Preface
Last Chapter of Beachcomber Enemy
At the site of his old beach shack, Dane pulled into the crushed shell drive, stopping short of the thirty-foot RV where he now resided.
It was cramped and old and every one of his friends—and his new enemy Cap—tried to talk him into staying with them.
He was tempted by Acer’s offer to stay with him and Isabella on the Amalfi coast. But for now, he and Shana would call this place home.
The construction workers waved at him, but didn’t dare stop working as he got out of his Jeep and walked to the single wooden step that led to the flimsy metal door.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled it open and stepped inside with a bouquet of pink beach roses, the same kind he had given Shana the first day they met.
She was there, lying on the couch under a blanket, watching the news in the tiny living area to his right. Sassy stood in the even tinier kitchen to his immediate left, cooking something that smelled good. Probably pie. Even one-handed, Sassy was a relentless pie-maker. She said it was therapeutic.
It was two weeks since Shana’s surgery and Joe was gone. Peter and Acer and Ronnie were gone.
And Cap. He hadn’t spoken to Cap since the arrest. He had no plans to speak to his former friend again until he had to. At his trial.
He went to her in two quick steps and handed her the roses.
Watching her laugh with some of that old spark, he leaned forward, never mind that he crushed the roses between them, and gave her a deep fathomless kiss, the kind he swore he would give her every time he saw her from now on, the kind that he would give her if he were never going to see her again.
Shana sucked in his lips, reveling in the hot passionate taste of him, his male scent, his strength and most of all, felt the love seeping from him, flowing into her, covering everything, even the deepest wounds. Her deepest wound was not from the knife.
Her deepest wound had been from Dane’s betrayal.
It had been him leaving her behind at the Governor’s Mansion and then tying her up and locking her in a closet.
Even now the memory of the dark closet, the door slamming on her, and Dane’s voice outside, brought a sting of tears to her eyes and a searing across her soul.
But she banished it now as he kissed her, though she bit down on his lip, tasting blood.
He broke off the kiss then, sitting up on the edge of her sick-couch, looking down at her with his smirk and knowing eyes. He knew the nip was for punishment, she was sure of it as she watched him swipe a finger across his bottom lip to wipe away the blood.
“I canceled the church today.” She said the words without the heartache she felt. But the look on Dane’s face was heartbroken and her hand automatically went up to caress his cheek.
“I’m sorry, Dane. As soon as the trial is over we’ll reschedule the wedding.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. You might not want to be married to a convict.”
They hadn’t talked much about the impending trial, but she knew what weighed on him more than anything else was that Cap would be testifying against him. She felt a stabbing need to reassure him.
“You know I would marry you no matter what.”
“Don’t lie to me Shana.”
“Hey now—remember you have a cook in the room,” Sassy said from not more than ten feet away. Damn this small space.
“Besides,” Shana spoke louder and brighter, “your attorney said there’s no way they’ll convict you. Because you have me for a witness.”
It was an exaggeration of what Kimble had said. But he smiled then, a sad smile. It was better than his deadly shark stare and God knew she’d seen her share of those from him. Like every time she mentioned Cap’s name.
“Speaking of the trial,” Sassy said. She came around the corner of the counter into the living area and picking up the remote with her good hand, the one not in a cast, she flicked up the volume of the television that hung from the wall opposite her. “They’re covering it on the news now.”
The announcer’s voice boomed in the space.
“In today’s top story, the district attorney has announced that they will not reduce the charges against Dane Blaise, local private investigator and principal in Beachcomber Investigations, from the second-degree murder of Whitey Nash.
His attorney sought to have the charges dropped or reduced to manslaughter.
After the recent hearing where the judge found probable cause, the DA refusing to have the charges dropped, reneged on the previously agreed-to manslaughter charges.
District Attorney Philimino insisted the state has a solid case for second-degree murder based on the very solid testimony of State Police Captain Colin Lynch. ”
“Damn you, Cap,” Shana said.
She snatched the remote from Sassy’s hand and muted the television as the reporter droned on, yet again showing the highlights of the story, showing footage of the burning beach shack, the funeral, the bomb at the school, then the aftermath of Whitey’s murder in the hospital room.
Dane wondered how the hell the news station got hold of crime scene photos, but figured it had the handprints of one of his enemies at work.
Dane congratulated himself on not flinching at the news. Though he’d already heard about it from his attorney, the betrayal was still like an open wound, likely would be for a long time.
“Forget about Cap,” he said. His eyes met hers and he saw that she knew all that his words meant, knew the cutting out of Cap went deep and as painful as any knife wound for them both.
“He’s only going to tell the truth, right?” Sassy said. “It’s the DA who’s making a case out of it and the jury will surely agree with you and Ms. Kimble that it was all to prevent Whitey from murdering Shana, right?”
“Right.” Dane knew better than to parse out the meaning of the word truth and how there were many different truths to this matter.
Even if Dane had murdered Whitey Nash unarmed and in cold blood after what he’d done, Cap shouldn’t have arrested him and shouldn’t testify against him.
It was a betrayal, plain and simple. And devastating.
That’s how it felt to Dane no matter how he looked at it, no matter how his mind tried to reason with his gut.
Ms. Kimble had forbidden him from speaking to Cap, not that he wanted to, but Peter thought it would help, that maybe after the trial he ought to.
Dane had told Peter that whether it was a good idea or not to talk to Cap after the trial depended entirely on the outcome of the trial.
He’d been only half joking. Peter hadn’t laughed.
He still held Shana’s eyes with his and felt a need for more.
“Sassy, you want to take a step outside.” Dane wasn’t asking.
Sassy looked blank for a beat, then she turned pink and fled out the flimsy door, letting it slam behind her with a dull metallic thud.
It didn’t have the same spring and bang as the old wood-frame screen door of his beach shack.
Their beach shack. He leaned in to whisper in Shana’s ears what he knew to be true.
“We are getting married. I will be found innocent. And you will be my wife forever.”
There was that finality, that sureness and ridiculous confidence in the way he spoke. It was one of those things she couldn’t resist about him. One of the things she loved dearly.
“I know, Dane. We will.”
“I hear a but.” His face was implacable, giving no hint at his emotional response.
She was used to it, but it wasn’t exactly her favorite thing about him, at least not at times like this, when they were alone, when they were talking about their relationship and not about some crime or criminal to catch or wrong to be righted.
“But,” she paused because this was as hard for her to talk about as it would be for him to hear. His face was close to hers. He waited for her to continue without moving a muscle, not even a tic in his jaw.
“But we need to consider whether we are going to continue with Beachcomber Investigations.”
“You don’t want to be my partner anymore?” For once he didn’t hide his incredulousness. She must have really surprised him.
“No, I mean I don’t want either of us to stay in business.
Not as private investigators—if that’s what you want to call it.
Half the time I’ve felt like a soldier for hire working with you and your .
. . friends.” She would have referred to them as his special ops team, but to be fair, they were friends first.
He sat back and studied her. “Is this something you’ve already decided?” His voice was quiet. A trill of fear raised hairs at the back of her neck.
“No. I want us to consider it.”
“You mean you want me to consider it, because you clearly already have.”
She nodded. He was right of course.
“What the hell else would we do, Shana? This business is all I’m suited for. It’s who I am.” He leaned in again and added, “I thought you were with me on that.”
“I am. I was. But when I was in danger, look what it did to you.”
“Maybe you should retire from the business then.”
She shook her head violently.
“No, Dane. I would never let you go into trouble, put yourself in danger, without me there to have your back.”
“Are you giving me an ultimatum, Shana?”
“No.” She was firm. “I only want to find a way—damn it.” She swiped at a tear because this conversation distressed her more than anything she could remember since Dane’s mother had passed away.
She wanted so much to make things right, to have a life with him that wouldn’t kill them physically or kill their souls.
It seemed hopeless, like there was no way to make it all right between them, like they would be doomed forever to the vicious cycle of dread and fear of loss and the joyous triumphs and passionate love they shared.
But then maybe that was the nature of life, only in the extreme. You could only have the good if you would accept the bad. But did it have to be so extremely bad?
“Am I wrong to want to temper the bad times?”
“Only if you don’t mind tempering the good ones,” he said.
She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew exactly what she was talking about, that he had read her mind. That was part of the good.
“I don’t know what I want, Dane. Only that whatever we do, it has to be together.” She couldn’t think about this anymore. Exhaustion encroached on her. Her body’s recovery from the knife wound and two surgeries made her weary too soon. She lay back into her pillow and sighed.
“Maybe it’s just a reaction to a near-death experience.
Maybe when I’m feeling a hundred percent I’ll scoff at the notion of giving up a life of fighting for truth, justice, and the American way.
” She smiled at her self-mockery and took a breath in relief at Dane’s smile.
It was genuine down to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the light in the bright blue depths, and the slightly lopsided curve of his sensual lips.
All at once she wanted nothing more than to have those lips on hers. She reached out a hand and grabbed him by the front of his shirt in a burst of energy and pulled him close. He didn’t resist.
She would think about his trial and the fate of Beachcomber Investigations another time.
Right now, she immersed herself in the feeling of his lips against hers, his flesh-and-blood hard body against hers, the sound of his breathing filling her ears, the scent of his maleness, with a hint of beach rose, filling her nostrils.
The warm moist tease of his tongue in her mouth, flicking against hers as if they were dueling.
Her heart raced against his and she felt them both beating harder and faster as he pressed close, slipping his mouth to her ear and nibbling.
His breath was heavier now, teasing the fine hairs at her temple, and his words sent a thrill through her to her bones, melting away all the fears and worries.
“Forever, Shana. That’s all I want. You, girlie.”
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