Free The Scam by Janet Evanovich Page B

I’d like to do before we go.”
    “I’m not going to let you blow up anything else,” Kate said. “Or kill anybody.”
    “Don’t worry,” Jake said. “All I have in mind is some friendly persuasion.”
    Kate raised an eyebrow. “Because that worked so well last time?”
    Jake grinned. “I think we’re developing a relationship.”
    —
    Da Grinds & Da Shave Ice was a dive restaurant with a red-dirt parking lot on the Kamehameha Highway near Kahuku. It was a wooden shack with a corrugated metal roof that extended out over a sagging porch and a few picnic tables. Food was served through a takeout window that had a hand-painted, flaking menu board beside it.
    The restaurant was owned by Lono Alika, who was often the only patron besides the occasional ignorant tourists who didn’t know any better and never would because they were always politely served and not harassed in any way. But the locals saw it for what it was—Alika’s front office, a place you didn’t go unless you were summoned, which inevitably meant pain and suffering, or if you sought his help, which also inevitably meant pain and suffering. Everyone on the North Shore knew him but few wanted
him
to know
them.
    Alika sat at his picnic table, eating a plate lunch, when Jake took a seat across from the 350-pound, six-foot-tall, bald-headed Hawaiian. The huge man, who always wore a tank top and board shorts to show off the Polynesian tattoos that covered his arms and legs, looked up from his two scoops of white rice, macaroni salad, teriyaki chicken, and short ribs and regarded Jake with a slow, sleepy gaze.
    “Eh, watchu want, buggah?” Alika said, speaking in Hawaiian pidgin English, the local dialect.
    “I want you to apologize to my friend Harlan Appleton and buy him a new food truck.”
    “Last time you say dat I have my men chase you into da woods, you old fut.”
    “And I put three of your men in the hospital.”
    Alika showed his teeth like a dog, and started to rise from his seat. “I’m gonna give you da dirty lickin’s and put you in da ground.”
    “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Jake calmly wagged a finger at him in warning. “Do you really think I’d be here without backup? You’re in the crosshairs of a sniper right now.” Jake pointed his finger at Alika’s chest.
    Alika looked down and saw a red laser dot over his heart, then looked up into the dense thicket of trees that was alongside the restaurant and that ran up the slope to the mountains beyond. He sat back down, but his face was tomato red with rage.
    “How I know dat’s not just some fool wit’ a laser pointer in da trees?”
    “You don’t. So go ahead and make your move, though you’re so fat and slow, I could probably save my friend a bullet and kill you myself before you cleared the bench.”
    Alika snorted. “Oh, yeah? How you do dat, old man?”
    Jake tipped his head toward Alika’s plate lunch. “I’d shove that fork in your neck and watch you choke to death on your own blood.”
    Jake was relaxed when he spoke, and his general posture conveyed complete confidence in his safety. It clearly unnerved Alika, who swiped his fork off the table.
    “Say what you wanna say,” Alika said. “Tink hard cuz dey be your last words.”
    “First off, Harlan had nothing to do with what happened to your pickup truck. I did that on my own. Secondly, my friend doesn’t owe you anything. He’s already paid his dues on the battlefield so
mokes
like you can enjoy your freedom. So you’re going to show him some respect and back off.”
    “We have dis talk before. If he fool nuff to go back in business, he pays me or he gets real buss’up. Dat’s how it is.”
    “Harlan has a lot of friends on this island from his days in the military,” Jake said. “Whatever happens to him, happens to you. That’s how it is. That’s how it was with your truck.”
    Alika looked down at the laser targeting dot on his chest then back at Jake. “I wanna show you something. Come