She had herself under control now. As long as she didn’t think of damn Dane and his insistence on playing the goat tethered to a pole.
*****
Getting in the Jeep, she found the key in the ignition where Dane had left it. She tamped down on the glob of emotion that expanded and rose in her throat and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, ever strong and comforting, just like its owner. She pulled the Jeep off the front lawn and headed for the Lucky Parrot.
Clearing her mind as she drove, gaining confidence and resolve, she pulled around the back of the Parrot and parked on the narrow street half on the curb. Not bothering to check out the dining room, she went in the back door and down the stairs to find Acer. After rapping on the door several times she swore out loud and hesitated. Dare she call him?
Instead she went upstairs to check with Tom. Still dressed in a sundress against the heat of the day, she held back and scanned the cold air-conditioned room, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her arms, beginning with their usual booth. She knew the chills were from more than air-conditioning. In her booth sat Tom Jones with another man.
Damn if the other man wasn’t Acer. In disguise as promised. He wore a tweed driver’s cap with salt-and-pepper hair curling from beneath it and a matching moustache. What made her squelch a laugh was the British flag scarf he wore around his neck under a linen jacket as if he were an urbane man of the world. She’d been too used to him with his shaved head and rock band T-shirts to believe the façade. Someone had to tell him his big beefy frame defied the look he was after.
Not that it mattered. As she swept her eyes over the crowd, she noticed a dearth of federal agents in the place tonight. Either that or she was losing her touch for distinguishing them from the usual tourists. At least she knew who the Parrot regulars were and there were plenty in force.
Tactfully ignoring a few friendly smiles, she sat with Tom and Acer. Tom introduced him as Preston Chambers and she laughed.
“So you discovered their identities.”
“How did you know? Don’t tell me Dane’s intuition conjured up the name.”
“Andrews told us. Have you heard what happened?”
“No. I’ve been eating.” Acer said. His face went from affable smile to serious as a shark in a beat when Shana updated him on the situation, not holding back on the details except her assessment of Dane as the goat on a post. For Tom’s sake.
“We need to figure out where they’ve taken Sassy. Problem is neither Ronnie nor Goodley saw the vehicle the Chambers were driving, let alone where they took off to.”
“One thing is certain, they’re not off island unless they took a private boat,” Acer said. “There’s photos of our Preston and Emeline Chambers on every law enforcement website and bulletin,” Acer said.
“Then where are they?” Shana said. But she wasn’t expecting an answer. She was thinking about the problem.
“Don’t you think the FBI will find them?” Tom said. “God knows there seem to be more federal agents crawling around the island than legit tourists these days. And they don’t tip well.”
“I’m sure they’re looking, but their priority is the President. Same as all the agents. They want to find the Chambers’ but . . .” Shana didn’t finish. She was reluctant to share her fear in front of Tom. As much as he was a gruff, tough man of the world, he wasn’t law enforcement.
Acer spoke up instead. “You’re worried they’ll catch Sassy in the cross fire.”
“I think she’s not their priority.” She took a breath and shoved the fear and shakiness aside. She would not let her nerves get rattled now. She could do this without Dane, no matter how not right it felt.
“I want to find Sassy and the Chambers first.” She leaned in, aware of the possibility of surveillance, and spoke more quietly. “I don’t think they’ll return to wherever they were staying. In fact, what’s the least likely place anyone would look for them?”
“You have a place in mind?” Acer asked.
Shana flicked a glance at Tom, who was downing a shot of something.
“Yes, I do.” Becoming too aware of her surroundings and the need to get to Sassy first, she didn’t want to say it aloud, in fact, she didn’t even want to share her hunch with Acer. He needed to help Dane, not her.
She was thinking they’d make Sassy take them to where she lived the minute they discovered she wasn’t who they thought she was. And that would have probably happened as soon as they got into the car and Sassy had a chance to talk. She would take them to the Pie Shop. The basement would be perfect.
“You have a look on your face. Like you’re thinking of something,” Acer said. “Let it out. Dane would kill me if I let you go off on your own.”
Tom grunted and downed his drink.
“Right on that,” he said. “I’ll wager twenty hot ones that he shows up here any minute.”
“No,” Shana said. “He’s committed to . . . his assignment.”
Acer said, “You mean playing the target for a pair of assassins. You realize they’re expecting you to go after them. Could be a trap.”
“And you let Dane leave you behind?” Tom said.
“He’s counting on me to find Sassy. I’ll have to take a chance on the trap. Outwit them.”
“Nothing personal, but maybe you should both rely on the FBI to do—” Tom stopped short when she aimed her glare at him.
“To hell with that idea. They don’t care about Sassy. Besides, they’re too slow and they don’t know the island.” Or Sassy.
“And they don’t have me backing them up,” Acer said. “Although in their defense, they do have the NSA. Not too shabby.”
Shana smiled at him and picked up his glass for a sip of whatever the heck it was he was drinking. As the liquid torched a path down her throat she realized it was some kind of white-lightning poison they called whiskey.
“It’s a case of dividing and conquering. But Acer, you need to have Dane’s back. He needs you more than I do. I don’t think the feds care about him either.”
He watched her a beat and if she could read anything into his blank stare it would be skepticism.
“I can stay under the radar.”
“Not in that sundress. But then I suppose you look conspicuous no matter what you wear.” Acer took his glass back, and stared into it for a moment before nodding his head. Then he poured the rest of the healthy dose of every man’s courage down his throat.
“I’ll watch out for Shana,” Tom said.
He poured himself another drink from the bottle on the table and swilled it down. He’d already been half drunk before he’d downed it. She wouldn’t count on Tom Jones except to keep her secrets. She’d need to be sneaky to stay under NSA’s radar.
Her chest tightened at the thought that she could use Ronnie and Sassy’s help in a situation like this—if they hadn’t been the casualties. That bit of bitterness galvanized her energy and she stood.
“Where are you going?” Acer stood.
“I have a hunch.” She pulled out her throwaway cell phone. “Take down this number. I’ll be in touch.”
“You have a cupcake in that bag?”
She laughed at Tom’s puzzled scowl. Cupcake had been Acer’s code word for weapon whenever he sensed a blanket surveillance. No one was more paranoid than Acer.
“Of course. I always travel with at least one cupcake. A girl gets hungry at the most inopportune times.”
“You two are weird.” Tom stood and straightened his apron. “I’m getting back to work. You call me if you need anything.” He extricated himself from the tangle of chair and table with the lack of grace befitting a drunk man.
Before he returned to the bar, he said, “I don’t like to worry about you.” He cleared his throat and walked off with an unnaturally stiff back.
“That goes double for me,” Acer spoke almost too quietly for her to hear, but she did.
“I’ll be in touch. You take care of yourself, Mr. Chambers.” She winked and then wen
t back out the back door. It had occurred to her on her way to the Jeep that maybe she ought to ditch it. It was well known to be associated with Beachcomber Investigations. Preston and Emeline would know the vehicle if they were worth their salt—and they definitely were that.
Stopping before she got to the car, she veered away and starting jogging down the road behind the restaurant. It was a long way—almost a mile—for a jog in heels to where she was going. She flipped her heels off and up, catching them and then speeding up in bare feet. It was a foolish mistake on her part not to get a change of clothes before abandoning the beach shack. Now she had no idea when they’d let her back in.
Shana ran in her bare feet with her bag swinging from her shoulder and her dress clinging to her legs. She laughed to herself at the picture she must make. The only thing appropriate about this dress was that the skirt was full to allow freedom of movement. Too bad it was brightly colored—not ideal for stealthy night work.
If her hunch was correct, she would need to be stealthy when she reached Sassy’s Pie Shop.
Chapter 14
Still carrying her shoes, Shana approached the store from the back. She stopped behind the dumpster to surveil the place for a few minutes. The only light came from the glow of the nightlights she knew Sassy used. After an eternal five-minute wait without seeing any movement, she crept toward the back door. She suspected if Preston and Emeline had taken Sassy here, they might be in the basement.
Shana pulled the gun from her purse when she got to the door. The key was still under the mat where Sassy always left it. Not very original for a junior detective. That the key was still there meant it was possible Shana’s hunch was wrong. Maybe no one was here, but she had to check.
She unlocked the door and entered into a small back mudroom. In the dim light, she waited, motionless, for her eyes to adjust. The door to the basement was to her right a few steps ahead. It stood ajar, showing a three-inch crack of blackness. Listening hard, she heard nothing.
Walking past the door, breathing steady in spite of the piston thump of her heart, she pressed forward into the kitchen. Still holding her Glock at her side and her shoes in the other hand, she circled around the pristine space. The kitchen appeared to be more spacious than the shop out front. Smiling to herself, she pushed through the swinging door into the shop.
Before she had a chance to look around the shop, the door slammed open behind her and a dark shadow with a raised arm swung down and hit her in the head as she turned, uselessly discharging her gun. Pain fired like white hot stars in her head and she felt herself falling, but she never felt herself hit the floor.
*****
Shame and relief simultaneously penetrated the pain in her head as soon as Shana opened her eyes. Sassy watched her from a few feet away, concern mingling with anger in the girl’s eyes. She was bound and sitting on the floor with duct tape across her mouth. When Shana went to move, she discovered she was duct-taped to a chair. Struggling to clear her head of the pain and fog from the crack against her skull, it took her another beat to realize her mouth was free and that she’d been positioned in the center of the small space under the hissing fluorescent light fixture.
Feeling like she was a character in a noir interrogation scene, she looked around. No one there.
“Apparently, they plan to question me later,” she said to Sassy using her best defiant voice. As if it was the most absurd notion in the world.
Sassy made some noise from behind her taped mouth. Shana had no idea how long she’d been out cold, but a sense of urgency drove her.
“I’m awake,” she called out. “You can come and talk to me now.” She watched Sassy’s face. “Don’t worry. They’ll find us.” Shana had said it in a quiet voice, but she’d been heard.
“Oh, we’re counting on it,” a male voice from behind Shana spoke. She squelched the instinctive flinch. The man had stealth skills, she handed him that.
A man dressed in black with unruly dark hair and sharp coal-colored eyes stepped in front of her, his back to Sassy. He folded his arms and pretended to study her. Shana felt the dried blood on her cheek, the thudding ache in her temple, and knew she must look less than threatening. She was barefoot and realized he hadn’t bothered to bind her feet. She kept them still.
That was his mistake number one. She focused on the man and finding mistake number two.
“Shana George, I presume,” he finally said.
She said nothing.
“Who hired you?”
This was it. Time to sell her act as assassin for hire. She stonewalled.
The man moved fast and smacked her across the other side of her face, catching her in the temple with his ring. He was fast enough that she had no time to react. Or it could have been that the previous knock to her head had slowed her down.
The fresh smack moved her head back and she felt the sting of a cut, felt the immediate warm trickle of blood. Behind the man, who must be Preston, she watched Sassy cover her taped mouth with her hands.
What the hell?
Shana could have sworn the girl’s hands had been bound. Hoping she’d kept the surprise from her face, Shana closed her eyes only half pretending to wince in pain. The other half was real. When she opened her eyes again the man’s nasty contorted face filled her vision.
“Answer me.” He spoke in a conversational tone in spite of his mean look. Shana would bet he was the kind of assassin who didn’t normally do up close and personal work.
“You already know who hired us—why are you asking me? We’re the insurance policy. Did you think you were it? This is too important a job.”
“How much are you getting paid?” He stood and folded his arms.
“To kill you or the President?”
Preston moved in and raised a hand to strike her again, but a woman’s voice stopped him.
“She’s lying.” Emeline spoke as she stepped from behind Shana to stand next to Preston. The woman was tall and muscular and dressed all in black down to her thick leather motorcycle boots. Shana could see how Ronnie might have mistaken her for a man. She wore her hair in a slicked-back ponytail now, but with a black hood, she might have passed.
“But she brings up a good point about being our insurance policy,” Emeline continued. “She might make a good fall guy—her and her partner.”
“Except we don’t have her partner.” Preston folded his arms again. The partners had faced each other as they spoke, still standing in front of her.
“We will. He’ll come for her. We’ll leave him some breadcrumbs. Then we’ll have our perfect patsies.”
“And with a little luck, we can collect their fee too.”
Shana thought they’d forgotten about her, they were so keyed to each other, so in tune. She knew they were lovers. A true couple, not merely partners. They gave off all the vibes. She ought to know.
Without giving Shana another look, Preston Chambers marched past her, presumably to start leaving those breadcrumbs to catch Dane.
Good luck with that.
Emeline stood there studying her. Silent. Shana was careful to not stare past her at Sassy, but tracked Sassy with her peripheral vision. She was still and kept her hands hidden behind her back as if they were bound.
After they stared each other down for several beats, Emeline spoke.
“I’m hungry. I bet you are too.” She laughed. “Too bad.” She walked away, disappearing behind Shana. She heard the woman running up the stairs.
“Don’t move yet,” Shana whispered.
Sassy nodded, tape still covering her mouth. Shana wondered how the girl had gotten her hands free and thanked her lucky charms that Sassy had been smart enough not to show that she’d been freed.
Turning her head as far as it would go, Shana looked around behind her to see that nothing was there. The stairway was dark where the couple had retreated. She listened hard until she heard the sound of a cabinet door opening and a pan clanking. She had no idea what the pair had in mind for the assas
sination attempt, or what they had in mind for her and Sassy, but there was no way in hell she intended to stick around and find out.
Shana needed to get Sassy out of there.
She turned back and nodded to Sassy. The girl immediately ripped the tape from her mouth, grimacing in pain, and stood. She darted to Shana and began working on the tape binding her hands.
“How long have we been here? How long was I out?”
“Only a few minutes, maybe ten.” Sassy was breathless. “I pretended to be passed out. I knew you or Dane would come.”
“We need to get out of here—is there another way out besides those stairs?”
Sassy shook her head as she cut through the tape on Shana’s hands with a pair of scissors.
Damn. That didn’t leave much choice. Shana didn’t want to chance a fight with two armed assassins with Sassy in the line of fire. She might be able to take one of them by surprise, but it was too risky going against two of them.
“Where did you get those scissors? You have anything else we can use down here?”
Sassy nodded and stood. The smile forming on her face was the kind a girl would get if she’d just discovered a secret stash of diamonds.
Once Shana got her hands unwrapped, Sassy showed her to the secret stash, which turned out to be an old phone and, under the circumstances, far better than a bucket of diamonds. The landline was under a pile of papers in the makeshift office in the back corner of the cluttered basement. Shana quickly dialed Dane. Of course, he didn’t answer. She’d known he wouldn’t, but it was hard to fight the disappointment fogging her mind and settling like a stone in her gut.
She left a message, ruthlessly schooling her voice to sound like the professional she ought to be. The kind of partner—and wife—Dane would be proud of.
But after only a few words, she was cut off by the gloved hand of Preston Chambers sweeping the phone from her hand and tossing it onto the floor.
Beachcomber Danger_Beachcomber Investigations Book 8_A Romantic Detective Series Page 11
