Chapter 6
“Not her?” Chauncey asked.
Dane answered without missing a beat. “Impossible. Since Shana’s phone is part of her cover and Susan Whittier doesn’t know she exists. Someone has Susan’s phone.”
“The text says she’s sorry she had to get out of town,” Shana said.
“It says she supposedly had an invitation she couldn’t resist—and to tell her parents she’ll touch base in a couple of weeks.
” Shana looked up from the phone with a broad smile.
“I think it’s very coincidental that I just mentioned to Jean Luc that I had texted my friend and hadn’t heard from her. Don’t you?”
“Looks like you scared him enough to chance the phone being traced back to them.”
“Give me the phone,” Chauncy said. “I’ll get it back to Scotland Yard Exchange HQ in Boston and see what we can do to find out where the location. Maybe we can nail them with kidnapping,”
“No need to send the phone to Boston,” Dane said. We have facilities here. I’ll give it to Captain Lynch and have his techs check it out.”
“Really? Sophisticated technology even on this outpost?” Chauncey smiled.
“Martha’s Vineyard isn’t exactly an outpost,” Dane said. “I take it you’re still learning about the area.”
“So you’ve worked with Captain Ni—Lynch before?” Shana asked Dane.
Dane looked at her for a second and grinned. “You were going to call him Captain Nice, weren’t you?” He liked that she’d thought the same thing as he did. He enjoyed her blush even more than their shared thought about Cap.
“I hear the house phone ringing. Maybe that’s our Captain Nice,” Shana said, pointing at the doors, then sprinted back inside to get the phone. He followed, knowing it wasn’t their captain—Nice or otherwise. It had to be Jean Luc Ruse.
He walked up behind Shana as she answered the phone, enjoying the change from normal to slightly pounding heartbeat, the heating up of his body, the pleasant tightening in his loins and the rise of his cock.
He felt his nostrils flare to life with the scent of her—nothing definable, just her—a scent he’d know anywhere but that he’d never in a million years be able to describe.
His hand quivered slightly when he reached out to touch her. He stopped himself short.
What the hell was he doing?
Because her back was to him, he could salvage his professional pride. He listened to her conversation with Jean Luc.
She turned to him as she spoke into the old-fashioned receiver of the house phone.
“Of course I didn’t forget. Yes, I invited everyone.
No, she’s still not available—in fact I had a text from her…
” she went on and finished the call within thirty seconds as he breathed the salty air in deeper than normal breaths to get back to pre-Shana lust equilibrium.
Damn, damn, damn.
“You heard. He’s worried. He knows where she is—I have a feeling she’s still alive or they would have ditched her cell by now.”
“Agreed.” He stood staring, concentrating on keeping his hands at his sides.
“What?”
“Nothing, girlie.” He turned. “Keep up the good work,” he muttered, not sure if he intended her to hear him or not and definitely not sure why he said it. He escaped back outside.
Addressing Chauncey, he said, “You need to come to dinner with us, but before we go, we’ll set some traps. Not sure when they’ll strike or what their exact pattern will be, but if we set the place up right, we’ll know exactly what they’re doing.”
“Surveillance?”
“A multilayered system. The first one will be the obvious one that will be disabled by them. The second, less obvious system we set up to get audio and some video, but it won’t be obvious—can’t be or we’re blown and we lose the chance to find the girl.”
“Is every woman a girl to you?” Shana blurted out.
Chauncey raised his brows, but seemed only mildly surprised as he folded his arms to watch.
The explosion of emotion from Shana sparked enough heat in Dane to rekindle all the lust he’d felt earlier and then some.
With only a passing glance at Chauncey, who looked happy to watch the show, the grin he felt was automatic.
“Sure. Why not?” Dane said.
A pleasant pink tinted her neck and rose up along her jaw to her cheeks. She muttered, “Forget it.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Chauncey said. “You have the equipment?”
“Yeah. Back at the ranch. Come with me.” Dane walked back to his Jag.
“And what am I supposed to do until dinner? Pretty up?” Shana did not smile.
She stood stiff, tall and at her haughtiest yet, which was incongruous with her blond hair blowing across her face in sexy waves and her curves filling out her clothes in a heart-stopping silhouette.
“Why don’t you call Captain Nice and fill him in,” he said. “Then you can head over to the surfing competition office and register. Make it official. Take note of irregularities. You would know best.”
She turned away without acknowledging or agreeing to the suggestion.
He turned to go and then turned back to say, “Use the secure line when you call Cap.”
She looked like if she could find a big rock nearby she would have picked it up and thrown it at him. As it was, he watched her fists clench at her sides.
“No kidding? Thanks for the tip, Mr. Urban Legend.” She turned and walked inside, her anger not diminishing the sexy sashay of her bottom as she went.
God help him.