos in my life to know overcast skies and cloudy backgrounds weren’t the top choices.

But I kept my mouth shut and went along with whatever charade they were up to.

Because I wanted to know more about Uncle Matthew.

If he was anything like my Uncle Chet, he was going to be a dead man.