Chapter 11
After Cap left, Dane didn’t go back inside.
He wandered around, walking along the water for half the night until his phone rang.
When he saw the caller id he felt a mixture of pleasure and apprehension and surprise.
It was his mother. It was three a.m. but he knew this was not an emergency call. He just knew.
He put the phone to his ear and said, “You’re a psychic.”
Her gentle laugh washed over him, smoothing some of the edges.
“Don’t underestimate how much like your father you are.”
“Everything okay?”
“I called to ask you the same thing.”
Dane sighed. He wanted to sit at his mother’s kitchen table—a place he hadn’t been in years in person or in spirit—and tell her everything. It wasn’t something he’d done for a decade. Not since he’d lost his baby Delilah.
But that kind of thing didn’t work over the phone and now wasn’t the time. Maybe he was past that time in his life when a long talk with his mother would have any effect. A wistful wind blew across his soul.
He tried to think of what he could say to his mother that would be honest and put her off at the same time.
“It’s as okay as it can be.” He knew she wouldn’t pry.
“How is Shana?” He squirmed. Stopped walking.
“Fine.”
“I see.”
He laughed.
“I’d love to visit with you two. Soon.”
“Sounds like a plan. Give my regards to L and P.” It was a crude code, but Dane wasn’t worried.
His mother had called from her secure line, the one with a scrambler.
Anyone listening would assume she was one of the feds because they wouldn’t hear a word and they wouldn’t know where the call was coming from.
“Take care of yourself, Dane my boy.”
He signed off and stowed his phone in the cargo pocket of his pants.
It was what his mother always said when they signed off.
It was what she used to say to her husband, his father, except she’d called him ‘my love.’ The last time they’d seen his father she’d said, “Take care of yourself, Jake my love.”
Dragging himself from his past, Dane finally turned to head back to the beach shack.
The major flaw in their op went with him, still bothering him.
If they canceled the wedding to keep the guests out of harm’s way, even at the last minute, there was a chance Max or Sal or one of their minions would find out about it.
Then all bets were off. Max and Sal would know they were onto them.
All their preparation for the strike would be out the window.
There would be no telling what Max the Ax would do.
Except they knew it would be something bad and something they were not prepared for.
There was a pot of coffee brewing when he got back to the shack. The clock said four a.m. The calendar said it was Thursday. Their plan was to salt the bait for Max and Sal with a wedding rehearsal party at The Lucky Parrot that evening.
Their task was to call everyone on the wedding guest list and quietly let them all know the wedding was canceled.
Shana walked into the kitchen with her hair sleep mussed. She wore a T-shirt and gym shorts.
She said, “You look like shit.”
He said, “You look like a delectable feast.” Damn. That was a stupid unguarded thing to say. That’s what sleep deprivation would do to a guy. But this was Shana and he was entitled.
“Get over it.” She walked past him and filled two mugs with hot thick black coffee.
He took a mug. “What about Acer?”
“Judging from the snoring, I’d say he’s still sleeping like a damn baby.”
Dane saw the four old-fashioned telephones sitting on the table all hooked up through the secure system.
“I see Acer was busy last night.”
“Unlike some people. He set us up to execute the plan. We’re ready to call the wedding guest list as soon as everyone gets here.” she looked at her wrist watch. “In an hour.”
The sharp stab between his shoulder blades made it difficult for Dane to remain cool and calm.
He knew this part of the plan was all wrong, but he had no idea what to do about it.
Yet. He took a long swig of Shana’s super coffee.
His eyes watered. It was scalding and it was bitter. It was bound to revive his brain.
She said, “Feel better?”
He leaned against the counter near the coffee pot for a quick refill. He didn’t bother answering her.
“We heard from Derek—Special Agent Smith—again last night. We’re on target. Their secondary surveillance confirmed that Max and Sal are planning to attend the wedding and that they’ve got a kidnapping planned.”
“How the hell are they confirming a kidnapping plot?”
“They overheard a conversation. Max is hiring fresh blood. The FBI had surveillance on and someone said ‘fresh meat.’ They overheard the word ‘snatch’ and the phrase ‘bring her to me untouched.’”
Dane nodded.
“You don’t seem excited.”
He gave her his best bedroom-eye look. “Oh, I’m excited, girlie.”
“I see my magic coffee is having its effect on you.”
“You’re the one who’s not excited.”
“Caught me red-handed.” She moved closer and he really would have been overexcited but he knew it was the coffee she was after. She poured a second cup.
“I don’t like it,” she said.
He drew a breath and knew exactly what she meant without the explanation, but she explained.
“It’s too risky.” Her gut tightened thinking about it.
“While Max is parading around pretending he’s a legitimate businessman and client at Murphy & Haley—and according to Acer’s audio surveillance that’s exactly what he’s doing—he might find out from someone that the wedding’s been cancelled. He’d immediately know something is up.”
“What’s the alternative?” Dane asked her. He was serious. He wanted her to come up with an option. She wasn’t about to disappoint him. She had an idea.
“We’ll need help from the feds.” She eyed him. He gave her nothing, not a flicker. She went on.
“We don’t cancel the wedding. We call all the guests, but instead of telling them the wedding is off, we tell them we’ve chartered a ferry for them to come to the island.
None of the guests are on the island—I checked.
And we corral them all on the boat. Once we have them, we delay the arrival and take them to a different destination—make up some excuse about a problem in Vineyard Haven.
” She stopped. “Then she added, “We’ll need the FBI’s help to detain them.
” She waited for a response, held her excitement inside.
Dane said nothing, still showed nothing.
“Well?”
“I always thought kidnapping was against the law. But I suppose if it’s the feds doing it that makes it legal.”
“It’s not kidnapping.”
“Skirting the edge.”
“Is that your only problem with the plan?”
“That and the fact that we’re relying on the feds to go along with it. Oh—and the cost. I know Toly is rolling in dough, but this’ll cost a bundle—and that’s if you can get a big enough boat on short notice.”
“Is that all?” She knew all these things and she was confident she could deal with the logistics. The only stumbling block in her mind was the feds. She’d start with Derek and see if they could talk them into buying in and putting some manpower on it.
“The advantage is that we have nothing to hide.”
“Except that Max and Sal won’t be invited for the private ferry ride.”
“They’re already on the island.”
“Since when?” He looked surprised. It wasn’t obvious but she knew what to look for. A pinch at the left corner of his mouth, a tightening in the set of his jaw. She vacillated between being disconcerted at his surprise and feeling a sense of accomplishment at surprising him.
“While you were out, Acer got the word.”
“That clears up one of the two major roadblocks.”
“What’s the other?”
“You’ll need to convince the feds. And I do mean you. Personally.” He walked past her toward his bedroom at the end of the hall. He smelled like the ocean and manliness and she held herself still so as not to be drawn after him. She felt the tug like the surf receding on a beach.
“I will.” She lifted her chin. She couldn’t help herself.
He looked at her, at her raised chin and his mask melted for a heart-stopping second and he smiled.
It was that single-dimpled part loving and part sardonic smile.
It killed her every time. Stay in the kitchen. Do not follow him into his bedroom.
“Lucky thing Acer set up the phone bank. Looks like you all have about fifty phone calls to make in short order.” He turned and went into his room and clicked the door closed behind him softly. As if he were letting her down easy.
She knew that was in her head, not his. For his part, he’d never turned her away.
He knew how to send a convincing message so that she knew when she was not invited.
She couldn’t remember when that was now.
It had happened. Once or twice. This wasn’t one of those times.
She knew he hated their truce on romance.
Or lust or whatever it was. Whatever powerful, difficult thing it was that they had.
This moratorium was all her doing. Damn, but she could not undo it.
Shana turned back to the kitchen and took another long gulp of coffee.
The wall clock that looked like Dane had stolen it from a 1950s grade school classroom, big, round, ringed in metal with large clear numbers it looked perfect for teaching time the old fashioned way.
It said 6:30 a.m. Still too early to call the FBI offices.
But she decided it wasn’t too early to call Special Agent Derek Smith on his cell phone. She slipped her phone from her back pocket, touched the Glock in the back of her waistband for good luck, and made the call.
“What the hell—”
“Wake up Derek. I need your help.” She had no right to count on him, but she did.