Page 11 of Beachcomber Enemy

They came in hot through the back door hiding behind sunglasses and their Coast Guard uniforms. Normally Dane didn’t mind admiring glances, but he’d withstood the stares of far too many people this morning—pretty much everyone they’d seen—and it was damn unnerving when they were trying to be inconspicuous.

The good news was that they were not being admired for being Dane and Shana, intrepid private investigators. The uniforms worked like magic cloaks of instant stardust making them the target of dreamy looks, appreciation, and all-out hero worship.

It was broad daylight on a sunny day and Dane felt semi-anonymous under his spiffy cap and aviator sunglasses in spite of all the attention. Shana was less anonymous and drew the lion’s share of attention, even with her voluminous hair pinned in as tight a bun as she could manage at the back of her head. There was no hiding her luscious body, especially since the only uniform Vendi could find to fit her had been a size too small. Saying that her skirt was tight didn’t explain the effect. Not even close.

The sight of that white skirt outlining her ass had his balls turning blue.

As he pushed inside the dark back hall behind Shana, he put his hands on her. He had to. Joe Amari, the governor’s chauffeur and close security detail, who also happened to be from their old special ops team, greeted them. He summoned them forward.

Shana pretended he hadn’t touched her, but Dane felt her heat through the material of the uniform skirt stretched over her curves.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes. We thought we’d lost you. For about a minute until you called,” Joe said.

Dane grunted.

“You know Dane has nine lives, Joe,” Shana said as they followed him down the hallway and through the door to the governor’s private library.

Joe chuckled as he met Dane’s eyes. Dane dared him with his stare to say a word

He was no housecat. A jaguar maybe, a stealthy hunter going for the jugular every time.

He sighed. He was thinking of himself the way he used to be, before he met Shana. He didn’t feel so much like that now. He felt goddamn domesticated.

Peter John Douglas stood up from his desk and met them as they came into the room. Joe closed the door. Peter’s wife, Madeline, stood and came to them.

Without fanfare, Peter clasped Dane in a man-hug and fist-pounded his back twice. It had been the standard greeting after beating close calls back in the day when every special ops mission seemed to be a close call. When someone saved someone’s life every time they went out.

Madeline embraced Shana and then gave Dane a heartfelt hug. He watched over her shoulder as Peter embraced Shana. And Shana embraced him back. There’d been no pound on her back. She hadn’t been part of the team then.

The inexplicable resentment on her behalf rose in him. He tamped it back down to minor annoyance. Of course Shana was part of their team. Now. She was acknowledged by everyone to be invaluable. Had been since their first mission—strike that—assignment together. He shouldn’t call what he and Shana did as Beachcomber Investigations missions. They were assignments, sometimes dangerous. Hell, they’d all been dangerous up to one point or another—he had the scars to prove it. As did Cap and a few others. But not Shana.

So far Shana had come out of each and every one of their assignments unscathed.

That was not going to change this time.

Though no one had assigned them this case, it was theirs.

“I’m glad we were worried needlessly,” Madeline said.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Dane said. “I’ll explain in a minute. First we need to call Cap and have him check on a friend.” Dane walked to the desk and the secure phone, not waiting for permission.

“The possible hostage?” Peter said.

Dane nodded and punched in Cap’s private cell number, praying he had the phone on him and would answer it discreetly once he saw it was him. The line rang once.

“Jesus Christ Almighty,” Cap said.

“Not quite.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Officially I’m a ghost. Unofficially I’m with the governor and Shana’s with me.” Dane listened to Cap’s audible sigh at this confirmation of life. He’d had an inkling that Cap might be more worried about Shana than him. He put Cap on speaker. “We’re in Peter’s office with Madeline and Joe. You’re on speaker.”

“Damn. You move fast.”

“I need you to go to check on Sassy—to see if she’s okay.”

“Give me her address.”