Chapter 11
“The stakes have just gone up exponentially,” Dane said to Joe. He spoke into his phone as he walked, underneath his calm words willing Shana to get home fast—or rather get to their temporary home base.
“I’d say so,” Joe said. “I’m watching it on the news with Rick. Some brave broadcasters shot the whole thing. Only a small shake in the camera here and there as they ducked for cover.”
“Did it show me escorting Peter to the police car?” Dane knew it would have.
Thinking back, he’d felt the cameras tracking them.
One more detail blotted out at the time in his triage of what mattered, what he needed to do shrunk down to getting Peter out of there, so he’d ignored everything else. Including Shana.
“Yes. Showed Cap flying in. Without any resistance.”
Dane stopped walking and took a deep breath. “I knew one of the staties would jump in and drive. Didn’t predict it would be him.”
“Why didn’t you drive?”
“Believe it or not, my sense of self-preservation told me that if I drove off in a state police car, even with the governor’s permission, I’d end up in jail. They’d probably have accused me of kidnapping, or grand theft auto.”
Joe grunted. “What now?”
“I have a plan to track down the man behind it all. Flush him out.”
“You know who it is?”
“Pretty sure. You play a starring role in my plot. You mind?”
“I’m thrilled.” Joe’s voice was the same deep deadpan as usual, serious as an undertaker.
“Put Rick on the line.”
Joe didn’t respond. Dane listened to the slight rustling while he handed off the phone.
“Dane? How’s Peter?”
“Never better. We’re coming for a visit this evening and I need you to do me a favor.”
“Whatever you want.”
Dane walked into the kitchen and put the call on speaker.
Maybe it was good that Shana wasn’t there to hear this, to object or to insist on being included.
Pulling a chair around, he sat leaning into the back of the chair as everyone else took seats around the table.
Acer and Peter sat next to him. Sassy and the Gables sat down and the two close protection guys, one a state and the other a fed, stood opposite Dane.
“Why don’t you two take a walk around the perimeter?” Dane said to them.
“I don’t know if—” the fed started to speak. Peter put up a hand.
“Do what he asks, Fred.”
The man paused as if he were considering the order as a suggestion, then with a nudge from the statie, he moved. They both walked back to the front of the house. Dane didn’t start speaking again until he heard the front door close behind them.
“What the hell is going on there?” Rick said from the other end of the line, loud and clear.
“Taking care of the need-to-know business.” He purposely let the Gables stay, knowing the price of his imposition. Besides, they might need Gable to run interference at some point. And they might need to use his copter. But not yet.
“Joe, can you come back to the island and pick me and Acer up in the copter?”
“Sure. When?”
“As soon as this call is done.” Joe’s response was a long whistle. Dane smiled. He liked a man of few words. Joe fit that bill better than anyone he’d ever met.
“Good. Rick, we’ll need you to arrange two things. First, a meeting for me and Acer with Tracy Peal—”
“Tracy Peal?” Rick’s voice rose two octaves. “What the hell for? I’m not sure I can—”
Peter interrupted his second-in-command. “Rick, this isn’t a request. Do it. It’s important and I know you can come up with an angle.” There was a half beat of silence before Rick agreed.
“I’m not finished with you, Rick,” Dane said. “I need you to arrange a visit to the prison where they’re holding Benito Stravana. Arrange a visit with Stravana himself.”
“Tall order—why do you want to meet with the crazy chick’s old man? She’s in custody, right?”
“Yes. Arrange the visit for me, but send them Joe’s photo—get him a fake ID with my name on it.”
“What the hell?”
“Do it, Rick.” Peter’s normally commanding voice had a sharp edge, making it downright scary.
“Okay, okay. But what makes you think I can come up with a fake ID?”
“I know you better than you think,” Dane said. That shut the talky man up.
There wasn’t a peep from Sassy or the Gables as they sat stunned and scared and more than a little puzzled.
“Want to explain to me what this is all about?” Acer said. Dane put up a hand, then twisted it around and checked his watch.
“Joe, it’s 2:35 now. Can you be here at the Gables’ helipad by 3:15?”
“Yes.” That was it. No editorialized commentary.
“Okay. Rick, make our appointment with Tracy Peal for 4:30 p.m. Make our appointment at the prison with Stravano for 5 p.m.”
“No guarantees on the prison.”
“I’ll call the prison,” Peter said. “You take care of the ID for Joe.”
Dane wrapped up the call and stamped the off button, silencing the phone.
The front door opened and Dane kept his mouth shut until he turned and saw it was Shana. Rising from the chair, he went to her, meeting her on the threshold and held her close.
“You’re okay,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around him.
“You feel too good for words.” He spoke into her hair, taking in the scent of her, her essence, that magical thing that moved him, spoke to him, wrenched his heart—and most of all, soothed his fractured soul.
She stirred. “What’s going on? What’s the plan?”
“Who said we have a plan?” He tested her.
Shoving back from him, she looked up with her gorgeous signature smile. He had his answer. No way would he get away with leaving her out.
But no way was he letting her take any risks. Not now. Not while she was still healing.
Who the hell was he kidding? Not ever again after he’d almost lost her.
She read his mind.
“Damn you, Dane.” She shoved past him and into the kitchen. He held back, listening to her exchange fond welcomes with their friends while he let his heartbeat settle, tried to breathe through the suffocating tightness in his chest.
He knew he had to let go of his fear or he’d lose her. But he had no idea how to do it. Or if he could.
Forcing himself forward, he joined the party, catching a look from Peter, while Shana avoided his eyes. When he stood next to her, throwing an arm around her, she didn’t push him off but he felt the stiff flinch.
“Joe will be here soon. We’re planning a trip to Boston to meet with Victor Yannis’s campaign manager Tanya Peal.”
“What about Yannis himself?” She asked the obvious question. Funny no one else had asked.
Peter answered, “We don’t want to touch him until we know more. I’ve vouched for him. I don’t think he’s personally involved.”
Dane appreciated the fact that no one jumped in to mention the ankle bracelet problem. But Shana was sharp enough to calculate a few steps ahead.
“What about your ankle bracelet? Every move you make is being tracked. Philimino will know. He’ll tell the feds. He’ll find a way to make trouble.”
“I have it worked out.” Dane left it at that and flicked a warning look around the table to keep the plan under wraps.
For now. If Cap were here he’d disapprove, maybe even defy him and tell her everything.
Maybe that had always been part of the problem between them.
Cap thought—no, he knew, had always known—that Dane wasn’t good enough for Shana.
They took a meal break, but there wasn’t much talk. The television was on in the background with the volume shut down. Thank God for that since Dane’s trial and the flash bang afterwards were featured prominently. None of them needed to re-live it.
“Joe should be here any minute.” Dane flicked a look at his wrist, suppressing the blip of concern, the rush of survivor adrenaline that automatically surfaced when a red flag went up.
Peter said, “You mean he should have gotten here by now.”
With a nod, he slipped out his phone and called Joe.
“I know. I’m late. Couldn’t be helped.”
“What’s going on?”
“A monkey wrench.”
Dane let a beat pass, but Joe wasn’t elaborating.
“Better be a hell of a monkey wrench.”
“It is.” Nothing else. Dane knew he wasn’t explaining, at least not now, not over the phone. Everyone watched him, expecting some kind of resolution, some Hail Mary, save-the-day idea to spring from Dane’s gut and soul like magic.
“Shit.” He gathered himself, let out a long breath that should have been a string of epithets except that he needed to maintain control. He needed to throw and complete that Hail Mary pass. Joe remained silent, waiting.
“Okay. We’ll change our appointments for tomorrow. Have Rick arrange it. Don’t take no. Make threats if you need to. When can you get here?”
“We’ll be there within two hours.” Joe ended the call before had a chance to ask who he meant by we.
Dane brushed past the moment of trepidation and said to Shana, “I need to call Kimble. We need to get the trial postponed for a day.”
“How? What excuse can we give the judge?” She looked more confident than he was that there would be a good answer to her question.
“We’ll tell her that we’re waiting for our witness. Tell her that Ronnie Ryan can’t make it until tomorrow.” Dane looked at Peter for confirmation that he could back that up, make sure Ronnie’s release from West Point got postponed until tomorrow.
Peter nodded.
Dane called Kimble next while Peter got on his phone to his contact at West Point. They were both alums.
Kimble swore and Dane waited until she was down to a grumble before promising her his firstborn.
Shana gave him a disquieting look and he ended the call.
He had no idea why he’d said such a thing.
Those words had never left his mouth before—even with all the promises, pacts, and blood oaths he’d made in his life, not even in jest had he ever even thought the word firstborn.
“Let’s go.” Dane wrapped Shana in an arm and led her from the room.
“We have some preparing to do. Joe will be here soon enough.” He didn’t give her a chance to protest, convincing her with a no-holds-barred, lust-filled gaze.
No surprise his body followed along with the ruse and his blood began the familiar rush in earnest.
In their guest room on the second floor, away from everyone, with no time for games, Dane pushed her onto the bed.
“Dane—”
He knew she wanted to question him. He knew he could distract her, silence her. The soul-deep desire for carnal connection was her kryptonite. His too.
With only a two-hour window, Dane made love to Shana, finally. Intense, I-may-never-see-you-again lovemaking. As he lay naked with nothing but sweat covering him, someone brave and foolish knocked on the door.
Dane pulled the covers over her, slipped from the bed and pulled on his pants.
“Dane, Joe’s here . . .” Acer’s voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant from the other side of the door. He slipped on his shirt, strode to the door. Pulling it open a crack, he slid into the hall, aware of Shana moving from the bed behind him.
“What is it? And don’t bullshit me.” Dane’s bullshit meter went through the roof when he saw Acer’s face. There was something Acer didn’t want to say, didn’t want to tell him. Acer’s mouth opened, his eyes were troubled, but he still said nothing.
“Shit.” Dane couldn’t imagine what it was, didn’t have the patience to imagine as he pushed past Acer. The fact that Shana was safe in their room kept anything more than annoyance from him. How bad could it be?
“Wait,” Acer said from behind him, reaching out a hand to grab him. But Acer wasn’t as quick as he was and Dane saw no point in waiting.
Dane double-stepped down the stairs and into the kitchen to find out what the hell was going on, to make sure Peter was okay and Joe had gotten there all right.
The last thing he was prepared for was what he found waiting for him in the kitchen.