Beachcomber Trouble

by Stephanie Queen

“I’ll do no such thing,” Dane said. He smiled and put his boot back on as he got to work pushing the malleable explosive into the seams of the door. “Before we set that off—do you know where we’re going? Because we’re going to have to move pretty damn fast—I got the lay of the land on the outside, but I’m a little fuzzy on the details inside. I was out cold. You?”

  “I memorized every step we took as they dragged me down here, but I don’t think we’re going to want to leave the same way I came—through the main salon.”

  “You get us to the main floor and I’ll find us an exit.” He took a breath. “Ready?”

  She nodded and headed to the far corner of the place while he ran the detonator cord. He joined her in the far corner and flung himself over her, flattening her down toward the floor and into the corner, covering her completely and pressing against her.

  “Ready?” He rasped in her ear. She was not exactly ready for it, but she should have been. She nodded. He set off the electronic detonator. The instant boom of smoke and debris as the door blew off rocked them. She felt his heat and his sweat and the masculine heady scent of him and the hard wall of muscles protecting her from the blast. He held his hands over her ears. She heard the blast anyway, loud and clear.

  But the pure selflessness of the gesture, no matter how useless, was so sweet and giving—he’d covered her ears to protect her, leaving his own ears exposed. It made her want to cry as she turned to face him and buried her face against his chest, heaving and trying desperately to stop the sobs from escaping. But there was no stopping the torrent of emotions, no amount of training or cool or admonishing herself to control herself that could win against the impossibly sweet heart-melting gesture of his caring, protective and loving brave act. He’d held his hands over her ears and left his own exposed to the noise of the explosion. She loved him. Desperately. Her heart broke with the knowledge and she shoved it aside as he tightened his arms around her and kissed her hair and soothed her with soft murmuring to calm her.

  “We have to run, Shana,” he whispered and pulled her from the corner and with his arm around her dragged her out the smoking doorway and into the hall.

  The good news was that there were no alarms or sirens. The bad news was that they heard men shouting. And they were close.

  “Which way?”

  Shana tugged him to the left even though it was in the direction where the men came from. “There’s a stairwell.”

  “You sure that’s not the stairwell they’re coming from?”

  “No—they’re coming from the main stairs further down—I noticed this stairwell when they took me by it and someone entered the hall.” They ran as they spoke and she stopped, abruptly pulling him to a halt as he held onto her arm. Part of her wanted to shake him off. Part of her never wanted him to let go. She pushed the door open and he pushed in behind her and shut the door as he took the lead again and half dragged her up the stairs, taking two and three at a time. She kept up as best she could, trying not to slow them down, but she felt sore and weak compared to him—in spite of the adrenaline.

  “If you can’t keep up, I’ll pick you up and throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” Dane said as they reached the next landing. “Where the hell are we?” They looked at the stairs heading up further in the windowless cement wall.

  “We were down two levels, so up one more.” She moved ahead of him to the stairs and he leapt past her and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the ground as he flew up the stairs. There were men shouting in the halls. It would be only a matter of time, minutes maybe seconds, before they checked this stairwell.

  Dane deposited her on the floor at the next landing and stood behind the door listening. There was no window.

  “Get behind me. I’m opening the door.” He pushed her behind him with one arm, the one with the swollen and discolored thumb. Her heartbeat leapt. He cracked the door open as he stood along the wall and peered out. She wished to hell she had her CZ 82. Even a Glock would do.

  “We need to disarm one of these guys and take his weapon.”

  “Here’s an unsuspecting volunteer now,” Dane said. Before she could respond, Dane had leapt out the door and crashed on top of a lone man dressed and armed like a soldier more than a security guard. She rushed out the door and helped subdue the man, but Dane had already managed to knock him out cold.

  “Let’s drag him back into the stairwell before his friends join him.”

  They muscled him back inside. Two floors below, a door slammed open. Dane liberated the automatic rifle from the prone man’s shoulder and Shana worked at retrieving the Glock from his waist holster. Dane pulled her arm nearly from its socket as he yanked her back through the doorway and into the hallway.

  He whispered, “Do you know where we are? Looks like some sort of office wing. If I have my bearings right, we’re on the east side of the compound.”

  “I think you’re right. Let’s go that way,” Shana pointed left and they sprinted toward the end of the hall where there was daylight spilling in from an opening. They reached the end and found themselves in the main entryway, under the rotunda, with walls of glass windows and doors open to the gardens.

  The bad news was that it was filled with maybe a dozen armed men speaking in rapid Portuguese. They stopped short. There was a split second when the men turned to see them and realized who she and Dane were, before they raised their guns or moved to give chase.

  Dane yanked on her arm and dragged her, half flying, through the nearest open door.

  After they rolled he pulled her up, but she was ready now, her body fully energized by a super rush of adrenaline. Maybe it was the gunfire that had sent her into overdrive. She bounced to her feet before he could get a firm grip and ran ahead toward the garage area. This was the plan she’d hatched in her head while she waited in the dungeon. This was exactly where she wanted to head for her getaway when she had her chance. Dane caught up and passed her. However fast she was, however much adrenaline she had, he always surpassed her. She loved him for it, feeling a surge of pride. But at the same time, she felt the slap of a challenge and the implication of her inferiority. She pumped harder and they surged through the bushes without getting hit by any bullets—and without meeting with any men coming from the garden.

  “Everyone must have been inside—looking for us,” Dane said between pants as he came to a stop against the wall of the two-story mega garage. He slid toward the front opening and she followed suit, then rounded the corner with the old AK-47 raised. He surged forward. Before he got far they stopped when they came upon the one person who hadn’t been chasing them—the resident garage mechanic. The startled young man froze like a still life.

  “Shit,” Dane said.

  Shana stepped past Dane, before he decided to shoot and grabbed the small helpless, weaponless man by the arm. She hauled him over the car toward the back of the garage. Dane tossed her some rope.

  “Make it fast. Don’t make me regret not shooting this guy.”

  Shana tied him while Dane jumped into the nearest vehicle and somehow got it going. She dragged the small man into the corner and warned him to stay silent. He nodded. She thought about knocking him out to ensure his silence, but when the man gave her a toothless smile, she couldn’t do it. She nodded back at him and jumped in the passenger side of the big black SUV as Dane screeched the tires, backing it out of the garage and into a barrage of gunfire.

  She didn’t need Dane to tell her to get down, and she hoped this damn truck was equipped with some kind of armor against the firepower they were now being subjected to. She looked up from her sprawled position on the floor at Dane as he drove the car from an impossibly low angle. The thud and crunch and scream told her they’d hit someone, but Dane not only didn’t slow the vehicle, he punched the gas and spun the wheel, toppling her into the door, until they’d done a one-eighty. That’s when he lifted his AK-47, pointed it out the back window and pulled on the trigger as he slammed the gas pedal all the way to
the floor.

  Sitting taller in the seat, Dane wrestled the SUV into control, minimizing the swerving, and bumping ride. The gunfire had stopped and Shana lifted herself from the floor to the seat and took up the weapon Dane had been firing.

  “Any ammo left in this thing?”

  “No. Find some. They’re giving chase.”

  She looked back to see three vehicles screeching into the drive behind them. Dane and Shana had a good lead, but they couldn’t count on that remaining. She climbed over the seat and rummaged in the back, where she found a large metal box and flung it open.

  “Bingo.” She pulled out a damn good weapon and checked it for ammo. She didn’t know exactly what model this was, but it wasn’t too different from the many she’d trained on, so she allowed herself seven seconds to familiarize herself and then aimed it out the window.

  She fired at about the same time the nearest vehicle fired at them. Dane took a sharp left as they veered left off the drive toward the wall of the compound. They followed the wall along a muddy trail through the grass and low plantings.

  “You know where you’re going?”

  “Yes I do. Did some investigating before I came to spring you. There’s an unguarded gate ahead.”

  “How did you know about it?”

  “A friend told me.” Sure enough, they reached a gate with no guards and crashed though.

  “Damn,” Dane said. “I think we did some damage to this baby.”

  Smoke billowed from the hood as they rattled on down the road and took a left at a small intersection. Up ahead in the distance Shana could see the city. Rio.

  She hoped to God they made it.

  “We need to ditch this car.” Dane turned to her. “You game?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. In truth, she was game for anything with him. Any adventure or plan he wanted to involve her in she would go for. She had one hundred percent trust in him.

  The only thing she wasn’t game for was a serious relationship. In that, she had no confidence in him. In that, he had a very bad track record as far as she was concerned. With women in general as far as she knew. There was no future in a romance with Dane Blaise.

  Lucky thing, a long-term romance with Dane Blaise was not what she was looking for. Or so she told herself. Her chest tightened, reminding her that her heart disagreed with her head. Shana couldn’t afford to be in love with Dane.

  Dane pulled the rattling SUV down a narrow side street and jumped out. Clenching every muscle as if reinforcing her armor against him, she had no choice but to follow.

  Dane looked around. They had to find some new wheels. He checked all his pockets, but of course his cash was gone. He smiled, bent and took off his left boot.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Shana said. “Don’t tell me—”

  “I have a stash of Reais, the local currency. Courtesy of Acerman.”

  “Do you have a phone in your other boot?”

  “Don’t laugh.” He put the boot back on and patted his pockets.

  The burner phone was gone before he’d had a chance to use it—but not the special gadget Acer had given him. Dane raised his wrist, checked the watch, and hoped to hell he’d remember how to use the thing. Then he caught Shana giving him a look—one of those special teasing partially decipherable Shana looks—one that said whatcha doin, big boy like maybe she’d like to be doing something else.

  As soon as he responded with a smile and some enthusiasm from other body parts, she went blank, like she’d changed the channel with some kind of internal clicker.

  “What time is it?” she asked, eyeing him eyeing his watch.

  “Time to make a call,” he said. He almost took her by the shoulder to walk by his side, but stopped himself. They needed to move fast. “This way.” He led them further down the narrow street and past some buildings. He hoped to hell they had satellite coverage here. He pulled out a small antenna and pressed a button on the side of the watch, put it up to his mouth and spoke.

  “It’s SOS time.”

  After a beat and a beep, Acer responded and got their coordinates. “I’ll get back to you with a spot for a pickup as soon as I check out the area. Find a place to hang around and look inconspicuous for about fifteen.” He signed off.

  “Great. Where the hell can we hide? The Tavares gang will be on us in a second.” He looked in the direction of the main street they’d vacated to see a black SUV drive by.

  “Let’s find a shop,” Shana said. They walked further, took a right, and came to a small market area. And tried to fit in.

  “Este e um belo chapeu,” Shana spoke to an older woman selling hats from one of the stalls. She picked up the hat and tried it on.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Portuguese,” Dane said to Shana. He told himself he was not trying to compete. He gave the woman some Reais, not bothering to count.

  Shana scoffed. “Can’t be outdone, can you?”

  “Just trying to fit in,” he said.

  “Then you’d both better stop speaking English,” a deep voice behind him said.

  Chapter 8

  Dane whipped around and went for the man’s throat, but he was stopped. Barely. Shana ran interference at the man’s other side.

  “Hey—I’m on your side. Take it easy,” the man said.

  “You’re not on anyone’s side but your own, Floyd. Not even the CIA’s.”

  Dane lowered his hands and eyed Shana. Floyd Parker studied Dane, and then Shana giving Dane the feeling he was in a Mexican standoff. Not the best feeling. Then Floyd smiled.

  “How the hell are you? Dane? Shana? Never thought I’d see you two here together.”

  “Bullshit,” Dane said.

  “Thanks for answering the Trouble call.” Floyd grinned. “Let’s get off the street.” The paunchy fifty-year old man turned and walked three feet to a narrow doorway. Dane looked at Shana.

  “We’re here. This is what we signed up for,” she said.

  If she’d been trying to give him a pep talk she shouldn’t have used that resigned tone of voice. Since none of his other options at that second held any appeal, Dane followed Shana through the door.

  “What is this place?” Dane asked. It wasn’t one of the safe houses that he was aware of in the area. And he made it his business to be aware.

  “A crash pad. Don’t worry. We won’t be staying. Better than standing in the street waiting for a Tavares soldier to pick you up.”

  “What do you know about the Tavares organization? Who said they were after us?” Dane asked.

  Floyd Parker laughed as he splashed some clear liquid from a flask into two short wide glasses and then handed the glasses to him and Shana. Dane smelled the alcohol. Tequila.

  “You’re not joining us?” Shana eyed him, holding the glass. Dane didn’t bother taking a sip, though his throat burned for something strong. His soul burned for something stronger.

  “I’ll drink from the flask.” Floyd demonstrated by tossing it back down his throat spilling a generous amount down the side of his face.

  Shana put her glass down untouched.

  Dane slugged down his measure and held himself back from downing Shana’s drink too.

  “Let’s get on with this. You seem to know something about the Tavares people. Where do we go from here?”

  “Downtown Rio. The Ipanema beach area.”

  Dane didn’t tell him that he had Acer on standby ready to pick up him and Shana as soon as he determined a route and meeting place. Shana looked at him sharply.

  “What about Oscar?” she asked.

  “We’ll go downtown—we have a CIA safe house there. We’ll plan a rescue operation. If we can. If you haven’t contaminated the operation by showing up out of the blue—”

  “Out of the blue?” Dane moved on Floyd, grabbing him by the lapels. A glance in Shana’s direction told him she wouldn’t try stopping his aggressive show.

  “We were kidnapped and you set us up.” Dane held him and Floyd, though smalle
r, and heavy with blubber and smelling of sweat and whatever bad tequila was in that flask, was not perturbed. Not in the least.

  “That was an unfortunate turn of events.”

  “You knew? Let me guess—you watched.”

  “I was in the vicinity. Now put me down and get a grip on your cool. You’re going to need it.”

  “The only thing I need is a good meal and a ride to Rio—and not from you.”

  Floyd squinted at him and then he turned to Shana. He said to her, “Reason with this hothead, will you?”

  “I don’t trust you either, Floyd. I spent the night in a dungeon chained to the floor because of you—”

  “That’s fair, but I’m a false caterpillar by trade.” Floyd spread his hands. Maybe this was an attempt at showing his charming side.

  “Channeling Shakespeare isn’t going to impress me,” Dane said. He raised his left hand with the bruised and still swollen thumb. “We had a hell of a time getting out of there and you were conspicuously absent.”

  “I came to the rescue as soon as I could and I truly had no idea you were getting lifted.” He turned to Shana. “I had no idea you were partners with this maniac. Frankly, I thought you had better sense, Shana.”

  She laughed. Not the reaction Dane had anticipated. He would have hoped for a defense. But he reminded himself they were playing a game with Floyd. Dane’s part was to remain skeptical but engaged. Shana could play the naive gullible partner.

  “We’re leaving. Don’t follow us.” Dane didn’t expect Floyd to pay attention to his order, but he was warned and put on notice that Dane would be watching.

  “I have a safe house for you until we hear from Oscar’s… detainers—”

  “I ain’t going nowhere with the false caterpillar.”

  Floyd laughed and folded his arms, contemplating Dane like a patient dojo master measuring whether this would be the fight to pick.

  “Have it your way.”

  “Do you have any money for us?” Shana asked. Good test. He could kiss her. But then the desire to kiss Shana was a perpetual state of mind for Dane.