The Beachcombers: Prequel - Beachcomber Investigations Series Read online

  Beachcombers

  Prequel:

  Beachcomber Investigations Series

  By Stephanie Queen

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Prequel edition of The Beachcombers. This story is both the fourth book of the Scotland Yard Exchange series and the Prequel to the spinoff series, Beachcomber Investigations. In The Beachcombers, Dane and Shana first meet as partners on a mission set up by Governor Peter John Douglas. That’s just the beginning! The spinoff Beachcomber Investigations is a romantic detective series following the adventures of Dane and Shana. I’ll say no more. Please sit back and enjoy the ride.

  Warm Regards,

  Stephanie Queen

  The Beachcombers

  Copyright © 2015 Stephanie Queen – prequel edition

  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 it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Acknowledgment

  To my supporters and contest winners, Jennifer Bradley & Jackie Dickson. Thank you for your kind assistance and enthusiasm, and most of all—thank you for naming the notorious French con artist in The Beachcombers, Jean Luc Ruse.

  Praise for 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

  “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

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dear Reader

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgment

  Praise for Stephanie Queen’s Books

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  A Note to Readers

  Stephanie Queen Books

  Chapter 1

  So far Shana’s first undercover assignment held about as much promise as her first attempt to capture a rabid kangaroo.

  She had not expected, after flying all the way from Sydney to London—Goddamn London—in a state of heart-stopping excitement about her brand new post, that she would be ordered that same day to leave and fly to Boston. Goddamn Boston. Then adding to her travel torture, she’d raced across Logan Airport to board a shuttle plane to fly her to the tiny island of Martha’s Vineyard. All for the purpose of ending up on another beach, with another surfboard, to prance around in yet another bikini. Fifty-six excruciating hours and over two thousand witless miles later.

  The same Goddamn exact place she’d started—metaphorically speaking.

  Scowling at the spiffy smiling young man seated next to her as the small plane skipped to a stop on the short runway, she reached into her shiny new undercover bag to retrieve her phone. She paused to check the caller ID as the theme song from Mission Impossible blared. She may as well have chosen Surfin’ USA for her ringtone. Of course the number was blocked.

  It was either the Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange in Boston or the Governor of Massachusetts.

  Standing carefully in the aisle so she didn’t hit her head, she tapped the phone on and pressed it to her ear. Be positive. Or at least be professional.

  “Shana George here.”

  Mindful of her role, she glided forward down the aisle as if she owned the plane, a cool smile carefully applied. The Director of Scotland Yard Exchange told her she’d be meeting her new partner—and nothing else useful unless she counted his insistence that she enjoy the beach weather.

  She kept her reflexive snort in check. Stepping outside the hatch into the mild sunshine, she readied herself to face someone named Dane Blaise, an independent operator and her new partner. Whoever the hell he was.

  Her smile almost slipped.

  Dane Blaise leaned against the wall outside the terminal of the tiny airport in Edgartown on the tiny island of Martha’s Vineyard. It had been his corner of paradise every summer for years and, this summer, a much-needed respite from the world at large. Until today. He played with the pack of cigarettes he’d purchased for effect A prop. He wore his only button-down shirt—a white linen deal with the long sleeves rolled up so he didn’t have to bother buttoning the cuffs. The sun blazed. This was a far cry from the drink on the terrace at the Haven Cafe he’d planned with a certain lady he’d met the day before. At the very least, he should be on the beach where he belonged, resting his soul between assignments. But then he supposed he was no longer between assignments. They had him the second he agreed to volunteer as a judge for the so-called American Invitational Surfing Competition.

  He watched the low-wing prop plane land and circle around the runway toward the building. But he wasn’t the only one watching.

  A tall lean striking man in a pale lemon linen suit—seemed linen was in fashion today—strolled outside and smoked a cigar while he talked on his ce
ll phone. If Dane hadn’t been trained to notice these things, he wouldn’t have noticed the way the well-dressed man watched the plane not too closely, especially once the door popped open and the passengers began disembarking. An airport employee came through the terminal building door out onto the cement pad where they stood and headed toward the plane, but the man in the tan uniform stopped dead and looked stunned. A quick glance at the lemon-suited man told Dane he’d stopped everything and stared too. Dane turned back to the plane to see why.

  A long-legged, shapely woman with billowing sun-bleached hair wearing a tropical flowered halter sundress and strappy ruby stilettos stepped down from the plane onto the tarmac. If Dane were the kind of man who let out wolf whistles at such visions, Ms. Knockout would qualify. But so far in his life, he’d found it easy to control such impulses in favor of steady yet stealthy stares.

  The lemon-suited guy—likely the man Dane was looking for—asked the airport worker in a careless French accent, “Who is she?”

  “Dunno. She’s something though.”

  He was their man. How many slick French men could there be on the island? The three men watched a state police car pull up around the side of the terminal. A uniformed statie got out and went to meet the leggy blonde. She was his goddamn partner in this assignment.

  “Why would she be meeting the state police captain? Do you think she’s law enforcement?” the French man asked the airport worker.

  “I never seen a cop looked like that, but you never know.”

  Dane jumped in before their cover went south.

  “She’s no cop. She’s money and she needs security,” he said.

  “And how would you know?” The lemon-suited man turned to him.

  The airport worker interrupted. “She’s one of the surfers in the competition.” He pointed to the surfboard being offloaded from the plane and continued walking that way with a smile.

  Dane waited for the airport worker to get out of earshot. He gave the French con a laser-eye look, then said, “She’s mine.”

  “Yours?” The man smiled affably and moved closer. “Your what? Niece?”

  Ouch. That stung low in his gut. But this man wasn’t much younger than he, if at all.

  He stared at the man without speaking.

  “Who is she?” the lemon-suited man pressed.

  Dane lifted himself from the wall and made to walk back through the terminal but turned to speak over his shoulder. “I don’t know who she is, but I’m going to find out. You stay away from her.” He stared at the man until he was sure his message was received.

  The flash of his smile and then a chuckle and nod of recognition told Dane the con—because this man surely had to be the one the governor had told him to look for—had gotten the message. Whether he bought it was another matter.

  Damn Cap-Captain Colin Lynch—wasn’t used to undercover. He could have blown everything, making contact so obviously like that. Dane walked back inside, flipped out his phone and called the fool. Told him to park the car and come inside and have her use the ladies’ room so their con could get a closer look at her.

  This assignment was a mess already. Governor Peter John Douglas owed him big time for roping him into it. “The general,” as he used to refer to him in their special ops days, only called when it was important—or so Dane trusted. But skepticism edged its way in this time, partly because he needed this summer off. He’d had another close call last mission and he needed to rest. His soul needed this rest. The throbbing pain around his knee told him his physical wounds could use more healing too, as he walked toward the refreshment area for an optimal view of the side door and everyone waiting or hurrying in and out of the toy airport.

  The Frenhman followed him inside the terminal, as Dane knew he would. Shana George, he presumed, followed by Cap came in the side door to the small building. She sauntered across the room, looking around with a haughty stare. He’d have to give her credit for knowing the part. Right up until she looked directly at him with killer green eyes and a troublemaker smile. She didn’t break stride and headed straight for the ladies’ room. Con man tracked her the entire way, but he didn’t look appreciative or cool. He looked worried. That worried Dane. When people didn’t behave the way they were logically expected to behave, he worried. Unpredictable people had caused the death of too many men that were his friends.

  Chapter 2

  Shana tapped her ruby fingernails on the vanity inside the ladies’ room and sighed as she shifted in her heels. This was messed up already. How could she be expected to play haughty beach bunny if they had her running into a public rest room? Glancing in the mirror, she straightened herself to a full six feet with the heels. The face staring back at her had an annoyed pinch between the brows, but even then, no one would ever guess she’d just spent thirty of the last fifty-four hours on a plane. She couldn’t kid herself into being happy about this, but she refused to be defeated. She would kick ass on this assignment, collect her accolades and jump on the first flight back to London where she belonged. Maybe with a promotion. Pushing herself from resigned to determined, she swung the door back open. Act two of this afternoon’s show would begin.

  She hoped their contact—what’s his name—Dane—was right about the con being here at the airport. She wondered if it was luck that led him to her on the first day—probably not. She was hardly briefed on the operation, so she’d have to find out when they got to the station. Walking around the corner, she lifted her chin and looked over the heads of all the people as she passed by back through the terminal. Without stopping or slowing, she flicked a hand at the state police captain. He fell in line as if he were her manservant. She suppressed her smile.

  Stopping to let him open the door to go back outside to the police car—said car was not a smart choice for Captain Nice—she turned slightly to laser in on the man she’d be working with. A shiver rumbled through her. Goose bumps covered her flesh. The man had shark eyes that left her unsure of his intentions—unsure about his soul.

  There was no one here she could trust to ask about him—except maybe Captain Nice. Once they took off in the car and her skin warmed up in the steady sunshine, she turned to him.

  “Unexpected to run into the con so soon,” he said, smiling.

  “If he really was the con, then I expect it wasn’t unexpected—by someone. What do you know about this Dane character? Is he legit? What’s his background?” she asked, not bothering to hide her distrust.

  Captain Colin Lynch stared straight ahead at the road so she couldn’t see the small cleft in his chin she’d noticed before. He finally spoke into her silence.

  “Dane Blaise is a regular every summer on the island since I’ve been here—a good five years now. Quiet. Mostly stays out of trouble. I know his reputation mostly from others who know him—including the governor. He knows everyone of note on the island. So when he volunteered to be a judge in the surfing competition, the committee approved him with a unanimous vote same night.”

  She raised her brows and said, “Why? Tell me something more specific.”

  Captain Nice turned to her. “He’s a war hero and a legend, ma’am. Everything else is beside the point.” He turned back to his driving.

  She wondered where they were going since they were probably being followed now that their setup had been thrown off track. Captain Nice was holding back a whole lot of stuff that was likely very un-hero-like about Mr. Blaise. Regardless of how nice he wanted to be, Shana had to press because she had a right to know who she was working with.

  “What’s he been doing since he retired from his job as war hero?”

  He laughed. “You can ask him soon enough.”

  “I’m asking you now.” She spoke sharply on purpose.

  He didn’t flinch, but he wasn’t smiling anymore.

  “He works as a soldier for hire, I believe. But don’t worry, he’s on our side.”

  That made her pause.

  “You seem tough enough. How much exper
ience do you have?” he asked.

  “Enough,” she lied. Her heart leapt like a frog in protest. So much for Captain Nice being nice. She shivered in the sundrenched heat of the car. “Mind if I turn the AC off? So where are we headed?”

  “Headquarters.”

  “Don’t you think maybe you should take me to the house? I bet the con is following us.”

  “Let me check with Blaise.” Captain Lynch picked up his phone and tapped it once. She heard the ring tone loud and clear. He had it on speaker.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re headed back to HQ. Any problem with that?”

  “You’re okay. He’s following me and I’m taking him for a ride to the neighborhood. See if it all looks familiar to him.”

  “What neighborhood?” Shana spoke up.

  “What the hell neighborhood do you think? The one where you’ll be staying, Miss George. The same one where the real young heiress used to live before she went missing. Did you not get briefed on any of this?”

  She didn’t dignify the asshole’s sarcasm with an answer. Captain Colin Lynch jumped in on her behalf. So maybe the chin cleft was for real and he was a Dudley Do-Right.

  “Shana is doing just fine. Join us at the station when you get rid of him. We’ll all go over the plan and exchange notes. The governor asked us to call.”

  “It won’t take long.” Dane tuned out.

  Damn egotistical man. “Thinks highly of himself, doesn’t he.”

  “Most people agree with him.”

  “Not that again. You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

  They pulled into a small drive of what used to be a Cape Cod house, which now sported a sign naming it the Martha’s Vineyard State Police Station. She got out of the car and stood for a second soaking in the blazing sun. She thought of home. She thought of London. She hadn’t even been in London long enough to miss the sunshine of Sydney. Now she was in the United States on some damn island she’d never heard of, relegated to playing beach bunny heiress—a fool with money to throw at whatever charming man came along to talk her into it. Could be fun. Except for the surfing.