Beachcomber Investigations: A Romantic Detective Series Novel - Book 1 Read online

  Beachcomber Investigations

  Beachcomber Investigations Series – Book 1

  by Stephanie Queen

  Praise for USA Today Bestselling Author Stephanie Queen’s books

  The Throwbacks:

  “Boston comes vividly alive in the first of Queen’s Scotland Yard Exchange Program series. Grace is an engaging heroine with charm, humor and sass. Resplendent in rich detail, laugh-out-loud moments, a fast-paced plot and spellbinding characters, The Throwbacks is a stellar not-to-be-missed standout!”

  —Romantic Times Book Review

  Playing the Game:

  2013 International Award Winner – Best Contemporary Novel

  “Reading Queen is an absolutely scrumptious experience. Readers will fall in love, get heated, laugh and have an energizing adventure. The story has sublime settings, smooth writing that melds into a well-developed plot and characters who come alive like Pop Rocks and carbonated beverages.”

  —Romantic Times Book Review

  “If you’re a fan of fast paced contemporaries, Playing The Game delivers one heck of a story”

  —Storm Goddess Book Reviews

  “A refreshing and fun romance story that swept my off my feet.”

  —I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read

  Between a Rock and a Mad Woman:

  “Absolutely delightful”

  —RomanticLoveBooks.com

  “I was riveted! The twists, turns, surprises & the love story that resulted were outstanding and I can’t wait to read more”

  —HesperiaLovesBooks.com

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  Creative Contests to Name Characters and win Acknowledgment and Prizes!

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  Copyright © 2015 by Stephanie Queen

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Acknowledgment

  I am truly grateful to have such creative and gracious readers who join in the fun and enter my creative contests. I appreciate and enjoy all the contest entries. In particular, I want to acknowledge and thank the following winners for their contribution to this book:

  Cindy Bartolotta & Jean Dudley Johnson

  These winners of the Beachcomber Investigations Name That Character Contest were combined to name Sebastian Whitaker, a suspect and ex-con in the story.

  There was also a Special Honorary Mention Winner:

  Kathleen Bylsma

  For the wonderful character name Wallace White, the sniper in this story.

  Congratulations and thank you very much to Cindy, Jean and Kathleen. I treasure your contributions and support.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Stephanie Queen’s Books

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgment

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Sneak Peek of Beachcomber Santa

  About the Author

  Stephanie Queen Books

  Chapter 1

  Shana darted a glance at Dane leaning on the doorjamb, oozing his ridiculous brand of sensuality, all casual and strong. Visits to the hospital were usually nausea-inducing events in her life experience, but this visit had a whole different vibe. With all her might she resisted crediting Dane with the reality-defying mood she felt standing in the middle of this room immune to the scent of antiseptics wafting around her.

  Instead, she refocused and smiled at Cap—Captain Colin Lynch—lounging against his pillows, all bandaged and sporting a sling and a grin as if the bullet in his shoulder had been a movie prop and he was playing the role of the injured State Police Chief of Martha’s Vineyard—and playing that role poorly.

  “You’re not taking your injury very seriously,” she said. He grinned wider. She squelched a long-suffering sigh, because Cap was not one of her younger brothers. Far from it. He was a hunk of a grown man if she was in the mood for admitting things. Her gaze slid back to Dane as he moved into the room. He eyed her back and gave her that sizzling stare.

  Without thought, her chin rose and she moved closer to Cap as if he would protect her. As if Dane Blaise were a monster. He was—if you thought of legendary war heroes who saved lives routinely—including your own—as monsters.

  No. The monster was in her mind. But he was a threat to her well-being. Overly dramatic maybe, but she felt as if he were wielding a knife, ready to cut her heart out and shred it to pieces. All figuratively, of course.

  Cap said, “I don’t need to be serious. You’re plenty serious for all of us. I think I like your Nurse Nightingale side—it’s cute on you.”

  “Don’t start with me. It’s probably the meds putting that grin on your face.” Shana reached out and touched his arm. He was a good man, and luckily the prognosis was good for his arm.

  “The meds and the medals. Puts me in the mood to celebrate. I’m told there’s a commendation coming—maybe even a ceremony with some pomp and circumstance.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear.” Dane snorted.

  “Not even if it’s the governor talking?”

  “Especially then.” Dane smiled and shook his head. “Okay—so maybe you will get a medal out of this.”

  “Shana will get one too,” Cap said. He smiled and took hold of the hand she had on his arm. An instant hot alarm went through her and she avoided Dane’s eyes, hoping to God he wouldn’t make a deal out of the touch. It was an innocent touch. She was almost sure of it. There had been nothing between her and Cap. Nothing beyond mild sparks that flashed like firebugs more than fireworks. Nothing like the atomic sparks between her and Dane.

  Shana realized then that Dane would be the only one not getting a medal and that he was the one who deserved it most. Cap didn’t seem to care. Dane didn’t seem to care. So why the hell did she care?

  “Maybe they’ll have a medal of some kind for you too, Dane—”

  “I don’t need a medal. I already have a drawer full. That what you think I’m after?”

  Boom. He put her on the defensive when she’d shown concern for him. That’s what she got from Dane when she r
evealed softness or anything resembling genuine emotion and caring.

  “Don’t worry about Dane. He’s getting a pile of money,” Cap said.

  “Money? Is that what this is all about to you?” she asked, turning to Dane. Her chin jutted higher but her heartbeat picked up a notch as if there were something at stake in his answer. As if she wasn’t sure of the answer. It wasn’t all about covering up the soft spot.

  “That what you think, girlie? You think I’m in it for the money?” Dane had a gleam in his eye. It was a test question. She let out a breath and smiled. They were back to the even playing field of a seesaw. Endless sparring. No real punches allowed. And absolutely no real caring. No softness. They couldn’t be bumped out of their rut by real emotion. It might kill or at least maim one of them, possibly both.

  “No, not the money. You’re in it for the glory. I’ll make you a medal. I have some tin foil I can use—”

  He moved so fast she stopped mid-breath. His arms enveloped her in a hot close circle as she was pulled against his solid body by arms that may as well have been made of steel. He swept her away from Cap’s bed and bent his head toward hers. When she thought he would kiss her, he instead nuzzled her earlobe and took a deep breath.

  Then he said, “You know the only reward I want is the girl. And if you didn’t realize it, in this case that means you.” His breath was hot and goose bumps rose on her skin everywhere, erasing all her instincts for self-protection. She closed her eyes to stop the spin and her knees felt rubbery and in danger of collapse. Everything in her wanted to take him inside and claim him. She was far too vulnerable—

  Her eyes opened. “Wait—what do you mean—in this case?”

  “You know—another case, another girl.” He let her go and the devilish grin on his face told her he was kidding. Maybe. She pushed him away, aware of Cap watching, and turned her attention back to him. To hell with Dane Blaise’s medal and his money and his—whatever the hell else made him tick.

  “I’m with you, Cap,” she said. “We do this for honor and justice and—”

  “Bullshit,” Dane cut in and moved to her side again, so that their bodies were touching hip to hip and she could feel his heat simmering against her.

  “You’re a pair of adrenaline junkies if I ever saw one.”

  “Hah. And you’re not?” Cap said.

  “Leave me out of that category,” Shana said. “I want to protect and serve as much as the next girl, but I could have done without the knives and guns.”

  “You referred to yourself as a girl,” Dane said. His face was mostly neutral but, to her surprise, shaded with disappointment.

  “You’re rubbing off on her, Blaise. She needs a vacation from you—”

  “The hell she does.”

  “Neither of you gets to decide what I need.” Her voice was light, but the problem was heavy. She had no idea what she needed.

  “What are you going to do next?” Cap asked.

  “She’s putting in with me. I’m going legit,” Dane said. “Sticking around the island. Decided this morning. I turned down a mission in Haiti.”

  She looked at Dane and then at Cap whose jaw hung open like he didn’t know what to say. Her head buzzed. She knew this meant something, but didn’t know what.

  “So what are you going to do?” she said as she wrapped her mind around the possibility. “Security? Private investigating? You’re serious about a partnership?”

  “Unlike other men you may have met in your brief past, girlie, I’m not all talk. I say something, I mean it. I’m setting up as an investigator. Beachcomber Investigations. You want in?”

  “In?”

  “So you’re saying it was all talk with you—how we work well together, make good partners—”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But I have a job. You know, with Scotland Yard?” She let her sarcasm shield her nerves. The swirling in her mind was becoming too regular in Dane’s presence. She concentrated on her words and said, “David Young said he was having me permanently transferred to his staff with the Scotland Yard Exchange program out of Boston, so I thought—”

  “You thought you’d be close by and that would be a good compromise.” Dane’s voice was flat and his statement dead-on accurate.

  She said nothing. She felt Cap watching them both.

  “What are you looking at?” she said to Cap as if she were ten years old in the schoolyard. She felt pathetic lashing out at a bystander when she didn’t know how else to defend herself. She felt too vulnerable. Too inexperienced. Too out of her league. And yet….

  She did not want to leave Dane Blaise. This man was her albatross and she idolized him. Adored him. Needed him. Wanted him.

  Cap laughed. “Good question.”

  Dane’s phone buzzed in his back pocket and he slipped it out to read the message. It wasn’t good news. His gut clenched, but he refrained from swearing out loud. Didn’t even blink. He looked up. There was no need to tell Shana. Not the way things stood. Nowhere.

  Cap and Shana both looked a question at him. He shrugged and slipped the phone back into his pocket, but he felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. He needed some space to talk to Cap.

  The TV buzzed in the background. Shana examined the card on a vase of flowers and bent to smell them.

  He nodded at Cap. Cap nodded back. He knew the signal.

  “Shana could you do me a big favor and get me a diet Pepsi from the machine down the hall?” Cap asked.

  “Sure. Be right back.” Shana scrunched her eyes at Dane. He knew their discussion about her staying or going would continue back at the beach shack. In private. She sashayed out the door, passing in whiffing distance so he almost had to hold his breath not to be drawn by her scent.

  When she left the room, he said, “There’s been a threat to the unit.” He didn’t have to tell Cap what unit. They’d all served under Peter John Douglas back before he was the Governor of Massachusetts. Peter was the leader of the Special Forces unit they’d both served in, though Cap was younger and had only caught the tail end of their run after Dane had been shipped out to serve his remaining days at Walter Reed Medical.

  “What is it?”

  “A bullet. Acer.”

  “Jesus—he’s okay?”

  Dane nodded.

  “How the hell did anyone find Acer, of all people?”

  “That’s the thing. No one would. Has to be inside—” Cap started to protest. “Inside leak. Peter is the most visible of us all. We all knew there would be a risk when he became governor. His service history is an open book. Someone with a grudge got inside and found something about Acer’s whereabouts.”

  “Do we have any idea who took the shot?”

  “Someone with sniper skills.”

  Chapter 2

  “And someone with hacking skills got inside.” Cap looked like Dane felt. Disturbed. Deeply.

  “Not necessarily the same person,” Dane said.

  “How much do we know? Is Acer the only target or is it the unit? Is Peter—”

  “I just found out. David is on his way to brief us—”

  He stopped talking. Shana returned to the room. He felt her presence behind him like a fragrant breeze the minute she walked in. That disturbed him, too, since he could smell nothing. Heard nothing. And yet when he turned around, there she was walking through the door with a can of Pepsi and a question on her face. She walked past him and stopped bedside, handed Cap his can and folded her arms. The question was gone and replaced by a scowl. The special Shana-the-beautiful scowl that he knew and loved.

  It warmed him and he allowed the comfort of her caring wash over him for a beat before spoiling it with a rejoinder.

  “Something on your mind, girlie?”

  “What’s going on? What’s David coming to the island to brief us on?”

  “Guess we’ll find out when he gets here, won’t we?”

  “Spill it.” She turned to Cap. He shrugged.

  Dane relented. “You don’t know
Acer. From the unit.” He watched her chin rise a millimeter as if gravity were letting go or as if her chin were attached to a string called pride, or maybe resentment. She had a lot of strings attached to her.

  “A sniper took a shot at him,” he said.

  That effectively snapped all the strings. She turned instantly into the powerful caring Shana-the-protector he knew and identified with deep down. They were both pathetic. Maybe that’s why they clung to each other in a death grip with one hand—though he needed to understand better why they pushed each other away with equal desperation with the other hand.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  He considered her, meeting her green eyes with the same intensity. He didn’t know the answer to that question. Wasn’t sure exactly how she meant it. Didn’t know how the hell she’d interpret his answer, whether she’d give it extra meaning.

  “Probably.”

  Cap said, “David will let us know our roles.”

  “Mine too,” she said.

  “Are you going to be on or off the books, Shana?” he asked, knowing he was being unfair. It’s how he was. She needed to get used to it. Or leave. His jaw ticked.

  She put her hands on her hips and said, “Guess we’ll find out when David gets here, won’t we?” Her tone mocked him. The gold specks in her green eyes looked like flames ready to leap at him and set him afire. He held his ground. Not that he would ever back down.

  No, he wanted to lunge at her and maul her, ravish her, claim her, brand her as his and haul her off by her luxurious blond tresses to his beach shack-cave. He felt ridiculous. He needed to maintain control. He allowed himself a smile and kept the adrenaline-testosterone spike to himself.

  “You’re letting David Young call the shots on your career, on your future?”

  “I’m letting David Young make me an offer. Then I’ll compare it to yours. If you ever explain to me exactly what you’re offering.”

  Now he wasn’t sure what she was asking. His heart felt like a giant bubble rising and growing and dangerously close to being obliterated. The frantic beat came on and he felt a line of sweat on his temple. He called on all the Zen training he had, held himself in check by a flimsy mantra. She is not yours. She is not for you.