Chapter 5
“Nothing bad is really going to happen, is it? I mean I won’t actually need to use the gun, will I?
” Sassy stood in front of the door ready to leave and Shana had her hand poised on the door handle.
They’d agreed on an obscene amount of money—more than twice what Sassy made as a fruit pastry chef at the bakery.
But that had been Shana’s fault. She prayed—and she hardly ever prayed any more, not since her father had passed—that Sassy Stevens was going to hold up, that she’d show up in the morning and protect that sweet innocent baby.
Money was one thing. Life and limb was another, especially for a pastry chef/babysitter.
Shana chose her next words carefully because she liked Sassy and didn’t want to mislead her—even while there was no question that Paulette was the first priority.
“It’s not likely that the perp—kidnapper—will find Paulette here. Dane and I will be very careful. But...” Shana licked her lips. Sassy stood stock-still and on edge, vibrating with tension.
“But Father Donahue brought Paulette here and we have no way of knowing if he was followed. He’s not a professional and not necessarily used to taking such precautions.
” That last part was a big fat lie, Shana realized, since Father Lothario, as Dane referred to him—aptly—was very well used to taking precautions about his anonymity, but that wasn’t something Sassy needed to know.
Plus, Father Lothario hadn’t been very good at keeping anonymous after all, so the warning was a good one. She watched Sassy’s response.
The girl stood still for a few beats and then nodded her head. “Okay. Good to know.”
“You call Cap—Captain Lynch—if you suspect anything or if you hear or see one little thing out of place or anything that makes you suspicious. No strangers—well, I don’t need to tell you all that. After all, you’ve been through Captain Lynch’s self -protection class, so you know all the rules.”
Sassy nodded vigorously. “Yes. Captain Lynch explained that I shouldn’t hesitate to call him. He said he owes you.” She paused.
Shana was not going to quench the young girl’s curiosity.
At least not at this point. She opened the door and Sassy stepped out.
But not before Shana checked the transom mirror and the side windows and ducked her head outside for a quick look around.
She hoped Dane wasn’t going to need to relocate.
If too many perps visited their home—his home—it could become uncomfortable. More than it already was.
“First thing in the morning,” Shana said. Sassy waved at her and she found herself waving back and liking the girl even more. So far Sassy was surprisingly solid. Cap had been right. Dane had been right about calling him.
She hated that.
*****
In the morning, Dane was treated to watching Shana juggle the baby, while dressing and throwing things in a bag.
He stood in the doorframe and contemplated whether he ought to offer to help with the dressing or the packing.
He sure as shit wasn’t going to volunteer to hold the baby.
And he knew Shana sure as shit wouldn’t have let him.
But the doorbell rang and he said, “I’ll get that.” And enjoyed the withering glance Shana gave him over her shoulder while she tried to pull her pants on with one hand.
Sassy had arrived on time. She wore a big smile and a big dress with her gun shoved up under the hem of the pink bohemian garment.
Sassy made this announcement as she pushed past Dane into the house and went into the kitchen, where she deposited on his counter what looked like a picnic basket and no less than three cloth bags filled with who-knew-what.
Dane wondered what she had hidden under her lime green bowler hat with the lucky four-leaf clover.
“I brought pie. I hope you don’t mind.” Sassy spoke and looked at Dane as if he were the big bad wolf.
Shana stepped up and introduced Paulette. Then both women seemed to forget he was there while Shana gave last minute instructions, mostly about where to stow her gun and to make sure Cap stopped by every hour or sent someone from the station.
“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Sassy asked Shana.
Dane spoke up, “It’s goddamned mandatory as we agreed, or I’m not leaving.”
Shana scowled at him and spent another five minutes reassuring the young woman all over again.
Dane enjoyed it. He enjoyed watching Shana work through her exasperation, getting all animated in her short skirt and tight top.
The two women were dressed in about the most opposite styles possible.
But they had one thing in common—a monstrous soft spot for babies.
Once Shana was done with her goodbye, she gave Dane one more scowl and pushed past him.
He followed her as she dashed out the door to the waiting car.
“We have ten minutes to get to the ferry,” she said.
“I thought you said the boat leaves at 8:15—not for an hour?”
“Our tickets are standby.”
“A ferry standby ticket was the best you could do?” Dane said.
He knew the answer. It had been the third time he’d asked.
This time was for Cap’s benefit as he climbed in the front seat of the state cruiser.
No way was he going to let Shana sit up front with Cap.
Not after that Valentine’s Day fiasco. He was paranoid. He was okay with that.
So what if Cap was fast becoming one of his best friends—after his old special ops unit buddies—which included the governor himself?
“Thank you for dropping us at the ferry,” Shana said from the backseat after she slammed the door, effectively drowning out Dane’s words.
He loved the way she rose to his bait—or challenge, as she would say.
There wasn’t a back-down bone in her body—in her luscious drop-dead gorgeous body.
Dane sighed. Time to change the subject of his meandering thoughts.
“The governor isn’t vouching for Father Lothario—especially not after I updated him on the shooting.
He’s holding off sending his men over to talk to Sister Anne and anyone else who will talk.
He doesn’t like it, but he’s going to keep his word about giving Donahue a week—mostly because he’s counting on us to get the job done and keep the baby safe. ” Dane eyed Cap, who turned to him.
“Copy that. Not a problem. I’ll be patrolling the shack—or someone will. Lucky for you this is in between disaster duty and tourist season. We don’t have a lot else going on.”
“Good.” He felt lame.
“So why are you taking the ferry?” Cap angled his gaze into the rearview mirror and looked at Shana as he stopped at a light.
“What is it with you two?” Shana said.
“We’re fishing for information,” Cap said, “since your buddy at the island hopper airline broke up with his girl again. Dane wants to know if he’s after you again. Me, I’m just—”
“You what?” This Shana aimed at Dane.
“You’re listening to Cap about this? He’s nothing but a gossip.
I didn’t know a thing about the airline guy’s love life.
Nor, for the record, do I care.” What Dane did not say—and he was proud of himself for not saying it—was that if he ever heard of the guy going near Shana they’d have a face-to-face with his Glock doing all the talking.
This he acknowledged was an extreme measure, but the guy struck him as too fickle for Shana. She deserved better.
She deserved better than Dane. Better even than Cap.
“You’re so full of shit.” Shana said what he was thinking.
Cap pulled up to the curb at the ferry terminal and said, “Do you at least have a description of the suspect for me?”
“Nearest we could get is male, not too big. Seemed amateurish or skittish. Possibly drugs.”
Shana pushed her door open and said, “Thanks, Cap. I owe you. I’ll call when I know more.”
They walked together to the terminal door. He carried a backpack and she carried an oversized handbag or undersized beach bag. He couldn’t let her words go.
“What’s this about I’ll call you when I have more info and I owe you? I thought it was we? Or do you want me to go home?”
“Stop behaving like a petulant child. It was automatic.”
That stung. Not the part about the petulant child—although that was bad enough since it was true—but the part about it being automatic.
“I automatically think of us as partners—as we.” He felt sick with the admission and the implication.
They were inside the ferry terminal heading to the ticket window. Shana stopped short.
“No—I mean I do too. It’s not that.” She sounded panicked.
She put her hand on his arm and turned him around and looked up at him.
He made his face a mask. There was nothing he could do about the drumming of his heartbeat.
He looked at her green eyes. They looked earnest and beautiful and penitent and sad and stunningly clear.
He stopped himself from gulping and waited her out.
“I want to think of us as us. But you know—I don’t always feel like I have a right.
Sometimes I feel like your partner, like I have a right to claim you.
Sometimes I’m less sure about us. It’s on me.
I would never not want you for a partner.
I’d never not trust you.” She stopped after he let her run on a minute and he felt the waves of expectation soak him with guilt.
“I know. I’m a bastard. But I’m your bastard. For the record.” He smiled. It wasn’t entirely forced. Then he added, “And you’re my girlie. We’re partners.”
Because she was such a girl underneath her girlie exterior she threw her arms around him and squeezed.
Because he was so starved for affection, he let her.
And he squeezed back. Squeezed his eyes shut and let himself sink into her, smell her hair—that Shana the beautiful smell that always brought him comfort and excitement at the same time.
Then he let her go and said, “No more talk about leaving the island.”