Prologue
The sweet smell of pineapple, coconut, and hot oil jerked nine-year-old Kana Peleki to a stop in front of the small, brick-fronted restaurant. “Dad?”
A woman bumped into him from behind, then stepped around him with an annoyed sigh.
He didn’t apologize. All he could see was the restaurant. All he could hear was an echo of a deep voice, “My little sous chef. Look, hold the knife this way...”
Kana shook his head hard. No, his father wouldn’t be in that restaurant making Samoan half-moon pies. Wouldn’t be giving that booming laugh and pulling over a stepstool so Kana could help.
Dad was dead. Gone.
Kana leaned against the building and scowled at his feet. Big feet.
“I can’t believe how fast you’re growing.”
Dad had said that too.
Would he even know me now? He’d grown a lot since his father died.
Because of that woman.
Anger roused inside him. Dad had died because the owner of the LA restaurant wanted him, always calling him her “handsome chef” and touching him. But after they’d done the sex stuff, she’d changed and got all mean and called Dad names and hit him, even though he never yelled back or anything.
In the car that night, she’d shouted at Dad and slapped him real hard. The car had gone sideways and—
Kana’s belly lurched, and he put his hand over his mouth. Heat ran over his skin, then cold, like he’d fallen in the icy stream outside Mako’s cabin.
Don’t puke.
He pulled in long breaths and fought off the sickness. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, not like when Dad died. He’d been in foster care, been on the LA streets. He was tough now, not a wimp.
He walked on.
“Hey, Bull. Bull.”
He jumped—because Gabe was yelling at him. Bull’s my name now.
Bull. Frigging good name, right? He puffed up his chest to look bigger. Yeah, by the time he was grown up, he’d be as big as the bull moose that Mako had shot last week. The one that had given Kana—no, Bull—his new name.
He raised his hand to show he’d heard Gabe but didn’t move. Did he want to hang out with his kinda-sorta foster brother—or the other two?
Mako called them a team. A-huh. Bull wasn’t so sure.
Okay, maybe the four of them had fought back against the foster home perv, even though they hardly knew each other. And when Mako said he’d bring them to Alaska and raise them, they’d all agreed. Better than being homeless on the streets, right?
It still didn’t make them no team or a family either.
“C’mon, Bull!” Dark-haired Gabe, a year older than Bull, motioned toward Caz and Hawk who were surrounded by big-ass teens. The pushy jerks weren’t a gang, though. Not here in bumfuck Seward.
Bull didn’t move. Did he want to get in a fight for the other boys in the sarge’s log cabin?
Gabe was okay. Bossier than anything, but he made up good games—and played fair. Made sure they all played fair.
Caz? Yeah, he was okay, too, even if he didn’t speak English so good. When a bird’s nest fell down off a tree, Caz kept the babies alive, getting up early to feed them and everything.
Hawk? Well, Hawk was weird. If anybody looked at him funny, he’d hit them. Bull had some good bruises since the kid hit hard. But he’d sneak bugs and worms to Caz’s baby birds…and then pretend he hadn’t. Why’d he want them to think he was an asshole?
Wondering what they thought of him, Bull waited to see what’d happen down the street.
Trash-talking, the local kids surrounded Caz and Hawk. “City brats. Go back to the Lower 48 where you belong.” The pimple-faced town boy must’ve been around fifteen, same as the other three circling Hawk and Caz.
Bull growled. Hawk was a jerk sometimes, and Caz just a shrimp, but they were all living together. Kinda makes them, like, mine, right?
“Ugly-face, don’cha got nothing to say?” Another teen poked his finger at the scar on Hawk’s face.
Caz slapped the kid’s arm away. “Chinga su madre, hijo de puta!”
The Alaska dumbasses got even madder. They could probably tell that he’d called them nasty names.
Caz had some guts.
Turning a pissed-off red, Hawk lifted his fists. Uh-oh. When he lost it, no one was safe.
As Bull headed toward the group, the fight busted out.
The pimple-faced kid punched Caz right in the face.
Hawk kicked the jerk’s leg, and then all the town kids jumped in.
Like that was fair?
With a yell, Gabe grabbed a bike from the sidewalk and clobbered one teen right off his feet.
“Go, Gabe!” Bull launched himself into the fight and hit a ginger in the side, knocking him onto his ass.
Next to Bull, Hawk pushed the asshole who’d called him ugly-face. Shoving his head into the kid’s chest, Hawk punched him in the gut, right-left-right-left. Getting hit back didn’t slow the crazy hawk down any. Screaming bloody murder, the teen fell over, got up, and ran like a chickenshit.
Cheering, Bull realized he was bouncing on the ginger’s back and had rammed the kid’s face into the pavement. Oh, crap.
The weenie was crying.
“Yeah, scram.” Bull rolled off, and the ginger ran.
Caz was fighting pimple-face and, shit, using one of his knives!
Coming from behind, Gabe bashed the bike into the teen. Bleeding already—go, Caz!—the teen staggered back and ran after his wannabe gang.
Gabe scowled. “Put those knives away before someone sees them.”
Slicker than snot, Caz made the knives disappear.
Bull snorted. If he’d been littler, he’d want knives, too. And Caz could sure work those blades.
“Fighting, huh?” The deep gravelly voice made Bull jump and spin.
Mako stood right behind him. The big-shouldered man used to be in the military and was hard as steel. His blue eyes saw everything.
Fuck.
He’d promised he would keep them till they were grown up. Maybe they shouldn’t’ve got in a fight the first time he brought them to town.
Tensing, Bull backed up until his shoulder was against Gabe’s. Caz was on Gabe’s other side, and after a second, Hawk wiped the blood from his mouth and stood next to Bull.
They’d done okay, Bull decided, against all those bigger kids. Felt kinda good.
Gabe looked Mako straight in the face. “They were picking on Hawk and Caz. That’s not right.”
“No, it’s not.” Mako eyed the street. The teens had disappeared. “Doubt they’ll try it again.”
Bull folded his arms over his chest. “Cuz we won.”
“You did.” The sarge actually grinned. “You’ll do even better when you learn to work together.”
They all looked at each other. Together?
Maybe.
“You got a fat lip, boy.” Mako slapped Hawk’s shoulder. “An ice pack’d help—but winning a fight deserves ice cream.”
They all grinned—even Hawk, although it made his lip bleed more.
A bit later, with a strawberry ice cream cone, Bull sat with the others at a patio table outside. It was a cool town. The sea gulls strutted around at their feet, begging for food and acting like clowns. Big planters had dark blue and yellow flowers matching the colors of the flag hanging overhead from a light pole.