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My stomach rolls, and I’m unsure if that’s because I’m pregnant, because of the cinnamon rolls I have been gormandizing, or because I’m so fucking furious at Hurricane for leaving me here without telling me where he was going or the full details about what he’s doing.
I know it’s club business.
I know because he wouldn’t leave me without saying something if it weren’t. Because he knows, I probably would have reminded him that this is our honeymoon and we’re supposed to be relaxing, not spending it doing dangerous shit. But if the guys here asked him to do something, my husband wouldn’t turn them down, and he obviously hasn’t.
Even with me pressing them, the brothers aren’t opening up to me about where he’s gone, just that he should be back soon.
Malia nudges my shoulder with a warm smile. “He will be fine, sweetheart. I feel it in my soul.”
Letting out a long exhale, my hand instinctively moves to my stomach, and I nod. “I sure hope so.”
Malia’s eyes drop to my hand, and her eyes light up. “You’re pregnant?”
I jerk my head back in shock. “Am I already getting fat?” I tease.
She chuckles, shaking her head. “No, not at all. But a mother can see the signs of an expectant mother in how you support your stomach. How far along are you?”
I let out a mocking laugh. “I only found out when we arrived on the island, so I have no idea.”
Her smile brightens, making the entire room seem brighter. “Well, this is a blessing for us all. Honu was looking over you. Congratulations, sweetheart.”
Honu is the Hawaiian symbol of longevity, safety, good luck, and mana, also known as spiritual energy. It comes in the form of a green sea turtle, and my mind flicks to the statues in the hotel bathroom. “Thank you, that means so much. Finding out about this little one here in my homeland means so much to me.”
Malia places her hand on my shoulder tenderly. “Oahu may be your homeland, Kaia, but New Orleans is your home. You have made a life there. You have family there. Hawaii will always be here to return to when you can.”
I needed to hear those words because I was starting to feel like I needed more time here.
Like a week wasn’t enough.
But there’s time.
We can come back at any time.
I can bring Immy and show her where she’s from, and when I’ve had the little peanut growing inside me, he or she can love this place like I do.
We. Have. Time.
Suddenly, those familiar thunderous footsteps sound behind me, and I snap my head around. Hurricane is striding back inside the clubhouse. Malia stands taller. The other brothers dart their heads around as if searching for someone. But it’s Mauka who rushes toward my husband. “Where is she?” he begs frantically.
Hurricane shakes his head. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, brother. I tried. I pulled her aside. I thought I was gettin’ through to her. She’s scared, and she won’t budge. If I’d pushed too hard, she was gonna out me to Park, and I wasn’t about to go one-on-three in the middle of a sushi train to try to bring her back to you. Especially without knowin’ if they had more men waitin’ outside somewhere. Regretfully, I just couldn’t convince her, no matter what I fuckin’ said.”
Mauka huffs, runs his hands through his salt and pepper hair, and begins pacing.
Malia walks over to Hurricane and pulls him into a tight embrace. “You tried your best. Thanks for helping us.”
Mauka picks up a shot glass from the bar, yelling angrily, and hurls it across the room in frustration, shocking us all. “Fuuuck!” he growls, but it’s Malia who walks over and places her hand on his back to calm him down.
“Hey, you listen to me. We are going to get our girl back,” she states.
He pants through his nose harshly as he pulls her into an embrace, and I glance at Hurricane, still unsure what exactly is going on.
Mauka holds Malia tight to him. “She’s my little girl. I can’t lose her to those assholes. Knowing I could have done something to prevent this, it’s killing me!”
Hurricane and I both look at him as Pono slaps his back. “There’s nothing you could have done, brother. Park has inserted himself into her life for a reason. He knew she was his way to get at us.”
“I should have warned her. I was too relaxed with her. I let her get away with too much. She’s my baby, and I never warned her that men could manipulate her. I never thought she would be so damn stupid.”
I’m catching on a little and interrupt, asking, “So, is your daughter hanging out with the wrong crowd?” I ask, trying to catch up.
