Chapter 13
Shana kept her head down, shadowed by her perky veiled hat and her face aimed at Ryan Murphy’s chest. He held her tighter than he needed to—he’d had that protective streak in him that all the men she knew had—that she had—so there was no use fighting it.
The one thing that got her nerves was that she was too tall and no matter how much she slouched, it was impossible to hide.
Walking from the car to the front door of the Lucky Parrot and then to their table would be the most vulnerable point of the mission.
Naturally it was Dane’s job to flank her and hide her as much as possible from casual view, but the trained eye would spot her and they were dealing with trained eyes.
Cap, dressed in khakis and a cream-colored polo shirt that showed off his rippling muscles in a way his uniform never could walked ahead of them and opened the door.
He smiled like they were on their way to a celebratory dinner, reminding her to do the same.
She hoped the feeling she had of walking the plank didn’t show through.
Ryan said something and Dane laughed. She looked up at her pretend fiancé and smiled adoringly.
When they got within inches of the door he passed her to Cap and she walked in with him.
She had the feeling if all four of them could have fit through the door at once flanking her, they would have.
As it was she feared their security measures were too obvious.
Dane caught up with her within a step and then Ryan, who gripped her arm. She said under her breath, mostly to Dane because that’s who she was used to complaining to, “Relax, boys. People are going to think there’s something wrong with me.”
Dane gave her a blank look. No one else responded either. Today she would find out if playing with a chip of resentment on her shoulder helped her game.
She looked around the room and it was fashionably filled with a seemingly fun crowd. There was a buzz of conversation and a sprinkle of laughter as if they played canned audio over the speakers entitled “background sounds from a restaurant pub.”
Or maybe she was over thinking it because she knew at least half these people were either FBI or Homeland Security types. The bubble of anxiety rose from the pit of her stomach and she squelched it, belying any notion that she ought to feel comforted by their presence. Au contraire.
Mr. Johnson, proprietor of the Lucky Parrot, with menus in hand and sporting a new starched apron as if he were running a European trattoria, showed them to their table, as requested, smack in the middle of the room, set with eight chairs.
The extra was for an FBI woman who would play the role of Lara’s maid of honor and best friend, Katrina.
They sat. Ryan held her chair but he barely beat Dane to it and they exchanged a look.
Shana’s entire body tightened. If Dane was going to have an alpha dog fight with everyone that came near her or showed her the least concern then this charade would never work.
Then their partnership would never work.
“See any familiar faces?” Shana was surprised that it was Father Donahue who voiced the question that was on everyone’s mind.
Dane spoke under his breath. “Two feds at seven o’clock. Pretending to be a young couple. I recognize them from our visit to Center Plaza.”
“There’s a group of three would-be fishermen at two o’clock,” Acer said. “I saw their faces on the roster.”
“Let’s hope Max and Sal haven’t seen the roster,” Shana said half into her menu. This felt too much like the lunch at the Parker House when Max and Sal identified her and Dane the minute they arrived.
Homeland Security had made and delivered a mask of fairly good quality to use for the occasion based on pictures they had taken of Lara.
Shana wished now she’d worn it. But it felt all-wrong on her face and so she kept with their initial plan to use makeup.
Sassy had done an outstanding job sculpting her nose to be slightly longer and her chin more pointed.
But the mask would have helped her feel less exposed than she did.
She felt now like she was hiding under the blankets from the monsters.
Foolish. Dane squeezed her leg under the table.
His gesture, like nothing else, turned the bubbles of anxiety into a harmless fizz and her focus snapped into place as if she were a half blind person putting on special eyeglasses.
It was time to play her role of Lara, the blushing bride-to-be, for all it was worth. She gave Ryan a lover’s look and he leaned into her.
“Don’t worry.” He put an arm around her and nuzzled close.
It felt odd, but at least he smelled good.
Shana tilted her head and let him kiss her on the lips.
The others at the table reacted the way friends of an engaged couple would react to their kiss.
There was a whistle from Acer and applause from Father Donahue and the FBI woman who played the role of Lara’s maid of honor. They all played it perfectly.
All except Dane. She felt him tense from his seat next to her, felt the arctic freeze of his mood and kept herself from reacting, from even looking at him. Ryan released her with a private apologetic smile. She smiled back, not all for show. He was a good man. Lara was a lucky woman.
Shana wondered if she’d ever be so lucky.
That’s when her glance slid to Dane’s. He smiled, but it was his professional smile.
She was saved from saying anything or reacting—or hell, melting down—by the appearance of the waiter.
It was time she sucked it up and put Dane aside, so she did.
There was too much at stake to be worrying about her love life now. There’d be time for that later.
Dane surveyed the room while the undercover waiter took orders. He’d made sure the Lucky Parrot proprietor didn’t use the regular staff. The last thing he wanted was for the poor waitress to get caught in any crossfire if things went south.
Before he finished his thought that a gunfight was unlikely, he spotted two large men coming in the door.
“Two body guards approaching from the front.” He spoke quietly with a smile he knew was incongruous.
Cap said, “Followed by our two favorite members of the underworld.”
Shit. Dane put his eyes on the door in time to meet the unfriendly face of Maxim “the Ax” Xavier.
“You’re shitting me,” Acer said in a hiss. “They’re heading straight for us.”
“I will handle this,” Toly said. He’d been quiet, even subdued.
“We’ll both handle it,” Dane said. He looked at Shana.
“I should have taken that goddamn mask.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He turned to Ryan and nodded. Ryan leaned in, angling to block Shana from view of Max and Sal as much as possible. But once the two men got to their table, there would be nothing they could do to shield her.
“Let’s hope Sassy’s makeup job measures up,” Dane said under his breath.
The woman FBI agent took out her cell phone and said, “Let’s take pictures.” She stood and made a show of asking someone from another table to take a picture of their group just as Max and Sal arrived. It was no accident that the person sitting at the table behind them stood and volunteered.
Dane managed to hide his laugh with a cough.
It was Special Agent Smitten ready to take their picture.
He’d been the only federal agent from either the FBI or Homeland Security who they had not identified.
His costume—because it was too over the top to be called a disguise—was perfect.
He was dressed as a woman. An overweight, middle-aged woman with glasses and a frumpy purple floral dress, frizzy gray hair, sturdy shoes and pearls. He reminded Dane of Mrs. Doubtfire.
“I’d be happy to take a picture,” he said in a convincing falsetto.
“We’re celebrating the upcoming nuptials for this lovely couple,” Special Agent Cutie said. Dane had already forgotten her name. She smiled and patted Shana’s back.
It was a brilliant move, Dane had to admit. A camera to Max and Sal was like garlic to a vampire. They backed off and took seats at a booth two tables away—about fifteen feet. Enough distance to give Shana some breathing room.
While Derek the dowager lined the table up for pictures, Dane excused himself and took Toly by the arm.
“Let’s visit our friends in the corner.”
Toly grunted and followed him. Shana made a comment about Grandpapa being camera shy and urged their new friend to keep taking pictures.
Naturally she had everyone line up behind her so that Shana was completely shielded from view by Max and Sal.
As Dane and Toly made their way to Max and Sal’s booth where they pretended to not see anything from behind their menus, he heard the group cheering Shana and Ryan on for another kiss.
That was when he tuned them out as if he’d pressed a mute button. There was nothing but the booth holding Max and Sal in front of him. He pulled a chair from a nearby table up to the end of the booth and sat on it. Toly stood next to him.
“Hello, fellas.”
“Enjoying the wedding party, Blaise?”
“Someone’s got to do it.”
Sal said, “Where’s your partner?”
“Shana has babysitting duty tonight.”
Sal nodded his head then he looked up at Toly with a death grin.
Toly put his hand out. “No bad feelings. Sometimes business deals do not go the way you think they will go.”
Sal said nothing.
Max said, “I have to hand it to you, Ivanov. It was a genius move. I had no idea you were on speaking terms with the FBI.”
“I am a citizen. Same as you.”
Max smiled like someone who belonged in an asylum. “I hope you enjoy your new friendship. You’ve cut off all your ties with past friends.”
“You know Toly doesn’t care about that,” Dane said.
“That’s right,” Toly said.
“He has no friends,” Dane said. Toly gave him a look.
“That’s right. I only have family or competitors. No friends.”
“You’re wrong,” Max said. “You have enemies.”
“That’s right,” Dane said. “We all do.”
Sal finally spoke up again. “You can go now, Blaise. Get your asses out of our sight.”
Dane didn’t bother responding. He rose from the chair, but left it where it was, blocking the table. He took Toly by the arm and they walked back to their own table where drinks had been served.
“Get me a vodka,” Toly said as he sat.
They managed to eat their meals and make merry. Dane was worried when none of the feds left while other patrons came and went. He looked at his watch a half hour later and slid his eyes to Max’s booth. The two men rose to leave. There were two empty glasses on their table and no plates.
At least they knew their intelligence plants worked. It was clear that Max and Sal only showed up to see them. They walked toward the table again.
Dane said, “Time for Lara to take a trip to the powder room.”
Special Agent Cutie stood, hiding Shana from view, and said, “Come with me to the ladies’ room.” She took Shana’s arm. They escaped with only a second to spare.
Max stopped next to Ryan Murphy, who stood.
“Good luck on your upcoming marriage, Mr. Murphy.”
Ryan nodded his head.
“We will see you all tomorrow at the wedding,” Max said. He looked around the table at everyone as if he were remembering their faces for targeting later.
No one at the table said a word in return, not even Father Donahue. The priest didn’t even spare his usual good-natured smile.
Max and Sal walked from the Lucky Parrot and within one minute, Special Agent Smitten suddenly decided he needed to leave.
Dane was inclined to follow Max and Sal himself, but he would have been the third or fourth follower if he had.
Two other tables populated with undercover feds got up and left in succession.
“It’s like clockwork,” Cap said.
“I’m setting my watch now,” Dane said.
“Drinks on me all around,” Toly said. The big man heaved a big sigh.
“Vashe zrodovye,” Dane said. He raised his water glass.
He’d need to keep drinking strictly water if he wanted to keep the promise of the toast—to their health.