Since donning my Royal Bastards cut, I’d had more eyes on my business than usual. None of my employees wore the cut, and I wanted to keep it that way. The club might take a share now, but I did not want the bullseye on my employees that was now on me. Many of my security were locals who went about their day-to-day lives, while also keeping an eye on my inconspicuous hiding places. Strangers might be able to make their way around big cities unnoticed, but not here. Unlike in the movies, not all “bad guys” came rolling up in a black SUV wearing black outfits and waving guns around so the audience could easily figure out they were up to no good.
But locals? They were better than any high-priced, overpaid security company any day. I paid them what they were worth too, and they always knew they could call on me if they needed anything. I also checked in on many of the elderly, offering home repairs and groceries.
I had standard employees, too. People who did regular inventory counts, cleaned products, and got shipments ready.
The men before me had gang ties, likely scouts. I did not mind them checking out my business or even knowing the ins and outs of the club. I took issue with them entering my warehouse.
I spun thepahoa a?ubetween my two pointer fingers,ignoring the pinch of the blade. The swordfish dagger was one of mine, and I never cleaned it off. I wanted my enemies to see the crimson staining the bone.
“You know, I’ve been doing a lot of research on Japanese folklore recently,” I told them in an easy tone. “And I learned something. The common phrase ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ actually originated in Japan. It’s the names of the Three Wise Monkeys, Mizaru, Kikazaru, and Iwazaru. Did you know that?”
They trembled, none of the four daring to shake their heads. I had a grenade jammed into each of their mouths, the pins attached to a string one of my men held. If one of them jerked or tried to escape their binds, they’d end up pulling the pin on themselves. The lever might be jammed by their mouths, but panic had a tendency to outweigh common sense.
But because I had no intention of dying today if one of them decided to pull somekamikazebullshit on me, all the grenades were duds.
“Then what you likely don’t know is that there’s a fourth monkey, Shizaru. Do any of you want to guess what his name means?” I paused, though I didn’t really expect them to answer. “‘Dono evil’. And I hate to tell you this, boys, but you’ve been very evil today. Let’s start with you,” I pointed the tip of mypahoa a?uat the man furthest on my left. “Who do you work for?”
His dark eyes widened, pleading with me. Unfortunately for him, I was not a telepath.
“No answer? Pity for you.” One of my men stepped forward to pry the thug’s mouth open. I pulled the grenade from between his teeth. Having nowhere else to put it, I balanced the grenade on the shoulder of the bound man to my right. “Hold that for me, will you?Mahalo.”
The thug’s mouth still pried open by my man, I reached inside and pulled out his tongue. A quick swipe of my blade took theappendage. His screaming continued as I carved ??? (Iwazaru) into his chest.
Not wanting to waste any of my product on something as mundane as leaving a message for those who wished to spy on me, I held my hand out behind me. One of my men stepped forward to hand me the nail gun. I placed the amputated tongue to the thug’s forehead, lifted the nail gun, and pulled the trigger.
It might not kill him right away, but it would get the job done.
I went down the line. I repeated the process, asking the next man who he worked for and getting no answer. I took his eyes before using my dagger to etch ?? (Mizaru) into him. He screamed and thrashed so much that the first grenade fell to floor, but by now, I didn’t give a fuck if they knew they were duds. It was harder to nail his eyeballs to his forehead, but eventually I accomplished the task.
The third man’s ears came off next. He tried to talk to me around the grenade gagging him, but I couldn’t understand him so I ignored him. ??? (Kikazaru) was written into his chest and then both ears were nailed to his forehead. I learned my lesson with the eyes and stacked the ears rather than doing them individually.
At the fourth man, I paused. The depiction of the last monkey was often portrayed crossing its arms over its chest or covering its genitals with its hands. By now, he’d figured out that the grenade in his mouth did nothing beyond silencing him. He was thrashing against his binds, but those manacles had been holding prisoners since 1778. The guy wasn’t going anywhere.
I turned to my man behind me who was holding the nail gun for me. “Remove his pants.”
I was feeling rather vindictive today. This break-in had interrupted teatime with Samantha, and that just wasn’t acceptable.
The pealsof innocent laughter rang so loudly through the air that not even the crashing waves could drown them out. The smell of salt and sand warred with the tones of smoked salmon as the sun collided with the horizon.
The club’s property was changing as we grew. After Aloiki’s house had been destroyed by the Bloody Scorpions, Bacon, our SAA, and Holly, his Ol’ Lady, had opened their home to us. “Home” being a loose interpretation of the massive seaside mansion high up on a cliff. The land itself had once belonged to Aloiki’s ancestors, but generation after generation had sold off portions. The shed row barn beside where Aloiki’s house had stood had been under construction for months, with the intention of it serving as our clubhouse as well as the barn. But after the attack on Aloiki’s house, members moved into Bacon’s home to help protect the women. Like me, they’d never moved out.
While Aloiki and I had lived together for years, I never considered the house mine. Maybe it was habit, or maybe I was still holding onto memories of a different home. Either way, I was as homeless as Lu and Aloiki when it had been destroyed.
The room I occupied in Bacon’s house was a large suite with a bedroom/living room combo. It was one of the biggest after the master, but it didn’t have its own bathroom. Aloiki and Lu’s bedroom across the hall was the only guest room with a private bath. I’d been fine with that, until I moved two girls into my room.
The plane ride back to Hawai‘i had been trying. Neither Caroline nor Samantha had ever been on a plane before, and Samantha had clung to me like a koala bear. Her mother hadn’t been much better. I’d eaten it up, cherished it as I held the two of them closeand told them stories of home to distract them. Maybe it was fucked up of me, but I made a deal with myself as I held them on the plane. I would do whatever they needed to feel comfortable while we were in the air, because the moment we landed, I would become their father figure.
Bothof them.
I could have done many things upon bringing them home with me. Given them to Lu and Aloiki to raise, or sought out foster parents that I trusted. Caroline wouldn’t give me her last name, so I still hadn’t hunted down her fucking parents whoknewshe’d been in that foul house. Instead, I took on a fatherly role with Samantha and a mentor role with Caroline. I tried—I really did—to call it a “fatherly role” with Caroline as I did with Samantha, but the word twisted something deep inside me that made me feel perverted.
Maybe it was right.
I did offer them a room of their own next to mine, but their fear of being left alone in such a new and unknown place had me moving them into my bedroom instead. My queen bed had plenty of room for both of them to sleep comfortably, and while the couch wasn’t big enough to fit my tall frame, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make so they felt safe. I would never have moved them into Bacon’s house if I did not trust my club brothers, but they still had a long way to go before they trusted my brothers as much as I did.
What was a little back pain anyway?
Everything was so new to them that they needed help with common things modern society took for granted.