The Beachcombers: Prequel - Beachcomber Investigations Series Read online

  “He’s a legend at Scotland Yard. I doubt you’ve set foot in London.”

  “You’d be wrong. Didn’t Captain Lynch tell you how worldly I am?” He looked at her and relaxed back into his seat as they turned onto the road going by State Beach, according to the sign. It was a long straight stretch and it gave her that yawning longing in her gut for home and Bondi Beach in Sidney.

  “David Young is now Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange in Boston. That’s where you came through,” Dane said.

  “Yes, but I didn’t actually meet with anyone in Boston. I was sent straight away to here. The only person my boss at the Yard mentioned by name was Governor Douglas.”

  “They all work closely together.”

  “Very odd.”

  “We’re all the governor’s men. Even you.”

  “I’m honored to be in your… club.” She was. She couldn’t help herself, damn it. Unless he was teasing her. Most likely. Damn it.

  After Chauncey spotted them and introductions were made, they hurried through the airport terminal to the Jag out front. Once in the car, Dane checked for company and was satisfied to find Frenchie following.

  “I told Peter he should have had Oscar on this mission. It would be right up his alley,” Chauncey said.

  “Oscar?” Shana asked.

  “One of the governor’s men,” Dane said and looked at Chauncey in the rearview with the slightest nod in acknowledgement of their brotherhood.

  “You worked with him?” Chauncey said.

  “Once. I heard about his missions with the Boston Police Department and his international …reputation and called him for help. He said he wasn’t interested in anything regular, but he did help me out that one time. In Haiti.”

  He watched while Shana the beach princess—dressed to the nines in very un-beach-like designer wear—stared out the window. Pretending not to bother listening.

  “Very interesting and accomplished man, that one,” Chauncey said. “He saved my butt—and my wife’s as well—I owe him until the day I die for that.”

  Chauncey wore a look of adoration at referencing his wife that hit Dane in the pit of his stomach. Agonizingly familiar and forever lost. He would never wear a look like that again. He promised himself.

  Then as if she read his mind Shana glanced his way with a noncommittal expression. Correction. He would never wear that look for real again. He may need to act the part. The thought overrode his ability to concentrate.

  “He fought off a mad Iranian terrorist hell-bent on revenge in the form of kidnapping my Sophia,” Chauncey told them with a fierce look as if he felt the horror and thrill of it all over again.

  Dane saw Shana roll her eyes—inside her mind. He didn’t like it even if he understood the thought.

  “Oscar sounds like a helpful guy,” Shana said. “Maybe we ought to call him in.” She looked directly at Dane and gave her chin a slight lift.

  “Go for it, girlie.”

  They stared at each other in challenge and although he wasn’t looking, he felt Chauncey watching them from the back seat of the Jag.

  Before they had a chance to continue their adolescent alpha challenge-fest, he pulled the Jag into the driveway and the doors popped open. Shana jumped out in spite of her spike heels and hurried toward the house.

  “Something wrong?” Chauncey asked no one in particular as he alighted from the car. They stood in the drive while Shana unlocked the front door of the house a distance from them along a winding brick walk.

  “Probably she feels left out being the only woman on the assignment,” Dane said and he wouldn’t doubt it was at least partly true. “Not one of the governor’s men.”

  But there was more. Much more, Dane knew. And he needed to bring an end to it. They needed to call a truce. Chauncey nodded and squinted in her direction.

  “She’s a beauty and you’re a charmer. Shana is going to have to watch out for you.”

  “I’ll be watching out for her too,” he said.

  “Looks like the assignment from hell from where I stand,” Chauncey said. Then he split a huge grin and laughed.

  Dane thumped him on the shoulder in manly disapproval before laughing at himself and feeling relief from his tension. Damn if that PJD didn’t know what the hell he was doing when he sent Chauncey. He laughed at that. Peter had a sick sense of humor.

  Chapter 5

  Chauncey barked a laugh and they walked up the path toward the house together where Shana had disappeared inside.

  Dane spoke under his breath. “Don’t say much—keep it to the inane until I sweep the place again,” He went in ahead of Chauncey and caught up with Shana as she was coming back out of her bedroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she whispered as she stood in the doorway.

  He pulled up in front of her, leaned forward and put his lips to her ear, feeling the soft flesh of her earlobe touch his lips and the wispy hairs at her temple tickle his nose. He breathed in the scent of some expensive very non-beachy perfume and rasped, “I need to sweep the place. Until I’m finished keep the conversation light—or better yet, go outside with Chauncey and get acquainted.” Before she pulled away—and he could feel the vibration of tension in her screaming for space at the same time as he saw little goose bumps of arousal spring up along her delicate neck—he nipped her earlobe with his lips.

  The shudder went through him down to his core like a bolt of electricity or the most exquisitely pleasurable stun gun he’d ever experienced. He clamped his hands on her arms to hold her as if she were a wild mare taunting the stallion bucking inside him.

  “Time for us to cast aside personal…issues… and act the part. We’re both professionals.” He pulled back from her and looked into her stunned and glassy eyes and saw everything in them from hatred to lust and envy to anger, but she finally got herself to a professional focus.

  “Thank you for giving me credit for being a professional. I know I haven’t acted like one this morning. I…I…” She tried to turn her head away from him, but he caught her chin and kept his eyes on her.

  “You can do this, girlie. I give you one thing—you’re tough.”

  He stepped back from the confusion and skepticism that jumped into her expression.

  “God help me, it’s true,” he whispered as he turned away, not sure if he meant her to hear the words or not. And not sure if she had.

  He pushed past her into her bedroom, slipped a device out of his back pocket and went to work.

  Shana hated to admit to herself that he rattled her. And so what if he did? He was a seasoned and well-practiced asshole, wasn’t he? She really was tough and she pulled out the layer of rawhide she had in reserve for this and mentally wrapped it around her. Dane the Demon was not to be trusted. Rule one. Rule two: never, ever, ever forget that this was a job, a mission, and she was not to let anything about it touch her. Not Chauncey, not Captain Nice and certainly not Dane the Demon. This was business.

  She wanted only to prove she was up to this job and then get on with her career in London—where she would have more important missions. That’s where her real work was and her real life. This was only a temporary professional sidetrack, but it was one where she could help her reputation and prove herself.

  She would begin her own urban legend here.

  The internal pep talk made her feel better as she marched through the living room and out the massive French doors to the enormous slate patio overlooking pristine white sand and crashing waves fifty yards away. Chauncey stood there admiring the view with a faraway look. Probably thinking about his new bride, judging by that lovesick look he had. The sight pinched at her and caused her to stutter in her stride, but she pushed on, raising her chin up a notch.

  The bubble of longing in her chest caught her by surprise. What was that about? This girl was all about making a name and being a superstar at the Yard—and maybe even beyond that. She had no room for girlie notions about having a man moon over her like she witnessed C
hauncey doing. The girlie notions thought reminded her of Dane and she clamped down on the instant spike in temper—or heat—or whatever it was that he caused. Whatever it was it wasn’t good. And it wasn’t healthy.

  “You are a brave woman to be in this profession.” Chauncey said, “From what I hear, you could be anything you want.”

  “Thank you. This is all I ever wanted to do.” She stopped herself from launching headlong into spilling her dreams and apprehensions and how she wanted to make a name for herself with this mission. Behave like a professional, not like a girlie.

  “I think we all need to become familiar with our undercover stories and this is a good time to practice,” she said with a bright smile.

  “A deep cover setup. Peter—Governor Douglas—had an extensive digital and paper file planted for each of us—including Dane,” Chauncey supplied.

  She wondered why this con man Jean Luc deserved all their attention. Could it be only the missing heiress or was there more to it than that? It would not surprise her if she were being left out of the circle with some important missing information.

  “I’ve studied my role and I’m ready for it. I thought I’d go next door and ask about the missing Susan Whittier. We may stimulate something by asking around more.”

  “Or we may scare Ruse off,” Chauncey said.

  “Won’t matter,” Dane said as he walked up behind her. “He’s going nowhere. He won’t get off this island without us knowing before he can spit in the ocean. We stop him.”

  She turned and he was close enough that she could smell his scent. Damned if he didn’t smell good enough to raise her heat level. Something about him stirred her and she wished to hell it wasn’t true.

  “Finding the missing Susan Whittier is our most important goal. We need Jean Luc to spill his hand. One of us is going to have to get close enough for him to do that. We’re all gonna try. He’ll either tell us she’s dead. Or he’ll tell us where she is.”

  At his ominous words, a shiver sparked through her starting at the back of her neck and down each vertebra of her spine.

  Or it could have been that one step closer he took so that his body wisped against hers, screaming familiarity.

  “Let’s go over everything we know,” Dane said.

  “Out here?” Shana said.

  “Inside’s clean?” Chauncey asked.

  “No. We leave the bugs in place.” Dane saw Chauncey tighten his casual smile and glance at Shana. The small intimacy between them clenched at his gut and twisted it into an irrational knot of longing until he turned away and took a very deep breath. He’d done the exact same thing once. To a woman who was no more. He’d cared. Personally. And he would never let that happen again.

  Shana spoke. “We know that Jean Luc was seen with Susan Whittier recently and that he lied about it. We know he’s scared of the police investigating her disappearance…” She stopped.

  “What is it?”

  “My cover phone buzzed. I have a text.” She pulled the phone out and checked it. “It’s from our missing Susan Whittier.”

  Chapter 6

  “Not her?” Chauncey asked.

  Dane answered without missing a beat. “Not likely. Someone has her phone.”

  “The text says she’s sorry she had to get out of town—she had an invitation she couldn’t resist—and to tell her parents she’ll touch base in a couple of weeks.” Shana looked up from the phone with a broad smile. “I think it’s very coincidental that I just mentioned to Jean Luc that I had texted my friend and hadn’t heard from her. Don’t you?”

  “Looks like you scared him enough to chance the phone being traced back to them.”

  “Give me the phone—I’ll get it back to Scotland Yard Exchange HQ in Boston and see what we can do to find out where it is. Maybe we can nail them with kidnapping,” Chauncey said.

  “No need to send it to Boston. We have facilities here. I’ll give it to Captain Lynch and have him check it out.”

  “Really? Sophisticated technology even on this outpost?” Chauncey smiled.

  “Martha’s Vineyard isn’t exactly an outpost. You’re still learning about the area, I take it.”

  “So you’ve worked with Captain Ni—Lynch before?” Shana asked him.

  Dane looked at her for a second and grinned. “You were going to call him Captain Nice, weren’t you?” He liked that she’d thought the same thing as he did. He enjoyed her blush even more than their shared thought about Cap.

  “I hear the house phone ringing. Maybe that’s our Captain Nice,” Shana said, pointing at the doors, then sprinted back inside to get the phone. He followed, knowing it wasn’t their captain—Nice or otherwise. It was Jean Luc Ruse.

  He walked up behind her as she answered the phone, enjoying the change from normal to slightly pounding heartbeat, the heating up of his body at the same time as he felt goose bumps rising, the pleasant tightening in his loins and rise in his cock. He felt his nostrils flare to life with the scent of her—nothing definable, just her—a scent he’d know anywhere but that he’d never in a million years be able to describe. His hand quivered slightly when he reached out to touch her. He stopped himself short.

  Because her back was to him, he could salvage his professional pride. He listened.

  She turned to him as she spoke into the old-fashioned receiver of the house phone. “Of course I didn’t forget. Yes, I invited everyone. No, she’s still not available—in fact I had a text from her…” she went on and finished the call within thirty seconds as he breathed the salty air in deeper than normal breaths to get back to pre-Shana lust equilibrium. Damn, damn, damn.

  “You heard. He’s worried. He knows where she is—I have a feeling she’s still alive or they would have ditched her cell by now.”

  “Agreed.” He stood staring, concentrating on keeping his hands at his sides.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, girlie.” He turned. “Keep up the good work,” he muttered, not sure if he intended her to hear him or not and definitely not sure why he said it. He escaped back outside.

  Addressing Chauncey, he said, “You need to come to dinner with us, but before we go, we’ll set some traps. Not sure when they’ll strike or what their exact pattern will be, but if we set the place up right, we’ll know exactly what they’re doing.”

  “Surveillance?”

  “A multilayered system. The first one will be the obvious one that will be disabled by them. The second, less obvious system we set up to get audio and some video, but it won’t be obvious—can’t be or we’re blown and we lose the chance to find the girl.”

  “Is every woman a girl to you?” Shana blurted out.

  Chauncey raised his brows, but seemed only mildly surprised as he folded his arms to watch. The explosion of emotion from Shana sparked enough heat in Dane to rekindle all the lust he’d felt earlier and then some. With only a passing glance at Chauncey, who looked happy to watch the show, the grin he felt was automatic.

  “Sure. Why not?” Dane said.

  A pleasant pink tinted her neck and rose up along her jaw to her cheeks. She muttered, “Forget it.”

  “Then let’s get to it,” Chauncey said. “You have the equipment?”

  “Yeah. Back at the ranch. Come with me.” Dane walked back to his Jag.

  “And what am I supposed to do until dinner? Pretty up?” Shana did not smile.

  She stood stiff, tall and at her haughtiest yet, which was incongruous with her blond hair blowing across her face in sexy waves and her curves filling out her clothes in a heart-stopping silhouette.

  “Why don’t you call Captain Nice and fill him in,” he said. “Then you can head over to the surfing competition office and register. Make it official. Take note of irregularities. You would know best.”

  She turned away without acknowledging or agreeing to the suggestion.

  He turned to go and then turned back to say, “Use the secure line when you call Cap.”

  She looked like if she co
uld find a big rock nearby she would have picked it up and thrown it at him. As it was, he watched her fists clench at her sides.

  “No kidding? Thanks for the tip, Mr. Urban Legend.” She turned and walked inside, her anger not diminishing the sexy sashay of her bottom as she went.

  God help him.

  Chapter 7

  Knowing who was calling her, she answered her cell phone with a heady combination of irritation and titillation.

  “Shana here.”

  “Ever the charmer.” Dane’s uncommonly deep voice sent a dangerous rush through her. Her nerves jumped at the sound.

  “And you’re the expert, I suppose.”

  “No supposing. I have you charmed. As it happens, it comes easy to me.”

  She snorted. The edge of excitement tipped back to full-on annoyance. “What did you want? Besides to charm me.”

  He laughed a deep mild laugh with a sensual edge. Maybe she imagined it, but it seemed everything he said or did—everything about him—had a sensual edge. He planned it that way for certain.

  “Let’s meet at the surfing competition office in twenty. I have paperwork to turn in for my nomination to be a judge.”

  “Is this a planned coincidence?”

  “Bingo. Swing by and pick up the check for the entry fee from Captain Nice. The governor wasn’t happy about the ten large, but we need it. If Jean Luc requires cash it solidifies our suspicion that something’s not right.”

  “That must be how you got to be such a legend—brilliant deductions like that.”

  “There you go with that legend bull again. Don’t let rumors and gossip get to you. I’m no legend.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “You’re wasting time. See you in nineteen.” The line went dead. The light on her cell phone went out. She knew how it felt.

  She hated Dane Blaise. She wanted him to drool for her. She should want him to admire and respect her. That’s why she hated him.

  He pushed through the glass door of the clapboard two-story Victorian that had been converted to small offices. It was located a block off the tourist street in town, but he knew it. He knew all of the Vineyard and especially the town of Vineyard Haven where he spent his summers. Usually vacationing. Restoring himself. Mostly sleeping. Maybe this summer he’d surf again. The thought had some allure. Especially when he pictured himself sharing the same surf with a bikini-clad Shana.