Chapter 2
Dane didn’t laugh.
His chest tightened and the feeling—no, premonition—of doom settled in. It could have been a symptom of his concussion, but it felt more like his trusty intuition.
“Let’s go to the Caribbean for Valentine’s Day. I want it to be one you’ll remember.”
“You can’t travel.”
“Correction, I can’t travel halfway around the world, but I’m sure I’ll be fine for a three-hour flight.”
She shook her head, maintaining her smile—the worried variation.
“Every day spent with you is memorable, Dane. You’re that kind of guy—didn’t you know?”
Her answer settled him down some, eased his soul and pushed the dark cloudy premonition to the side. He knew it wouldn’t stay there, but he granted himself the reprieve of dwelling on it for the moment. His traumatized head needed the rest.
He figured he’d need to find a way to make this Valentine’s Day one she’d remember without leaving the island. He was up to the challenge.
*****
The coffee and a shower worked like a miracle to clear his head, especially followed by a long winter afternoon nap. But by evening, Dane didn’t care what the hell the doctor said, the sensory deprivation was getting to him and he needed to get out.
He used his stealth training to first watch Shana while she sat at the desk in front of the computer, working on who the hell knew what. He enjoyed catching her unaware, mostly because it annoyed her, because it put that fiery look in her eyes, the one he couldn’t resist stoking.
“I’m going out. Catching up with Cap at the Lucky Parrot for dinner.”
She whipped her swivel chair around fast. He recognized the startled move no matter how she tried to cover it.
“That place is so busy. Do you think—”
He cut her off. He didn’t think he could stand her taking on a motherly role, so he spared them both.
“I’m not asking you. I’m going.” He softened his determination with a wink. “You’re welcome to join us.”
She stared at him and showed her warring mind in the depths of her green eyes, sparking and melting by turns. He gave her a couple of beats to battle it out and then cut in.
“You love me, I know.”
She sighed. “I’ll stay and finish this work—paying work, I might add—then I’ll be over.”
She was always about getting paid. It was no matter that he had more than enough money socked away to float them for two lifetimes.
She’d come from poor and would always feel it.
He got it. It was one of the quirks that made her likable among an army of otherwise flawless charm-ridden attributes—when it didn’t frustrate the hell out of him.
*****
The Lucky Parrot was never quiet, but not because there was always a big crowd.
It was the nature of the owner, the wait staff, and the handful of regulars to prevent the slow times in the off season from ever descending into dull and boring territory.
So when Dane walked in and made his way to his regular table currently occupied by Cap, he didn’t at first pay attention to Tom Jones, aka Lucky Parrot Man, shouting obscenities on the phone.
He slid into the opposite side of the shell-shaped booth as Cap raised his beer in greeting.
“You could have ordered one for me,” Dane said.
“You’re too damned unpredictable. I order you one thing and you throw it in my face and order another.”
Dane snorted.
“When did that ever happen.” He wasn’t asking, because now he was paying close attention to Tom Jones, Lucky Parrot Man—LP Man for short.
The man had quieted down in his corner of the bar with the house phone still stuck to his ear and now he didn’t look so much red-faced angry as he did pale and wary.
That raised Dane’s trouble alarm—not that he’d need to be a clairvoyant to sense something was amiss.
“What’s up with LP Man?”
Cap shook his head and darted his eyes to the man on the phone.
“He’s been on the call for fifteen minutes. Let’s ask him when he gets off. My guess is trouble. Maybe not the kind he wants to tell me about.”
“Who would want to tell the Captain of the Martha’s Vineyard State Police headquarters about trouble?”
Dane waved his favorite waitress, Mary Lu DeLuzio, over to their booth and ordered a tequila.
No going halfway off the rails for him. If he was going to defy doctor’s orders, he was going to do it all the way.
Cap raised a brow. He didn’t bother saying anything.
Cap knew when not to talk, which was often in Dane’s company.
Tom and Dane’s tequilas arrived at their table simultaneously.
He scraped a chair over the wood floor from a nearby table and sat, waving Mary Lu away.
She left, but not before giving Dane a meaningful look, one of those stares a woman gave you when they had a lot of things to say and wanted you—no, expected you—to understand exactly what they meant to tell you with that one look.
It was a whole paragraph of things. Dane could tell that much.
He winked back. It was his all-purpose noncommittal response tonight and all he was capable of.
“What’s up?” Cap prompted Tom.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Try us. Don’t try my patience.” Dane had no patience even when his brain was not recovering from a bullet wound.
“Some dickhead from the mainland is leaning on me.” He stopped as if he’d told them the full story.
“And exactly what do you mean by ‘leaning’?” Cap tried not to get official, but he sat a little straighter and put his beer down on the table.
Tom paused in direct defiance of Dane’s order not to try his patience. He knew the man wouldn’t do that unless he was truly afraid of something. Something worse than Dane’s usually harmless wrath.
Then Tom took Dane’s glass and downed half his tequila. That raised Cap’s brows and nearly stopped Dane’s heart with shock. It was a bold move. Dane turned in his seat and stared the Lucky Parrot owner down.
“This had better be good.”
“They want a shitload of money. Every week. They’ll be here to collect day after tomorrow. From New Bedford.”
“Or?”
“Or they’ll burn the place down.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. You’ve got insurance.” Dane picked up his tequila and downed the rest before Tom got any more bold ideas.
Tom snorted and slid his eyes toward Cap’s. “He’s a pip, isn’t he?”
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Cap said. He was still holding off on his official role, figuring Tom was already skittish enough.
“Sure. There always is.”
“And?” Dane leaned closer and didn’t blink until Tom answered him, which took longer than was comfortable.
“This man, he says he’s gonna hurt my . . . friends.”