Chapter 25 #2
“Enough,” he said to Shana and put a hand on her knife arm. Her arm felt like a steel rod, but she relented and withdrew the blade, stepping back.
“I’ll radio Cap. We need to get there—”
“No, we need to get Chauncey some medical help first—and dump this piece of garbage before we go in. Cap and his men can hold out another five minutes. I have a feeling the Tavares brothers are waiting for Ned to deliver a special package.” He looked at Shana and she raised her brows.
He knew she realized that package was her.
Ned had been assigned to deliver her and they were waiting.
Dane turned to Ned for confirmation and found Ned blood spattered and watching Shana with nothing short of terror in his eyes.
“That right,” he said to Ned.
“No—no. Don’t listen to him—”
Shana turned away and went to Chauncey’s side and gently picked up his good wrist to feel for his pulse.
“Call the Coast Guard. You’re right about getting him medical help.
Now.” She was all business. It was admirable and scary.
Because he knew what was underneath. He knew all the complicated feelings she held at bay.
They were the same ones he held in. And he’d be damned if she wasn’t as good as he was at numbing herself to everything to get the job done.
Squelching the immediate tic of concern that this might be a very bad thing for her in the long run, he knew it was the best thing for right now. If they were going to nab the Tavares brothers, they’d need all their focus to be on the job at hand or there would be no long run.
Dane reached for his communicator and hoped the batteries and the waterproof container would hold out.
He called the Coast Guard to be waiting for them at the station in Vineyard Haven.
Shana started up the engine and they took off back in the direction they’d come from only a minute or two away around the next bend of the beach.
After he signed off and before he powered the device down he got a call signal.
“Cap—that you?”
“Dane, damn you—where have you been? We’ve been holding in place and on high alert praying to hell that these scums don’t decide to take off any second, waiting for you.” The radio burped a wave of static when Cap finished.
“Don’t worry—they’re not going anywhere without their prize. We’ll be on our way after we drop Chauncey with the Coast Guard for medical attention.”
“He—”
“He’ll be okay.” Dane should have led with that. He really was an insensitive prick sometimes, but it was hard to be both hot and cold emotionally in the space of a few minutes and right now he needed to be as cold as ice to take care of the Tavares monsters. “Have you heard from Jean Luc?”
“He’s in Oak Bluffs still pretending to run the surfing competition and whining about it.”
“Send him to the Coast Guard Station to meet us. Pronto. Tell him we’re rescuing him from the press. He could be useful as a diversion when we hit the Tavares yacht.”
“Will do. Sometimes I forget why you’re the legend—”
“Out.” No need for that legend crap, especially with Shana listening.
Shana piloted the speedboat and they splashed in at the extra dock at the CGS Vineyard Haven. EMTs met them on the dock and took Chauncey away on a stretcher. The Coast Guard response boat was there and ready to go.
“Take care, Chaunce. I’ll let your wife know you’re okay.” Dane tapped his good shoulder twice. Chauncey’s eyes were closed, but he managed a tight smile and nod in response.
The Coast Guard captain, Tony Vendi said, “We’ll get him to the hospital and get the others to lockup. Where are you headed?”
“We’re headed to the marina in—”
“You’ll need backup,” the Captain Vendi said, not asking.
“On my call. We’re going for surprise.”
Vendi nodded and touched his cap, then turned and followed the EMTs and the stretcher holding Chauncey down the dock toward the parking lot where an ambulance waited.
Jean Luc walked, unhurried, along the same dock, passing Chauncey and the EMTs with only a glance at the stretcher. He met Dane on the dock.
“Let’s go,” was all Dane said to Jean Luc, who was still dressed in his official competition garb—a white linen shirt with a large plastic official badge on the chest pocket.
He said nothing and preceded Dane onto the boat, stepped past Shana without comment and took the passenger seat. A real gentleman.
Dane got in the boat, unhitched it from the dock, took the driver’s seat and gunned it out of there, ignoring the niceties of speed limits and no-wake zones.
Jean Luc would make a poor replacement for Chauncey, but they had no choice.
Dane hoped Shana was not fooled into trusting the con.
She stood behind him, leaning down over Dane’s shoulder and ducking below the windshield.
Dane grabbed his trusty two-way from his left thigh pocket as he maneuvered the boat away from the harbor and out into open water, punching the throttle.
“Cap, we’ll be at the yacht with Jean Luc in three minutes. Chauncey and Shana are out.”
“I’m in. I’m not afraid of Tavares.” Shana stood and came around to the space beside him, crowding Jean Luc.
Her arms were folded over her bright orange competition jersey which clung to her bathing suit.
She’d stripped the bloodied competition pinney away but she looked grimmer than he’d ever seen.
Which was something. He glared back at her.
She continued, “In fact, I insist. No matter how ridiculous it sounds—you’d better believe me when I say you’ll have to shoot me to stop me.” Shana out-glared him. He turned away, knowing he had no time to waste arguing.
After a burst of static, Cap replied, “We just lost our window to get in unannounced.” Then he paused and Dane heard a loud commotion in the background.
“The Tavares brothers just pulled up to the marina gate in a hurry with bodyguards in full force and weapons drawn. I’m in hiding with three other men.
We can’t go in guns blazing. We’ll wait until you get here and give us the go.
No sign of Whittier. There are at least three men inside. Probably guarding her and the boat.”
“Damn. It’ll be dicey, but I’ll try to take them by surprise from a neighboring boat and come in quiet.
We’ll see if we can set up a distraction.
” Dane looked at Jean Luc and figured he’d make the perfect distraction coming in the front door.
Tavares’s men might even do him a favor and shoot the con man for him.
Jean Luc gave him an evil glare as if he could read Dane’s mind.
He probably could since Dane didn’t bother to hide his hostility.
The yacht’s engine was already fired up and men were outside unlatching it from the moorings on the dock when Dane, Shana and Jean Luc glided in with the speedboat’s engine shut down, approaching from a blind side behind the neighboring boat. Taking the Tavares crew by surprise would be tricky.
Dane gave Cap the go sign and he had his men moved up from the dock with their guns drawn and an order of silence. Once his men took the two guards on the dock alongside the boat, Cap radioed Dane. He had his men quietly remove the downed guards from sight.
“That leaves three more men at a minimum, Dane said into the two-way. “No telling how many we have waiting for us down inside the bunker where they’re holding Susan Whittier. Hopefully she’s their only hostage.
” Dane heard Cap suck in a breath in response.
It was a real question after their brief conversation with Ned confirmed the nature of the Tavares brothers’ business.
“I’m going in. Out.” Dane climbed from the neighboring boat and jumped, landing on the deck of the Tavares yacht, pulling Jean Luc with him.
The man was surprisingly agile—almost graceful—and silent in his resignation.
Dane shouldn’t have been surprised to see Shana close behind Jean Luc, equally agile and a world more graceful, with her hair still dripping.
She crouched low behind Jean Luc. Damn. She was an extra.
He didn’t need her and that meant she was a liability.
But there was no convincing her of that.
She insisted on backing him up no matter that he had Cap backing him up.
It was too late to talk her out of it now.
She’d abandoned their boat and was on the yacht fully committed.
Dane took the lead with his gun fully loaded, using up the last of the ammunition from Chauncey’s camera bag.
He’d chosen not to give Jean Luc a weapon.
He signaled for Jean Luc to go for the main cabin door and announce his presence while Dane headed for the other end to look for the stairs leading down to the crew compartments.
Shana followed him. Ned said there were stairs near the captain’s pilothouse toward the bow of the boat.
Pausing at the edge of the main cabin where he had a sliver of a view, he watched Jean Luc approach, then open the main door and disappear.
He heard the man announce himself. The shouting that followed told Dane that Jean Luc was not welcome, and he chanced a look through the corner of a far window.
He saw them take Jean Luc as if he were a prisoner.
“Shit,” Dane muttered. He hoped to God that Jean Luc held out and didn’t betray their presence and their mission to rescue the girl.
He looked at Shana. “Wait here. If I’m not back in ten call Cap.
” He handed her the two-way, took a long beat to watch her face and look into her wild green eyes, not sure if it was for posterity or to try and read her soul.
He saw her anger, her confusion, her fear and then what he was looking for, what he counted on right now most of all, her determination.
He didn’t see anything sappy from her. His gut twisted, but he held her eyes with his.
She nodded. He turned and moved ahead. He needed only another few minutes, he thought, as he raced on nimble feet toward the bow and the stairway below. Cap was waiting for his signal that Whittier was safe before he’d barge in—unless the Tavares brothers got wise and pulled away from the dock.
He ducked behind a barrel and watched the hatch, which had a low rail ringing it.
He heard movement, felt the vibrations under his feet.
The commotion Jean Luc caused worked. The troops were rallying topside.
Dane heard them rattling up the stairs and watched the hatch fly open as one, then two men rumbled up and out and stood for a moment with their radios in hand.
That was Dane’s moment. He had them dead, but he aimed low and downed the far man and then, as the second man swung around, he aimed and hit him in the shoulder to knock him back.
Dane counted on the noise being covered by the racket in the main salon, but he couldn’t be sure, so he rushed forward to relieve them of their weapons, slugging each of them on the head and dragging them behind a wooden storage bench along the outer rail.
No time to try and heave them inside the bench, but he pulled a tarp from inside and covered them.
He looked at his watch.
“Shit.” He’d wasted a lot of time. He didn’t need Shana calling Cap prematurely—or worse yet—coming after him herself.
He launched himself toward the metal stair rail and rattled down the winding steps below, leading with his gun.
He hoped there was only one guard left on the Whittier girl, two at the most. But he was prepared for more.
He was wrong about there being two guards.