Chapter 6 #3
“Dane.” She breathed his name into his mouth and arched up against him as he took her, pulling himself against her with one hand.
She felt the hot convulsive expansion of him inside her, the shooting of hot cum filling her and then the spiral of every muscle clenching into an unforgiving blinding moment of paralyzing pleasure.
As the convulsions subsided and his clenched muscles released, the world around Dane came back into focus, first with the sound of his own animal-like panting.
He realized his lovemaking had been fast and inelegant, too desperate.
But he couldn’t regret the frenzied sex since she’d been right there with him.
Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her face all over, light loving kisses, meant to amend for the brutal taking.
She purred her response, moving under him, stroking his sweat-slick back, outlining the scars the way she always did.
As if loving his scars with her soft caresses would make them disappear.
Hell, maybe it would. Some day.
But not today. Not now.
Now he felt every last one of his damn scars, inside and out. Guilt hammered at him with each beat of his heart against his tightening chest. He rolled off her.
Even her clutching hands and voiced protest couldn’t make him feel less of a lying SOB. They just made him feel worse.
“We should get some sleep.” His voice came out hoarse, sounding broken to his ears.
When she propped herself up on her elbow to look down at him, to study his face, he flinched. But only on the inside. He was too well trained to let his guilt show. God, he was a nasty, deceptive f—cker—even to the one person he loved most, the one who loved him most. The one he owed everything to.
“Shana . . .” He had no idea what he would have said, but she saved him from trying to confess his sins by shushing him with a finger to his lips. And a heart-crushing soft smile.
“Don’t worry, Dane. It’ll be okay. We make a great team. We’ll get Whitey Nash. Together.”
She thought she was consoling him, but her words twisted the stinging knife in his belly 360 degrees, effectively gutting him. Numbness settled into the void. It was a familiar state. He’d been there before Shana. Almost daily.
He gave her his best imitation smile and, owing to the waning daylight, maybe she didn’t notice the forgery.
She lay back down beside him. He felt her relaxed softness, listened to her slowing breathing, let the easiness seep into him and dispel some of the numbness and pain of his guilt.
She was safe. She would stay safe. These were his words of consolation and they were no small thing.
They were everything.
Because he couldn’t resist, needed the comfort, he turned to his side and watched her fall asleep.
His guilt faded to a dull ache as he watched her breathe softly, watched her luxurious round breasts rising and falling, the nipples inviting him.
Instead of sucking on her nipples as he longed to do, he fell back against his own pillow, his body nestled next to hers, one leg flung over her.
He stilled, calming himself with deep breathing.
He needed to sleep. Needed most of all to keep her safe. No matter what.
Eventually he allowed himself a few hours, setting his mental alarm.
When Dane met Joe in the governor’s library, he was fully alert. Joe had gotten there ahead of him and laid out the clothes and accessories for their disguises.
“We’re undercover as motorcycle gang members. Got us some fake tats and dark sunglasses, but you’ll need to do more to disguise your identity,” Joe said. He produced an electric shaver.
“Shit.” It was not what Dane had in mind, but there was no room for vanity in undercover work. So he let Joe shave his head.
After they each applied some purposefully nasty tattoos, Joe took two well-worn leather jackets from the trunk he’d brought in.
Dane didn’t question where Joe had come up with the gear but figured it must have been confiscated by the state police from some perps at some time.
His jacket was loose and he threw on some jeans lent to him from Joe’s own closet.
They were tighter than Dane would have liked, but this was an exfiltration operation, not a fashion show.
It took less than ten minutes to fully dress the part. Dane stood facing Joe since there were no mirrors in Peter’s office.
“I still know who you are, but I think your identity is obscured enough for casual observers,” Joe said.
“It’ll have to do. We have no time for face putty or anything more sophisticated. I’ll keep the sunglasses on whenever I’m in public.”
Dane was about to head to the door to the back hall when he heard someone outside the room in the main corridor.
“Shit. You hear that?” His heart began hammering in fear of Shana storming in on them and derailing their operation.
Joe nodded and held himself still as stone.
The door swung open and Peter stepped inside, quickly shutting it behind him.
Dane’s pulse returned to normal, to pre-adrenaline rates, at the sight of his friend.
If it had been Shana discovering him, the operation would have been blown.
A wave of relief, quickly followed by guilt, went through him.
He swiped a hand over his now-bald head. And he smiled big at Peter’s stare.
“I wanted to see you before you left. Impressive change. Not foolproof, but you should be able to evade identification.” Peter walked over to his desk, nodding at Joe.
“I wanted to brief you on the arrangements that have been made. Between me and Cap, we were able to persuade the medical examiner to make an announcement scheduled at a press conference at 8 a.m. for news channels far and wide. Cap and I will be present.”
“What’s he going to say?”
“Cap had a couple of his men take some body bags from the ruins of your beach shack to make it look like they found your remains last night. He got photos and made sure some journalists were there for the photo op as well. The ME is going to declare the identities of the bodies as you and Shana based on dental records.”
“Fictitious dental records. Good touch. Won’t hold up long since I’ve never been to a dentist on Martha’s Vineyard, but we only need to convince them for a short while.”
“Exactly. We will announce your funeral arrangements for the following morning at the church you gave me. It will be in all the news outlets. I will vow to avenge your deaths as close personal friends and heroes. We’ll let out some of the stories from your past exploits to make sure you get the maximum media coverage.
” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see the coverage for your resurrections in two days. ”
“Dark lining to the silver cloud.” Dane wasn’t happy about the growing list of people who were in on the deception.
If the media had any suspicion at all and dug into it even a little bit in the intervening twenty-four hours between the ME declaring them dead and the funeral, their operation to get Whitey Nash would be blown.
Not to mention Sassy’s safety.
“How many people are in on this now?”
“Cap had to tell someone—his most trusted senior man. And the local fire chief had to know.”
Dane knew both these men. They were trustworthy, but it was easy for slips to happen even when it was unintentional, for hints to get dropped without a person realizing it. And the more people who knew, the higher the likelihood.
“No matter. We only need to keep it under wraps for,” Dane checked his watch, “thirty-one hours and forty-five minutes now.”
“I suppose that’s your subtle way of telling me to get out of your way and let you get on with it,” Peter said.
“No. If I wanted to tell you to get the hell out of the way, I’d just say so.” Dane allowed himself a half smile as he zipped the leather jacket over his borrowed black T-shirt.
“I see Joe’s clothes fit you.”
Dane shrugged. “A little snug, but they don’t smell and that’s all that matters.”
Joe snorted.
“You know I use the governor’s laundry service, right?”
“Like I said—”
“Get the hell out of here,” Peter said as he followed them to the door. A black Mercedes sedan waited for them with a man behind the wheel.
“Who’s the driver?” Dane asked.
“Trusted staff. Don’t worry, though. He doesn’t know who you are and he may be under the impression that you’re undercover Boston PD.”
“We’re off then.” Dane and Joe slipped out the back door and into the back seat of the Mercedes.
Joe didn’t say a word until they got to the airport in Beverly. They exited the car and didn’t make a move until the Mercedes was out of sight.
Joe said, “Follow me.”
Dane said, “Since when is this is where the governor’s helicopter is kept?”
“It’s not. We’ll be using Peter’s family copter. He thought it prudent to have a private helicopter for special missions and personal business.”
Dane nodded, wondering if there was a line between special missions and personal business in his life. After Joe went through the takeoff protocol, they jumped in and got underway.
“What’s our ETA?” Dane spoke through the headphones as the helo rose into the air under the roaring power of the rotor blades.
“Thirty-five minutes.”
“We won’t get to the Lucky Parrot until close to 3 a.m. We’ll need the cover of darkness to check out Sassy’s Pie Shop. That’s where I suspect Whitey’s holding her.”
“Not at her house?” Joe said.
“Ronnie said she mentioned a basement and the shop has a basement. I’m not sure her house does.”
“We’ll get there in plenty of time. If Sassy is in that shop, we’ll get her out of there.”
Dane grunted. “The problem is, we need to get Whitey because his real target is Shana and as long as he’s out there, Shana’s in danger.”
“We’ll get Whitey at the funeral service.”
“Maybe, but he may sense a trap if we snatch Sassy. Then all bets are off.”
Joe nodded, his face turning grim. “A nasty trade-off,” he said.
“We only need to hold out till the funeral. That will be our best shot at getting Whitey. At the services. He won’t be able to stay away. He’ll need to see for himself that we’re dead. Or see that we’re not. He’ll hold Sassy for insurance until then.”
As he let the roar of the copter’s rotors spinning in the night as they shot through the air, Dane’s mind spun with the disturbing dilemma that Whitey had Sassy now.
That there was a very delicate balance between endangering Sassy and endangering Shana.
It was going to be a tightrope walk to nail Whitey Nash and save both Sassy and Shana from harm.