Those rounded globes tempting him like forbidden fruit every time she pulled a glass down from the cupboard or reached for the remote control or did a stretching routine in the middle of the front room because she was obviously trying to drive him crazy. And it was working. On Sundays, he found himself having to cram his cock into his fist three or four times a day.
No, it definitely did not feel like Han was winning this war.
So he was almost grateful one Monday in June when he woke up of his own accord without a knock on the door.
And instantly suspicious.
He didn’t make the same mistake as last time. When he didn’t find her in the penthouse’s main room, he went to her bedroom to see if she was there.
Her door stood open, and he found her bed made with military precision just like the last time.
He pulled out his phone and texted Chen and Yaron. One word and a question mark:
Jasmine?
CHEN: Got her. She started that new camp job today and wanted to get there early.
Han hesitated but had to ask…
What is she wearing?
CHEN: Camp t-shirt. She got a whole bunch of them at orientation yesterday.
Han went over to the closet, and sure enough, there were a bunch of t-shirts with PACIFIC OAHU SURF CAMP printed across the front. There were short-sleeved surf suits as well, folded in a neat stack and placed on one of the wired shelves. Han thought about taking these too but then decided against it.
He didn’t know how much more of Jasmine’s purposefully erotic begging he could take without throwing her down on the floor, and this was the only way to make it stop without letting Jasmine think that she’d won their small-scale war.
Besides, he had bigger concerns than the surfer girl. The next part of his plan to replace the 24K in Oahu would need to be executed soon, and it required his full attention.
So he’d let Jasmine have her new wardrobe. For now.
The Fourth of July holiday found him and his men not partying like most others on the island but down at a warehouse next to the Honolulu Harbor docks, checking and weighing the first shipment of product for the Golden Circle.
Everything went according to plan. And Kukui, the main mahi’ai or farmer who had been chosen to represent all the growers in the Golden Circle deal, congratulated him on the efficiency of his operation.
“K Diamond never showed up until right before the buyer, so we had to do all the quality checks at the same time. And if something was off, we couldn’t just quietly correct it. K Diamond yelled at us because he always wanted to look like the big man in front of the buyers.”
Kukui shook his head with not so fond memories of the snakehead he’d happily parted with back in April when Han proposed cutting him out of the Golden Circle deal. “I appreciate you doing this right and respectfully.”
However, Kukui’s happiness over Han’s much earlier quality check had faded by the time the sun set over the docks.
“Are you sure your guy is coming?” the mahi’ai asked as they stood waiting outside the cargo container with a confirmed half-ton of marijuana to ship underneath his collective’s usual crops to Taiwan.
Kukui had the same laidback attitude that Hawaiians were renowned for, but he looked worried. And with good reason. Han had convinced the local growers to cut all ties with the 24K, using this deal as a starting point for what he’d assured him would become a very lucrative relationship.
However, Lam Yibo was over twenty minutes late for the cash money hand-off part of the million-dollar deal. Han pulled out his phone to text a few question marks.
Lam’s answer came back immediately.
LAM: “Sorry, last-minute replacement. Just found out myself.”
Han frowned at the message. Of course, it was necessary to be vague when they risked using text messages to communicate about deals. But what the hell did he mean?
The answer to that question pulled up in a Lamborghini in front of the warehouse just a few minutes later.
Han blanked his face, throwing on a mask of neutrality as soon as the car’s driver and passenger stepped out. But the farmer beside him stiffened.
“What’s K Diamond doing here? I thought we cut him out of this deal,” he whispered to Han as the two men approached. “And who’s that guy he’s with…you know, he kind of looks like you.”
Han didn’t answer. He was too shocked to respond. The ghost of his father was walking toward him.
So it was left to that ghost to introduce himself to the grower.
“Hello,” he said, flashing a smile at Han before bowing to the grower. “I’m Delun Han, Zhiwei Han’s brother.”
19
JAZZ
However great I thought working at the Pacific Oahu Surf Camp would be, it was even better in reality. I made good, steady money, and I got to teach the same kids to surf from dawn until sunset, three days a week.
