Beachcomber Investigations: A Romantic Detective Series Novel - Book 1

by Stephanie Queen

  “What’s going on?” Acer came into the kitchen and got himself a drink.

  “Shana’s planning to spend the night with Peck in the line of duty. Probably to spite me.”

  “And you’re planning to call her off?” Acer sounded skeptical.

  “No,” Dane decided. “I’m going to call him off.”

  Acer smiled. “Brilliant idea. That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

  Peck wasted no time changing all the way from business to pleasure the minute he unlocked the door to his suite at Mansion House and ushered her inside. Wrapping his arms around her, she felt a chill, but not the good kind. Instead, it was the kind that reached all the way through to leave her cold.

  “Come in and get comfortable. I’ll get us those drinks.” He was close. He brushed her hair aside and caressed her cheek, but his hand felt like ice. Or it could have been her imagination. She nodded and stepped away from him to take a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace. It was time to concentrate on doing her job. While Peck got their drinks, she checked the room for places he might keep documents. She actually had no idea what she was looking for. What she really needed to see was his phone.

  His phone rang.

  “What the hell?” he said as he took the phone from his discarded jacket and brought her drink to her. Sitting down next to her—practically on top of her—he wrapped an arm around her and answered the call.

  “Yes?”

  “Dane Blaise here.”

  The shockingly familiar voice stunned her. She snapped her head around to see that Peck held his shock at bay, but he studied her as he spoke to Dane, holding the phone so she could hear everything.

  “You have some information for me, Mr. Blaise?”

  “No. You have something that’s mine.”

  Peck scoffed. “Owning people is against the law, Dane. Has been for some time now. Anything else?”

  “Send her home. Now. Or I come and get her.”

  “Now you threaten kidnapping? You’re flirting with big trouble.”

  “Put her on the phone.”

  “Sure.” Peck looked a question. She wanted to run from the room. She’d felt dirty with this man but the way Dane spoke didn’t make her feel any better.

  She shook her head no.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Dane. Have a good night.” He clicked off. If he was borderline obnoxiously confident before, then he was over-the-top unbearably smug now. She’d made her bed, made her choices.

  She took his phone from his hand before he had a chance to do anything with it and slipped it behind her. Then before he could protest, she leaned in and touched her lips to his. She refused to think of it as a kiss.

  Peck had other ideas. He returned with an ardent kiss of his own. If she were honest, she’d have to admit he was skilled. His hands caressed with a soft enticing touch, his lips pressed and parted, his tongue darted, the kiss was moist and had some passion, some tenderness to temper the lust. Mr. FBI was an excellent kisser.

  Even while she remained cool on the inside, she put an arm around him and had no trouble playing her part, letting him run a hand down her side, over her rib cage, to rest on her hip.

  Finally when he ended the kiss, he looked darkly passionate and serious, and not at all like a bad guy. She needed to slip the phone into her purse and use the bathroom before this went further. As she figured out what to say, he saved her the trouble.

  “I’m floored by you. I think I may be in deep trouble.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, looking terribly vulnerable. But she knew he was not. Not as vulnerable as she was right now if she didn’t figure a way to get the info off the phone and get out of there.

  “I have one thing to do, then I’m going to freshen up and I’m all yours for the evening. Deal?” Peck said.

  She nodded. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her mouth, in a wet and sloppy uninviting kiss. He kept it short and she hoped he didn’t notice her barely there response as he pushed away from the couch. Shana mentally crossed her fingers that the one thing he needed to take care of did not involve his cell phone. He stood, looking a tiny bit unsteady and left her to go into the bedroom.

  After his door was shut, she slipped the phone out from behind the cushions and powered it up. Of course there was a password. Damn. She tried to remember what Dane had taught her about this—about how to get around the password. Something about a 911 exception. She tapped some numbers and dialed the call, then immediately hung up.

  She was tempted to call Dane back, but she didn’t have time. She needed to access Peck’s voicemails and his call history and take pictures of the history and any relevant texts with her camera. Perusing his call history, none of the numbers jumped out at her, but that meant nothing. She snapped her phone’s camera at his screen, while keeping an eye on his bedroom door.

  After finishing with the call history, she tapped into his voicemail and listened to the last one, hitting record on her phone.

  It was from his boss and he was urging at Peck to call. The message had been left when they were at dinner. A quick check told her it was the third call from the same number that evening. Wondering whether Peck was off the reservation, she was stopped short when a hand clamped around hers. Hard.

  Chapter 10

  “You know you’re the baddest penny I ever met,” Dane said, knowing full well the reference to the constantly returning bad penny would go over the kid’s head. But at least Acer grunted in appreciation as they let the kid in the door.

  “Bad—”

  “Never mind. I suppose it took a certain amount of bravery to come back here in the dark after what happened to you yesterday and after I told you to leave town—that or unbelievable stupidity. What do you have?”

  He stepped aside and let Ronnie into the kitchen. The only light was the one over the sink and Dane knew strategically that was a bad idea. He’d turn it off in a minute as soon as he heard the kid out and sent him on his way yet again.

  “I got some good intel.”

  “Out with it.”

  “I have a good friend over at the harbor and he told me the tall skinny guy with bad teeth rented a boat today.”

  The snap of Dane’s spine into rigid attention from his slouch against the counter was audible as his guts fell like an anvil.

  Acer whistled and said, “Shit.”

  “Damn. When did he rent this boat?” Dane wasn’t sure it mattered. They’d have to be on high alert on the harbor side all night no matter what.

  “Two hours ago.”

  “Double damn. What kind of boat? Tell me every detail.”

  “It was a speedboat. It had lights. He said he wanted to be able to use it at night and go fast. My friend said it was the fastest he had, but nothing special. The guy was impressed by the spotlight.”

  Dane was too revved up to swear out loud.

  The three of them stood in the kitchen and he contemplated the fact that they were all in trouble and vulnerable. He turned to the kitchen window. He knew there was something wrong. Even in the dark, the moonlight and starlight combined with a sprinkling of harbor lights allowed him to measure the scene. A boat out of place—the wrong boat at a buoy, a larger, faster speedboat where a sailboat should be tethered.

  Before the telltale glint registered in his mind, he spun around and hauled Acer and the kid down to the floor as he lunged on top of them. A ping sounded and the glass of the window shattered followed by the thud of a bullet embedding itself into the far wall of the dining room.

  “Goddamn it,” Acer grunted.

  “What—” the kid squeaked in shock.

  “Don’t move,” Dane said. He scrambled to his feet. Keeping low, he grabbed his Glock from the drawer, then rushed to the closet in his bedroom to grab a rifle as fast as he possibly could. Signaling Acer to follow, they went out the front door and slipped around the side of the house and, still keeping low, scrambled down the back lawn to his small pier and the Jet Ski dock
ed there. A gift from the Chamber of Commerce last summer after the crazy finale of the island’s first surfing competition where he’d been undercover as a judge. A world away from now.

  He saw the speedboat gurgle to a start and in the shadowy night sky could make out the sniper setting for another shot. He wasn’t sure if the sniper saw them, but Dane hoped for an element of surprise when he punched the Jet Ski to a start and gunned it. The rifle would never hit a moving target. Acer stood on the dock and aimed the Glock at the boat.

  “Get on the back,” Dane ordered. The speedboat with the sniper was in full retreat mode now, with its lights off and heading through the boats in the harbor at a dangerous speed, clipping one sailboat and slowing down. He glanced back to see the shadowy figure of the kid standing on his lawn backlit by the kitchen window. At least he didn’t have to worry about Ronnie.

  “Wish I had my goddamn night goggles,” Dane shouted over the roar. He’d had no time to grab them from his bedroom. He could track the silhouette of the boat and the sniper maybe a dash under a hundred yards ahead, but it would be tough to get a good shot at him between the night and the movement of the two speeding watercrafts.

  “Get as close as you can and I’ll take the shot,” Acer said. “I owe him one.”

  The instant he touched her, Shana froze. But that was better than jumping in fright. Her mind ran faster than a bolt of lightning and her blood flew until she went into full-fledged survival mode. Managing to keep her voice cool, she spoke first to take control.

  “What are you doing?”

  “That’s my line. What the hell are you doing with my phone, Shana?” His voice was deadly cold and tinged with real anger.

  She pulled from his grasp and out of reach, standing with the small hotel-room-sized sofa between them. It wasn’t much of a shield, but she’d take it.

  “I wasn’t doing anything with it except rescuing it from the cushions.”

  “Don’t insult me. I saw you taking pictures.”

  She grabbed up her purse with her gun and phone and moved toward the door, meaning to sweep by him. She said, “This date is officially over.” She kept her eye on the door, but kept him in her periphery.

  “Now where the hell do you think you’re going? We’re just getting started.” He blocked her path only a step from the exit and grabbed her arms, yanking at her purse strap, but she held on. He must know her gun was inside.

  “Back off, bucko. The fun is over.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere—I want your phone. In fact, I’ll take your entire bag—”

  She shoved an elbow in his gut and pulled away again. The strap on her bag broke, but she hung on. The door was further away, but if she could liberate her gun she’d hold him off. Unfortunately, he was no fool. Or not a complete fool, and he lunged, yanking her by the hair before she got entirely out of his reach. She screamed, hoping to bloody hell Cap was in hearing distance. She needed to send a signal and kicked wildly as he pulled her against him and reached for her phone again. If she could make enough commotion—

  “Calm down or I’ll force you to—and I don’t want to. What the hell were you thinking, Shana? Do you think this is a game? I’m FBI. You can’t spy on me. You can’t steal my phone or my intel—”

  “Don’t tell me now that we’re on the same side. FBI wouldn’t manhandle—”

  “Shut up.” He wrestled the purse from her grip, overpowering her and then shoving her away so that she half fell into a lamp table. While he was relieving her purse of its contents, she grabbed the lamp and flung it at him then made for the door. She got a hand on the knob and turned, but he pulled her from behind again.

  Shana had the advantage. He was true to his word when he said he didn’t want to hurt her. Probably some deeply entrenched FBI training code. She, on the other hand, wanted to rip his head off. She turned and pushed the heel of her hand into his nose in a swift smooth motion, catching him off guard. He yelled and stumbled back.

  She flung open the door and started to run out, the hell with her purse and her gun. She’d hurt him and he was mad, and big, and he had a gun of his own plus hers. She moved fast.

  But she’d only taken one step when he came back and this time he held her in a headlock with one arm around her neck and the other arm around her torso, pinning her arms down as he dragged her back inside.

  He was choking her, but she calmed herself and didn’t struggle until she could catch her breath. She stomped her heel on his foot, blindly aiming, and caught him partially, enough to loosen his grip momentarily so she could scream. She thought she’d seen Cap’s car nearby, but she couldn’t be sure. Peck growled behind her and swore.

  “Calm down. What the hell is your problem? I’m not some monster you need to escape from.” He dragged her back inside and slammed the door shut and then shoved her up against the wall, pinning her in place with his weight and a leg against hers.

  “My mistake. Maybe it was the choke hold that confused me,” she said. She exaggerated the rasp into her voice to make her point.

  “I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t attacked me.”

  “You stole my purse.”

  “You were taking pictures of my phone. Like a dirty little spy.”

  “You wanted me to be a dirty little spy on my damned partner.” She spat that at him, because when it came right down to it, that’s what she held against him most. He was despicable for that reason most of all.

  “I’m on the side of the law. You and your so-called partner are not—”

  “Don’t be so high and mighty. We’re not criminals. I’m in law enforcement too with the Scotland—”

  “Which is it, Shana? Are you Dane’s partner or are you with the SYEP?”

  A phone rang then, and it was a good thing because she didn’t exactly know the answer to that question. Didn’t want to answer to him for damn sure. He stood there staring bloody murder at her, his nose oozing blood and contemplating what to do with her, she figured. The phone kept ringing.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that, Mr. Law Enforcement? It could be important.”

  “It’s not my phone.” He glanced down at the floor where he’d dumped her purse. It was her phone on the floor ringing. She didn’t bother hiding the smug look on her face. It was Dane calling and she felt all out of proportion pleased about it.

  “Well then, maybe you should let me answer it lest my partner think I was kidnapped.” She paused a beat. He didn’t move, but stared her down. “Unless you actually do intend to kidnap me.” She arched a brow at him, but her pulse kicked up all the same. He could get her in trouble. In deep trouble. She glanced at the broken lamp on the floor behind him.

  “Who do you suppose it is?” The ringing finally stopped.

  “I guess we’ll find out because they are probably going to show up at your door shortly to find out why the hell I didn’t answer my phone.”

  “Your partner monitors your dates? What the hell is this?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” She was serious. He let up on his pressure. Her arms tingled and her hands were numb, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.

  “What were you looking for on my phone?” There was no amusement or impatience in his voice now. His tone held only danger. There was no semblance left of the charming man she’d been to dinner with.

  Her instinct was to gulp and a spark of self-preserving fear went through her. She had to say something because it was clear she’d run out of time. She waited a beat too long to respond.

  He lifted her from the wall and threw her across the room in a sudden outburst that was scarily under control. She stumbled to the floor and scrambled to find her gun, but he followed after her. She was about to kick his legs out from under him, but she never had a chance.

  The hotel door flew open and Cap charged in, gun drawn with his good arm and aimed center mass at Glen Peck. He took in the scene and yelled, “Hands in the air. Don’t move.”

  Peck was having none of that and took a ga
mble when he lunged to grab Shana to her feet and hold her in front of him. Then he started talking fast, back to his reasonable law man persona. The momentary glimpse of the monster had disappeared.

  But this man was just as dangerous.

  “Put that gun away, Captain Lynch. I’m arresting Ms. George for assault and interference in an FBI matter.”

  “The hell you are.”

  “She attempted to steal—”

  “That’s bull. It’ll be your word against hers and I’m taking her word for it,” Cap said. He stood in the commanding Statie stance and for once wore his official hat, which somehow made him look more intimidating. If it weren’t for his right arm in the sling, he’d be more convincing.

  Peck paused for a tick.

  Since Shana had no intention of waiting for the war of words to settle matters, she took advantage of the opening. She gathered herself and aimed well this time, kicking backwards with the spike of her heel, driving an elbow to his gut and then spinning to jab her knee into his groin. He yelped and let up his hold. The second she escaped from his grasp, she gathered up her things, including her gun and her phone, and ran with Cap out the door. They ran all the way to his unmarked car, jumped in and drove like hell to the beach shack.

  Shana felt like she hadn’t breathed until she heard their tires crunching on the crushed shell driveway.

  “Damn,” Cap said and they got out of the car, taking a deep shaky breath. They waited for Dane to let them in, not wanting to take a chance on getting tasered, but she was impatient.

  “I owe you, Cap. There’s something wrong with that man.”

  “I know.” He paused a beat and said, “I wonder what’s taking Dane so long.”

  That’s when they heard a rifle shot coming from the harbor out back.

  Shana ran like a bolt from a thundercloud out back and down the lawn to the small dock and realized the Jet Ski was missing. She saw a boat speeding away in the distance with the Jet Ski on its tail.

  Cap was right behind her. She’d drawn her gun but there was nothing she could do from this distance and in this light but watch the Jet Ski execute wildly evasive maneuvers as it closed in on the boat.