“I wouldn’t put too much stock in that—other than the unusual height. Hell, I don’t even fit the description from my old service photo. It’s been too many years—”
“Too many bullets under the bridge,” Acer finished their old saying.
Dane remembered Acer the way he’d been then, the way the man had picked him up off the ground and carried him the first leg of the journey back to their safe spot after Dane had been shot down. Melancholy threatened—probably the booze. He sucked in a sigh.
“Can you access the appropriate database from here?”
Acer pulled the computer in front of him. “On it, boss. Funny calling you boss, but if the shoe fits.” Acer turned to the keyboard and screen, and tapped away.
“Anything else?” Dane asked David.
“Yes, a couple of things.” David held up his glass. Dane poured him a shot. There was only a half a shot left. He looked at Shana.
“Go for it,” she said. “I’ll remain the calm, cool-headed one. We know I’m not a target after all. I’m only an honorary member of the unit.”
“Funny you should say that. It was one of my first concerns,” David said. “Of course Peter—the governor—claimed that was rubbish. If this were a grudge shooting against the unit, they would have started with him. Nevertheless we have Joe on high alert.”
Dane said to Shana, “Joe is the governor’s chauffeur slash bodyguard. Damn good at his job.”
“Let me guess—he’s from the unit.”
Dane couldn’t help smiling, giving in to her resigned attitude and having mercy on her.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll let the sniper know you’re one of us.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “What about Acer’s clients or more recent possible enemies?”
“I printed out a list,” Acer said, still intent on the computer screen. “Only one copy and it needs to stay that way. Very sensitive information.”
David pulled the list from his pocket and gave it to Dane. Then he turned to Shana and said, “I’ll switch seats with you and you can share the list.”
Dane noted the twinkle in David’s eye.
“Thanks a million.” She exchanged seats in spite of her feigned reluctance. Dane held the list in front of him, forcing her to lean close to see it. She leaned close so that her right breast brushed against his arm and rested there like a taunt. He felt his jaw muscle tic and realized his mistake.
He shifted the paper in her direction. She smiled, but didn’t take her eyes off the page. She also didn’t shift her body position. Dane simmered and tried concentrating on the list of clients, dates and short descriptions of the work, the results, and most significantly the amount of money he was paid by each.
He blew out a whistle. “Jesus H. Christ, Acer. Looks like you make more money than I do.”
Acer smiled from behind his screen, but didn’t comment. Dane’s suspicions tilted more to the likelihood of a client being behind the shooting. Acer had been responsible for more than one client serving jail time.
“What about this one?” Shana pointed her glossy cotton-candy-pink-tipped finger at the third name on the list. “He went to jail a while back and he could be out by now.”
“I don’t like him. Too old. Too much of a loser. We’re looking for just the right amount of ‘loser.’ I like this guy.” Dane pointed to the sixth and last name on the list. “Sebastian Whitaker of Bryant Enterprises. The son-in-law of the client company’s owner.”
“I like him too,” Acer said.
“You like him?” Shana said to Acer and then turned to Dane with a raised brow.
“I like the chances that he could be our guy. Worth looking into.” Dane scraped his chair back, escaping the warmth singeing his arm.
“I know what you meant by like.” Shana rolled her eyes. “Why?”
Dane took a beat to enjoy her exasperation and then shrugged his shoulders.
“If you don’t know, I can’t explain it.”
Shana popped up from her chair, knocking it backwards, flipped her middle finger at him and stomped into the kitchen. Her backside swayed in a tighter pattern than usual, but the effect of watching her walk away was always the same. Pleasure, a kick of adrenaline to up his heart rate, followed by an inexplicable plummeting of his mood and then, finally, a return to his cool calm demeanor, the one he’d counted on for survival ever since he could remember.
David looked at him with an eyebrow raise and expectation of an explanation, or maybe it was an expectation of an apology or other change in his behavior. Dane shrugged. Business as usual.
There may have been a glint of disapproval in David’s eyes, but he said, “I’ll dig up everything I can get about Sebastian Whitaker from the official files and you three can run with that ball until and unless we come up with anything more.”
“Like a connection between the shooter and Whitaker,” Dane said. He was hyper aware of Shana filling a glass with water at the sink and then taking her time sipping at it while she stared out the kitchen window at the harbor as if it held all the answers. The only answer that lay there was escape. That thought caused another tic in Dane’s jaw. He stood and, without thinking, went into the kitchen and stood behind her, intimately close, and put an arm around her. He felt her muscles coil under his touch as if she were preparing to strike—and he prepared himself for the possibility that she actually would.
“I’m an ass,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t let it get to you.”
She remained silent and still, unwavering in her stare out the window. He felt a roll of nausea in his gut.
Then Acer spoke up.
“Bingo. I got a guy—almost certain it’s him.”
Dane and Shana turned to see Acer slide the computer monitor around to show them a picture and a document.
“Any current address?” Dane asked.
Acer shook his head. “Last known whereabouts was Maine. Up in the boonies.”
“Run the people search program. It’ll have more recent information if there’s any to be had.”
Acer smiled. The program was his. He’d developed it for his personal use and given Dane a copy too. No one else had it as far as Dane knew and it was a masterpiece.
“First I’ll replace the version you have with my latest.” Acer dipped into another pocket, slipped out a flash drive and plugged it into the USB port.
David shook his head.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s all legal,” Dane said.
David laughed.
Then the doorbell rang. While everyone else froze in place, Dane spun and headed for the back door, picking up his favorite Glock from a kitchen drawer on his way by.
Shana said, “I’ll check the front through the blinds” and then headed for the front of the house in a low stoop, hugging the interior wall.
David gave him a quizzical look, checked his expensive watch again and said, “I’m sure it’s the meal I ordered, but I admire your precautions.”
Dane nodded and slipped out the back door which closed behind him without a sound.
Shana watched the front stoop from her vantage point against the wall near the front door side window. A young man stood with boxes and bags and she was fairly certain he was the food delivery David spoke about. But then it wouldn’t be the first time someone posed as a food delivery guy to get inside somewhere. She remembered a time back in the day—back in Sydney.
Her thoughts were short-circuited by the sight of Dane looping around behind the unsuspecting boy and coming behind him with his gun drawn. Dane must have said something because the boy jumped and dropped everything he’d been carrying when he spun around to see Dane with a gun aimed at his head. His hands flew up and he plastered himself against the door. Shana could no longer see the kid.
She had a momentary pang, knowing that Dane would have no such pang and would treat the kid mercilessly, pat him down, make him pick up all the food and bring it in the house. Then maybe he’d pay the kid for the food. Sh
ana sighed and opened the door, practically causing the kid to fall inside. She’d almost been right. Dane stood there with the gun, but he wasn’t by himself. Another man with a gun stood directly behind him, aiming the gun at Dane’s head.
Chapter 4
Shana knew the man. FBI Special Agent Glen Peck. With a stiletto heartbeat and the urgency of seeing nothing but her man—her partner—in harm’s way, she shoved the kid aside, knocking him into the bushes. She stepped through the door, slipping her gun from its spot in her shoulder holster, and took a two-fisted aim at Mr. FBI’s head.
“Drop the gun,” she said.
“What the hell?” the man said.
Dane turned around, dropping his gun to his side.
“That’s what I say—what the hell are you doing here, Special Agent Peck? Get lost on your way somewhere or are you on vacation?”
The man stood, bouncing his eyes back and forth between Shana and Dane, gun still aimed but visibly wavering. Shana would wait him out. Her hand was steady as a rock. She wasn’t a fan of Special Agent Peck. He was more disrespectful to her than Dane was and he had no right to be. The egotistical macho-man had bristled when she shut down his flirtations this past summer. He was lucky she hadn’t mentioned it to Dane.
Dane walked toward him on the flagstone path and said, “All right already with the gun. Put it down for Christ’s sake before someone gets hurt.” He stopped in front of Peck and stared him down for a beat before the man complied.
“What about her?” Peck nodded in Shana’s direction.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll drop her gun, but you instigated her and she’s kind of a wild card.”
Peck dropped his gun and slipped it back into his shoulder holster. “Very funny.”
Shana rolled her eyes and lowered her weapon, but she wasn’t ready to put it away.
She saw the kid hiding in the bushes stand tentatively. He said, “Can I go now?” in a high-pitched squeak.
“See what you did? Scared the poor delivery boy half to death,” Dane said.
Shana gave Agent Peck one last look, slipped her gun back in the shoulder holster and leaned over the boy in the bushes. She held out her hand at the wide-eyed kid and he smiled.
“Come on up here and let’s get that food inside.” She extended a hand and hauled him up. Standing in the open door, she watched him gather the food and preceded him. David and Acer waited in the dining room.
“Food’s here. As predicted.” She gave David a half smile. “And we have company.”
David raised a brow. She looked over her shoulder as the food, the FBI man and Dane paraded into the room behind her. Before she had a chance to find her bag with every intention of paying the kid for the food with a generous tip, Dane had pulled out a chair and seated the kid at the table to join them.
She looked a question at Dane and he gave her a slight nod to play along with him. Even though she didn’t trust him for a minute with her heart, she trusted him implicitly and unquestioningly in all matters in the world of law enforcement, investigating and anything that could remotely be labeled “special operations.”
Shana introduced David and Acer to Special Agent Glen Peck, who refused to sit.
“So you going to tell me what’s going on here, or do I have to call for backup and bring you all in for questioning?” Peck said.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” David said. “I’ll ring up the governor for you to explain the matter—if he thinks you should know about it.” David picked up his phone, punched one number and pressed the phone to his ear, gazing up from his relaxed vantage point at the table and holding a steady gaze on Peck.
Dane guarded the exit through the front of the house and Shana slid over to cover the exit through the kitchen. Acer noticed her move and grinned, then started opening the containers of food and passing plastic utensils, plates and napkins to the food delivery kid. The kid was the only other person in the room interested in eating at the moment and Shana wasn’t so sure about him either. He looked confused and turned to take his cue from Dane. Dane nodded at him. The kid shrugged his shoulders and dug into the food.
“Hello, Governor,” David said.
“Give me that phone,” Peck said and snatched it from David’s outstretched hand.
“Governor Douglas?” Peck stood and listened, a skeptical glower on his face. But his expression turned less skeptical until he was downright contrite-looking within twelve seconds. Shana enjoyed the transformation. She relaxed her stance and leaned against the kitchen peninsula, mimicking Dane’s lazy stance in the archway opposite her. He smiled. She felt that zing of pure pleasure. When they were on, they were so good together—a matched pair—and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with anyone else. She marshaled all the determination she had to hold onto that feeling and to soldier through the rest of it.
Peck tossed the phone onto the table in front of David.
“I’ll be checking with Special Agent in Charge Owen Evans, back at headquarters in Boston. The governor is not my boss.” He moved to walk out and looked at both exits, first at Dane and then at Shana. She stood tall again and folded her arms across her chest. She’d be damned if she’d let him leave without an explanation of some kind about what he was doing there.
He eyed her, and evidently, decided she was the path of least resistance. Big mistake on his part. Shana loved it when men underestimated her. He stepped around David’s chair in her direction and bless his heart, David did nothing to stop him, but instead watched with interest. Everyone at the table stopped eating and watched. Dane stood on alert. She knew he was holding himself back and likely wanted to pounce on the guy. She gave him a look that was a toned-down scowl to discourage him and hoped he’d keep himself under control.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“I’m leaving. For now.” The man stepped to within a foot of her and held his hands on his hips in a macho-man-like challenge. She smiled sweetly.
“What is it you were doing here in the first place?”
“Oh—didn’t I say? Nothing. Now get out of my way.”
“No,” she said and stood her ground, blocking his exit. She knew if he put his hands on her to get around her—which he would have to do—that all bets would be off. Watching him calculate the damage, she knew he knew the same thing. He didn’t want to hurt her because he’d get himself in trouble. Shana hoped he would so much as touch her shoulder and she would show him all about his miscalculations. After a few ticks of silence where the only sound was the kid burping, Peck spoke.
“Get out of my way or I’ll arrest you for interfering with federal business,” he said, deepening his scowl and standing taller. He took a half a step closer. Shana did not back down and scowled back at him. Her pulse jumped with a nip of adrenaline. She felt her damn nostrils flare in response, but otherwise she showed him nothing.
“You leave me no—” he said as he put a hand on her arm, but he got no further.
The instant his touch registered, she sprung into action, taking his arm in both hers, spinning him around and pulling it up his back until it verged on the breaking point and bending him forward.
But she was not the only one who sprang into action. David jumped from his chair and pulled out a gun. Dane leapt across the room around her other side and pushed the FBI man further forward until he was bent face down across the table, barely missing a box of beef stroganoff.
“You are in so much trouble,” FBI man grunted.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Dane said. He moved in behind the man, taking his arm from Shana’s grip and nodding at her. She took that to mean she should resume her questioning.
Shana stepped around to the right. Peck’s head was awkwardly turned and squeezed flat against the table by the pressure of one of Dane’s hands. She bent to speak to him face-to-face, looking him straight in the eye.
“What were you doing here?”
He eyed her for a second during which time Dane pulled on hi
s arm in an imperceptible way. Except she knew. She knew Dane’s moves not only from the case they’d worked on together—or rather mission, as he would call it—but from their training together since. They’d worked daily in his basement—in his so-called training facility. She stared at Peck, unblinking, and knew she could wait him out, that he would answer and that all this was macho posturing. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples and she bet herself that before the first stream of sweat reached his eyes, he would talk.
She was right. She felt that zing of satisfaction and smiled as the man spoke.
“I was assigned to watch the house. There was a shooting—possible sniper—in Boston and the boss—”
“Which boss?” Dane asked with an edge in his voice.
Peck fell silent. Shana was puzzled. She assumed Peck meant the Assistant Special Agent in Charge, Mark Richards, but clearly Dane knew something she didn’t. As usual. She kept the smile on her face as she stared the man down, but Peck darted his glance back at Dane before continuing.
“What’s it to you?”
Dane demonstrated what it was to him with a vicious tug on the man’s arm so that Shana could almost hear the tearing of muscle and tendon fibers. She clenched her jaw to keep from flinching. She’d known it was coming as soon as the guy had been daring enough or stupid enough to give Dane a wiseass answer. She shook her head and straightened.
“Okay, Dane. I give up. He’s all yours. Why don’t you take him in the back room—or maybe the basement.” She waved her hand in the direction of the dark hallway and watched the man’s eyes dart around. The sweat trickled into his eyes and he blinked.
“Are you people crazy? I got my orders from the goddamn ASAC. Okay? You happy? You can call him up—Mark Richards—and ask him why.”
Dane loosened his grip, but kept the man down.
“What were you supposed to be watching for?”
“Suspicious activity. Like you didn’t know.”
“Do you know anything about me?”
“You’re some damn war hero who thinks he’s above the law. I think I’m going to start calling you Rambo—”
Beachcomber Investigations: A Romantic Detective Series Novel - Book 1 Page 3
