Chapter 7 #2
“Except he has a partner, kid. But you’re not alone in this. Here’s my plan. Tonight, we’ll use some of Joe’s fancy-ass nighttime surveillance equipment and go to the pie shop. We need to see if he’s there or if he’s been there.”
Cap said, “Why the pie shop? What about her house?”
“You said you checked it out and all was quiet, right?”
Cap nodded.
“We all go but Cap. That means we’re light one person.” Dane thought for only a split second. “I’ll call Vendi.”
Cap nodded his approval. Dane checked the time. It was 4:00 a.m. He slipped his burner phone from his pocket and punched in Vendi’s number. It was on the not-so-short list of numbers he had memorized.
When Vendi answered on the first ring, Dane’s short hairs stood up.
“What are you doing up, Vendi? I need your assistance. How fast can you get to the back door of the Lucky Parrot?” Dane held his breath.
“I have a quick errand to run, but I should be able to get there by 0330.”
“An errand? What kind of errand do you have at this hour?”
“None of your damn business.”
The alertness turned to dread and ran a frozen fist through Dane. This had to do with Shana. And he knew how.
Shana had found out Dane left her. Either she’d been awake the whole time or she’d woken up and realized he was gone.
He’d been foolish to think he could sneak out on her and get much lead time.
The damn woman had let him think he could because she had an ace up her sleeve—Vendi.
Of all the people she could call, Dane hadn’t accounted for the one with the most juice and means to get her to Martha’s Vineyard.
Damn Vendi. He had a helo at his disposal.
A very fast one. And even if he wouldn’t use the USCG helicopter or use any USCG resources to save Dane’s sorry ass, Vendi most certainly would do it for Shana. And she sure as hell knew it.
“Damn.” He muttered a long string of expletives under his breath as the others looked at him.
Cap squinted, knowing it had to do with Shana.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there by 4:45,” Vendi said.
“If you’re not, we go without you.” Dane heaved a breath and added, “And tell Shana that means her too.” He clicked off the phone and threw it down on the table as Ronnie stared at him with his mouth open.
Joe’s eyebrows were raised to his hairline and Cap scowled with more ferocity than usual.
Dane addressed Cap, “You’ll be happy to know that Shana’s on her way. She’ll be here for our visit to the pie shop.” His clipped out his words, holding in his panic and trying to cement his resolve to protect her rather than tie her up and lock her in a closet. All for her own good, of course.
He’d protected her on dangerous missions in the past, hadn’t he? She was damned good, herself, wasn’t she? She’d had his back more than once, so he very well could make sure he had hers tonight.
But no matter how much pep talking he gave himself, he knew that what really bothered him were the odds. If he and Shana had nine lives, it felt like they were going into this mission with all nine of those lives spent.
They were both on borrowed time.
Dane, Joe, and Ronnie slipped out the basement door to the back alley behind the Lucky Parrot.
The night was silent and chilly. Dane’s watch read 4:50, but he wasn’t as much of a hardass as he’d led Vendi to believe.
He’d give them five more minutes and then they were riding out, not on motorcycles, but in an unmarked black van that Tom had lined up at Cap’s request. No questions asked.
He owed Tom. Dane had a suspicion Tom knew Dane and Shana were still alive but he trusted the man to keep his suspicions to himself.
“We ready to go?” Ronnie asked as he stopped his pacing in a small circle.
Before Dane had to answer, they heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle rounding the corner and pulling up behind the Lucky Parrot where they stood.
It was Vendi with Shana on the back. Vendi dismounted and removed his helmet.
“When in Rome,” he said. “I heard motorcycle gang gear was the outfit of choice for the night.”
“You’re such a geek,” Dane said to Vendi. “You’re bringing us down.” The man wore brand-new leather and his USCG crew cut remained untouched. No facial hair, no tattoos, and no facial jewelry.
Shana dismounted and walked over to Dane. Though her helmet remained in place, he couldn’t miss the smug look on her face. Nor the cold anger. He thought for a second she might hit him.
At least Dane could take a crumb of solace from the fact that he’d known it was her before she took the helmet off, unleashing her wild mane of hair. Except now he was surprised.
“You’re a redhead.” His blood pumped because she looked like a she-devil in her motorcycle gang costume complete with fake tattoos, diamond lip stud and a small gold hoop in her eyebrow.
“This was the costume Madeline arranged for me. We decided the little old lady disguise wouldn’t work.”
It gave Shana shivers to look at Dane. Shivers because he looked so different, but also because in spite of his new persona, she wanted to jump his bones, God help her. Dane was dressed like a motorcycle gang member with tattoos on his neck, a shaved head, and mustache.
Animal magnetism couldn’t be disguised. His essence, the part she loved, that she craved with every cell in her body, was still there, still him. The him that she’d always be drawn to, the him she couldn’t live without.
The same Dane Blaise she wanted to punch in the eye, to strangle, to beat senseless for leaving her behind.
The lying, insufferably superior, and overprotective Dane Blaise who ought to have confidence and trust in her ability to take care of herself by now.
The man who ought to be treating her as an equal partner, in fun and business, and in danger.
In sickness and in health, in fun times and dangerous times. That ought to be their wedding vows.
If she was still going to marry the bastard.
The well of emotions, good and bad, positive and terrible, threatened to strangle her. But now wasn’t the time to ponder the fate of her future with Dane. Now they needed to find Sassy.
“What’s the mission?” she asked. “What is it that you were adamant that we get here by 4:45 a.m. for?”