“Get Sassy and Ronnie out of the basement,” Dane said to Shana. “There’s not going to be any attack like in Rio. They’ll be subtler here. I should have realized that.” She eyed him like she wanted to slap him, but after a quick glance around the kitchen, she turned and did as she was asked. The slam of the basement door behind her made him smile in spite of everything. She hated when he bossed her around.
“You think he’ll strike at night or set up surveillance and—” Acer began, but he stopped speaking when the sound of another phone ringing caught everyone’s attention.
It was Dane’s phone. Not the one Acer had given him after he and Shana had escaped the Tavares compound dungeon, it was the one that Floyd had given him around the same time.
He slipped the phone from the back pocket of his cargo pants and motioned to everyone for quiet and to listen in. The circle of men tightened around him. He had a flash of being in a huddle on the football field when he was a teen—before he’d given it up for surfing. Dane put the phone to his ear and swiped the screen with his thumb, bringing an abrupt halt to the ringing.
“Floyd,” he said.
“Nice island you got here.” This was Floyd’s not so subtle message to let him know he’d invaded Dane’s home turf. Dane said nothing. He’d wait the man out. Dane heard his wall clock ticking. In the next moment the silence was broken by Shana opening the basement door and reentering the hall to the kitchen with Sassy and Ronnie, their excited voices high.
“You at home?” Floyd asked.
“No.” Dane caught Shana’s glance and she put her arms out to stop her charges and shush them with a gesture and meaningful look. She’d make a formidable mother some day. There was another silence as Floyd waited and Dane waited longer.
“We have some unfinished business,” Floyd finally said.
Dane again remained silent. He could hear Floyd’s breathing. He could hear a pin drop in his kitchen. He kept his eyes on Shana’s. There was no reason for it, but staring into her intense green eyes kept him steady.
“Meet me at the Lucky Parrot in ten minutes. Bring Shana George. No one else within five hundred yards. Not David Young, not Antonio Rizoni, not Captain Lynch or any of his staties—not even Chief Dan O’Keefe. No one else but you and Shana. Clock’s ticking.” He disconnected.
“He knows the players but he thinks David and O’Keefe are here,” Cap said.
“That’s Floyd showing off,” Oscar said. “Tells me he’s still in touch with the CIA, either officially or via a friend unofficially. But he’s not completely on the mark with his intel.”
“He didn’t mention Acer,” Dane said.
“He didn’t mention me or Sassy either,” Ronnie squeaked.
“Don’t get any ideas, kid. We need to get you out of here.”
“You don’t have time to waste,” Cap said. “Our best chance is to meet him and lull him into thinking we’re negotiating with him.”
“It’s a goddamn trap. I don’t like it,” Oscar said as he took a step toward Shana.
“We can take care of ourselves.” Dane turned to Cap. “I agree, but Floyd’s not going to bail if we’re a few minutes late.”
“He implied that he’d know if we accompanied you—He may have some of the men in his party covering this house and us,” Cap said.
“I doubt it since his intel was way off, but we’ll be cautious. Acer, you’ll need to get out through the basement window and check the perimeter.”
“I’ll go with him. Cover more ground. And I have an idea of what to look for,” Oscar said.
“I’ll cover your back at the Lucky Parrot,” Cap said.
“No one is coming with us to the Lucky Parrot, but we will be wearing body cameras so you’ll feel like you’re there with us.” He winked at Shana. Her green eyes didn’t wink or blink, but she turned and went for the hall closet where he kept the equipment. “You can wait just outside his 500 yard perimeter.” Dane went to his gun drawer, but there were no guns. He looked at Ronnie.
Ronnie’s eyes went wide. “Dude, I couldn’t replace your gun—she wouldn’t let me—” He pointed at Sassy.
“Never mind.”
Oscar had dumped the bag of goodies from the basement locker on the dining table. Dane went to it now and found what he needed in the zipper compartment. One Glock 17 for him and Shana’s backup Century Arms CZ 82.
Chapter 16
It felt good be back in his Jeep, like a trusty old horse, and especially good to have Shana riding shotgun with him. If he blocked everything else out—the fact that they were bait for the Tavares clan and that damn traitor Floyd Parker—the man was a traitor and he’d prove it—then he might have felt a sense of warmth at homecoming, at being in a place and a role where he belonged.
Unknown to Floyd, Cap, Acer and Oscar were not going to wait back at the shack where they assumed Floyd must have had some kind of camera or maybe motion sensor set up. Floyd didn’t have enough men for in-person surveillance. If so, they were professional enough to have some kind of signal or warning that would be triggered at the shack. Worst case was that Floyd had set up booby traps. But Dane and his people knew what to look for. With Oscar leading the way and very savvy about Floyd’s equipment, they avoided the traps and surveillance triggers. Acer got Ronnie and Sassy out through the basement and a hidden exit successfully and well before he and Shana left. Cap and Oscar weren’t far behind, backing them up. All three were hooked up to the cameras and in communication. Acer would return to the shack after getting the kids to safety, minding the place and act as the communications hub.
“What are the chances Henrique and Erico will be there with Floyd?” Shana asked when they were two blocks away. She didn’t appear unnerved. But the question gave her away.
“Since chances are slim to none that Floyd would know anything about the Lucky Parrot without Henrique Tavares telling him about it, I’d say it’s certain. They wanted to meet us there to send a message about how they’re remembering old times.”
“You think Aldo told Henrique about it? You think they’re in communication.” She turned to him.
He pulled the Jeep to the curb a half a block away from his favorite place to drink coffee. The Lucky Parrot. Dane said a silent apology to Tom Jones, the owner of the Lucky Parrot, for the upcoming mayhem he would be bringing with him.
“Yes.” He unclipped her seatbelt and then, in one sweeping motion, he pulled her up against him. The warmth struck him and buoyed him. It never got old. She didn’t resist. She needed encouragement. He wanted to give it to her. He wanted to give her a lot of encouragement, but he bent his head towards hers and limited himself to a brush of his lips against hers, a tease of her soft moist warmth against the sensitive flesh of his lower lip, a small nibble, a branding. Then he straightened and she turned away. She pushed the passenger door open.
They hadn’t discussed a plan or what they would say or ask for or do. They were equipped with the body cameras and Acer had assured him the audio was world class. Floyd was on their turf now—the symbolism of choosing The Lucky Parrot notwithstanding.
“Flip the switch, girlie.” Dane called out to Shana’s back as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Damn, he hated hurrying after her, but he moved swiftly and caught up with her before she’d taken two steps and grabbed her by the arm and made her understand she was under his protection. He hadn’t turned his camera on yet. He checked his new watch, which was equipped with the camera switch and a panic button.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m live.”
He didn’t like that communications weren’t two-way, but they had figured they’d never get away with it. They couldn’t chance Floyd detecting an earpiece. Dane pressed the small nub on his watch to turn his camera on. They stopped within five paces of the corner where The Lucky Parrot’s building took up half the block and scoped the front entrance. Dane spied a couple of large men out front and pulled Shana back inside a doorway near where they stood. His phone rang. It was Acer, but he chec
ked his phone to make sure. It was their signal to let him know the video and audio were working. One ring. More than that and he’d have answered the call.
“Let’s go around back. I don’t want to give up our weapons at the front door,” Dane said.
“They’ll have people out back too.”
“True, but we can sneak up on them and disarm them without causing a scene.”
They went around the back of the building where they saw another suspicious-looking character. Shana walked straight for him, drawing the man’s stare. She did an impeccable job of distracting him, allowing Dane to circle around and come up from behind. He used his Glock in its second most effective form of weaponry and knocked the man across the head. He used enough force to bring him down, even if he were a rhino. Shana helped him drag the man behind the dumpster a few feet away inside a fence. Dane wasn’t going to worry about tying him up. He didn’t plan to stay long.
They stood and he watched Shana brush herself off. He fisted his hands to control his urge to touch her, to turn her around and send her home. She looked up at him.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“You ready?” He remembered they were on camera—on each other’s cameras—as they stood watching each other.
She schooled her features as if she too remembered she was being watched and brushed past him. He swung around and moved ahead of her into the back door, striding through the back hall past the restrooms, the storeroom and the kitchen with her in his wake. He paused on the threshold to the Lucky Parrot’s dining room and surveyed the tables, blocking her from passing into the room. The long bar on the right was nearly empty and there were only three tables occupied.
At one table in the dead center of the room, two men sat and two more stood behind each of them. That accounted for seven of the eight men in Floyd’s party. Dane wondered for a split second where the eighth man was before sweeping Shana around and hauling her to his side as a door slammed behind them and a man came forward. The eighth man. Dane moved them into the room and to the bar so that he made a triangle between Floyd and Henrique at the table and the man from the back hall.
Floyd stood and beckoned them over.
“Join us. I insist,” he said. He remained standing and whether he intended to or not, his shoulder harness and gun were visible under his open jacket. Knowing Floyd, Dane surmised the show was purposeful, if cliché. Floyd must have forgotten he was dealing with a pro—two pros. Dane always assumed his adversaries were fully armed. Otherwise, what was the point?
Dane looked to his right at the Lucky Parrot proprietor and nodded at him in a way to warn him. Tom Jones nodded back. Dane would need to stall long enough for him to get the patrons and his people out of there.
With her arm looped through his, Shana made the first step forward and they both approached the table. Neither of them sat. Floyd still stood.
Henrique said, “Sit. All of you. This is no way to have a discussion.” He motioned for the man from the hall to go back to his post out front, which he did. They were back down to the two armed sentries at the table. Dane’s tension lessoned by one degree that the man didn’t go out back to find his fellow sentry down. Dane calculated Henrique’s strategy. The man had likely counted on his guard to disarm Dane and Shana at the back door before they came inside. Henrique would also count on additional forces approaching from the main street out front where he had a man posted. For extra cover of the back entry, his men inside had a good view of the narrow back hall.
The other ninety-nine degrees of Dane’s tension remained with him, especially across his shoulder blades. The tight burn of urgency in his muscles galvanized him, as it always did.
Shana sat. Dane ignored the fourth chair, set across from Shana, and dragged a chair from the next table to a spot next to her, forcing Henrique to move his chair aside. There was no way Dane was going to let Henrique Tavares within touching distance of his girl. She would probably slap him later for the move. For a flicker of a moment, that thought almost made him smile, but Floyd kept his attention riveted on serious business when he spoke.
“One or both of you will not leave here. We have your house covered. And there won’t be any reinforcements from the state police. The choice is yours whether we leave easy, or whether one or both of you will need to—” Floyd flicked a glance at Henrique and the man behind him. “To suffer.”
Henrique nodded. Apparently he was happy to have Floyd do the talking. Maybe that was to keep incriminations against him to a minimum. Not good for their case. Floyd was digging himself a nice hole with the threat, but they needed more. His—and Shana’s—mission was to provoke violence. Suffering, to put it in Floyd’s vernacular.
Dane scoffed while he thought about how to do that—to instigate suffering without actually suffering. It would be tricky. Worst case, they’d instigate this crowd to attack them at the shack. The thought of another siege at the shack caused a trickle of sweat to run down the center of Dane’s back. He felt the salty burn of it centered between his shoulder blades.
“I hate to use the cliché, but you’ll never get away with it,” he said.
“I don’t care if I get away with it. If I go, I take you to hell with me.” Floyd smiled.
“Then why don’t you shoot me now?”
Floyd turned to Shana. Dane didn’t like the smile he had for his girl.
“Don’t be so anxious. We have our priorities. A deal for you.”
Seeing inside Floyd’s mind, Dane darted a glance at Henrique and knew instantly what they would propose—and how they would betray him. Acid churned. It was no less than he expected, but he needed them to make a move to justify an arrest. Problem was, Floyd knew this and knew it well—and he had control of the Tavares crowd. Dane wasn’t sure he could provoke them into doing something stupid, but he damn well sure was going to try.
“Tell me what your stinking deal is.”
Dane didn’t look at Shana, but he could feel the eyebrow rise that she held back.
Floyd twitched another smile. He was on edge. Henrique made no move. His face remained implacable. Dane would guess that the men behind him stood like sentries because that’s what they were paid to do. Acer was watching and waiting back at the shack for something to happen. The three men were itching to move in now. They’d all be pissed if Dane couldn’t get something going here.
“The deal is you stay and we take Shana. Here and now. No shooting. No one gets hurt. You don’t follow. You leave us alone and Shana is not harmed. You have my word.”
Dane’s entire being sizzled. It was as if Floyd’s words were a lightning strike. Dane said nothing, but everything in him bucked and sparked and needed to strike out. He didn’t look at her, but he was aware of Shana, of her sudden rigidness. She said nothing. She stayed cool, but Dane felt the rage emanate through her iciness. That comforted him and calmed him enough to think and respond.
“Oh—your word. Well that’s different, Floyd. That makes it all okay. Go ahead. Take her.” Dane smiled one of those smiles that he knew showed his teeth like a wolf and his eyes like a shark and his intentions as deadly as both.
Dane noticed that the patrons from the other tables were gone. He flicked his eyes toward the bar and Tom Jones was not there. He’d heeded Dane’s warning. Good man.
“You are in no position to—” Floyd started to say.
Dane stood abruptly and pulled Shana to a stand with him. The sentries turned toward him, reaching for their weapons. But they were too late. Dane had his Glock out and aimed at Henrique’s head.
A beat later, but still too quick for Floyd, Shana had her gun pointed in the direction of Floyd’s forehead, no more than three feet away. Point-blank range.
Henrique hadn’t moved a muscle. The older man seemed calm, as if this was not the first time a man held a gun to his head. And he still lived.
Floyd leaned back in his chair. He was clearly confident they wouldn’t shoot unless shot at first. He was right. The sentries s
tood awkwardly unprepared and unsure what their move should be and withdrew their weapons from shoulder holsters, aiming them at Dane and Shana.
No one said a thing for a beat. Dane shifted his body like a cinematographer trying to make sure his audience had a good picture of what was going on. Shana didn’t move a muscle. She was too busy aiming her malice and her gun between Floyd’s eyeballs. In addition to being aware of his audience back at the shack, Dane was aware of the man he left behind the dumpster. And the man they had watching the front door.
They would need to leave through the back while he covered their asses. He’d need to spray some bullets for cover as they exited, but he’d square that with Tom later. He looked up and noticed the surveillance camera hidden in the top front corner of the room and smiled. Tom would be showing that to his patrons for years to come. Lucky thing there was no audio.
Henrique spoke then, calm, with a heavy accent. But Dane had no trouble understanding what he had to say.
“You are a dead man.”
Chapter 17
Holding his gun steady, Dane paused a few beats, stretching out the silence, and extended his arm so that the gun was closer to Henrique’s head. He said nothing and breathed, slow and controlled. He needed to stall their exit long enough for their reinforcements to get in place. And he needed to extract some kind of admission from Floyd.
“What’s this all about, Floyd? You kidnapped Shana to get to me? Why?”
Floyd laughed. Of course. Then with a nod of his head in Henrique’s direction he said, “It was him. All him. I would have dropped you at the Black Cigar and called it a day if it were up to me.”
“Why?” Shana asked.
“Shut up,” Henrique hissed. Floyd laughed again. Dane heard the distinct and melodic note of hysteria rising. He braced himself, braced the Glock.
“Don’t worry Henrique. We either walk out of here and be on our way, or we end up in body bags. I don’t even care which. As long as I take Blaise with me.”
Beachcomber Trouble Page 16
