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“Yeah, so I've heard stuff about your famiglia,but what does that have to do with us here, now?” Simon asks.
“Are you really that naïve?” I ask incredulously.
“I'll make you a deal,” he says, leaning closer.
I feel butterflies churn in my stomach as I catch his scent. He smells like the ocean and something else that I can't put my finger on.
“What's that?” I'm genuinely curious.
“On this beach, all that doesn't matter. We don't talk about ourfamiglia. I'm just Simon, and you're just Leilani. Does that work for you?” he smiles.
I look at him, but he seems serious. “Who says I'll be back?”
“Oh, you will be, beautiful. I know you love it here,” he says matter-of-factly.
I feel a shiver run up my spine at his statement. “Yeah, we'll see about that, Oliver Twist.” Quickly standing up, I grab my board, immediately heading toward my Jeep.
I hear his deep laugh, but I don't look back.
Chapter 7
Simon
The Dancing Doll's Strip Club is in a part of Honolulu that I've never been to before. We've been sitting at a table in front of the stage for about half an hour. Bruno is at my side drinking a whiskey sour as I take a swig of my beer and a petite girl comes sauntering up in her G-string and stiletto heels. Her skin is a bronze color, and her hair is dyed blond, but I can see she's of Asian descent or perhaps bi-racial. I think it's a shame she's trying to cover her natural hair because she'd be more striking without the dye job. She looks like she's pretty young, and I wonder how old she is, but I don't dwell on it. We're here to see if Victor Mahoe comes in like he always does on Tuesdays. He owns a car dealership the Kalama’s use for money laundering.
As the girl turns around and bends her body forward, trying to entice us, I thought of Leilani surfing yesterday. It was fun pushing her to talk to me. I could see the indecision in her eyes when she first saw me and being able to tell her I owned the spot was worth the price of admission. She was so flustered it was cute. I can tell Leilani isn't much of a people person. I'm not sure if it's because she's shy or maybe it's her famiglia. I imagine being the top criminal organization in a one-thousand-mile radius would keep you distant from most people just on principle. I mean, who do you trust when yourfamigliaeither kills or exploits most of those around them? At least, I assume so. I've heard about her brothers, especially Mano, who is thefamigliaunderboss. Apparently, he is ruthless. I know she'll be back even if she doesn't realize it yet.
Victor Mahoe comes into the club. He's wearing a khaki suit and has a comb-over. His belly is hardly contained by the suit jacket. He takes a seat near us and calls out to the waitress to bring him a boilermaker. The club is nearly empty at four in the afternoon. The next girl that takes the stage is tall and curvy, her outfit barely covers her. Her signature seems to be her cherry red lips that match her hair.
Mahoe whistles. “Take it off, Chantel, and this fifty is yours.”
I roll my eyes and look at Bruno. We're supposed to wait for this guy to head out. If we see the opportunity to grab him, we will. If not, we'll follow him. I have a feeling this is going to be a long wait.
***
The hours go by slowly, Mahoe has been getting rowdier with each dancer and drink. I see a ray of hope when I get back to the table from the loo, and see him swaying up from his table. He watches as he makes his way to the back hallway where I've just been. Bruno motions to me, and I know he's going outside to head for the back exit. I put some bills down on the table and head back down the hallway. I let him go to the loo in peace and wait outside the door. A few minutes later, he comes out, and I grab him by the elbow.
“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” Mahoe slurs.
“I need you to come with me, Mr. Mahoe,” I answer crisply, dragging him out the back door.
“What do you mean?” Mahoe strains to get out of my grasp. When I open the door, Bruno is there with his 9mm.
Mahoe is about to protest until he sees the pistol. His eyes go wide.
“Don't panic, Mr. Mahoe. This will all be over soon, and you can go back to ogling as many strippers as you want,” I tell him.
Bruno settles him into the back of the van as I go to the driver seat. We're taking him to a warehouse not far away so we can question him about the next scheduled delivery of the Kalama funds.
I push Mahoe forward in the metal chair which is in the middle of the room. This warehouse was used for storing merchandise for one of the clothing stores downtown. Mahoe seems to have sobered up quickly. He's secured to the chair by his hands and feet. I tie the ropes as tight as I can so he understands he has no hope of getting up without our help.
“What do you want with me?” Mahoe's voice quivers.
“Tell us when the next drop-off is, and you can go free,” Bruno says as he pulls his knife out of his boot.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he says, looking at both of us.
I keep my distance as Bruno starts the interrogation.
