Beachcomber Enemy
Beachcomber Investigations Book 11
By Stephanie Queen
Sample Chapters
Chapter 1
The instant Dane stepped through the back door of his beach shack, even before the screen door sprang shut behind him, he knew something was wrong.
Deadly wrong.
He smelled it in the air. Gas.
All his senses came alert as if electrified. He ran through the kitchen, down the hall, scanning each room until he slammed through the door of his bedroom.
“Shana!” She wasn’t there. The thudding of his heart drowned out his thoughts. Driven by fear, he raced back through the small house and out the back door into the yard.
She wasn’t inside. But was that a good thing, or a very bad thing? He wouldn’t let himself speculate as he raced around the side of the house, back to the patio.
There he saw her.
“Shana.” His voice sounded less strangled, but the panic didn’t subside as he darted a glance back at his home—their home. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from where she stood stretching after her run. A protest died on her lips as her eyes met his. He knew she saw his fear.
He didn’t let up on the death grip he had on her arm as he sprang across the lawn to the pier. She kept pace with him. Not that she had any choice.
“What is it?” she asked breathlessly, without letting up. He glanced back once to look at her, but there was no time to answer as they reached the end of the pier that jutted out into the harbor. There was no time to do anything but pull her into his arms.
The beach shack exploded with a roar of flames that shot into the air at the same instant he leapt off the pier with Shana. The heat hit him just before they hit the water and sank deep into the blessedly cold sea.
Chapter 2
Dane didn’t have to hold onto her for her protection as he pulled her under the pier, but he needed to keep her close for his emotional stability. To keep his soul from exploding. After a minute, he surfaced with her under the pier, to the roar of flames and the distant sound of fire trucks blasting their horns.
“Dane, what—who?”
“Shh. It’s all right.” He said the words for his own reassurance as much as hers. It had been too close a call. The dangerous pounding in his chest continued, reminding him how close he’d come to losing the only thing that mattered.
“The shack,” she said, a distraught catch in her voice. They both peered around a post at the hot tall flames as they licked close to the trees and the neighbors. He prayed the firemen got there in time to prevent collateral damage.
“It’s only a pile of timber and nails,” he said. “We’ll build a bigger and better shack.” But he stopped short. Because would he? Would they ever be safe here again? Someone was going all in to destroy him. Full tilt. No subtlety at all. No caution. No warning.
Someone ruthlessly violent, someone with means, someone with balls the size of Jupiter, had just declared war on him. And Shana. The anger, determination and gritty fight that had sustained him all his life were overshadowed by the stark dread of losing her now that he finally had her.
Or he almost had her. They weren’t married yet.
Someone was clearly out to get them. Whoever had done this had a lot of juice.
“We’re not going back. Blowing up our house is the boldest move a body can make outside a war zone. Doubly so for a home on a vacation island heading into the tourist season.”
“But we need to find out who did this—we need to stop them. We can’t go into hiding forever. I’m not ready to go crawl under a rock somewhere as if my life is over.” Was her chin tilted at an accusing angle or was he being paranoid?
“You think I am, girlie?”
She stared at him, green eyes glittering under spiky wet eyelashes, drops of seawater beading down her temples, down her forehead, dripping off the end of her perfect nose and her extravagant lips. She wasn’t going to answer him and, as they both held onto the leg of the pier, hidden by the shadows, he knew they couldn’t stay long. People would come looking for them. Sooner than later. He cringed when he saw the state police vehicle careen into the yard past the fire trucks and onto the lawn. Captain Colin Lynch jumped from the car. Their good friend—his soon-to-be best man—headed straight for the fire chief.
Cap would find out how the fire started and he’d be looking for Dane and Shana.
There was no way Dane wanted him to find them here. He’d let Cap know they were alive and well in his own time. Not now.
“We’re dead as far as our would-be killer is concerned. We’ll be safer letting everyone else think it too. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t going after the f—cker. It means we’ll have to do our investigation under the radar,” he said.
She nodded. He pulled her arm off the pier.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
It was a reasonable question but he had no answer. Yet.
“You’ll be the first to know as soon as my plan comes together. Lucky thing I do my best thinking underwater.” Holding onto her arm, as if he needed to make sure she’d follow, he dove under the water. They needed to stay under as much as possible until they rounded the jetty where they could find a way to get to shore.
Dusk settled over them, making the light from the flames stand out in the sky even from the distance they’d managed to gain on the other side of the jetty. He knew Cap’s officers would search the house for them—or for their bodies. But he also knew Cap would look for them elsewhere. He’d check out back. He’d check the water.
Dane swam with Shana into the shallows and stayed low, then partially stood so they could walk. There were people out on decks and walking the beach, so they’d need to be careful not to be spotted.
Dane and Shana would be recognizable, not only because they were fully clothed and drenched, but because they were minor celebrities on the island. Dane wanted to take no chances. He headed under another pier.
“Where are we going, Dane?” she asked again. He knew she wouldn’t follow him for much longer before making a mutiny play.
She would have ideas of her own.
