Beachcomber Danger: Beachcomber Investigations Book 8 - a Romantic Detective Series

by Stephanie Queen

  Shana said, “What’s the ETA?”

  “We still have fifteen minutes,” Andrews said in a reasonable, even pleasant voice.

  She nodded to Dane. That would give Acer plenty of time to get to them.

  “See anyone?” Andrews asked.

  “I see lots of couples, mostly older, or with kids or in groups, not fitting the profile.” Dane scanned the crowd along the perimeter. That was their best guess of where the couple would be, but if it were him, he’d take high ground and a sniper rifle. But then that’s why the Secret Service had all the rooftops within half a mile covered.

  “I think we should flush them out before Air Force One lands.”

  Shana looked at him as if she knew what he had in mind and gulped down her apprehension.

  Their comm units buzzed to life with Andrews’s voice.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Blaise? Don’t you do anything—”

  “Hear me out.” Dane paused to make sure Andrews and whoever else was on the line was listening. After two beats of calm, he proceeded.

  “We stage an altercation with a couple of Secret Service agents, get everyone’s attention, including our two assassins. Let them see us, let them see that we’re armed, and that we’ve been escorted out.”

  “What the hell good will that do?”

  “They’ll know who we are. They’ll assume we’re plan B.”

  “Why would they?”

  “Because it’ll fit with the rest of the breadcrumbs you left for them.”

  “So how will it help today?”

  “One of them will need to follow us to make sure we’re locked up. But they’ll see that we escape—we might need to knock one of your agents on the head—”

  “No violence—not real violence. You can fake it.”

  “So you’re on board.”

  “Play it out for me. They see you escape and follow you, then what?”

  “We disappear and they need to divide their time worrying about us rather than the President. But most importantly, it allows you to identify them.”

  “We’ll be able to identify at least one of them. But—”

  “You’re taking film of the crowd—you can back it up and find the second one if need be.”

  Andrews didn’t say anything. Dane heard some commotion and low voices in his ear. He watched Shana’s face while he let the seconds go by. He loved her face. The pinch in his chest came and went quickly. He didn’t reach out to her. They stood together but apart enough for him to feel naked.

  She gave him a bland smile, then she turned her head toward the sky like the others in the crowd, watching for the plane. He heard it in the distance. The crowd murmured. They had to act now.

  “It’s go time, Andrews. No more time for your conference. Alert your agents, the two in suits about ten yards to the east of us.”

  “Hang on. I need to coordinate it on our end. I’ll count it down for you.”

  Though no one else would have, Dane noticed the quick stiffening of Shana’s spine, the tensing in her jaw. He reached out for her and moved closer to listen with her.

  They eased further from the agents, to where the crowd thinned and allowed space to maneuver. He wasn’t sure what kind of show they’d be putting on, but he wanted it to be noticeable so he angled them for the TV cameras. The plane neared, getting louder and was now close enough that Dane could see an indistinct blue circle.

  The crowd tensed with excitement and grew louder.

  “Now, Andrews. I’m making a move.” Dane turned toward the two agents heading in their direction and opened his jacket enough to show his gun. They speeded up to a jog, shoving people aside.

  Dane started backing away toward the perimeter of the crowd with Shana, keeping his eye on the agents. When they reached Dane and Shana, she hit one of them with her bag and they struggled against the two, while other law enforcement moved in.

  Not good.

  “Call off the others, Andrews. Direct them to do crowd control.” Dane spoke between gritted teeth while he struggled against one agent who looked like he thought this was for real.

  Dane’s adrenaline galloped as he watched the other agent pull Shana’s arms behind her back. There were screams and shouts now as the crowd took notice. The TV cameras moved in. The uniformed police turned to forcing the crowd back. The two agents were joined by others as they walked Dane and Shana toward the building.

  Guns were drawn. He hoped to hell they were all on the comm and knew this was staged. He scanned the crowd for their perps. A lone man was moving behind the line of police in the same direction, angling to follow him and Shana with their Secret Service entourage. Had to be their guy. He was average height, average build, and wore a USMC baseball cap, white polo shirt and khakis. Bull’s-eye.

  “Take us to a car and lose the other two agents,” Dane told the man dragging him away.

  “I don’t take orders from you.” The man spoke under his breath.

  “Do what he says, Agent Fowler.” Andrews’s voice popped up.

  The man nodded at his partner. Then as they rounded the corner of the Aviation building he spoke to the other two agents who still had their weapons drawn.

  “We’ll take it from here. We’re taking them in to check out their story.”

  The other two agents stopped and nodded. Dane looked around for his man in the USMC cap. He was slipping around the other side of the building.

  “I spotted our target.”

  “We’ll decide who the target is.” The agent opened the back door of the black SUV and tossed Dane inside.

  “Where are you taking us?” Shana said as she was allowed to slip inside next to Dane.

  “To State Police Headquarters.”

  “Perfect. We’ll stage our escape from there.”

  The agent looked at him in the rearview mirror.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Don’t give me your bull—”

  Andrews’s voice cut in, blasting across the comm device.

  “We’ll see if the target follows. Dane, keep your eyes out. Agent Vale, you keep your eyes out as well.”

  “Yes ,sir,” the agent who’d gotten in the passenger seat said.

  “And take it easy. We’re not in a hurry,” Dane said.

  “I’ll see you at the station,” Andrews said.

  Shana slipped her hands around front and took a mirror from her purse. “We can watch our rear with this. Less obvious.”

  “What happened to your cuffs?” Dane couldn’t believe it.

  “They were never locked—are yours?”

  “Hell yeah.” Dane met the driver’s eyes in the mirror. The man had the audacity to smile and shrug. He was growing to dislike the Secret Service. A lot.

  With his eyes on his side mirror, Agent Vale spoke up.

  “I’m spotting a car following. Pulled out from the lot behind us.”

  “Is the driver male with a baseball cap?” Dane asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  “We’re not in the military, Agent Vale, are we?” Dane needed these two to step back from their take-no-prisoners war-zone attitude.

  “No sir.”

  “I see him,” Shana said. “He’s the same guy we spotted earlier. Same nose and jawline.”

  “How can you tell from this distance?” The agent driving the car, whose name they didn’t get, wasn’t standing on ceremony.

  Shana said, “the mirror is special.”

  Dane wanted to kiss her for that wisecrack. He leaned over and looked in the mirror with her.

  “It’s him, all right.”

  They neared the police station and veered into the parking lot.

  “How are we staging this?”

  Shana answered the agent. “I’ll take one of your guns and pretend to hit you. Then Dane can pretend to kick Agent Vale and we’ll take your car and—”

  “You’re taking the car?”

  “Don’t worry, Agent Warren. You’ll get your car back in due time
,” Andrews said.

  “This is all very irregular,” Agent Vale said as the car pulled to a stop outside the station. “Normally we’d have backup and the officers at the station would—”

  “Never mind,” Andrews said. “We’re not running this regulation and chances are the target isn’t going to worry about it. They’ll buy into the escape.”

  “If not—”

  Dane said, “Never mind that. They can’t take a chance. Either way they’ll follow us. That’s the point.”

  “Where are you taking them?” Andrews said. “We’ll meet you.”

  “We’re not taking them anywhere. We’re losing the guy.”

  “That’s a negative—”

  “Think about it, Andrews. We have nothing on him if we take him now. We’d have to let him go and he’d be onto us. If we lose him, he’ll still think Shana and I are assassins and he’ll focus on finding us. He and his partner will still be in play and we’ll eventually get them for trying to kill me and Shana.”

  “We don’t want him to get another shot at the President.”

  “We don’t have him for taking a shot at the President. You have him—and hopefully his partner—identified now. Surely you can stop them now that you know what they look like.”

  Andrews went quiet. “Let me check on this.” He went offline for a few beats while they sat in the car in the lot with the engine running and pretending they were talking on the phone.

  “We can’t stay here. That’ll make the target more nervous than anything and he might leave.”

  Dane was watching the man a block away sitting in his car. The car pulled out.

  “It’s go time. He’s on the move.”

  Chapter 10

  The two agents got out of the car simultaneously and opened the back doors for Dane and Shana, dragging them out.

  “He stopped. Bring us around the front of the car where he won’t have a good view. We’ll do the takedown there.”

  The two agents obliged. Once around the front of the car, Dane didn’t wait for Shana before pulling himself free of Warren’s grasp, taking him by surprise like any good prisoner would. He kicked the gun from his hand as Warren automatically went for his weapon.

  Shana swung around and hit Vale in the gut with her elbow and then came up and hit him under the chin with her head, knocking him back. She bent and made like she was getting the keys to the unlocked cuffs. If this were real, the agents would have used plastic ties and they’d be out of luck.

  Another anomaly he hoped their target would overlook.

  Dane dragged Warren out of the way and while he was bent over him he said, “Keys?”

  The agent slipped the keys from his pocket and Dane snatched them from his hand. The agent spoke under his breath.

  “Take care of that car and keep the comm going.”

  Dane winked at the man then jumped in the car as Shana scrambled to get in the passenger side.

  “We’re off.” He spoke for Andrews’s benefit then slammed the car into gear and screeched the tires for effect as he took off.

  “Is he following?” Dane asked Shana. She nodded as she slouched in the seat and watched from the side mirror.

  “He’s keeping his distance. Looks like he’s talking on his cell phone.”

  “In that case, we need to make sure we watch out for an ambush.”

  “How about if we lose him before they have a chance for an ambush?”

  “Where are you heading?” Andrews interrupted.

  “It’ll be a surprise.” Dane smirked at Shana as he swerved into the parking lot of the Vineyard Haven Market once again. She laughed.

  “The old standby.” She threw her door open the moment he stopped the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. He joined her and they ran toward the market doors, slipping inside as John Doe pulled into the lot.

  Dane yanked her arm and dragged her into the fray of grocery shoppers when she stopped to look back.

  “Is he in pursuit?”

  “Not yet. He stopped when he saw the car parked. But he’ll be inside shortly. I’d bet money on it.”

  “Then we need to get out of here. You up for a run home?”

  “I’ll beat you there.”

  They took off through the market and out the back then launched into a full run down the side streets back to the beach shack.

  It wasn’t far, but it was farther than Dane should have run at a full sprint. Keeping his cool when he felt like doubling over as he slammed in through his back door was tougher than the rest of the morning’s challenges put together.

  Shana had beat him there by ten yards. That hurt most of all.

  *****

  “Where is everyone?” Shana was surprised to find the beach shack silent and empty. Only the old refrigerator buzzed with life.

  “Andrews and Goodley were heading for the house where the President is staying.” He was panting and sweaty and he turned her on more than he usually did.

  “Out of shape?” She let a smile escape as she turned on the kitchen faucet and filled a glass.

  She handed it to him as he straightened from his bent posture. He didn’t drink it. Instead he poured it over his head.

  “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “Too hot from the run?”

  “Too hot for you.” He went to the sink, refilled the glass and gulped it down.

  “Maybe you ought to pour another one over your head then.” She took a kitchen towel and bent to wipe the water from the floor.

  He came up behind her and lifted her dress so that when she stood, she ground her rear against him, hitting the hard, hot length of him exactly with the crack in her ass. She felt the singe of sensation through her thin panties and his pants.

  “They’ll be back. We won’t know when. Sassy and—”

  He took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.

  He had that look. He held her and she was weakening, literally. Her muscles were like spaghetti. He moved to kiss her. She pressed her hands against him and moved away.

  “What about professional distance?”

  “Nothing is going on tonight. We did our duty today.” He reached out and held her again.

  “If they come back—”

  “We’ll be in our room.” He nibbled on her earlobe and then pulled her with him down the hall to their bedroom. Their bedroom. She was still getting used to that. “They know we’re an engaged couple, since they seem to know everything about us already. So why do I feel like a teenager sneaking off?”

  He pulled her into the room and shut the door.

  “Damn, Shana. I don’t want them to do that to us. This is our home.”

  “It’s not about Andrews and Goodley.” She couldn’t believe she was going to lecture him about their responsibility and the importance of not being distracted on the job. The dangers of not being focused on the mission.

  He swiped a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. But then he began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “You know we need to be on 24/7 for this assignment. You know we can’t get distracted—”

  “I’m getting out of these wet clothes. Am I allowed to change?”

  “Don’t blame it on me. These are your rules, as I recall.”

  He pulled down his pants.

  “They’re not my rules. They’re the rules of survival. In situations where there’s imminent danger, no distractions are allowed.” He kicked his pants off. His cock was still standing, big and pulsing. He’d worn no underwear.

  She shook her head, but she didn’t stop staring at him, the full length of him, from his intense eyes, his strong jaw shadowed with a half day’s growth, his strong lean torso and bulging arms, to the invitation of his pulsing hard cock. She felt herself getting wet and weak.

  *****

  He was naked and she was dressed. In his mind, she was about to become naked.

  “It’s not all about me being horny. It’s a strategic move.” He caressed her jaw. He knew she was a s
ucker for a soft touch accompanying some he-man words.

  “They’ll be less suspicious if we act like honeymooners.”

  “We’re not married. Stop pretending we are.”

  Icy cold spikes sprung up, stabbing his chest at her words. He didn’t change his demeanor. He took a beat to calm the fear. It was probably fear making her say the words.

  “Since when do you split hairs?” He came off sounding half joking when he felt the serious tension across his back as if the icy spikes impaled his heart and tore through him.

  “We need to be concentrating on the mission. We can’t let … this distract us.” She waved a hand in the direction of his hard cock, making it less hard.

  “You won’t believe this, but I think you’re right.” He meant the words. The question was, could he follow through? Could he put his pants back on and keep them on—without resentment rearing up? Not resentment at Shana, but resentment at the mission. He felt himself sliding.

  But if he started resenting the mission, wanting her, them, more than the mission—by a million to one margin, not even a close call—then who was he? Dane Blaise had always been about seeking justice, fighting the bad guys, ridding the world of scum as best he could. If he didn’t do that, if he didn’t have that, if that wasn’t his life, then what was his life about?

  Then who would he be?

  He’d been right all those years to avoid this falling in love crap. He thought he’d learned his lesson with Elena, but that affair paled in comparison to what he experienced now with Shana. Love had him by the balls and he couldn’t let go now that he had it.

  Why couldn’t he have both? Himself and Shana? Why couldn’t he be the man he was without losing a piece of himself by loving her? Is that how it was?

  He knew the answer. And yet others managed. He was reminded of the Governor and his wife. Of David Young, the Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange in Boston and his wife. They were married and they were still tough sons of bitches, still managed their exhausting all-encompassing careers because what they did was part of who they were.

  He had to do this. He had to make this work. He wanted Shana and he would have her and he would be able to perform in the morning, with crystal clarity, as if their lives depended on it.

  Because they did. And he could handle the stakes. Even if the stakes were Shana’s life.