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So, he initiated their final separation by making her think he cheated. The ultimate betrayal. He hadn’t, not really, but despite her indifferent act, Trish was jealous and her natural inclination was to suspect him of wrongdoing. All he had done was keep silent, choosing to say nothing at all. He never lied to her…he just let her believe the worst.

  Even though it had happened once before, their parting had been extra ugly this time. Trish threw down her ultimatum and he refused to go for it.

  It’s them or me, Dax. Or we’re done.

  It was the easiest way out. He let her think that he wouldn’t leave the club or the whores for her and she couldn’t see raising a family while he was still part of an outlaw motorcycle crew. This time when she left, it was for good. And he knew it.

  He told himself it was for the best. Dax cut her by making her cut him. It wasn’t as hard to let Trish go as he had expected. After she left, Trish didn’t call, didn’t text. She was just…gone. Word was, she had moved to the east coast. He heard she was with a square now, another doctor, and they were expecting a baby.

  No thanks. That still ain’t me, darlin’. Never will be.

  Dax couldn’t help but feel that he had dodged a bullet and so had his potential kid. I’m not fit to be anyone’s father. He and Trish had been through so much together that he had expected her absence to leave a deep chasm in his life. Oddly, it didn’t. It was more like taking a few extra shovelfuls of dirt out of an ever-widening hole.

  Begrudgingly, Dax tried to feel happy for her. He couldn’t deny that this life just didn’t pair well with Trish’s talents and her aspirations. They weren’t the same kids they had been when they met in detention that fateful day just before Dax dropped out of school. Even though the fates had led her back to him, there was no way their stars were going to align. Yep, Dax knew that it was time to move on, but he was fundamentally changed and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  His experiences played back in his mind, and he was powerless to stop them. Dax rolled up some skunky chronic tight, in his signature twist. He was suddenly desperate for a deep inhale—another effective method of dulling the memories. Instead of taking him to happier times though, this time, his mind wandered further down bad memory lane.

  Wince had been so angry the day they discovered the stowaway had taken off. He blamed Dax and he made no secret of his resentment. Things came to blows. Wince sucker punched Dax, splitting his lip, before Dax knocked him out cold, breaking the kid’s nose in the process. Following the emotional explosion that occurred after Dax found Rhiannon gone, Dax and the grunt settled into a mutual kind of funk. Dax offered Wince some vintage whiskey and they drank in silence, the kid making an odd wheezing sound each time he swallowed, thanks to the packing in his nostrils. By the end of the night, things were all good.

  They never discussed the incident. Perhaps both men were loath to admit the source of their mutual frustration. After some ass kissing on Wince’s part, he and Dax were closer than they had been before, in a brotherly sort of way. When he couldn’t help thinking about it, Dax supposed it was because they shared a common loss. Loss had a way of bringing people together. Dax knew that the kid had fancied himself in love with the stowaway. Although he tried to deny his feelings, Dax knew he had been falling for her too. When the stowaway left, it felt like a betrayal, and feeling abandoned was not something Dax dealt well with.

  He never had.

  A soft, rustling sound distracted Dax from his reverie. He looked up at the young girl, the groupie, whom he had invited back to his bunk for a quick suck and go.

  Fuck, forgot she was even here.

  The girl’s eyes held a look of determination as she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. She thrust her impressive chest out and smiled tentatively before reaching to unhook her bra. Tits were real. Nice. But…Dax put up one hand, signaling her to stop. He shook his head and sighed. He watched as her eyes reflected shock, dismay, and finally embarrassment.

  “You should go, kid. There’s nothing for you here.”

  Dax referred to more than just his bunk tonight, he meant for good and he hoped she understood the meaning he was trying to convey. He had no desire to watch another fresh-faced little sweetheart be stripped of her innocence and jaded by her experiences with the club.

  ***

  As he turned away, Alanna felt rage encompassing her heart at his dismissive attitude. How dare he?! She was hot-she knew she was! Guys hit on her all the time, some of them practically begged! If Dax gave her a chance, she knew that she could prove herself to be worthy of the place of honor, at his side. Still, she knew better than to argue with the man. Humiliated, she retrieved her shirt from the floor and chanced a peek at the man. He stuck the joint he had rolled behind his ear and stood up, brushing by her as she jerked her top on and began hastily doing up the buttons. He didn’t even look at her, which enraged her all the more.

  “Pull the door shut on your way out, darlin’,” he said, brushing by her as he exited the room.

  The hairs on Alanna’s arm stood up at the briefest of contact, making her nipples harden. Shamed by her own arousal, she grabbed her bag and yanked the door closed.

  This is not over, Dax Jamison, she seethed. Nobody throws me away!

  Chapter Two

  “Bottom line is that we need the port. The Natives are hurting for cash. Weed just doesn’t produce the same kind of green as it used to before it went legal. Once we secure the containers we’ll be able to move our product.” Hawk reported. “We need to send out some guys to help coordinate the first shipment of our guns through the port—-make sure the Natives are on board and that this new owner will sign on. We need the shipping company. Without that, the deal is dead in the water.”

  Hey, it was a trip to Hawaii but it wasn’t going to be a vacation. The Natives were affiliates, but they were pretty inclusive and they certainly weren’t known for doing favors. They wouldn’t take kindly to interference without the right kind of introduction to the arrangement. A massive increase in cash flow would get their attention. From what Dax had learned, Hawk and Crow had pretty significant ties to two of the original Natives—from their time in Nam. Dax had never learned how Hawk made connections with a group of international gun suppliers, but he was the only guy the Russians trusted to handle their business stateside. There was no way the club president could leave Darling, not with such a big deal hanging.

  “You’re talking about a pretty dangerous deal,” Dax said, looking around the table. The newer faces looked excited, while the originals all displayed some variation of the same guarded expression.

  It was. For as long as he had been involved in the club, the Phantoms had never gotten in bed with the drug runners before. Dax was a little surprised at Hawk’s decision, but the pressure for additional cash was probably starting to gain influence with him. Hawk was getting on in years. He was tired. Dax knew the man was ready for greener pastures. Hawk had more than put in his dues. They needed this connection. The new grunts were excited; no doubt they figured they would be relaxing on the beach with tropical drinks and bikini girls aplenty.

  Little did they know…

  A round of “ayes” preceded the heavy crack of the gavel. Hawk met Dax’s eyes and he shrugged. Hawaii it was. Maybe a change of scenery would do him some good—get him out of the rut he was in.

  “Dax, you’re taking the lead on this one. Take Wince and a few of the other grunts. My guy will set you up with loaner bikes when you get there.”

  Dax nodded at the eager faces, his lack of affect sobering them immediately. “Just remember, this ain’t no vacation.”

  Chapter Three

  All was quiet in the small cottage. It was dark, save for one lone candle that flickered in the warm and gentle breeze. There were hundreds of stars canvassed against the inky black sky and the air was heavy with the scent of plumeria. It was just the kind of night Rhee loved. Feeling dreamy and relaxed, she stared into the black expanse dotted with brilliant
points of light and relished the quiet. It had been a long time, years really, since her nights had passed without some kind of interruption. Shooting a glance at the closed door down the hall, she pushed the unwarranted feeling of loneliness from her heart. She was not alone and she would never be alone again. At that thought, her heart felt a little lighter and she was able to doze.

  The morning dawned bright and early as Rhee went through the motions of her daily routine. She had somehow adjusted to functioning on less sleep than even she had ever thought possible. Years of night terrors and insomnia had perhaps prepared her for her new role. She was tired, yes, but then again, she was always tired these days. It was a different kind of tired. This new fatigue was born of a primal instinct that compelled her to act with a fierce passion, rather than the kind of exhaustion that resulted from fear.

  Smiling, Rhee reflected on her first experiences on the island, before things had become slightly more complicated. At first, she had spent every waking moment exploring the island, as she adjusted to her new name and her new identity. She shortened Sabrina because she just wasn’t used to using a full name. Luckily, “Rina” was so close to her former nickname that it wasn’t difficult to make the transition. A new life. A new identity. But, the same, ever-present mystery hung perpetually over her head, dampening her spirits like a tiny raincloud.

  Where are you, Mickey?

  Even though she had her own terrifying situation to deal with, Rhee focused on tracking her sister at first. She suspected Mickey was somewhere on the island, given the rich tan she had been sporting in one of the encrypted photos Wince uncovered. When she viewed that photo, Rhee had suddenly recalled a favorite childhood memory she and Mickey shared. They had been watching Dirty Dancing, giggling over Patrick Swayze’s hard body. Mickey had been transfixed by the older sister-what was her name?—and her bizarre rendition of a Hawaiian song and hula dance. Since that day, Mickey had harbored a secret desire to go there, to this very island. Rhee had forgotten all about Mickey’s childhood dream-until she saw the photo and noticed the tan lines on her sister’s back and the sun-kissed streaks in her hair.

  She had to get to the island to follow up on her hunch. But, that wasn’t the only reason she ran. Charisma, an ex-porn star friend of Dax’s, was an unlikely but perfect ally in Rhee’s quest to get the hell away from the man who obliviously held her heart in his hands. The sexual tension was bad enough, but to find herself pregnant after her one and only sexual experience was just unfathomable. Dax was practically married. He didn’t want his relationship with his doctor girlfriend compromised, and Rhee was certain he didn’t want to be saddled with child support. Rhee had decided a long time ago that she would never be any man’s burden. With Charisma’s help she disappeared, taking her unborn baby and her pride on a personal mission to find her wayward sister.

  Even though she still had no solid clues regarding Mickey’s current whereabouts, her search for her sister led Rhee to her greatest allies. One of her best leads was a guy who went by the name of “Turtle.” Rhee had literally stumbled across his path her first week on the island. I have to stop making a habit of this, she groaned inwardly, as groceries flew everywhere. Yet, even though she rued her propensity to cross paths with dangerous men, bumping into Turtle outside the local market had been one of Rhee’s more fortuitous meetings since she arrived here.

  The large, intimidating man ran a local street gang but he, and they, had never been anything but courteous and helpful to Rhee. Besides being a total pussycat, in sharp contrast to his fearsome tattoos and large stature, Turtle was well connected and he knew just about everything and everyone that passed through this island—and the other ones. Even though Manali, whom Rhee affectionately regarded as her “landlady parent,” warned her away, Rhee trusted the big man. True to her stubborn nature, she had attended several of the parties at the gang’s beachside clubhouse to try to pick up her sister’s trail.

  Turtle’s boys confirmed that a girl matching Mickey’s description had been seen on the island a mere six months before Rhee arrived. Turtle didn’t have any more information. From that, Rhee was certain her kid sister was alive, but inaccessible—possibly due to the confines of the witness protection program. But, why? What had Mickey ever done that would warrant such deception? According to her new street gang friends, the only thing to do now was to wait until new information surfaced.

  So close and yet so far...

  Chasing Mickey had become so ingrained into Rhee’s psyche that she had forgotten what it was like to just—-be. Every fiber in Rhee’s being ached to follow the trail of crumbs Turtle’s crew had picked up. Well, almost every fiber.

  The salt sea air and the warm climate swirled with the slower pace of the island, lulling her into a rather novel sense of wanting to settle down. It was strange to just stay still after so many months of running and chasing, but her body and her mind needed the rest—so very badly. It felt so wrong to stop, to take time for herself, but Rhee knew that she was going to be forcibly sidelined soon anyway. At least for a little while. So, although she was desperate to find her sister, Rhee found herself giving in to the strong urges compelling her to fix up the little cottage she had rented from Max’s sister, Manali.

  Rhee smiled fondly at the memory of meeting Max moments after she set foot on the island. She had been so anxious, so unsure of herself. Max had been a godsend; he took a chance on her and shuttled her directly to his sister’s place. He called it an “hale.” Rhee was not sure what to expect but ending up in the little beach cottage was a dream come true. The best part was that she wasn’t alone—Manali lived just across the yard.

  Manali was more than happy to have Rhee living in the guesthouse. When her condition became more obvious, her landlady-parent was overjoyed at the prospect of having a child around, to Rhee’s great relief. Max said Manali had always wanted children, but the fates wouldn’t allow it. The comment had seemed odd at first, but Rhee came to understand that the two elder islanders harbored a very old and deep kind of spirituality.

  Being unused to motherly attention, it was hard to accept the woman’s initial overtures. Rhee didn’t want to impose. Following her realization that Manali was just as grateful for her company as Rhee was for Manali’s; the two women had grown close. They shared meals and walks and functioned like a real family, something that Rhee was becoming more and more dependent on, even though her reliance made her nervous.

  Everything I love goes away….

  While she hadn’t yet found Mickey, Rhee had found something else—something she had never anticipated…she found a part of herself that had been lying dormant beneath the emotional walls she had put up. A part that laughed, loved, and enjoyed the present moment, rather than chasing something that was always just out of reach. Rhee was thriving in a way she had never thought possible. It was hard to believe that nearly three whole years had passed since she arrived on the island. So much had changed.

  With her deep tan, sun-streaked hair, and natural inner glow, Rhee was now practically considered a local. She managed to get a job helping out at a local photo studio to further her artistic interests. Her boss was kind of smarmy, but he paid a decent wage. Manali refused to accept proper rent from Rhee, so she pitched in by buying groceries and running errands for her landlady-parent. After a few months, Rhee used her meager savings to buy a laptop and a decent camera.

  Before now, Rhee had never been able to follow her passion. In fact, she had never even known what it was, because her interests were always overshadowed by the traumas of her life. She learned an important lesson here on the island—recognizing the value in doing what made her feel grounded. As it turned out, self-expression became her outlet. Rhee discovered that she had a unique talent for design that involved inserting fanciful elements into digital photographs of ordinary things, to make mundane objects appear surreal. Living a normal life was inspiring, after all she had been through, and to her, mundane was magical.

  Rhee found more
joy volunteering with local youth, giving the less fortunate kids a way to express themselves through art. It would have helped her immensely to have an outlet like that when she was a teen. Somehow, her simple desire to give back to the community turned into an actual charity, and the small-scale auctions she helped with a year ago were now large, island-wide fundraisers held at luxury resort hotels. Big donors came. Someday, Rhee hoped to set up a studio where kids could experience many facets of expression. Computers were expensive, but necessary, so even though she didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of attention, Rhee was getting ready to host a large event next week to raise money.

  It was getting late and a yawn interrupted her reverie. Rhee looked out at the starry sky, suddenly motivated to recite a silent prayer of gratitude for all the support that had come her way over the last few years. The perpetual flicker of Manali’s light in the kitchen window signaled her presence. The older woman had the constitution of an ox, and she liked to keep busy. She was certainly needed often.

  Manali never turned down an opportunity to look after Sirena. The gorgeous little girl with the striking blue eyes and honey-colored hair charmed everyone who crossed her path, and Manali was no different. She was wrapped around Sirena’s little finger and so was Max. They would do anything for the child.

  Yes, Sirena was surrounded by people who loved her, and that was all that mattered, Rhee convinced herself. She shook herself mentally, pushing painful memories of her daughter’s father from her mind. She felt so ashamed and so very alone during her first few weeks on the island. Luckily, she didn’t start showing until her sixth month, but Manali seemed to have a special ability to figure things out on her own. Rhee didn’t even realize the woman knew her secret until she started bringing over hand-knitted booties and special tea. Everyone seemed to know not to ask about the baby’s father…thankfully.