Beachcomber Danger
Beachcomber Investigations Book 9
By Stephanie Queen
Sample Chapters
Chapter 1
They were blessedly alone at this ungodly hour of the morning. Dane ran behind Shana along State Beach, mostly for the view of her backside. He could have caught her and passed her if he’d wanted to. Sweat trickled down his temples and he bent lifted his arm and bent his head to wipe the sweat off on his sleeve. When he did, he caught a glimpse of a moving car out of the corner of his eye.
He turned his head only slightly to see two men in a gray sedan creeping along the road about fifty yards behind, tracking them.
Picking up his pace, he caught up to Shana. Ever the competitor, she speeded up to try and stay ahead of him. Before she got too far, he managed to snag her T-shirt, almost tearing it from her shoulder. She slowed and swung around, pulling the shirt back on while she scowled at him.
She was about to protest but he quieted her with a look and hauled her in close. He didn’t want it to be obvious to the men in the car that he’d made them. He had no idea who they were or what they were up to, but it was scalded into his DNA by now to be cagey. Never play it straight.
He put an arm around Shana’s sweaty body, enjoyed the effects of running with the heat and humidity of the day rising, and nuzzled her ear while he whispered.
“Two men in dark glasses and suits are following us in a nondescript sedan. What does that tell you?”
“Are you in trouble with the feds?” It was both good and bad that she stopped squirming in his arms.
“No.” He thought for a moment, running his mind in reverse back to the last time he’d had a run-in with a federal law enforcement agency. The ATF. One of their agents had been bad and they hadn’t been thrilled that Dane had been the one to discover this fact. But the man had killed their client’s husband and Dane and Shana had nailed him with a recorded confession and a gun aimed squarely at him with intent to kill. No one was happy about that mess. As a reward for uncovering the ATF agent’s drug ring, Dane had been threatened with imprisonment for his so-called interference that they’d insisted labeling as obstruction of justice. But that fiasco had ended a while back with a truce.
“Then what’s it about?” Her scowl changed over to something more loving. No worry, not yet.
“I’m hoping it has nothing to do with the President’s upcoming vacation on Martha’s Vineyard, but I’m not that optimistic.”
She stood stock-still now and looked at him.
“Do you think they want us to—”
“No. I think they think we’re suspicious characters and they’re keeping an eye on us.”
She slapped his arm and took off at a sprint before he could stop her. Damn.
Now he’d have to catch up. And he’d have to acknowledge that she was probably right. The feds, likely secret service, wanted something from him—from them. He needed to remember he wasn’t in this alone. And never would be again.
Dane could probably thank his old pal the Governor for turning the feds onto Beachcomber Investigations.
Some pal.
He dug his right foot into the sand, ignored the tweak in his knee, and ran after his partner—or rather his newly minted fiancée.
*****
By the time he caught up, Shana was already in the shower. He heard the spray of water through the locked door. Damn. He rattled the knob one more time and heard her laugh. She hadn’t even broken stride going through the back door and straight to the shower. He wondered if she’d bothered to take her clothes off.
Another man might have been discouraged or wounded by this behavior, but Dane smiled. He knew his wife-to-be very well. Partly because they were a lot alike, and partly because knowing people well was his strong suit—and he’d made an extra-special effort with Shana.
He’d had to. She’d been the toughest puzzle he’d ever met. In hindsight, he knew he could attribute that to the cloud of miserable desire that had always got in his way. Not anymore.
She was his. He wouldn’t let her escape now. He had hold of her and the one thing that had gotten in his way all this time—his own damned world-weary misery—was gone. The gaping hole in his soul was on the mend.
Shana had made it clear she didn’t want to get sidetracked today, wanted to make some calls, drum up some new business. He smiled thinking about her avaricious streak as he walked into their bedroom. He stripped his shirt off, kicked off his sneakers.
He went out back. Behind his beach shack—their beach shack—he jogged across the lawn that ended with the harbor and hopped onto the narrow wood pier that jutted out thirty feet. After a quick glance into the gleaming morning ocean, he jumped off the end of the dock into the life-renewing saltwater. It was the second-best thing, albeit by a very wide margin, to taking a shower with Shana.
When he went back inside, dripping wet, he was met by Shana, fully dressed.
From her stunning serious green eyes, down to her navy-and-white sleeveless dress and matching navy pumps she screamed business. She never wore pumps.
“Where are you going? Church?” He glanced at her conspicuous shoes.
“We are going to see Cap.”
Captain Colin Lynch of the state police was in charge of crime on the island, but more importantly he was their unofficial third partner in Beachcomber Investigations. And the man they’d both vote most likely to be the best man at their wedding. Whenever that was.
He didn’t object to going to see Cap, but he couldn’t capitulate. It would be against his principles, his very grain, to allow her to have that control. The honeymoon phase of their engagement was over.
“Why? I might have something better to do.” It was lame, but he knew the very lameness of his excuse would annoy her.
She put her hands on her hips. He loved her in that pose, like a shapely golden-haired goddess, the ultimate Wonder Woman.
“I want to nip this in the bud. If those two feds want something, we may as well get it over with. And I think Gable might have a case for us.”
“You think you can flush them out by going to the police? You don’t think the Secret Service is cagier than that? When they want to talk to us, they’ll knock on our door.”
“I don’t feel like waiting around. Besides, since when don’t you want to visit Cap?”
He smiled at her and moved in, seawater still dripping down his chest and legs.
She backed away, but he’d always been quicker than her. And it always kicked up a flip of joy in his heart to catch her when she tried to evade. He grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her in, slamming her up against him.
“You think you can seduce your way out of this?” She held her arms against his chest between them, but he saw her eyes already going glassy, felt the delicious heat of her sparking his blood to run fast in his veins, like it did when he was getting ready to run for his life or face a fight to the death. Excitement. Passion. Danger. All the same.
He was a legitimate adrenaline junkie. But then, so was Shana.
His mind spun these thoughts as he lowered his mouth to nibble on that spectacularly soft and delicate skin of her neck, just below her earlobe.
Until the loud banging on the back door behind him made her jump. He loosened his arm and knew who it was without turning around.
