Chapter 15
Dane headed to the more challenging surf of Gay Head Beach, fully expecting to find that Jean Luc had propositioned Shana to play the ringer and win the competition for them by any and all means possible—mostly by fixed judging.
He wondered what Jean would offer her for an incentive to go along.
He didn’t picture Jean Luc as someone to make threats.
He strolled along the walk, posing as a beachcomber in a straw hat, nibbling on his apple, wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt and Birkenstock loafers with his banana surfing shorts.
Only one distinguished-looking woman with straight gray hair and an outfit that reminded him of a hospital worker done up in pale pink linen took any notice and flashed him a peace sign.
She was the one he did this for. He worked at getting rid of the Neds of the world so that middle-aged women could smile and give him the peace sign.
And for Shana. He needed to protect her from Ned above all else.
Not because Shana was a helpless heiress like Susan had been—was still, with the grace of the angels.
But because Shana was the chink in the armor of their plan—purposely made to be their vulnerable point—the woman with the bull’s-eye tattooed on her gorgeous butt.
Hopefully he had some angel grace left. He hoped to hell he hadn’t used it up on his last assignment.
Because it felt like maybe he had. The beach and the glistening water with slightly higher waves spread out before him as he turned the corner to walk the last fifty yards to the beach where he’d been scheduled to meet her.
His heart stuttered when he swept the area and didn’t see her.
Automatically his eyes darted over the horizon of the ocean and methodically searched until he spotted a surfboard and a blond head glinting in the sunlight.
She’d better be wearing sun block. He pulled a tube from his pocket and rubbed it on before removing his shirt and hat.
He walked to where he’d left his board with a caretaker, slipped him a twenty and hefted it on his shoulder as he jogged down to the water.
All the time he kept his eyes on Shana and paddled out to where she waited, looking out toward the sea.
“Ho there.”
She turned and grinned. “I’m encouraged by the higher waves this afternoon.”
“Don’t be. Probably a storm. Won’t last.”
She frowned at him.
They both looked out as a wave approached, third ripple out. It swelled high and came in at a slight angle, perfect for a glide along the beach.
“This is the one. Race you back.”
She laughed and he could feel the energy come off her as her muscles coiled in anticipation.
She hurried to set herself up perfectly to time the intersection of her board with the smooth underbelly of the arcing water.
He hurried after and laughed at himself—on the inside—for feeling like he did when he’d first caught on, like surfing was new again.
Concentrating on the wave and falling in behind her as she stood to give them both space, he stood, caught a high point and skimmed down, speeding through and racing fast toward the shore as the white froth caught up with him.
He jumped off the board and landed in the knee-deep water without toppling and looked back to see her spectacular ride end in an even more spectacular somersault of a fall further down the beach and in slightly deeper water.
It took a full twenty seconds for him to realize he was grinning as she ran dripping toward him with her board caught to her side and the water splashing around her ankles along the shallows.
His heart pounded wildly and he breathed heavily, mostly from the exertion.
She grinned back at him so he didn’t care if he was showing his pleasure.
Maybe they could escape to Oahu and do this every day together.
He erased the flashing thought from his mind and managed to keep his smile from turning to panic.
“Let’s go again, you maniac. Maybe you’re not so old as Jean Luc thinks. Were you a pro?”
He raised one brow to provoke her and shook his head. “No. I grew up in California. We had money for a while. Until it was just me and my mother. Then we moved back east.” What the hell was he doing telling her anything real? Her face lost the grin and she started to look serious. He was an idiot.
“Let’s go again and see who’s the maniac,” he said.
She laughed and followed him as he walked back out and threw his board down in front of him. He hopped on with a one-legged push, then paddled like mad.
* * *
Exhausted, she dragged her board from the surf up onto the wet sand and lay on it, throwing one hand over her eyes to block the sun.
Breathing in the smell of the surf, fish, salt and lotion, her nostrils flared when she caught the scent of Dane.
Then his shadow blanketed her and she took her arm away from her eyes to look at him.
The instant wash of hormones drove through her, lighting up her nerve endings and melting every lick of sensible thought or brain activity not related to wanting Dane Blaise.
The waves attacked her gut like she’d swallowed the ocean and it rippled through her in sweet torrents of excitement and yearning.
She clenched her fist to stop herself from arching up or reaching up to him.
She stared. Nothing could make her drag her eyes away from the mesmerizing look he gave her now.
He was nothing special, she told herself.
He was old. Relatively speaking, by ten years at least. But tell her hammering heart that as his molten gaze trapped hers.
His eyes were magnetic, his body was strong, toned, not bulky but not slim like Jean Luc.
He had a fabulous head of wavy unkempt blond hair with maybe a touch of whitish gray at his temples.
Smooth skin on his chest if she didn’t count the scars.
But she needed to count the scars because every one of them creased his soul even more than his skin.
She could feel it. He was toughened and wizened at the pinnacle of expertise and she was, she had to admit it, still green and looking forward to the fights.
What any of her thoughts had to do with her reality at that moment she couldn’t say and she pushed herself up, stifling the urge to throw sand at him to make him stop.
He laughed a low chuckle as if he’d read her mind. Then he reached a hand down to pull her to a stand and they both felt the sand in her hand. They both knew what it was for.
“Did Jean Luc recruit you to be their ringer?”
“No.”
He looked surprised. She hadn’t expected to ever surprise him.
“What happened?” He tugged her hand and drew her along the beach toward a truck-sized boulder.
“I’m not sure. I could have sworn he was leading up to it and then his big proposition turned out to be an invitation to the after party.”
“Big deal.”
“It is. The after party is in Rio.” She expected he’d be surprised this time and he only snorted. He was right. Big deal.
“I doubt he’s hiding Susan Whittier in Rio so that’s not going to do us any good. And…” He stopped and relaxed with one arm propping him against the boulder away from everyone in their own little beach world.
“And what?”
“Never mind.”
“Are we in this together or what?”
“Don’t worry. I got your back.”
“I don’t want you to have my back; I want you to keep me in the loop.
I want you to tell me everything that’s going on and strategize with me.
I want you to treat me like a partner in this mission.
But apparently, I’m expecting too much. Even though that’s exactly what our boss is expecting.
” She leaned with her back against the stone cold of the boulder.
“You done venting?” He smiled at her and stepped closer.
She took a deep breath. She’d worked herself into a lather and felt hot and bothered. Not a good thing when she was anywhere near Dane Blaise.
“It’s more dangerous than we thought,” he said.
“Connected with some bigger fish than we thought.” He told her about his encounter with Ned and she regulated her breathing, concentrating on his words hard enough to not flinch when he told her he shot the cement at Ned’s feet. Her heartbeat picked up.
She kept her face placid and when he finished his rapid-fire story, told in that matter-of-fact way, managing in his understated way to make it all the more larger than life, she asked, “So are they bringing in the big guns?”
“Not yet. Not until they’re ready to give Susan up for dead. But we need to turn Jean Luc if we plan to get anywhere because Miller and Lynch struck out at the house.”
“Should I ask him point-blank to set me up as the ringer? Tell him I know all about it because you told me?”
“If we try to turn Jean Luc it’s going to be a team project. You’re not doing it alone.”
“But he … trusts me.”
“You mean he likes you.”
“That too.”
“He’ll trust us both the same as soon as he finds out we’re law enforcement.”
“Are you?”
He laughed.
“I mean it. What are you? What outfit do you work for?”
“Call me a special consultant for the state police. Does it matter?”
“I’d rather know you were one of us. Officially. Not sure I like the notion of working with a free-lancer.”
“You mean a mercenary, don’t you? That what you think I am? You think I sold out?”
She looked away and turned around. He caught her shoulder and hauled her back around to face him, tugging her tightly against his chest.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“You mean besides the fact that you’re living like a beachcomber?”
He stared at her still. She squirmed against the heat of his body.
Wrong move. That made him hold her tighter as he snaked one hand up her back to her neck.
His callused thumbs scraped against the tender skin and she felt every follicle of hair on her body pop to life with goose bumps and excitement.
He drew his mouth close to her face, brushing his lips past her mouth and down toward one ear where he breathed heavy and moist. An involuntary shudder ran through her and the melting between her thighs trickled in sizzling drips.
“I mean besides the fact that I’m not built to do anything else. I protect. I stand up for what’s right. And when my mentor, and the best team leader I’ve ever known, calls on me to help him to put down some bad guys and save an innocent, that’s what I do.”
His words hissed through her, causing chills but dampening the rush of sensual excitement. She felt the tinge of anger in him. Whether it was anger at her or the world she wasn’t sure. But she understood because she’d felt the same nameless, bottomless quest in herself. And that same anger.
She tugged herself from his grip, but she needn’t have because he let her go with an abrupt push back.
A swish of cool ocean air swept in between them.
He dragged one hand through the tangle of his hair and she clenched her fist to prevent from doing the exact same thing to her own mass of bushy curls.
A spark of embarrassed heat rose in her at the thought of what she must look like. To him. As a man.
“What’s wrong with us—what’s wrong with you that you can’t treat me like a partner?” She spat the words at him in anger at herself.
He glowered. “I could ask you the same thing. And I think you would know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve alternated between treating me as a competitor and a potential lover and frankly, Shana, it’s damned annoying. Confusing? No. I get it. But you need to get over it.”
She glared back at him and felt herself shrink into a tiny ball of misery inside at how he hit the nail on the head exactly.
She felt exactly like she never wanted to feel again since she was twelve years old and her father left for work one day and came back in a casket.
She felt small and helpless and unworthy.
“Fine. Then if I’m so horrible, why don’t you ask for a replacement?
” She stuck her chin in the air, same as she had back then and tried blustering through, hoping to hell the tears would stay put, and not taking a breath until she heard his answer.
The weight of her entire career and everything she’d done the past sixteen years seemed to land on this moment, on his answer.
He paused. Maybe he wanted to test how long she could hold her breath, she thought in a crazy bubble. Then he spoke, putting his hands on his hips and using his most disgusted offhand voice the way she’d heard more often than she could count from him in a few short days.
“Because you’re perfect for this job, darlin’. And you know it. Stop fishing for compliments and let’s get this show on the road. Business. That’s what you and I need to keep in mind. Both of us.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all there is.”
“Not much of a confession on your part. Considering.” She didn’t want to let him get away with not claiming his part in her confusion. The least she could do was let him know she knew, no matter how offhand he wanted to be, he was not unaffected.
He rolled his eyes and turned.
“I’ll take care of getting you in as the ringer.” He started walking away.
She followed along and caught up and stayed in step with him as they headed back to their boards.
“Clearly Jean Luc is too caught up with you,” he said, squinting into the sun. “Maybe he’s taken enough by you to not want to get you involved. Unfortunately for him, Ned’s the one calling the shots.” He stopped and picked up his board.
“Ned is in charge, then?”
“One hundred percent. And whoever he’s answering to.
And they’re not nice. Speaking of nice, we ought to have another meeting with Captain Nice and call the governor and find out what intel they’ve turned up at HQ on the Brazilian players.
And let them know what’s going on here. Ned as much as confessed he’s got illegitimate outside muscle and money backing him. ”
They headed back to the Whittiers’ beach house with their boards. If he wasn’t worried about who was watching, then she wasn’t. Their cover was that they were involved, after all. Her gut fluttered at the thought. Damn her girlie feelings. Damn Dane Blaise and his stupid macho legendary self.