Page 47 of Beachcomber Danger

Tom grunted and downed his drink.

“Right on that,” he said. “I’ll wager twenty hot ones that he shows up here any minute.”

“No,” Shana said. “He’s committed to . . . his assignment.”

Acer said, “You mean playing the target for a pair of assassins. You realize they’re expecting you to go after them. Could be a trap.”

“And you let Dane leave you behind?” Tom said.

“He’s counting on me to find Sassy. I’ll have to take a chance on the trap. Outwit them.”

“Nothing personal, but maybe you should both rely on the FBI to do—” Tom stopped short when she aimed her glare at him.

“To hell with that idea. They don’t care about Sassy. Besides, they’re too slow and they don’t know the island.” Or Sassy.

“And they don’t have me backing them up,” Acer said. “Although in their defense, they do have the NSA. Not too shabby.”

Shana smiled at him and picked up his glass for a sip of whatever the heck it was he was drinking. As the liquid torched a path down her throat she realized it was some kind of white-lightning poison they called whiskey.

“It’s a case of dividing and conquering. But Acer, you need to have Dane’s back. He needs you more than I do. I don’t think the feds care about him either.”

He watched her a beat and if she could read anything into his blank stare it would be skepticism.

“I can stay under the radar.”

“Not in that sundress. But then I suppose you look conspicuous no matter what you wear.” Acer took his glass back, and stared into it for a moment before nodding his head. Then he poured the rest of the healthy dose of every man’s courage down his throat.

“I’ll watch out for Shana,” Tom said.

He poured himself another drink from the bottle on the table and swilled it down. He’d already been half drunk before he’d downed it. She wouldn’t count on Tom Jones except to keep her secrets. She’d need to be sneaky to stay under NSA’s radar.

Her chest tightened at the thought that she could use Ronnie and Sassy’s help in a situation like this—if they hadn’t been the casualties. That bit of bitterness galvanized her energy and she stood.

“Where are you going?” Acer stood.

“I have a hunch.” She pulled out her throwaway cell phone. “Take down this number. I’ll be in touch.”

“You have a cupcake in that bag?”

She laughed at Tom’s puzzled scowl. Cupcake had been Acer’s code word for weapon whenever he sensed a blanket surveillance. No one was more paranoid than Acer.

“Of course. I always travel with at least one cupcake. A girl gets hungry at the most inopportune times.”

“You two are weird.” Tom stood and straightened his apron. “I’m getting back to work. You call me if you need anything.” He extricated himself from the tangle of chair and table with the lack of grace befitting a drunk man.

Before he returned to the bar, he said, “I don’t like to worry about you.” He cleared his throat and walked off with an unnaturally stiff back.

“That goes double for me,” Acer spoke almost too quietly for her to hear, but she did.

“I’ll be in touch. You take care of yourself, Mr. Chambers.” She winked and then went back out the back door. It had occurred to her on her way to the Jeep that maybe she ought to ditch it. It was well known to be associated with Beachcomber Investigations. Preston and Emeline would know the vehicle if they were worth their salt—and they definitely were that.

Stopping before she got to the car, she veered away and starting jogging down the road behind the restaurant. It was a long way—almost a mile—for a jog in heels to where she was going. She flipped her heels off and up, catching them and then speeding up in bare feet. It was a foolish mistake on her part not to get a change of clothes before abandoning the beach shack. Now she had no idea when they’d let her back in.

Shana ran in her bare feet with her bag swinging from her shoulder and her dress clinging to her legs. She laughed to herself at the picture she must make. The only thing appropriate about this dress was that the skirt was full to allow freedom of movement. Too bad it was brightly colored—not ideal for stealthy night work.

If her hunch was correct, she would need to be stealthy when she reached Sassy’s Pie Shop.