Beachcomber Investigations 12 Book Set

Chapter 1

Dane checked his rearview mirror. The damn perp was still on his tail.

The French man had skills considering he wasn’t from the island.

Considering he was supposed to be a con man, not a wheel man.

It might be a disadvantage trying to lose a tail on an island the size of Martha’s Vineyard, but Dane knew it like a native and had a few tricks in reserve for such occasions.

Stomping on the accelerator, Dane spun his rusty old Jeep around and sped back into town, leaving behind the winding ocean road.

It was a damn shame he found himself tangled with another perp on another mission when he was supposed to be resting.

Supposed to be healing at his beach shack after spending months in the last hell-hole, barely escaping.

Leaving too many behind. He shut his mind down before he could think more.

If he allowed those thoughts to grab hold, he’d drive straight to the Lucky Parrot and settle in with a bottle of tequila. Damn the governor and his favor.

The last mission had been too nasty. He’d come home to the Vineyard like he always did between missions, to rest his soul, not to mention a few body parts that could use some healing.

Heading for Vineyard Haven’s grocery store, he supposed he wasn’t in between missions anymore.

He pulled into the lot and parked front and center.

As he got out of the Jeep, he spotted Frenchie turning into the driveway and heading toward a parking spot a few rows over.

Dane walked unhurried to the glass doors of the store and pushed inside.

If he didn’t owe the governor more than he could ever repay, no way would he be playing hide and seek with some French con in his own neighborhood grocery store.

He trotted through the aisles, skirting people and displays and pushed through the double doors near the deli counter into the storage room.

And there was especially no way in hell he’d be working with an unknown partner if his so-called friend hadn’t insisted. Some young up-and-coming detective chick from the Met. Dane didn’t know enough about this mission yet, but it had damn well better be worth all the trouble. And the pain.

In the storage room, if anyone had a problem with him being there they didn’t say.

No one stopped him. He’d mastered that quality of seeming to be in complete charge no matter what the circumstance.

People didn’t question him because he knew what he was doing.

Even when he was racing through a grocery store, the assumption was that he was supposed to be running through the grocery store.

On the back end of the storage room he found the unmarked door and slipped outside.

Jumping down the steps, he landed in the alley behind the supermarket between two parked trucks.

Ignoring his knee, he headed to the street and ran.

It was under two miles to State Police Headquarters in Vineyard Haven.

He could get there in under ten minutes. Never mind his left knee.

Looking over his shoulder once before he turned the corner, he checked the door where he’d exited the back of the grocery store. Still closed. No one in sight. He stepped up his pace to full speed then and kept going.

Passing by a white picket fence lined with rose bushes he reached out and plucked one. A rose would not make up for him behaving like an asshole to his unwanted partner Shana George.

Because he was certainly would act like an asshole. But he couldn’t forget his mother’s words when he saw the roses. She’d told him something about the power of a rose once when he was not too young to understand.

There’s something about a rose that makes a woman smile inside like a young girl.

Thinking about his mother made him smile. So there was that. A good enough justification to do almost anything.