Chapter 4
“What the hell was that all about?” Jake shook his head.
Dane shrugged. “Planning ahead.”
“You think he’s going to show up here? You think he followed me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Sam said, “If he shows up, it would be because Dane hasn’t exactly been low profile. Google yourself lately, Blaise-man?”
“It’s not me who’s hiding.”
“So why is he coming out from under his rock to visit you coincidentally when your mother is visiting? How’d he find out?” Jake asked.
“He didn’t.” Dane swiped his hand through his hair. “It was the ATF who flushed him out.”
He had a nasty suspicion that his contact with the governor’s office hadn’t gone unnoticed by the feds.
“My theory is our friends at the FBI got wind via the governor’s office and alerted someone at ATF. I wouldn’t put it past the bastards to leak the news to the right people in the local Mongols gang to set up an irresistible trap.”
“That’s a big assumption.” Jake would take the side of law enforcement, Dane knew.
Sam looked at Jake, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t matter. Dane knew what he was thinking. That Surfer Boy still had a lot to learn and he ought to lift his rosy glasses and take a look at the real world.
Or maybe that’s what Dane was thinking.
“What’s your theory?”
Jake stared at him with eyes that were clear and decidedly un-rosy.
“He could have followed me.”
Dane stared back, seeing clear as ice with a mind sure as all hell.
“Or he could be in damn East Oshkosh for all we know. You were careful. You’re smart and canny even if you’re not paranoid. You’re a goddamn trained professional and his face is too familiar because you probably see him in your nightmares every night.”
One brow, Jake’s left, lifted a micro-fraction, subtler than he used to be, but the familiar tic was still there the way Dane remembered it.
“That’s you. I don’t have nightmares.”
Sam stirred, shifted on his feet.
“We’re all good.” There was more irritation than question in his voice.
“Cap will handle the ATF and the governor’s office. But as soon as I get the name of the special agent at the FBI who tipped off the ATF—”
“Never mind,” Jake said. “Go back to bed where you belong.”
Dane couldn’t argue with that. He’d talk to Cap at a decent hour, after they’d both had some coffee in them. Before they started drinking tequila.
The sun blazed through the bedroom window at eight o’clock before Dane opened his eyes.
“Shit damn. Why didn’t you wake me?” He sat up and nudged Shana, forcing himself to ignore the intoxicating sight of her lush body tangled in the sheets and her long silky hair splayed over his pillow. She turned to him.
“Time to get up.” She smiled. He almost lay back down. Instead, he clenched a fist in the sheets and threw them aside.
“You are the devil incarnate. Satan has nothing on you, girlie.”
She laughed and sat up. He turned away from the sight but not soon enough to avoid his man parts rising and clenching in awareness.
He stood anyway and grabbed some jeans from the floor. He had to get out of the room. It smelled of Shana and lovemaking and made him want to pretend the world didn’t exist, to pretend his life didn’t exist, that there were no enemies lurking around every corner.
He grabbed his phone off the charger, opened the door a crack and let himself out, leaving her behind the closed door. Taking a deep breath, he headed toward the smell of brewing coffee.
As he walked past the bedroom he listened and heard his mother’s steady breathing. Still asleep. Before reaching the kitchen, he detoured into his office and kicked the cot where Jake slept. Still on California time.
A phone rang, but it wasn’t his. It was either Jake’s or Shana’s because Sam stood in the kitchen holding his mug under the dripping coffeemaker.
He went still and waited to hear the answer. Sam met his eyes. Last night’s call had them both on high alert.
When he heard Shana’s muffled voice from behind their bedroom door, he relaxed.
“That’s Cap calling to check in.” He headed to the coffeemaker.
Sam nodded. “He always check in with Shana?”
“Don’t be a troublemaker.” Dane grinned, grabbed a mug from the cabinet above and shoved Sam’s mug aside to fill his cup. “Cap is like her big brother.”
“I know that. I thought you were in charge of Beachcomber Investigations.”
“It’s a partnership. Shared duties. Shana went to Cap. He’s following up.” Dane studied Sam’s impenetrable face. “You don’t like her.”
“I think she’s magnificent.”
“But?”
“No buts.”
“You think she’s dangerous. A temptation.”
“That’s your conscience talking.”
Dane’s laugh left a hint of bittersweet taste in his mouth.
“You always did play my conscience.”
“And I thought it was the other way around.”
“Guess that’s what friends do.” Dane tapped his mug against Sam’s in a salute and took a long deep sip. He could use the reinforcement to build out the steely wall of determination he needed. To keep alert and vigilant. To keep the fears at bay. The fear of assault from a long-time enemy.
And the fear of Shana. Of losing her. Of keeping her.
Shana emerged from her room and walked down the short hall to the kitchen, appearing on the threshold like an angel from heaven. If angels were kickass women of Amazonian proportions.
“Cap has the ATF file and says to come by the office.”
“We’ll swing by on our way to surf.”
Shana’s mouth formed a firm line but she kept her mouth shut.
He said, “Yes, we’re dragging everyone to the police station. They can wait in the car.”
“The thing is, I haven’t briefed Mum on the problem yet.”
“That’s good. Since there is no problem. Yet.”
Shana carried a straw bag filled with towels and left the scent of coconuts as she walked by. He wanted to reach out and pull her to him, wanted to nibble on her soft skin. But he didn’t do any of that.
She topped her glorious wind-tousled hair with a straw hat that might have matched the straw bag, if he paid attention. It was a shame to cover her luxurious mane of hair, but he was better off. The more of herself she covered up, the better off he was.
Their mothers were already outside and dressed for the beach with their own oversize bags of beach things.
Dane wore his board shorts. He had his phone and his Glock and his keys.
No money. No credit cards. Not even a license.
He didn’t like to travel with identification.
The people who needed to know who he was—like local law enforcement—already knew.
Sam followed him to the door.
“Jake will follow you in the Jeep. I’m stationed here.”
“See if you can get a location using back channels.”
Sam nodded. His expression was more serious than usual, if that were possible. Dane was certain that Sam knew all about back channels that he didn’t even know about.
“Where are we going to put the surfboards, honey?” Tillie asked. Dane wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or Shana. She leaned forward and looked from him to Shana as they both turned to her.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Jake is bringing the boards to the beach for us.”
He grinned and though he kept his attention on Tillie, he saw the twin eye rolls of his mother and Shana. Tillie was at least appreciative, if her giggle was any indication.
“My, my. It’s no wonder my Shana is smitten with you, Dane Blaise.”
“Mum, I am not—”
“Of course you are.”
That was from Dane’s mother. Shana shut her mouth.
“No more so than Dane is smitten with you, of course,” his mom sagely added.
He winked at his mother in the rearview and noticed the grin on his own face. Damn if it didn’t look genuine.
The AC had cooled the car in spite of the short trip to the state police headquarters.
Another good reason to drive the Jag instead of the Jeep, but it didn’t feel right parading around the island in a flashy car.
He’d need to do some reputation damage control after his mother returned home from her visit.
The pang following that thought sunk into the hollow of Dane’s dark soul. He didn’t shut down the engine, but shut down his wandering thoughts to focus.
“Shana and I have some quick business with Captain Lynch.” The explanation was mostly for Tillie’s benefit. He got out of the car with the engine purring and the AC blasting. Shana got out the other side and looked at him over the roof.
“Is everything bonza?” Tillie asked from inside the car before she shut the door.
“It’s bloody swell.” Shana closed her door.
Dane leaned down through his open door and spoke to the two women.
“Nothing we can’t handle. Business as usual.” He winked.
His mother looked like she wanted to roll her eyes again, but she said, “Don’t worry. We can handle whatever you can’t handle. Isn’t that right, Tillie?”
“Certain I’m no grumblebum.”
He straightened and closed the door. He wasn’t sure what Tillie said, but she said it with enthusiasm.
“They’ll be fine. We’re at the police station,” Shana said.
“Your mother’s got a feisty streak. I like it.”
He didn’t comment about her having that in common with his mother. Shana would be expecting it and the last thing he needed to do was give her what she expected. He had a feisty streak in him too.
Shana said nothing, but turned and started walking. Her eyes were shielded behind large dark glasses and her dress was sinfully short. He steeled himself against her draw as they walked a few steps toward the glass doors of the police station.
He left his shades on as he stepped inside.
“Keep an eye on the car outside,” he said to the young man at the front desk as if he were the boss. The man nodded and said, “Yes sir.” Then he stood and went to the door and stationed himself there.
Dane led the way down the short, tiled hall to Cap’s office.
“How do you do that?” Shana said. “How do you get away with ordering the police around when you don’t even work for them?”
“It’s the legend, girlie. You remember the legend?”
She rolled her eyes as they reached Cap’s office. The door was closed, but Dane walked in anyway. Shana was on his heels.