Chapter 10
“You know you’re the baddest penny I ever met,” Dane said, knowing full well the reference to the constantly returning bad penny would go over the kid’s head. But at least Acer grunted in appreciation as they let the kid in the door.
“Bad—”
“Never mind. I suppose it took a certain amount of bravery to come back here in the dark after what happened to you yesterday and after I told you to leave town—that or unbelievable stupidity. What do you have?”
He stepped aside and let Ronnie into the kitchen. The only light was the one over the sink and Dane knew strategically that was a bad idea. He’d turn it off in a minute as soon as he heard the kid out and sent him on his way yet again.
“I got some good intel.”
“Out with it.”
“I have a good friend over at the harbor and he told me the tall skinny guy with bad teeth rented a boat today.”
The snap of Dane’s spine into rigid attention from his slouch against the counter was audible as his guts fell like an anvil.
Acer whistled and said, “Shit.”
“Damn. When did he rent this boat?” Dane wasn’t sure it mattered. They’d have to be on high alert on the harbor side all night no matter what.
“Two hours ago.”
“Double damn. What kind of boat? Tell me every detail.”
“It was a speedboat. It had lights. He said he wanted to be able to use it at night and go fast. My friend said it was the fastest he had, but nothing special. The guy was impressed by the spotlight.”
Dane was too revved up to swear out loud.
The three of them stood in the kitchen and he contemplated the fact that they were all in trouble and vulnerable. He turned to the kitchen window. He knew there was something wrong.
Even in the dark, the moonlight and starlight combined with a sprinkling of harbor lights allowed him to measure the scene. A boat out of place—the wrong boat at a buoy, a larger, faster speedboat where a sailboat should be tethered.
Before the telltale glint registered in his mind, he spun around and hauled Acer and the kid down to the floor as he lunged on top of them. A ping sounded and the glass of the window shattered followed by the thud of a bullet embedding itself into the far wall of the dining room.
“Goddamn it,” Acer grunted.
“What—” the kid squeaked in shock.
“Don’t move,” Dane said.
He scrambled to his feet. Keeping low, he grabbed his Glock from the drawer, then rushed to the closet in his bedroom to grab a rifle as fast as he possibly could.
Signaling Acer to follow, they went out the front door and slipped around the side of the house and, still keeping low, scrambled down the back lawn to his small pier and the Jet Ski docked there.
A gift from the Chamber of Commerce last summer after the crazy finale of the island’s first surfing competition where he’d been undercover as a judge. A world away from now.
He saw the speedboat gurgle to a start and in the shadowy night sky could make out the sniper setting for another shot.
He wasn’t sure if the sniper saw them, but Dane hoped for an element of surprise when he punched the Jet Ski to a start and gunned it.
The rifle would never hit a moving target.
Acer stood on the dock and aimed the Glock at the boat.
“Get on the back,” Dane ordered.
The speedboat with the sniper was in full retreat mode now, with its lights off and heading through the boats in the harbor at a dangerous speed, clipping one sailboat and slowing down.
He glanced back to see the shadowy figure of the kid standing on his lawn backlit by the kitchen window.
At least he didn’t have to worry about Ronnie.
“Wish I had my goddamn night goggles,” Dane shouted over the roar.
He’d had no time to grab them from his bedroom.
He could track the silhouette of the boat and the sniper maybe a dash under a hundred yards ahead, but it would be tough to get a good shot at him between the night and the movement of the two speeding watercrafts.
“Get as close as you can and I’ll take the shot,” Acer said. “I owe him one.”
* * *
The instant he touched her, Shana froze. But that was better than jumping in fright. Her mind ran faster than a bolt of lightning and her blood flew until she went into full-fledged survival mode. Managing to keep her voice cool, she spoke first to take control.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s my line. What the hell are you doing with my phone, Shana?” His voice was deadly cold and tinged with real anger.
She pulled from his grasp and out of reach, standing with the small hotel-room-sized sofa between them. It wasn’t much of a shield, but she’d take it.
“I wasn’t doing anything with it except rescuing it from the cushions.”
“Don’t insult me. I saw you taking pictures.”
She grabbed up her purse with her gun and phone and moved toward the door, meaning to sweep by him. She said, “This date is officially over.” She kept her eye on the door, but kept him in her periphery.
“Now where the hell do you think you’re going? We’re just getting started.” He blocked her path only a step from the exit and grabbed her arms, yanking at her purse strap, but she held on. He must know her gun was inside.
“Back off, bucko. The fun is over.”
“You aren’t going anywhere—I want your phone. In fact, I’ll take your entire bag—”
She shoved an elbow in his gut and pulled away again.
The strap on her bag broke, but she hung on.
The door was further away, but if she could liberate her gun she’d hold him off.
Unfortunately, he was no fool. Or not a complete fool, and he lunged, yanking her by the hair before she got entirely out of his reach.
She screamed, hoping to bloody hell Cap was in hearing distance. She needed to send a signal and kicked wildly as he pulled her against him and reached for her phone again. If she could make enough commotion—
“Calm down or I’ll force you to—and I don’t want to. What the hell were you thinking, Shana? Do you think this is a game? I’m FBI. You can’t spy on me. You can’t steal my phone or my intel—”
“Don’t tell me now that we’re on the same side. FBI wouldn’t manhandle—”
“Shut up.” He wrestled the purse from her grip, overpowering her and then shoving her away so that she half fell into a lamp table.
While he was relieving her purse of its contents, she grabbed the lamp and flung it at him then made for the door.
She got a hand on the knob and turned, but he pulled her from behind again.
Shana had the advantage. He was true to his word when he said he didn’t want to hurt her.
Probably some deeply entrenched FBI training code.
She, on the other hand, wanted to rip his head off.
She turned and pushed the heel of her hand into his nose in a swift smooth motion, catching him off guard. He yelled and stumbled back.
She flung open the door and started to run out, the hell with her purse and her gun. She’d hurt him and he was mad, and big, and he had a gun of his own plus hers. She moved fast.
But she’d only taken one step when he came back and this time he held her in a headlock with one arm around her neck and the other arm around her torso, pinning her arms down as he dragged her back inside.
He was choking her, but she calmed herself and didn’t struggle until she could catch her breath.
She stomped her heel on his foot, blindly aiming, and caught him partially, enough to loosen his grip momentarily so she could scream.
She thought she’d seen Cap’s car nearby, but she couldn’t be sure. Peck growled behind her and swore.
“Calm down. What the hell is your problem? I’m not some monster you need to escape from.” He dragged her back inside and slammed the door shut and then shoved her up against the wall, pinning her in place with his weight and a leg against hers.
“My mistake. Maybe it was the choke hold that confused me,” she said. She exaggerated the rasp into her voice to make her point.
“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t attacked me.”
“You stole my purse.”
“You were taking pictures of my phone. Like a dirty little spy.”
“You wanted me to be a dirty little spy on my damned partner.” She spat that at him, because when it came right down to it, that’s what she held against him most. He was despicable for that reason most of all.
“I’m on the side of the law. You and your so-called partner are not—”
“Don’t be so high and mighty. We’re not criminals. I’m in law enforcement too with the Scotland—”
“Which is it, Shana? Are you Dane’s partner or are you with the SYEP?”
A phone rang then, and it was a good thing because she didn’t exactly know the answer to that question. Didn’t want to answer to him for damn sure. He stood there staring bloody murder at her, his nose oozing blood and contemplating what to do with her, she figured. The phone kept ringing.
“Aren’t you going to answer that, Mr. Law Enforcement? It could be important.”
“It’s not my phone.” He glanced down at the floor where he’d dumped her purse. It was her phone on the floor ringing. She didn’t bother hiding the smug look on her face. It was Dane calling and she felt all out of proportion pleased about it.
“Well then, maybe you should let me answer it lest my partner think I was kidnapped.” She paused a beat.
He didn’t move, but stared her down. “Unless you actually do intend to kidnap me.” She arched a brow at him, but her pulse kicked up all the same.
He could get her in trouble. In deep trouble.
She glanced at the broken lamp on the floor behind him.
“Who do you suppose it is?” The ringing finally stopped.
“I guess we’ll find out because they are probably going to show up at your door shortly to find out why the hell I didn’t answer my phone.”
“Your partner monitors your dates? What the hell is this?”
“That’s what I want to know.” She was serious. He let up on his pressure. Her arms tingled and her hands were numb, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.