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“Thanks for lettin’ us drop by, Pres. It’s always good to call on other chapters and see how they do things.”
Pono nods, dropping my hand from his tight grip. “You want to know what our business is? We have to know we can trust you first. Being Defiance doesn’t automatically gain trust. Trust is earned,” he states.
Makes sense.
I wouldn’t spill my guts to him about everything that happens at The Plantation back home if he were to rock up in the NOLA clubhouse, so it’s all good.
“Fair call. Your business is your business. I’m only here as a fellow president to extend my hand and see if there is anythin’ we can do to help each other out.”
Pono grips my shoulder tightly, squeezing it as his eyes shoot to Mauka. “Matter of fact, there might be something we need to discuss. Let’s head to the Chapel. Aunty, you okay to take care of things out here?”
Malia wraps her arm around Kaia and smiles wide. “Oh, you know us ladies will get up to no good while you boys are talking shop.”
“That’s my girl.” Mauka chuckles before leaning in and kissing Malia’s cheek lightly. She looks at him lovingly as the rest of the guys take off for what I assume is the Chapel. I glance at Kaia, and she smiles at me, letting me know she will be fine while I mingle with the brothers.
I’ve always felt in control. I command the room. But right now, I am out of my fucking depth.
I’m in a foreign territory, at another club where I hold no rank, and the weight of that lies heavily on my shoulders. I am a no one here, and that fact alone is incredibly humbling. It puts everything into perspective. While I might be the head honcho in New Orleans, my rank means nothing outside Louisiana. And I need to remember that and keep my personality in check.
For the sake of my club, my Old Lady, and my children.
Both for the one back home and the one who isn’t born yet.
I recite internally to myself, You are a no one here, Hurricane.
CHAPTER 3
HURRICANE
The brothers take their seats around the wooden table with ornate carvings. The thing is a work of art as I stand, my back against the wall. Pono turns to me and gestures for the seat at the end of the table. “Brother Hurricane, take a seat. You are welcome at church anytime.”
I slide in, sitting at the table as requested before Pono bangs his gavel. “Welcome to Oahu, Hurricane. It is our honor to receive you today, and you have come at a time when our club could do with the help of another haole. One who the people of our island don’t know.”
I sit taller, intrigued by his situation. “I’m here on my honeymoon, but if the job isn’t too involved, I’d be willin’ to help however I can.”
Pono glances at Mauka, and he rolls his shoulders. “Thing is, Hurricane, it involves Malia and my daughter, Nalani. We believe she is involved with our rivals, more namely, the son of our rival.”
Grimacing, I let out a heavy exhale. “That shit is never good… who are you at war with?”
Pono scowls, sliding a folder across the table toward me. I place my hand on top to stop the folder from sliding off the end, and he dips his head. “Their information is inside, but they’ve been on the island for as long as we can remember. They do all their business out of Chinatown and call themselves The Ministry. In the folder, you’ll see a dossier on their business dealings and their three main players.”
My lips turn down, wondering what the fuck it is Pono and Mauka exactly want from me regarding this? But my curiosity gets the better of me, and I open the folder to view the pictures of the men, heavily tattooed, each with an upside-down cross on their chests with other tribal shit surrounding that particular tattoo. My eyes widen as I let out a small laugh. “Upside down cross, great start,” I mumble.
“It’s the cross of Saint Peter, but it is speculated that The Ministry is into satanic rituals, and that is the use of their cross. Getting it tattooed on them is their initiation into The Ministry.”
I flick through the pages, looking at the three people.
Jun Liú—head of The Ministry. Seems to run a tight ship and keeps his men under control.
Cheng Xú—second-in-command. The quiet assassin, by the look of it. This guy keeps to himself, but if you want something done, he is the go-to guy who gets shit taken care of. People don’t tend to make it out alive if you cross paths with him.
Park Liú—the only son of Jun and heir to the throne of The Ministry. He’s young, though, and impressionable. Only twenty-one, he has a long way to go to get to a top-ranking level.
Turning the page, I scan the rap sheet to view the shit they dabble in—money laundering, gambling rings, prostitution, and the list goes on and on. These guys do it all. Raising my brow, I glance up, letting out a small chuckle. “And what is it exactly you want me to do that involves assholes like this?”
Mauka places his closed fists on the table, leaning forward, his eyes somber as he rubs at his salt-and-pepper beard. “Our daughter, Nalani, has gotten close to Park. Too close. And we think he is brainwashing her against us or maybe using her to get information on us and what we do.”
“That’s unfortunate, but without me knowin’ what it is you do and what you’re askin’, I don’t know how I can help.”
