Beachcomber Danger
Beachcomber Investigations Book 8 - a Romantic Detective Series
Stephanie Queen
Beachcomber Danger
Copyright © 2018 by Stephanie Queen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Acknowledgment
I would like to acknowledge and express my gratitude to the two Name That Character Contest winners for Beachcomber Danger.
First, thank you Aaron Landry for naming the terrorist cell leader, Zane Zarate.
Second, thank you to Lorie McCauley for naming the pair of professional assassins, Preston and Emeline Chambers.
I appreciate your assistance and support for entering my contest and coming up with these perfect character names.
Contents
Praise for Stephanie Queen Books
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
A Note from the Author
Also by Stephanie Queen
About the Author
Praise for Stephanie Queen Books
Beachcomber Investigations
“This has been one of the best stories I’ve read in a long time! ... This story had it all; sexual tension, action, suspense… A great start to a promising series. You will definitely find yourself wanting to spend more time with this ensemble of characters.”—Will Decker, Amazon Reviewer
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Chapter 1
They were blessedly alone at this ungodly hour of the morning. Dane ran behind Shana along State Beach, mostly for the view of her backside. He could have caught her and passed her if he’d wanted to.
Sweat trickled down his temples and he bent lifted his arm and bent his head to wipe the sweat off on his sleeve. When he did, he caught a glimpse of a moving car out of the corner of his eye.
He turned his head only slightly to see two men in a gray sedan creeping along the road about fifty yards behind, tracking them.
Picking up his pace, he caught up to Shana. Ever the competitor, she speeded up to try and stay ahead of him. Before she got too far, he managed to snag her T-shirt, almost tearing it from her shoulder.
She slowed and swung around, pulling the shirt back on while she scowled at him. She was about to protest but he quieted her with a look and hauled her in close.
He didn’t want it to be obvious to the men in the car that he’d made them. He had no idea who they were or what they were up to, but it was scalded into his DNA by now to be cagey. Never play it straight.
He put an arm around Shana’s sweaty body, enjoyed the effects of running with the heat and humidity of the day rising, and nuzzled her ear while he whispered.
“Two men in dark glasses and suits are following us in a nondescript sedan. What does that tell you?”
“Are you in trouble with the feds?” It was both good and bad that she stopped squirming in his arms.
“No.” He thought for a moment, running his mind in reverse back to the last time he’d had a run-in with a federal law enforcement agency. The ATF. One of their agents had been bad and they hadn’t been thrilled that Dane had been the one to discover this fact. But the man had killed their client’s husband and Dane and Shana had nailed him with a recorded confession and a gun aimed squarely at him with intent to kill.
No one was happy about that mess. As a reward for uncovering the ATF agent’s drug ring, Dane had been threatened with imprisonment for his so-called interference that they’d insisted labeling as obstruction of justice. But that fiasco had ended a while back with a truce.
“Then what’s it about?” Her scowl changed over to something more loving. No worry, not yet.
“I’m hoping it has nothing to do with the President’s upcoming vacation on Martha’s Vineyard, but I’m not that optimistic.”
She stood stock-still now and looked at him.
“Do you think they want us to—”
“No. I think they think we’re suspicious characters and they’re keeping an eye on us.”
She slapped his arm and took off at a sprint before he could stop her. Damn.
Now he’d have to catch up. And he’d have to acknowledge that she was probably right. The feds, likely secret service, wanted something from him—from them. He needed to remember he wasn’t in this alone. And never would be again.
Dane could probably thank his old pal the Governor for turning the feds onto Beachcomber Investigations.
Some pal.
He dug his right foot into the sand, ignored the tweak in his knee, and ran after his partner—or rather his newly minted fiancée.
*****
By the time he caught up, Shana was already in the shower. He heard the spray of water through the locked door. Damn. He rattled the knob one more time and heard her laugh. She hadn’t even broken stride going through the back door and straight to the shower. He wondered if she’d bothered to take her clothes off.
Another man might have been discouraged or wounded by this behavior, but Dane smiled. He knew his wife-to-be very well. Partly because they were a lot alike, and partly because knowing people well was his strong suit—and he’d made an extra-special effort with Shana.
He’d had to. She’d been the toughest puzzle he’d ever met. In hindsight, he knew he could attribute that to the cloud of miserable desire that had always got in his way. Not anymore.
She was his. He wouldn’t let her escape now. He had hold of her and the one thing that had gotten in his way all this time—his own damned world-weary misery—was gone. The gaping hole in his soul was on the mend.
Shana had made it clear she didn’t want to get sidetracked today, wanted to make some calls, drum up some new business. He smiled thinking about her avaricious streak as he walked into their bedroom. He stripped his shirt off, kicked off his sneakers.
He went out back. Behind his beach shack—their beach shack—he jogged across the lawn that ended with the harbor and hopped onto the narrow wood pier that jutted out thirty feet. After a quick glance into the gleaming morning ocean, he jumped off the end of the dock into the life-renewing saltwater. It was the second-best thing, albeit by a very wide margin, to taking a shower with Shana.
When he went back inside, dripping wet, he was met by Shana, fully dressed.
From her stunning serious green eyes down to her navy-and-white sleeveless dress and matching navy pumps she screamed business. She never wore pumps.
“Where are you going? Church?” He glanced at her conspicuous shoes.
“We are going to see Cap.”
Captain Colin Lynch of the state police was in charge of crime on the island, but more importantly he was their unofficial third partner in Beachcomber Investigations. And the man they’d both vote most likely to be the best man at their wedding. Whenever that was.
He didn’t object to going to see Cap, but he couldn’t capitulate. It would be against his principles, his very grain, to allow her to have that control. The honeymoon p
hase of their engagement was over.
“Why? I might have something better to do.” It was lame, but he knew the very lameness of his excuse would annoy her.
She put her hands on her hips. He loved her in that pose, like a shapely golden-haired goddess, the ultimate Wonder Woman.
“I want to nip this in the bud. If those two feds want something, we may as well get it over with. And I think Gable might have a case for us.”
“You think you can flush them out by going to the police? You don’t think the Secret Service is cagier than that? When they want to talk to us, they’ll knock on our door.”
“I don’t feel like waiting around. Besides, since when don’t you want to visit Cap?”
He smiled at her and moved in, seawater still dripping down his chest and legs.
She backed away, but he’d always been quicker than her. And it always kicked up a flip of joy in his heart to catch her when she tried to evade. He grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her in, slamming her up against him.
“You think you can seduce your way out of this?” She held her arms against his chest between them, but he saw her eyes already going glassy, felt the delicious heat of her sparking his blood to run fast in his veins, like it did when he was getting ready to run for his life or face a fight to the death. Excitement. Passion. Danger. All the same.
He was a legitimate adrenaline junkie. But then, so was Shana.
His mind spun these thoughts as he lowered his mouth to nibble on that spectacularly soft and delicate skin of her neck, just below her earlobe.
Until the loud banging on the back door behind him made her jump. He loosened his arm and knew who it was without turning around.
Chapter 2
“What do you want?” Shana didn’t know what else to say. Dane had warmed her, dissolved her plan to visit Cap—in spite of the outrageousness of his objections—with his warm breath and knowingly tantalizing mouth. But she was quick to recover and stepped back.
She saw the disappointment flicker in Dane’s eyes before his face transformed. His game face never failed to impress her. The quickness of the change in his demeanor stunned her, though she should be used to it.
And standing in the kitchen of the beach shack, still dripping and caught in that vulnerable position about to seduce her, Dane still managed to take control as he turned to face the two men in suits who’d been following them. They were standing in the doorway.
“You may as well come inside,” he said.
*****
“Sorry to . . . interrupt, Mr. Blaise.” The slightly older of the two spoke as he opened the squeaky screen door and stepped inside.
He had gray temples and a tan to go with his dark suit and sunglasses. Dane would bet the shades were prescription. The man’s chippy partner followed. They both wore deep lines of concern between their brows, the kind that probably didn’t disappear even when they slept.
“I assume you fellas aren’t here for a cup of coffee.”
Shana scowled, yet remained blindingly gorgeous. The two men eventually dragged their eyes from her to answer him.
Taking a rectangular leather object from his pocket, which Dane knew was not a wallet, the partner in charge flipped it open and let it hang for more than enough time for Dane to confirm that he was Secret Service. Agent Liam Andrews to be exact. No big surprise. Dane wished he’d made a bet with Shana.
Andrews bent his head in the direction of his sidekick. “This is my partner, Agent Thaddeus Goodley.”
“So?” Shana said.
“How about a tequila, Agent Andrews?” Dane said.
He didn’t mind playing good-guy – bad-guy with the usual roles reversed. It was entertaining to watch Shana be the badass for a change. Although he wasn’t sure the two men would buy it. They would discover their mistake in due time. They would likely make the same mistake made by 99% of the men Dane had seen encounter her. The power of underestimation was enormous as well as entertaining.
“We want to set up a base here in your home for the duration of the President’s visit on the island.”
“I guess that’s a no on the tequila.”
Agent junior spoke up then. “We’re not playing games, Mr. Blaise.” He emphasized the title as if not being a federal agent made Dane inferior. At least he knew what type he was working with.
“Budget problems?”
Andrews answered. “We have information that you know the island and you have a certain background. And may have equipment available—”
“No.” Shana folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. Her navy pumps were spread two feet apart and her spine was straight and rigid.
“You don’t—” Agent Andrews started a sentence Dane predicted would end with a pissing contest so he cut the man off.
“I’m going to make a phone call. You two can wait a minute.”
“Who are you calling?”
Dane heard the trace of trepidation in Andrews’s voice.
“An old Army friend. The Governor of Massachusetts.”
The agents’ faces remained stony. They had good training at the Secret Service. He left Shana with the two bricks. They stood in a triangle in the small kitchen watching each other.
Dane took his time. He walked to the end of the hall to his bedroom and changed into dry clothes first—a white linen shirt, cargo shorts and sneakers. Then he went through the door off the short hall into the living room that doubled as his office to use the special secure phone—what he liked to call his Bat Phone.
This was probably part of the equipment that Andrews was referring to. As he dialed up the Governor, Peter John Douglas, Dane hoped to hell Peter hadn’t sent these men to take over the beach shack. But how else would Andrews know about his equipment?
He knew he’d need to cooperate with the agents to some degree. This was the President’s safety at stake after all, but he had no intention of giving up control.
He lifted the receiver of the old-fashioned secure phone and punched in the Governor’s secure line. The phone on the other end rang. Dane waited. If Peter didn’t answer, he’d get the message and call back. Dane knew he’d be quick. The Governor had to be expecting a call. The ringing gave way to a standard voicemail message and Dane left his, short and sweet. His signature line.
“Dane on the line. Call me.” He slammed the receiver back into the cradle and stood looking at it.
He did not want Shana to work this assignment. Something about it bothered him. Maybe it was the two Secret Service guys showing up unannounced. Maybe he was getting squeamish about her on any case that could be dangerous.
Shana approached him from behind. She made no noise, but her scent reached him before she did. It was unmistakable. And far too arousing.
“Everything okay?”
“Peter will call back in a few seconds.”
“I heard you slam the phone.”
She came around to lean on the desk in front of him. Right where he could reach her, touch her, pull her to him.
“What did you do with Andrews and Goodley?”
“They’re admiring our view of the harbor. I told them not to touch anything, suggesting with my tone of voice that there may be booby-traps.”
Squelching the automatic smile wasn’t easy. He stood still as tiger poised to pounce.
She straightened from her leaning position. The move brought her close, but not touching. He felt her body heat. She caressed his jaw, drawing her hand over the stubble he hadn’t had a chance to shave off that morning. He knew she didn’t mind.
His blood rushed and he clenched the muscles in his back, across his shoulders, against the onslaught of desire. He took hold of her wrist and held it, pulled it away from his face. A man could only resist so much seduction.
She didn’t protest. No pouting from his woman. She’d never been a pouter. She’d been too good at getting even to bother. He sighed deeply and she stepped back. She knew what was what without being told.
“Don’
t worry. We’ve got this. I’m taking a chance letting you do this as much as you—”
“Damn it.” He spoke the words under his breath. She’d known exactly what had been on his mind. For whatever reason that bothered him. Probably because he wanted her to think better of him, to know that he had faith in her, confidence in her, that he didn’t want anyone else having his back but her.
She smiled short of a laugh when she brushed by him. “Tell Peter I said hello. And to take care.”
The phone rang, that old-fashioned jangle that could probably be heard by the boats in the harbor out back. He snatched it up before she’d turned the corner out the doorway, while he watched her go.
“Governor.”
“I figured I’d hear from you soon. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You tell me. Why do I have two Secret Service agents here ready to install themselves in my home playing good-cop – bad-cop?”
He heard his friend sigh.
“I didn’t know they’d go that far. I mentioned you to someone I know. There’s a real threat on the island. I wanted the best man on the job. Are they reading you in?”
“No. I think we’re being played.”
“Damn it. See what you can do to insinuate yourself. We need you in on this.”
“Who’s we?”
“Me and at least one of our mutual friends in high places.”
He could have been talking about any number of generals. Or he could have been talking about a friend in the Department of Homeland Security. There could have been others. They’d both gained reputations and friends. Plenty of enemies too. Or at least Dane had plenty of enemies.
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