Chapter 6
“Shit,” Dane said, but he thought a hell of a lot worse expletives as he let out a breath. “Read it to me.”
“Damn. Don’t call Shana. Don’t let her know about this.”
The silence on the other end of the line was telling. This was getting very complicated.
Dane’s mind spun through the web of implications, of people involved, before spitting out his conclusion.
“Ronnie. We need to get hold of him. If he knows about the explosion he might try to return to the island.”
“I’ll call him,” Cap said.
“You can’t. He’s at West Point. He wouldn’t have his cell with him. We’ll need to track him down through official channels there.”
“I can do that,” Peter said, moving toward the phone on his desk. He lifted the receiver, then told whomever picked up on the other end to get him in touch with the undergrad dean at West Point. “What year is he?” he asked Dane.
“First year. A fish.”
He waited while Peter spoke in his governor voice to several people before getting the final word, then hung up.
“It appears cadet Ronnie Ryan has taken leave,” Peter said. “His immediate command says he was returning to Martha’s Vineyard for an emergency.” Peter looked at Dane. “Apparently you are the emergency. You and Shana. They heard news of the explosion. Everyone assumes you’re dead. Except Ronnie.”
“I hope he doesn’t spread that rumor around,” Dane said. But he couldn’t help the small quirk of his mouth at the kid’s audacity on his behalf. Then he paid attention to the phone in his hand with Cap on the other end.
“Did you get all that?”
“Got it.”
“I’ll call you back,” Dane disconnected.
Then he tapped in Ronnie’s number. He knew the number.
There was a long list of numbers he had on file in his head, the best place to store important numbers for occasions like this.
For when your phone was blown up in an explosion.
On his old phone, he had Ronnie on speed dial, listed as The Kid.
He’d need to update that moniker soon. Ronnie’s phone rang three times while Dane listened with Joe and Peter looking on.
He needed to make sure Ronnie didn’t go walking into the trap at the pie shop.
Dane was afraid he wouldn’t get hold of him in time, but Ronnie answered his call on the fourth ring.
“Ghost of Dane Blaise here. I’ve come back to haunt you until you graduate—”
“Damn. I knew you were still alive and Shana too?”
“Shana’s fine.”
“You gotta help me,” Ronnie said. Urgency undercut his words. In fact, he sounded close to panic.
“What’s going on, kid? Why did you go running from the Point? You know they frown on that sort of thing, emergency or no emergency.” Dane knew there was more to Ronnie’s near panic than the explosion and Dane and Shana’s questionable demise
“I got a call. From Sassy. She’s in trouble.”
“What did she say?” Dane went into full alert, cooling and slowing his rising adrenaline and giving the kid all his attention while his mind geared up for emergency response. Peter and Joe hovered closer to listen in.
“She said something about a crazy guy and hiding in the basement, but then she got cut off. I’m on my way to the island to rescue her now.”
“Go to the Lucky Parrot and lie low—in the basement—until I get there.”
“I need to find Sassy,” Ronnie said, his voice rising, but not quite to the level it might have only six months ago.
“We will. This guy is Whitey Nash. He’s after Shana.
He’s setting a trap with Sassy as bait.” Dane paused to let that sink in.
He needed Ronnie to buy in fully and not go rogue on him.
He wasn’t the same kid now that he’d once been.
He had some creds and some confidence but not nearly enough skill or experience to go in on his own.
“We need to be smart and strategic about our approach. You wait for me,” Dane paused and added, “That’s an order, kid.”
“Yes, sir.” Ronnie’s voice lacked the sharp clip he would have probably given to his drill sergeant, but it was convincing enough for Dane to sign off.
Dane called Sassy’s phone once more. It went straight to voicemail.
He clicked off immediately. If Whitey was monitoring her phone, and Dane had to assume he was, there was little chance Whitey could figure out where he was calling from and no chance at all he’d know who was making the call from the throwaway phone.
“No answer?” Peter said. “You calling Cap back?”
Instead of answering Peter’s unnecessary question, which he recognized as an unofficial command, At Peter’s direction, Dane used the secure line on Peter’s desk and tapped out Cap’s number.
They were all getting paranoid now, but paranoia was an excellent survival skill in his experience.
There was hardly a chance for the phone to ring once before Cap answered.
Dane said, “Ronnie is on his way. We’re meeting at the Lucky Parrot. We’ll hit the pie shop together. Before sunrise. Sassy’s still not answering her phone. Shana can’t find out about the note or our early morning excursion.”
“You’ll need more than Ronnie for backup. I could—”
“No. All eyes are on you, Cap. The media has you front and center for this story. You’ll be busy prepping for the press conference with Peter in the morning. I’m bringing Joe.”
“Maybe everyone should steer clear of the pie shop,” Peter said. “We’re pretty sure it’s a trap.”
“We can’t forget about Sassy, even if it is risky,” Dane said.
“Maybe what Whitey wants is to keep Sassy as insurance, or as a distraction while he zeroes in on Shana, tries to figure out whether we’re alive or dead,” Dane countered.
“We need to try and find Sassy and assure her safety at the same time we get Nash.”
Peter grunted. Cap was silent on the line, but the simmering tension came through loud and clear.
“You’re going to do this without Shana?” Cap finally said what was on his mind.
“You saying I should send Shana into a trap set by a crazy homicidal maniac who’s bent on revenge and who already exploded the beach shack to demonstrate his intentions?
” Dane let his challenge sit for a full two ticks of the clock before continuing.
He noticed Joe’s slightly raised brow, otherwise the man was cool personified.
Peter wore a worried scowl, a face he wore more and more often when Dane saw him these days. They didn’t get together for fun much.
It was clear that Cap wasn’t going to respond to Dane’s baiting, though he could have argued that Shana might never forgive him. Dane acknowledged that possibility was real, and that it was a close second to seeing her get killed.
Dane said, “I’ll have Joe with me. Leave a car for me at the airport.
Before midnight. That’ll be a big help. Tomorrow you’ll be busy acting mournful and putting on a convincing show for everyone that Shana and I are dead.
It’s key to luring Nash to the funeral.” Dane held back from saying to the damn f—cker’s end.
Instead he handed the phone to Peter for him to make the arrangements with Cap. It was time he took his leave.
“Let’s meet here in this office at one a.m.,” he said to Joe. “We’ll go out the back.”
“I better get ready then.”
Joe left Peter’s office with him. They walked through a semipublic hallway in the main part of the residence then through some doors to the wing holding private quarters.
“You heading to the guest suite?” Joe asked. Dane nodded.
“Not sure what will await me there, but I intend to give my best shot at sleeping.” Although sleep at a time like this might be overrated.
Since he didn’t know what state his relationship with Shana would be in after tomorrow, making love might be a far better idea.
In spite of everything, he smiled in anticipation.
Joe gave him a sideways glance. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can read your mind. Not a difficult thing to do with that leer on your face.” Joe grinned, then mock-saluted. “Hope it goes down well for you. See you at 0-100 hours.”
Joe peeled off and headed up a stairway leading to staff quarters.
Dane stopped at the doorway to the room they always stayed in when they visited overnight. He thought of knocking, then didn’t. F—ck it. It was his room. Turning the knob, he shoved the door open and stepped inside.
Shana lay on the bed, wearing only panties and a skimpy top, head propped on a pillow against the headboard.
A tablet was on her lap, and she was tapping at the imaginary keyboard.
He hated those things. She didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge him as he walked toward the bed.
He had his work cut out for him, but suddenly he was up for it. Literally.
With her golden hair splayed over the pillow and her long legs bare and bent invitingly, he felt highly motivated to make amends. Right away. Guilt shot through him over his plan to leave without her later that night.
F—ck the guilt. Now was the time to live in the moment.
Unbuttoning the stifling uniform jacket, he approached her.
“I see you ditched your uniform. Did I tell you how delicious you looked all buttoned up—”
“Shut up, Dane.” Her eyes flashed at him before returning to the keyboard. Knowing her, he remained undaunted and took off his pants, then the rest of his clothes. Sliding onto the bed beside her, he looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing.
She didn’t pause to look at him, or to say anything to him, but he knew she was aware that he was naked, was aware of his intent. He felt her tension.
And smelled her desire.