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“Find someone and stake a claim.” Still no emotion as he focuses on a couple at the bar.
“Claim?” I shouldn't be asking. But I can't stop the questions, not when focusing on them dulls the screaming inside my head.
“Ka Hoahanau are no longer in charge. These are my islands.” There's a dark undercurrent in his words, something I know better than to press. Memories of the man tied up and bleeding in his office and all the news reports of missing gang members skip across my brain.
No, I don't need to ask any more questions.
“Mr. Aolani,” a man in another identical, black tux reaches his hand out, “I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting.”
“Mr. Mahelona.” Damien smiles and shakes his hand.
“Ah, so you do recognize the man you outbid for that penthouse right on the coast.”
“I never forget an important face. Especially when he wants something that’s mine.”
The graying man laughs nervously before diving into some boring conversation about business investments.Beside him, a woman in a long, cream gown stares at her nails. I smile at her, but she doesn't say anything. None of the women have. Trophies. Just like me. Another item to brag about in the big men's dick comparing contest.
I drain the rest of my champagne as Damien reaches in his pocket and pulls out a vibrant-blue business card. The color of water in a deep lagoon, it stands out like a sapphire in a sea of black and gold. He hands the man the card as they bid their farewells, same as with the last dozen men.
A few couples dance in the center of the ballroom. Past them, a waiter carrying a tray of drinks strolls out onto the open balcony.
“I need some fresh air.” I squeeze Damien's arm as the couple leaves. I gesture toward the lanai, but he barely notices.
Beside the bar, a man in a pinstripe suit approaches the couple sitting there. Tattoos peek out from his sleeves.
Damien nods toward me, then touches his ear. “I have eyes on him.” He strolls past me, his eyes focused on the tattooed man. “At the bar.”
Shaking my head, I turn the other way, heading out to the balcony. As I step outside, the waiter passes me. I grab a new champagne flute and stroll to the railing.
A gentle breeze ruffles my dress, cooling my arms. Only a few stars dot the sky. In the distance, waves crash against the shore in a soothing melody.I close my eyes, breathing the sensations in and pushing the voices out.
“Mighty nice evening, ain't it, darlin’?”
I open my eyes to find the guy from the gym right beside me. Wearing a fitted, grey suit and nursing an amber drink, I almost don't recognize him from earlier this week except for his thick, southern drawl. My pulse quickens.
Instinctively, my eyes dart inside, searching for Damien.
He's still at the bar, talking with the same three people. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a bright-red card and hands it to the tattooed man.
Red. Like blood. A tingle radiates up my spine, settling under the hot petals around my neck.
“W-what are you doing–”
“Relax, darlin’. I just wanna talk.” He takes a sip of his drink, then leans against the railing. “Now, I ain't a part of all this.” He waves his hand toward the ballroom in a dismissive gesture. “I'm . . . In the gaming industry, if you will. Dominoes. Setting them up all over this great country and keepin’ them standin’. One falls,” he spreads his hands out wide, “and what happens?”
Before I can answer, a waiter strolls by with a tray of crab cakes.
Bryan grabs one, then plops his cup right in the middle of the tray, smashing three of the appetizers. “I'll have another Jack and Coke.”
The waiter gapes at him, blinking a few times.
“I didn't stutter, boy.” He plops the small crab-filled ball in his mouth and turns to me. “Now then, who's the strongest?”
I blink, my face resembling the waiter's from a moment ago.
“I gotta business to run here, little lady. I can't be letting all my cards fall while Cain and Abel duke it out and piss off my resources, hunting down some two-bit dealers they got a beef with from when they was kids. Which one is strongest?”
I blink, turning to the ballroom. Damien's no longer at the bar. Neither is the man in the stripes. My head swims.
