Beachcomber Baby

by Stephanie Queen

  Luckily the pilot got the governor, gave Dane the okay sign, and cleared the pad. Shana climbed in and took the copilot seat and put on the headphones so they could talk.

  “You should catch forty winks,” Dane said to Shana.

  “What about you? Who’s going to keep you awake so you don’t crash this copter? And about that—since when do you have a copter license?”

  “I know how to fly this helicopter—don’t you worry.” She didn’t need to know that he hadn’t had a valid license in years. Minor technical detail.

  “What about sleeping?” She persisted, her motherly instincts wide awake and in full force.

  He took a deep breath and said what he knew would shut her up.

  “I’ll sleep when Paulette is in her mother’s arms.” He didn’t need to add the alternative. That he’d never sleep peacefully again if he didn’t get her there. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep well anyway—hadn’t in years—at least not without a shot of whiskey. Or Shana’s body lying at his side.

  She reached out her hand and squeezed his arm. Then she rested her head back and got as comfortable as a person could in a copter as they took off and headed for the Atlantic and south toward Martha’s Vineyard. He figured it for a forty-five minute flight tops.

  Dane called Cap when they were ten minutes out.

  “Is the target secure?”

  “At the beach shack. I’ve been running surveillance—”

  “Goddamn it—didn’t you get my text?”

  “What text?”

  Shit.

  “Cap—have one of your men pick us up at the heliport—you get Sassy and the baby to your house as quickly as humanly possible.”

  “You want me to stay with them? What about Shana?”

  “Shit. Never mind.” He took a quick sidelong glance at Shana who was, luckily, still sleeping. Damn good thing. He knew she’d want the personal baby protection detail. “Hold tight till we get there. Watch out for intruders.”

  “Will do—your system is well set up, Dane, we shouldn’t have any trouble spotting—”

  “And I almost forgot to mention—we may have company—FBI.”

  “Shit.”

  “We’ll talk more when I land—get us that ride.”

  Dane signed off and swore again—loud enough to wake Shana.

  “What is it?” She sprang forward and her fingers clutched his driving arm with the force of a hawk’s talons. He shook her loose.

  “Paulette is still at the beach shack. You can take her and Sassy to Cap’s place when we get there.”

  “That’ll work—don’t worry.” He heard the worry in her voice, but she smiled at him anyway. “I wanted to take her myself—to protect her myself. I didn’t want to leave it to a Statie.”

  He nodded. He knew this was true in spite of the bright smile meant to calm him.

  His heart hammered so that their landing was shakier than it should have been and he noticed Shana clutching the side of her seat. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  When they jumped into the state police car, Shana said, “I’ll call David.”

  She’d gotten to the front seat before him and he knew she was trying to take over. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t trust him because he was flying too high on adrenaline or if it was that she plain didn’t trust him not to have another meltdown.

  He wasn’t about to let that happen. But his insides felt like they were rumbling toward an eruption and his mind refused to settle.

  “Play the siren,” he said to the Statie driving as he banged the back of the man’s seat.

  “Take it easy. I’ll get you there. In one piece.” The man gave him a look in the rearview mirror. It was a skeptical look, like he was questioning Dane’s legendary status. Or maybe he was questioning his own legendary status. Not that he’d ever believed the hype, but if there was any sliver of truth to it, he prayed to holy God that it would kick in now.

  He closed his eyes and smelled the sea air rushing in the windows. He had just about forty winks’ worth of time to calm himself, to get into that meditative state that was better than sleep. He used it to good advantage.

  The car slowed, not by much, as it turned them into his drive. Dane heard the familiar crunch under the tires. He opened his eyes and jumped from the car. He moved quickly, but the panic and the crippling tension were gone. For the moment. He took a quick survey of the shack and its environs and saw nothing amiss. He’d do a more thorough check later if he had a chance. He’d be able to tell if someone had been watching the house, even from a hundred yards away.

  Shana was quicker than he was and the edge of tension clearly gripped her, but she looked far from crippled as she bounded up the two steps into the backdoor, which she let slam shut in his face. It probably hadn’t been planned.

  Dane stepped into his kitchen in time to see Shana sweeping Paulette from Sassy’s arms for a crushing and reassuring hug. The hug reassured Shana more than Paulette from the sound of the baby’s startled cry.

  Cap stood by and ready for briefing, but before Dane opened his mouth, Dane’s cell phone rang. He slipped the phone from his pocket and looked at it before answering.

  It was Anatoly Ivanov.

  Dane’s gut twisted and in that moment of weakness, he thought of not answering the call. But ignorance of a problem didn’t make it go away—this wasn’t the time or place to pull the blanket up over his head and retreat even though the force was strong and pulling at him. Cap looked at him.

  He stabbed a finger at the phone and spoke.

  “What is it, Toly?”

  “Is she safe? I must know.”

  Dane breathed a deep, cleansing, ocean-air-filled breath and answered.

  “We’re here with her now. She’s safe. But we need to keep it that way—”

  “I have learned from one of my trusted men that Spartak has gone to Martha’s Vineyard. I will send my men—”

  “Shit.” Dane had figured on this, but that didn’t stop the twist of tension in his gut at the confirmation. “No, don’t send any men. We had an agreement. They’ll get in the way, or worse, get arrested or killed. It’ll create a three-way fight with dangerous cross fire.” Dane didn’t mention the FBI’s potential interference, possibly creating a fourth force to reckon with—and not necessarily on his side. There was a tick of silence. Dane continued to concentrate on the sea air filling his nostrils and lungs. It shouldn’t be this hard. He looked at Paulette in Shana’s arms and at Shana’s smiling face.

  “Okay. For now. You’ll bring the baby back here? I’m trusting you to protect my great-granddaughter.”

  “I’ll bring the baby back to Father Donahue. You can make arrangements with him.” He probably should have discussed this earlier with Toly, but in truth, he didn’t want to chance the man’s cooperation. Dane thought of the FBI and their potential interference, but he didn’t think they’d argue with this arrangement. Especially if the governor leaned on the SAC. He knew the FBI would never let them turn over the baby to Toly or anywhere near Toly’s house. The feds were probably watching the place now. He figured Toly knew this, deep down.

  “I accept this plan. But if I don’t hear from you—”

  “You’ll hear from me. As soon as I find Spartak.” Dane ended the call. He didn’t bother to remind Toly of his obligation to testify against his men—Spartak included. Maybe they wouldn’t make it.

  Maybe Dane wouldn’t make it. That had always been a possibility, every single time he took on a mission. This was no different.

  Except when he glanced at Shana and his heart gave a leap of reminder that maybe this was different.

  He turned to Shana and said, “Time to pack a bag.”

  “I already have the baby’s bag packed,” Sassy said.

  Dane looked at her and then exchanged a glance with Shana.

  “I wasn’t talking about a diaper bag.” He’d been talking about weapons.

  Shana nodded and went back into her room for a bag while he hurried down his cellar stai
rs to his special storage locker to get some provisions. He picked up two extra Heckler & Koch HK M27 IAR (Infantry Automatic Rifles)—overkill for their situation—with extra magazines for him and Cap while he was at it, then hefted the bundle back up the stairs and helped Shana pack her bag out of Sassy’s sight. He heard Cap talking to the girl.

  “You and Shana can take my car.”

  “Isn’t there some law against that?”

  “Only if you do it without my permission.”

  Dane and Shana returned to the kitchen to find Sassy at the door with the baby bundled in her arms, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder and her hand on the door handle. He smiled.

  “Good plan, Cap—about the car. That’ll make us as the decoy using my Jeep.”

  “Unless someone’s already watching the house,” Shana said.

  “In that case you two should wear ball caps and jackets and hide the baby as best you can when you get in and keep her low—Sassy, you’ll have to get on the floor of the backseat.”

  She nodded with a grim look on her face, but said nothing.

  “I’ll check in once we get to his house.”

  “I don’t have to tell you not to go directly there, right?”

  Shana smiled at him. That big beautiful smile. “Since when did you turn into a worrier?”

  He felt a tumble in his gut and hesitation about letting her go. He stopped himself from reaching for her arm, from pulling her in and giving her a world-is-coming-to-an-end kiss on her luscious lips, from breathing in her essence one more time—but of course he’d see her again soon. He’d do all those things at the end of the day. He promised himself. And he made the promise to her with his parting look.

  She got the look, if her intake in breath was any clue. Then she was out the door, right behind Sassy.

  Cap said, “We’ll need to check the perimeter—see if there’s any surveillance.”

  “I assume by ‘we’ you mean me—” Dane was interrupted by his cell phone ringing again—a special ringtone reserved for the one and only David Young. He slipped the phone from his back pocket.

  “Let’s see what news the Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program has to say.”

  Cap raised a brow and Dane stabbed the phone and put it to his ear.

  “Director.”

  “I’m not the director today, I’m your occasional Scotch-drinking companion.”

  “Got it.” This was not good news and Dane steeled himself.

  David continued. “The FBI Boston office ASAC is on his way to you—with six men.”

  “Shit. What’s his ETA?”

  “Within the hour—they’re coming by helicopter. That’s the only reason he was limited to taking only six men with him.”

  “The man doesn’t trust me, does he?”

  “That and he wants full credit. I think he doesn’t trust the governor, between you and me.”

  “Smart man. On that one point.” Dane mulled the situation over for a minute and then asked, “What’s his game plan?”

  “He’s going to barrel in and take up a position at your beach shack and commandeer Captain Lynch and his men and wait for Spartak to show up. Is the baby still there?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t tell me where she is. Keep her safe and out of the line of fire. There was a disturbing conversation about her as bait—although I think they were planning to have you turn her over to a special agent once they relieved you of your home and your mission.”

  Dane nodded his head and said, “He ever done this before?”

  “My guess, based on the planning discussions, is no. Nothing even close.”

  “Unless—” Dane started to speculate and David cut him off.

  “Unless Spartak shows up before they get there—then their plan goes to hell. They’ve acknowledged this possibility.”

  “So that’s my out—draw Spartak in for the bait.” Dane’s mind raced ahead to his friend Anatoly Ivanov and hoped the man would give him the assist he needed to get this done. “Thanks David. I owe you a Scotch on the rocks.” Dane signed off the call, but didn’t put his phone away.

  Cap circled around the front windows, carefully checking the space around the house, and came back into the kitchen as he placed his call to good old Toly.

  “We setting a trap?” Cap changed from grim to a grin once he realized the situation. Dane gave him a nod.

  “Toly—”

  “Is the baby—”

  “Everything is fine. Paulette is safe—she’s with Shana at an undisclosed remote location. I’m waiting here with my team for Spartak to find us at the beach shack.” Dane paused and he felt Toly tense up by the quickening of his breathing.

  “You want me to help him find you.”

  Dane always respected Toly as a smart man and an excellent strategist.

  “Don’t call him yourself—have someone he might trust call one of his people—right now—and give him my location.”

  “And how does this man explain that he knows this information?”

  “Let’s say he beat it out of Father Donahue.”

  “Not bad. You would make a good special operative. Your talents are wasted as a private detective.”

  “Tough talk for a man who’s goddamn lucky my talents are being wasted right now.”

  “Touché. Anything else?”

  “One other thing—the clock is ticking.” Dane raised his wrist and checked his watch. “We have forty-five minutes. Tops.”

  Dane ended the call. Cap blew out a whistle.

  “You sure he’s not already in the neighborhood? All he had to do is find one in three people and ask where you live.”

  “I’m figuring he’d be too shy. But I’m going out now to check around and see if there are any signs of surveillance.”

  Cap nodded and Dane crashed out the backdoor, patting the back of his pants to make sure old rusty was still there protecting his ass.

  Shana punched in Dane’s speed dial number for the third time, but the call still went to voicemail. She knew there was a good reason he’d turned the phone off, but she was too anxious to think about what it was.

  She smiled at Sassy, sitting comfortably in Cap’s easy chair with Paulette sleeping in her lap. Shana would give anything to trade places with Sassy right now.

  Instead, she pressed number two on the call pad to get Cap on the phone.

  “Cap, what’s going on? Why isn’t Dane answering his phone? He’s the one who told me to check in—”

  “Hold on. It’s okay. Calm down.”

  Those were the two words—calm down—that Cap should have known better than to say, but Shana took a breath and, glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping baby and the dozing Sassy, she stepped out of Cap’s cozy living room and into the hallway of his traditional Cape Cod house before she spoke again.

  “You’re right. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Dane had Anatoly call his men to feed them info on the beach shack, setting up a sting. Meanwhile, the FBI is rushing in to save the day—and take the credit.”

  “Shit. How much time do we have?”

  “About forty minutes.”

  “Double shit. Do the feds know where Paulette is?”

  “No. And it’s going to stay that way. You sit tight. You’re in the most secure secret hideaway on the island.”

  “You’re right.” She paused, but couldn’t help herself. “What’s Dane up to?”

  “He’s checking the perimeter for surveillance.”

  She heard the lie in his voice, and she’d be annoyed if she were there. But as it was she took a satisfying breath because it made sense as a cover story. Dane would need to turn his phone off to check the area for surveillance posts. He was excellent at that kind of stealthy maneuver.

  She said, “Good.” And signed off before Cap commented further.

  Turning to go back into the living room, she decided it was a good idea. She needed to check the perimeter before she settled in to wait. />
  “Sassy, I’m going out to check around—make sure no one is watching us. I’ll be back in no more than fifteen minutes.”

  It was late afternoon, but cloudy and dark with rain threatening, luckily for her. She threw on one of Cap’s raincoats from the closet, pocketed her favorite gun, a Century Arms CZ 82—it packed more punch than the .38—pushed open the backdoor off the mudroom, and stepped into the backyard.

  Chapter 16

  Shana crouched low and still and listened hard. The air was filled with early summer sounds, including the ocean. Cap’s house wasn’t far from the harbor in Vineyard Haven. She might even hear some harbor boats—or maybe that was a helicopter. She looked up into the far distance and spotted a lone copter, now a speck in the sky. Then she realized this could be the feds on their way and hurriedly slid her way around the house. If she saw them, then Spartak and his men saw them and they might get spooked—might come up with a more desperate game plan than to steal Paulette and run. Not that she’d let Spartak get away with that plan. Not in this lifetime. Not in any damn time.

  Edging around the house toward the front where she could get an angle on the street from a hidden vantage point, she stopped and listened. She heard something. Like a distant branch breaking in the woods behind Cap’s house, in the direction she’d just come from.

  She stayed frozen to the spot out of sight and listened hard for what had to be a full minute. Dane had taught her patience. She heard nothing more. It had to be an animal. Or her imagination. She made it back to the front of the house, and even with the cover of the gloomy rain now falling, she decided she was too conspicuous to skulk around out front. Cutting across the small lawn, she headed for the path and went in the front door.

  “Sassy, it’s me—don’t shoot.”

  The girl appeared in the doorway with the baby clutched to her chest and covering Sassy’s pink, flowery, throwback of a dress and heaved a sigh. “Don’t even say that as a joke—yesterday I would have thought it was funny. But today,” she gulped, “today I’m like totally creeped out.”

  “Do you want to go home, Sassy?” Shana went to the girl and put an arm around her shoulder. They didn’t really need her, did they? Maybe she could get Cap to call another officer over. But even as she looked at the young woman’s conflicted face, waiting for her response, she realized it was too late to get anyone else there. She held her breath hoping Sassy would hold out.