Hot-Blooded (11 page)

“Now that the weed has been harvested and dried, we have a couple weeks of packaging to do. No more sales to street punks. Those betas proved our product is highly marketable, but they don’t turn the profit we need. Wider distributorship is key. It’s time to kiss the little league goodbye and sit at the table with the big boys.”

The three siblings exchanged tentative looks. Just as Kai read her mind, she knew his thoughts too. He was worried about her. Manō didn’t worry about anything except covering his own ass. And maybe his family’s asses. But Kai had a soft spot for her, just as she did for him. A twin thing, Mahina had always said. Keahilani preferred to think of it as an Alana ‘ohana thing.

“Doable?” Keahilani raised a brow and balanced her gaze between her brothers. She was grateful Bane wasn’t around to witness the ugliness they often shouldered to protect him.

Kai heaved a loud sigh. “I guess so.”

Manō nodded once.

After a long moment, Kai said what they always said at the end of a family meeting. “For Mahina.”

Keahilani smiled. “For ‘ohana.”

“For Alana,” Manō added softly.

They grasped shoulders in their sacred circle of three, pressed their heads together and bowed in memory of their beloved mother.

The party broke up, and Manō bailed without another word. Kai stuck around for a few minutes, straightening stuff behind the counter that didn’t need straightening.

“What is it, Kai?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Not really.” She stood beside her brother and pulled his chin up. “And he got what he deserved.” She only hoped none of his buddies would come looking for her. No doubt Manō would watch her back in the coming days, but he couldn’t be with her 24/7. Thank God.

Gazing into the mirror of her brother’s eyes, she saw half of the innocence the two of them once shared. Her half of it died last night. She didn’t mourn it, though. If Mahina had been there, she would’ve told Keahilani not to regret anything.
You can’t change your past no matter how hard you try, so live with it. Embrace it. Respect how it molded you into the person you are now, even if the path you treaded to get here was a little bumpy.

God, she missed her mother sometimes.

Keahilani pushed his shoulder. “Don’t you have an appointment at the police station? Maybe you can talk Ret into meeting you in the evidence room so you can show her your billy club.”

Kai’s frown splintered into a smile that melted the worry from his face. “Shut up, dumb-ass.”

Shaking her head, Keahilani wandered over to the door and flipped the open sign. “I’ll hold down the fort here. You take care of … business.”

Kai waved her off and started toward the back, but then he paused. “What did it feel like?”

She knew what he meant by the question. He wanted to know what it was like to kill a man. She wasn’t sure how to answer.

How could she put into words the high she copped when kissing her gun to that disgusting pig’s head, knowing justice would be served, and she’d be the hero to deliver it? More than that, how could she explain the conflicting combination of rushing adrenaline, the sensation of free falling, and the complete and total control over another human being’s
life
nestled in the palm of her hand? The finality of such a simple decision—pull the trigger or don’t—carried the weight of irrevocable purpose. And absolute authority.

After a few seconds, she met his gaze head on. “It felt powerful.”

Thoughtful, he held her stare for a few seconds, and then slipped out the back door, leaving her alone.

Keahilani busied herself with paperwork and ordering new stock. When she finished those chores, she reached into her bag for a stick of gum, and her hand fumbled over Mahina’s journal. Warmth spread through her as she withdrew the book. With no other work to do until customers came in, she resumed her seat behind the counter and opened the diary to where she’d left off reading.

November 27

I lucked out.
Makuahine
and
Makuakane
went to visit friends tonight, and Palani had other plans, so no one questioned me going to the beach. When I got there, Justin was waiting, spread out on a blanket covering the sand, shirtless. Under the moon I was named after, he was glorious. He sat up and smiled when I came over.

Holding up a cigarette, he asked if I smoked.

I shook my head, and then realized it wasn’t a cigarette. It was hand-rolled.
Pakalolo
? Makuahine and Makuakane would kill me if I tried that.

Justin started to put it away, but I stopped him. I told him to go ahead.

He asked if I ever tried it, and I said no. I dropped my board and sat next to him, shaking. I pretended it was the wind, but the trembling had nothing to do with the chill.

He faced me. The closeness lured me under his spell. He lifted a brow. “Want to?”

I bit my lip. I couldn’t do that. Could I?

He opened his Zippo, thumbed the flint, and lit the joint. After a few puffs, he offered it to me. Not knowing what to expect, I took a drag. Then I choked for about five minutes. Justin laughed, but he also patted my bare back, which was nice. I leaned into him, and he draped his arm around my shoulders. I wanted him to kiss me so bad, but I just stared at the ocean. I’ve never kissed any boy before, let alone a
haole
boy. If my parents ever found out, they’d kill me.

We talked about boring stuff for a while—school (he’s graduating this year), surfing, taking back the beaches. Okay, maybe not boring, but not what I wanted to be talking about. As we passed the joint back and forth, I got woozy and had to lie down. Justin laid beside me. I looked over at him and giggled.

I asked what he put in that stuff. My brain sliced through imaginary waves as the real ones crashed twenty or so feet from us. Zigzagging, ripping, shredding. I lost track of reality, yet when I closed my eyes, my senses absorbed everything. I didn’t need reality. I just needed to feel.

And I did. Wind on my face, grit under my back, ocean in my nose, salt on my tongue, and stars dancing behind my lids. What I thought was real disappeared and transformed into something else. Like my senses hijacked my body and zapped it with an overload of electricity.

When I opened my eyes, Justin was a dark shadow hovering right over me. He stared down. His smile was devious. The mischief in his face shone bold. His hair teased my cheek. I couldn’t resist his silent invitation. I cupped his cheek and did the unthinkable. I kissed a haole.

My world shifted into a different plane from the physical. Here, heated, rushing breath became the wind. Cool hands replaced the sand roughing my spine. A heavy, pine-like scent filled my head. Subtle mint stroked my tongue. And the cutest boy in the universe was kissing me.

Despite how wrong it was, Justin took me to a higher place, and not just because of the drugs—though that probably had something to do with the wild and free feeling.

I’m not sure how long that first kiss went on, but it didn’t matter. Either eternity or only a few seconds would’ve been fine with me. And then more kisses followed between pants and fumbling. The strings of my bikini lay like beached jellyfish tentacles, and my nipples hardened with each brush of wind. But Justin didn’t touch me. He just stared, lowered his mouth as if to suckle, and breathed instead. Then he backed away smiling like he wanted to see my reaction.

I moaned for more and threw my arms around his neck. I arched my back, and cool air hit me down there. Surprised, I parted my legs to see if I was covered. I wasn’t. That’s when his fingers slipped in. I gasped, drew my knees up, and started to tell him to stop, but the easy movement in and out was so gentle, I let it go and rested my legs on the blanket.

Keahilani paused for a moment out of sheer embarrassment. She and Mahina had been best friends who talked about everything, but reading about her mother’s first encounter with her father was more than a little … blush inducing. Still, it was sweet and appropriately awkward. She continued onward, despite the heat in her cheeks.

He called me by my name. He said I was beautiful. He said he wanted to make love to me.

He might as well have asked me to marry him. I’d follow him anywhere on this planet to have him touch me like that again.

His fingers moved a little faster, more eager. I lifted my hips and the pleasure grew even stronger.

I had to stop. He was making me crazy, and I didn’t want to get pregnant. Dazed from the dual highs of drugs and the possibility of sex, I asked him if he wanted to surf.

Justin smoothed the hair away from my face and kissed me. “We are surfing,” he said. He thumbed that spot I sometimes touch when I go to bed and everyone else is asleep. He started out slowly, but sped up. I weakened under him. In seconds, my head lifted from the blanket, the breath left my lips, and a force seized my body down there so hard that I couldn’t get my lungs to work for a few seconds. Blood rushed from my middle to my limbs and head. I got hot all over. The flood of pure perfection seemed to go on for the same eternity the kiss had earlier.

I’ve touched myself there before, but it never ended like this.

Through it all, Justin smiled his wicked smile as if he’d planned it this way. Maybe he had. I didn’t care.

When I found my senses, I dropped a hand and brushed something stiff and warm. I’d forgotten he lost his swimsuit too. Wow, he was big. I’ve never seen one of those before except for some little kids running naked through the yard with their mom chasing after. And those dinky things didn’t look anything like this. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Justin rolled over and went through his bag. He pulled out a rubber and rolled it on. I watched closely, trying to figure out how this was going to work. That thing was way too big to fit into what I had. He stroked it a few times, and it got bigger. Blushing, I covered my face. He peeled my hands down and gave me a reassuring smile.

He pulled me over and told me to sit on his hips, and he’d put it in. Said if I was on top, I could control how fast or slow we went. I never heard of doing it that way. Only with the man on top of the woman. I straddled him, and that sheathed thing poked straight toward the stars. He pushed his hips up, and it rubbed against me. I leaned forward with a giggle. He felt good down there, but I wasn’t sure we could do it after what just happened to me. He seemed to think so.

The moonlight somehow darkened his eyes instead of lightening them. He told me to take it slow. I asked if I could get pregnant doing this. I really didn’t know. Makuahine never told me about any of this stuff. Everything I knew about sex came from my friends, who had never done it, either.

All he said was, “Don’t worry, Mahina.”

I trusted him.

I was still high from the pot and whatever had happened down there a few minutes before, and he felt so good, I couldn’t deny him. I wanted him to enjoy me as much as I had enjoyed him.

Curling my fingers around his length, I watched his face so I could gauge whether I was doing it right. Beads of sweat dotted his skin. His chest shone as each breath darted in and out. Somewhere hidden under the madness consuming my brain, a revelation surfaced: This was like our protests. I was taking the power back from the haole by directing where this went. A
wahine
mastering a white man. The irony made me smile.

I rubbed him against me in small circles. The wetness down there made it a little easier as I pushed the tip in first. He filled the entrance and brought me to the edge of pain, but I didn’t cross the threshold. That part wasn’t so bad. And focusing on his pleased smile helped. I had power over a boy I liked. I eased a little lower, met intense discomfort, and quickly pulled it out.

I told him I couldn’t do it. No way that thing would fit in there. No way.

Suddenly, his finger was back inside, easing up and down, spreading, making it wetter. I was so embarrassed, I could have died. Another finger joined in. A wave of pleasure overtook me and killed my inhibitions. He smiled and said, “Yes, you can.”

Oh boy, was he right. So, I tried again. Slowly.

The head was in. I winced. An inch. Two inches. That terrible pain hit me again, but I tried to push past it.

I kept reminding myself that people love sex. There was no way it could be this bad. Maybe you had to try it a few times before you really caught on. Kind of like surfing.

He pushed in a little deeper. It hurt. Really bad. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong.

I leaned forward and hugged him to cover the gathering tears, and the change of position brought me some relief. Thank goodness.

When his hips rocked, I thought for a moment I might die, but with each thrust, the discomfort drifted away, like the sun slipping over the horizon after a too-hot day.

He stared up at me and brushed the hair out of my face. He asked how I liked it.

I said I liked it fine. I didn’t really, but I thought maybe I could with practice. Then I asked him to kiss me. Because his kisses made everything better.

He curled his fingers around my nape and brought my lips to his. Our breaths and tongues mingled, and pretty soon, I was enjoying it more.

His thrusts sped up, skin flushed, and eyes glazed. When his head pressed into the sand and his lips parted, I knew he was finished. I didn’t feel anything from my end, but it was pretty clear he did.

Scared, elated, unsure, and eager, I hugged him tight. I started to tell him I loved him, but he got up and put his clothes on in a hurry before I could utter the words. He tossed my bikini at me. He said, “I gotta go. I’ll catch you on the beach.”

My heart crashed into my ribs. I was so shocked, I couldn’t even answer. We’d just made love on the shore. He had stolen my first kiss and taken my virginity. I stared at him with my jaw quivering, totally ashamed.

Almost like he was bragging, he said, “You didn’t think this was something serious, did you? Come on, girl. You know better.” A hint of cruelty flashed across his face. Then he gave me his back and trudged up the beach, leaving me high, dry, and fucked in the worst way.