“A partnership in a private investigation business. Simple. Nothing else to it.”
“What kind of work would we do?”
“Whatever comes along. Like the undercover surfing competition mission last summer. Like protecting Acer and tracking down the threat now. Everything is fair game.”
“Where will we work?”
“The beach shack. Where else?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dane. Some people have offices—”
“No need. I’m set up. You know this.” He paused a beat. Got the new spike of fear stabbing his heart under control and said, “You looking for excuses? Say no.”
She said nothing. She glared at him with accusing, hurt, confused eyes. His heart sank to his gut and everything churned and she held the crank and tightened it with every beat.
“Stop it.” Cap spoke in his commanding police chief voice. “She deserves a chance to weigh her options, Dane. Back off.”
He ought to thank Cap for aiming a fire hose at him, but he was too churned up to feel anything but anger. It lessened the pain. The default emotion of choice for every self-respecting emotion-avoider. He grabbed onto it now.
“I deserve—”
He was interrupted by a deep voice sporting a no-nonsense British accent that could calm—and probably had calmed—a rabid wolf. It belonged to David Young, Chief Inspector and Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program in Boston. And a British legend in spite of his lack of wartime service.
“I knew all three of you would be here. I find it terribly convenient to have my audience all together in one place—in particular in a hospital room where we must all behave civilly and seriously.” He walked in and stared each of them down like he’d had an earful of their conversation just before he’d walked in.
“Please take a seat. I shall be the one standing and the one speaking.”
Dane looked at Shana and tried not to feel like a stupid teenager. But the shoe fit. She sat. He pulled up a chair, nodded at David with an eyebrow raise, lifted a boot onto the seat and leaned an elbow on his bent knee.
“The floor is yours. Tell us about Acer,” Dane said.
Shana sat still to let the heat dissipate and listened to David talk.
“Acer is at the beach shack. Unloading his equipment. I got a lift here from one of Captain Lynch’s men.” David smiled and looked straight at her. She didn’t so much as flare a nostril in response, keeping a steel hold on the cringe of anxiety. He must know what an awkward position this put her in. The beach shack was not big enough for the three of them: her, Dane and Acer. Hell, it wasn’t big enough for her and Dane most of the time.
But who cared when Acer’s life was at stake. And if he was from the unit, then he was another war hero. Seems she was surrounded by a room full of war heroes and legends. And what was she?
She didn’t belong. She was the object in the room that most definitely did not belong. The element in this picture that did not fit. That did it. It made her choice pitifully easy in spite of the suds of panic roiling up in her stomach and creating a sucking void in her chest where she needed Dane to be. She said nothing under her boss’s scrutiny and was careful not to smile or sweat or even twitch. She took a deep breath, however, and she’d be damned if there was a problem with that. A woman had to breathe, didn’t she?
“We’ll take care of him. Shana and I.” Dane spoke to David without looking at her. He was that confident.
“That was the plan,” David said.
“What about the rest of the unit? Any threat?”
“We’re still assessing, but we don’t think so. We’ll also need you to do some of the footwork to track down the shooter and whoever is calling the shots.”
“Not the same person?”
“Not likely. At least that’s the current theory. Peter will be in touch by phone, of course. Acer will fill you in on the rest of the details when we get back to the beach house.” He paused and looked at Cap.
“I’m told you will be going home tomorrow and returning to light duty. I expect we will need to coordinate with your command on this one as well. Are you up to working with us on this?”
“Try and stop me.”
“Well now I feel better, having assembled our team.” David smiled. Dane stood. “I’ll count on you to lead the charge. Unofficially,” he said to Dane. “I took the liberty of ordering dinner. It will be delivered to your charming home in,” he stopped and checked his old-fashioned, very expensive wrist watch, “an hour and forty-five minutes.” He turned to leave but when he got to the door he turned back. Shana stood and went bedside to say good-bye to Cap.
David said, “One more thing. Shana, are you working on this mission from the inside or … not?” He waited, poised to leave, expecting her to answer him right then and there. She hadn’t had time to think it through, to weigh pros and cons and consider her options. She went with her gut.
“I’m with Dane—with Beachcomber Investigations.”
“That’s what I thought.” He flashed her a wink and continued through the door.
She felt the heat of Dane’s gaze on her immediately. Or maybe it was her embarrassment or shame at the snap decision after prevaricating so convincingly before.
“Now was that so hard, girlie?” Dane taunted.
“Don’t worry, Shana,” Cap said. “You can quit any time. David would take you back in a flash.”
“What the hell?” Dane said to Cap.
“Stop it. We have work to do.” She scowled at Dane and then bent over the bed to give Cap a kiss good-bye. On the cheek. Except he reached up and held her face and brushed her lips with his.
Then he said in a near whisper, “Let me know if it gets too crowded at the beach shack for you.”
Dane whistled a loud blast and she sprung up and away from Cap.
“What the hell, Dane? Are you whistling for me? Like a dog?”
“No. Not like a dog. Like a warning.” He glared between her and Cap.
Cap grinned. Shana took up her bag and walked toward Dane. She could feel his umbrage dissipate with each step closer she took.
After a couple of beats he said to Cap, “I expect to see you tomorrow morning at the shack.”
“Will David be ordering us breakfast?”
“Shana will cook,” he said.
Her chest expanded in a hot rush and she almost lifted her hand to slap him on pure thoughtless instinct before she calmed herself. He was baiting her.
“Bring some donuts if you want food,” she said, saluted and walked out the door ahead of Dane. A part of her wanted to keep walking. All the way to the ferry landing and onto the next boat off the island. The other part of her wished she were strong enough to do that. To make him come after her.
But then maybe it took more strength to stay. And take care of him. He was the man who saved lives. Saved her life. She owed him. She wanted him. She wanted to be the woman that saved his life. She wondered what the hell he felt about her.
Chapter 3
What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was Cap doing? What the hell was Shana doing here and why was she staying and did he really want her to stay after all? He was a solo act, a loner, wasn’t he?
Dane drove the Jeep down the streets making the trip feel more like an off-road adventure, taking corners and bumps at a run. It was somewhat satisfying and calming, until he screeched around the turn into his crushed shell drive next to a big truck and the reality struck him.
Someone was after Acer. His relationship with Shana could take a backseat until they solved that problem. In the meantime, she would be in on the mission at his side. He felt at home.
He jumped from the Jeep, leaving Shana to follow him, and rushed inside the back door of the beach shack.
“Acer, my man. Not even a scratch—with that figure we’re not looking for a marksman if he missed you.” Dane walked straight up to his old friend and gave him a hug. Acer had always been a bear of a man, but now he was more than solid.
“Dane the demon.” Acer hugged him and bumped a fist on his back in the way he always had. They backed away from each other and Dane took stock, measuring the crisis level in the man’s eyes. He’d survived a lot, seen a lot—they all had. But that didn’t mean that they were impervious, that it didn’t take a toll.
Acer smiled and looked over Dane’s shoulder.
“And who do we have here?”
Shana hovered behind him. He felt her presence and didn’t need to turn around.
“You know very well who this is. David Young briefed you thoroughly,” Dane said. Then he turned to Shana.
“This reprobate is an old pal from the unit. Not my favorite, but right up there in the top ten best people I ever met in my life. Don’t let his monster-sized persona fool you. He’s not much of a fighter, a moderate shooter, and although he can wield a knife, his main skill is the techie stuff. Communications and everything computer related.”
“I know. I’ve heard all about you, Acer.” Shana put out her hand to shake his. “And I’ve relied on your skill almost every day—I’m told you set up the secure system we have here at the shack.”
“Charmed,” Acer said and took her hand and brought it to his lips. “My official bio says more. I set up the governor’s secure lines and Dane’s secure computer and data and communications systems to be impenetrable.”
She nodded and said, “I understand you’re impossible to contact directly. You seem to have a dark cloak of secrecy around you. I don’t understand how someone could get to you.”
“That’s what we need to find out. But I wasn’t always underground. I did a stint in a private protection/security company with Dane before I went on my own. Struggled a while out in the open. Now I have enough contacts to maintain a business while invisible. And more money than I need, but it wasn’t always that way.”
“And none of us know where he lives—we suspect he has multiple homes and possibly multiple wives and families,” Dane said. Acer swung a slow, half-hearted punch that Dane easily blocked.
“I ‘m flattered by your insult.” Acer grinned.
“Enough of this. Where’s David? We need to get down to brass tacks.”
“In that case, I’ll have a bottle of tequila and a glass.” Acer pulled out a chair. “David is in the guest room freshening up.”
Dane got the tequila from the freezer as Shana got four glasses and they sat around the dining room table, pushing the computer monitor aside. Dane took the top off the Patron and tossed the cap over the kitchen peninsula into the sink.
“We won’t need that. We’re not stopping ‘til this bottle is empty.” He poured three drinks in the short old-fashioned glasses etched with Army eagles. Someone’s idea of a nice Christmas gift. He raised his glass.
“Here’s to the unit. Vanquish the enemy.” He nodded at Acer and they simultaneously drained their drinks. He turned to Shana and noticed she was only a beat behind.
“I hope I’m not the enemy even if I’m not a member of the unit.” She had that proud dare me look, eying him and Acer and back again, waiting for a challenge.
Acer said, “You’re an honorary member. And the best looking member the unit ever had, if I do say so.” He raised his glass to her. “It’ll be an unadulterated pleasure to work with you.”
“Watch out, Acer. She has skills.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Shana laughed. Dane poured another round. David Young walked in.
“I hope you have another bottle.” He pulled up a chair and took up a glass as Dane sloshed a measure in each.
“What the hell are you wearing?” He eyed David’s orange Hawaiian shirt.
“It’s my island wear. My wife has mentioned that my wardrobe is lacking in diversity. I’m expanding my horizons.”
Dane kept the snicker to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure if the man was joking.
“You look perfect. Spot on—even in an island shirt,” Shana said.
“Let’s have the skinny on the shooter,” Dane said. “What happened, Acer—from the beginning.”
Acer shot the contents of his second glass down his throat, wiped his forearm across his mouth, and said, “I owe my life to a lady’s hat and a strong breeze. Either that or our sniper is a stupid person with poor planning skills. Or he missed on purpose. I’m leaning toward number one. Stupid.”
“Nice story. What happened?” Dane knew it would take a bit to tease the story out of the man. He liked to wax on. Acer was the oddball in their unit. The nerd-turned-cool kid after he went ROTC at Cornell. That’s when people started taking him more seriously than a teddy bear, or so he’d said.
“Okay. Here it is. I was walking to the barber at a cautious pace, aware of my surroundings as always. No one following me or taking notice. I wore a dark blue Red Sox T-shirt and baseball cap and khaki shorts with pockets containing an assortment of useful items including a secure cell. A sniper took a shot at me and missed because of random chance when I changed direction on the street to pick up a woman’s hat that flew off her head onto the sidewalk. We were right outside the barber shop. I wouldn’t have noticed the shot at all because the bullet went through the barber shop window clean, but then it shattered the mirror on the opposite wall and set off some alarms. I went in and took a look while I waited with the barber for the cops to come and I found the bullet. Definitely from a sniper rifle. Army issue.” He slipped two fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out the bullet.
Dane laughed. “You swiped the evidence from the scene of a crime?” He looked at David.
“I’ll have another drink,” David said.
“Where did this happen?” Shana asked.
“On Milk Street. In Boston,” Acer said, taking a long look at Shana. “I really like your accent. Australian, right?”
“You’re shut off,” Dane said. “You never could hold your liquor.”
David said, “So we’re saying the sniper was not taking a high-odds shot because of the breezy weather? But he was prepared enough to know you would be at that barber shop.”
“That’s easy. I went back to my hotel and talked to the concierge. I made the appointment through her and sure enough someone was asking. Said he was an old Army buddy, but the description doesn’t fit any old Army buddies I know of. Not from our unit. Maybe from another rival unit or a washout.”
Dane had already been thinking along the same lines. He asked, “What was the description?” He was skeptical of descriptions from civilians untrained in the science of professional observation. They rarely caught enough detail and often misremembered things based on prior associations and generalizations. Unless there was a special reason to remember.
“I know what you’re thinking—but this description is good.” Acer fiddled in his pant leg pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical object that looked like a good fountain pen. Dane knew better. Acer pressed the side clip and placed it on the table between them all. “May as well listen to the witness in her own words.” After a moment and a clicking sound an unfamiliar voice said, “The man was unusually tall and lanky—like a basketball player but older. I remember him because he was close to seven feet tall and he leaned over a little like he was so used to ducking into doors he had a permanent curve in his spine. But the real reason I’d never forget him is his bad teeth—the front upper teeth were missing and the bottom ones crooked and rotten looking. I had to back away from him—he frightened me at first, but then I remembered my manners and training. I also remember being worried about him having rotten breath. I wished he didn’t smile so much. I also felt uncomfortable that he might be looking down my blouse from his height and the way he was leaning.” Acer picked up the pen recorder and clicked it off.
“You do realize that that recording isn’t legal unless you asked permission?” Dane said. Acer shrugged.
Dane glanced at Shana. David had sat down between them purposely dragging the chair from the corner of the room to that spot. The man knew there was tension a
nd probably knew why.
Dane said, “You were staying at the Parker House Hotel?”
“In town on business.”
“Secret business or maybe related business?” Dane asked.
He watched the dawning on Acer’s face.
“Let me guess,” Dane said. “The governor—your old pal and commander from the unit—called you in on business. Something came up that involved you.”
“I always did say you had a special mind-reading ability,” Acer said.
“Want to clue us lesser beings in?” Shana asked with her super sweet look that did more to frighten him than her scowl.
“He was set up by someone who needed to flush him out. Used his connection with the governor,” Dane said. Then he asked the key question, a bump in his heart signifying the moment of breakthrough sending a pleasant adrenaline rush through him. “Who called the governor?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. The meeting got derailed once we were focused on the whole sniper thing,” Acer said.
“I see your comrades in arms do not share your talent for investigating,” David said, giving Dane an eye of approval.
Shana scoffed, “Don’t give him fuel for a larger head than he already has.”
Acer laughed.
David said, “I’ll talk with Peter when I get back to Boston and get to the bottom of the meeting and what it was about. It’s possible it wasn’t related, but odds are Dane is right and it may help lead us to who sent the sniper.”
“In the meantime,” Shana said, “how many snipers do you know with a grudge?”
“That discussion calls for another round of shots,” Acer said.
“After we brainstorm some names. Plug us into the old service records. We need to see who washed out and who had sniper skills and cross-reference them.”
“And who fits the physical description,” Acer said.
Beachcomber Investigations: A Romantic Detective Series Novel - Book 1 Page 2
