Chapter 12
“Bloody hell. That confirms it,” Chauncey said.
“It does. The con is a crooked surfing competition. But it doesn’t seem like high enough stakes to justify the time and money invested. There’s gotta be more to it.”
“Although, didn’t I read on a poster somewhere that there was two million dollars in prize money?”
“Yes. You did. I bet they tried to recruit Susan Whittier to be their rigged winner and she said no.” Dane tested out his hypothesis on Chauncey while they sat in the car a distance from the house waiting for Captain Lynch.
“They wouldn’t be pleased, but would they kidnap her? Or worse?” Chauncey frowned.
“Probably not.”
“And where does Jean Luc fit into all this? And for that matter, where does Ned fit into this? Where did he come from and who does he work for?”
“We know he doesn’t work for Jean Luc. In fact, it looks like it’s the other way around. We need Jean Luc to turn,” Dane said with finality.
“Not sure how we’re going to get him to do that,” Chauncey mused.
“Shana will be the one to do the heavy lifting there. Thus my worry.”
“You suppose they want to recruit Shana to be their ringer?”
He smiled at Chauncey. “Exactly. It’s what I’d do. Hell, she could very well win legitimately.”
“Except they’ll never give her the prize money. Doesn’t sound very interesting to your average up and coming surfer.”
“No. They’re looking for a surfer with an edge or a past with some skeletons. I’ll need to let the governor know ASAP to work something into her history.”
“What? Like maybe a drug rap?”
“Too overdone. Think creatively. She was involved in a cheating scam at her university or something.”
Chauncey looked skeptical. Dane shrugged.
The thought struck him that maybe she had some skeleton in her past for real.
Something gave her that less than wholesome edge.
She might look like a beach bunny, but she’d not for one millisecond acted like one.
He’d bet his infamous left nut that Jean Luc noticed the same thing.
* * *
Captain Nice approached on foot with no car in sight from the drive that lead to the stretch of beach they occupied.
He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt like a tall lanky version of James Dean with a Dudley Do-Right chin.
Bet he took a lot of crap for that resemblance.
Maybe the rebel without a cause look was his way of dealing.
Dane gave a mental shrug. This was his first time working with Cap although he’d been part of the governor’s unit—one of his men.
Cap was younger and had joined the unit after Dane had been sent home to Walter Reed for convalescence from the first of several side effects of the career.
He’d be keeping an open mind until he had Captain Nice all nicely figured out.
The bane of his existence—at least among the people he was working with—deigned to walk from her house just now and headed back their way.
She was dressed in black and had her thick blond hair sleeked back in a low ponytail behind her neck.
As if that could tame her look. If a panther could be considered tame, she had it licked.
He motioned to Chauncey to move behind a rock from their open spot.
They could see for miles, but telescopes could see further.
They met Captain Nice and Shana on the ocean side of a tank-sized boulder and he sank to the sand as if they were getting ready to roast marshmallows by the campfire instead of having an ops meeting.
He nodded at Cap, ignored Shana and said, “What do you have for us?”
Captain Nice smiled. “I got shit. Ned is notorious muscle, but that doesn’t say much since we knew that. The only other interesting thing about his background is that he’s Brazilian. He goes by Ned Jones, but his real name is Ned Ximenes.”
“Tell me everything and I’ll decide what’s interesting.”
“He’s done work for a couple of semi-legit guys with lots of money and businesses worldwide.”
“These guys Brazilian?”
“Hard to tell. They have interests everywhere. Including Brazil. Bank accounts in all the usual places. And Brazil.”
Dane grunted and knew the men were absolutely Brazilian. “They have names?”
“Tavares. Aldo and Bento. They’re brothers.”
“I’ll have the governor run their names through Interpol,” Chauncey said and took his cell phone from his pocket and tapped out a message.
“One other thing. About Ned,” Captain Lynch said. He bounced a glance off Shana and paused. A cold freeze spread through Dane’s gut until he had to suppress a shudder.
“What?” he prompted in a raspy whisper, wishing he didn’t have to hear it and aware that Shanna stood close with a puzzled frown on her face. He felt the warmth of her body and wished he could wrap himself around it.
“Seems Ned has a penchant.” Cap paused again, then ground out the words. “For hurting women.”
The stone-dead silence that followed sped up his heart rate, but Dane took a deep breath and forced the question from his lips.
“How?” They needed to know. Shana, who stood stiller than a glassy lake in the early morning, needed to know.
“He cuts them. He’s been known to mutilate women.”
“How is it he’s still walking around?” Dane itched to hunt the man down now.
“Seems people—witnesses to be exact—find his reputation intimidating. Threatening. Plus, he’s had representation. That’s one of his links to the Brazilians. They share the same attorney. Coincidentally.”
“That’s more than shit. Good work,” Dane said and exhaled. Then he swung around to face Shana. She looked like an angry mother bear ready to explode and hunt down a threat. If he’d been ready to tear Ned’s right arm off, she looked ready to slice off his balls.
Facing Shana’s intense green eyes, he said, “Does this change anything? You up to seducing Jean Luc and fighting off Ned and maybe even his thugs if need be?”
“Yes.”
He noticed her bravado was gone. Her voice was sure, but the chippy-ness was missing.
Thank the lord. He nodded at her. He didn’t bother mentioning that they’d all have her back.
Didn’t need to be said. He could tell she wanted to hear it, but she needed to learn to trust him. He was fighting like mad to trust her.
He was fighting like mad not to bed her.