The Beachcombers: Prequel - Beachcomber Investigations Series

by Stephanie Queen

  Dane pulled his communication device from his pocket, hoping it still worked after all the salt water, and buzzed it to life, looking for the frequency for the Coast Guard. “Mayday. Where the hell are you? We have an emergency. Two men captive and a third in assault mode. Could really use your help about now.”

  He got a response after an excruciating beat of static. “Thirty seconds out. I can see the boat headed for Vineyard Haven harbor. On it. Out.”

  He kept his eye on Ned and said, “Chaunce, I hope this thing still has enough gas to get us some space and buy time. Gun it for Oak Bluffs—west.” Dane pointed and Chauncey swung it around, causing Ned to change his angle slightly, but not gaining on them much.

  “What about those guys?” Shana pointed at Roger and his pal lying prone on the disabled craft while a few flames still sparked and the water lapped against them.

  “We’ll have to trust the Coast Guard to round them up after they chase Ned off.”

  As he spoke, Dane saw Ned look over his shoulder and knew he’d seen the Coast Guard, but then he turned back and lifted his ridiculous gun and took aim at them.

  “Jump—ditch this thing,” Dane said, but didn’t wait and grabbed Shana by the arm, pulling her with him back into the water on the far side of the craft. Chauncey didn’t react quick enough and Ned got off three shots by the time Dane pulled himself back up to get his friend. Ned’s boat was turning and they heard the shouting from the Coast Guard bullhorn and their boat in pursuit. And gunshots.

  Chauncey wasn’t moving. Shana pulled herself up behind him and hissed a swear in his ear and they both saw the blood splattered on the windshield of the craft.

  Dane pulled Chauncey from his hunched position down low against the controls to find him conscious.

  “Grazed. Right arm. I figured I should stay down.” Chauncey grimaced as Dane checked the wound. It looked shallow, but he knew it must hurt like a son of a bitch. Reaching into one of his leg pockets, Dane pulled out a square hanky-like cloth and pushed it onto the wound. Chauncey held it in place with his opposite arm.

  “The cloth is wet and salty, but it’ll have to do,” Dane said, realizing it would sting like hell.

  “Guess I’m getting slow in my old age. I was a beat too long in my reaction time.” Chauncey clenched his teeth. Shana crowded over Dane’s shoulder to check on his emergency medical work.

  Dane looked up to see where Ned was heading and jumped up to his feet to take the controls while Chauncey backed out of the way. Ned was heading to Oak Bluffs, and that was where they needed to be, but the Coast Guard would blow everything if they went barreling in. They’d lose Susan Whittier.

  Dane gunned the engine and radioed the Coast Guard to go after the small watercraft with the two prone thugs. “We’ll give chase to the outboard speedboat.”

  “You sure? Looked like he had a substantial weapon—”

  “We’re sure. We’re armed.” Dane hoped to hell he had enough bullets left. Shana read his mind and grabbed Chauncey’s camera bag and pulled out another clip.

  “We’ll get him. Out.” Dane shut the communicator off. He thought fleetingly of calling Cap but needed to concentrate on keeping Ned from getting to the Tavares yacht where everyone waited. Where they had the setup to find and free Susan Whittier and nab the bastards who took her—and who knew how many other women they’d kidnapped and sold.

  By this time, Ned had all his attention on the Coast Guard boat and tried to take off. His weapon was nowhere in sight. Dane figured it was a good time to give chase in earnest.

  “Hang on,” he shouted over his shoulder to Shana and Chauncey. Shana positioned herself to hang onto the boat and Chauncey to keep him secure. Dane tried to ignore the spike of something he felt as he turned back. He swore he’d show his appreciation later. When this was all over with. But right now he had his sights on Ned and his speedboat and he was closing in. It would be close, but they should be able to catch him before they got within sight of the Oak Bluffs Marina where the Tavares yacht waited for them.

  Ned turned to shoot and Dane made an evasive maneuver with his agile little craft. He decided he liked it as he stood and prepared to fire back once he drew within another twenty yards. He’d have to continue to maneuver and try and make a shot with the craft all over the water. He turned to Shana, who still held on tight to Chauncey.

  “Shana, I need you to take over the controls. I need to get a shot off.”

  She managed to climb over and stand with Dane and took the steering handles and the throttle. Of course she was familiar with the craft. She probably lived on the water back in Sydney.

  Ned turned to fire at them again. They ducked as low as they could behind the meager windshield, but Shana hung onto the control and kept them swerving back and forth along Ned’s wake. His shots all missed and he threw his gun aside and slowed his boat.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Shana sounded alarmed.

  “Don’t worry—he probably thinks he’s going to swamp us, but he’s actually giving me a chance to take a clean shot.” As Dane spoke, he balanced his arm along the shield and took aim while Shana slowed and held the craft steady. Ned turned and saw the gun aimed at him, but it was too late for him to take cover.

  Dane pulled the trigger, then took aim again. Within twenty seconds he emptied his clip and Ned had either fallen or taken cover.

  His boat turned in a slow endless arc with no one at the wheel. Dane signaled for Shana to cut the engine so they could approach with caution.

  “I think you hit him,” she said, excitement in her voice.

  “Damn. I think you’re right. I hate to say it, but I hope he’s still alive and conscious. I have some questions for him about where Susan is being kept on the boat and how many guards she has and what kind of firepower they have.

  They were twenty yards away and Dane was prepared to jump into the water again when he saw Ned struggling to a stand with his gun.

  “Shit—get us out of here,” Dane shouted and swung his body around to shield Shana.

  Off balance, Ned got off a burst of gunfire, most of it hitting the water, but not all. Shana gunned the engines at the same time a shot hit the engine and gas tank. A fire immediately sparked to life and Dane pulled Shana away and into the water.

  “Chauncey—hit the water,” Dane shouted, but he was already overboard.

  Dane turned to see Ned struggling back to the wheel.

  “We have to take him out,” Shana said. Ned swung his boat back around and Dane grabbed Chauncey to take cover behind their burning craft. Shana wrestled with the camera case to find another weapon, but Ned came up on them fast.

  With one arm holding the gun on them and the other reaching over the boat, he tried grabbing Shana from the water. She kicked and fought him, and that gave Dane the chance he needed to make a move.

  He swam under the burning boat and when he got to the other side he used his legs to push off and surge up out of water exactly where Ned leaned over his boat with Shana at gunpoint. Using the surprise, Dane moved with lightning speed to wield his gun at Ned, hitting him on head with a decisive crack.

  “Get in—I’ll get Chauncey.” Dane took another breath, realizing his lungs were heaving, and swam back under the watercraft to save time. Chauncey had been hanging onto their burning boat, but he’d lost blood and wouldn’t last.

  That was Dane’s thought as he swam down searching through the dark water for Chauncey’s legs. Then a mind-splitting explosion hit him, forcing him deep down in a tumble until he became totally disoriented. His ears rang and his lungs burned as he tried to figure out which way was up in the dark deep water.

  Chapter 25

  The watercraft exploded. Right there in front of her at the exact moment after she watched Dane dive under the water—under the burning craft—to get Chauncey. Her heart stopped for a beat on a great inhale of air and water as the impact hit her, knocking her from where she hung on the side of Ned’s boat. But she felt the impact more in
her soul than anywhere. Aside from the noise and the flying debris that went mostly straight up and away from her, there was nothing but the shock of Dane disappearing.

  Spitting water, she screamed his name and, looking past the debris field, she moved to swim after him, and spotted Chauncey bobbing through the haze of smoke.

  “Chauncey, are you all right—where’s Dane?” She caught up to Chauncey, latched hold of his good arm, and started towing him the ten feet back to Ned’s boat while searching frantically with her eyes for a sign of Dane.

  “He’s under… I saw him. Get him…”

  Shana got Chauncey to the boat. He hung with one arm onto the back where it slung lowest in the water near the silent engine. She said nothing and turned back to the small, pitiful debris field, heart pounding in her chest, pulse pounding at her temples. She pumped her arms, forcing them to take her back.

  Before she took two strokes, Dane’s head popped through the surface of the water like a dolphin doing tricks and he gulped in air, spinning around until he saw her.

  “Goddamn you, Dane—what happened? Are you all right?” She hurled herself forward through the water, not caring if she landed on him and drowned him, half thinking he deserved to be drowned. He moved toward her without a word, but when he caught up with her he held her off, stopping her from hugging him, knowing she wanted to more than anything.

  “Get back to the boat. We have no time.”

  As if making a great effort, he heaved himself forward to where Chauncey clung to the engine. Shana almost let herself cry at that moment. Dane Blaise deserved his Demon nickname. He was no damn good. She thought of the million and one things she wanted to say to him—to tell him he was a poor excuse for a human being, an unfeeling shell of a man not fit for anyone to call friend or partner, let alone lover. She wanted to ask him what happened—why he’d been underwater so long—was it some sick joke? Had he been knocked on the head or caught up on debris or propelled deep into the water from the blast? She reached Chauncey and helped Dane wrangle him on board Ned’s boat, then climbed in after Dane.

  He held out his hand for her and she ignored it. If she took it she’d have torn his arm off and thrown it and him back in the ocean. The hurricane of emotion inside her coiled so that she could barely function. She could not speak. Not to Dane.

  “Get a grip, girlie. I made it back to the surface—just got knocked deep by the blast. No big deal. I’m fine. Are you?” He stood dripping and watching her.

  She supposed she might consider his words conciliatory if they weren’t spoken with his usual caustic tone that gave the impression of an unspoken “you stupid girl” into the silence. She tested her resolve, but she had nothing to say to him. She would be fine. She looked away and back at Chauncey and knelt next to him.

  Dane grabbed her arm. “Answer me,” he said, stopping short of adding girlie, she noted. He held his eyes steady on hers, trying to will her to speak to him. She kept the vacuum in place where the hurricane had been swirling through her. It would be better that way. They had work to do. She tugged at her arm. He tugged back and didn’t let go. She looked at him with irritation and he stared back.

  But what she saw almost ripped her heart. It wasn’t anger or concern she saw in his eyes. It was desperation, clear and certain and scary. It was the last thing she expected and the last thing she wanted from him.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.” She stood and took a step. He turned. Maybe she was beginning to understand this dance of his. But of all the times and places, this was not the one to have an epiphany.

  Chauncey said, “I’m fine too, but what about him?” He jutted his chin toward Ned.

  “We need to wake him. Get some intel from him. But first we secure him.”

  Dane found some rope under the hull and tied Ned’s arms behind his back. He looked up at Shana as she watched him, trying to keep her mind blank but feeling warmth for him seep in where it shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve it. Not really. Not mostly.

  “You still got that knife on you, girlie?” He squinted up at her with his hand out. She pulled the knife from the compartment where she’d forgotten it and ducked her head to hide her blush. It had been packed away in a zippered spot tight and wet. She yanked it free with some effort and handed it to him.

  “Rookie mistake,” he said and winked at her. He tied Ned’s ankles together with the length of rope he cut off from the long coil.

  Lifting the prone man by the shoulders, he moved him to the back of the boat, grabbed the anchor chain and looped the rope through, securing him to the boat’s anchor.

  “Brilliant,” she said and meant it. She decided if they were going to intimidate the tough guy they’d need some impact so she bent and hefted the anchor onto the man’s lap as he sat on the floor leaning against the engine well.

  “Nice touch.” He turned to Chauncey, who was sprawled next to Ned now. “You okay? Can you move to the front of the boat?”

  “As long as I’ll have a view of the action.” Chauncey struggled to his feet, but he was unsteady, and she gripped his good arm and helped him up and into the front passenger seat. He looked pale and worry spiked and settled to a pit in her stomach.

  “Let’s get this show going—we’re running short of time. The Tavares brothers aren’t going to wait around long—not for the likes of Ned.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dane said. He’d found a bucket, leaned over the side of the boat, filled the bucket with water and dumped it on Ned’s head.

  The man woke with a groan, opened his eyes, and when he tried to move and found he couldn’t he squirmed to full alertness. Until he looked up and saw Dane standing over him. It was a moment Shana would treasure, but she suppressed the grin that wanted to spread across her face. This was the time to hang onto her outrage. It wasn’t difficult to let the simmering anger rise to the surface. She only needed to look at Chauncey’s white-as-a-sheet face and think of the young woman Ned and his men held and what they had planned for her. Shana was ready.

  “Time for you to talk,” Dane said to Ned, looking happy. “I think I’ll let Shana torture the information out of you.” Dane stood from his crouched position directly in front of Ned and moved aside for Shana. He enjoyed the look on Ned’s face when he saw Shana’s expression. And the wrench she swung in one hand.

  “Where is Susan Whittier?” She growled the words like the mother tiger protecting her cubs they never wanted to encounter.

  Shana stepped in front of Ned and said, “Give me the knife.”

  Dane took the knife from the pocket on his right thigh where he’d stowed it and slapped it into her outstretched hand. She continued to watch Ned. Dane enjoyed this way too much and worked at keeping his face grim. He didn’t want to spoil the mood she was creating.

  Ned sneered and tried moving under the weight of the anchor. “Get this goddamn thing off me. You’ll—”

  “What? We’ll be sorry, Ned?” Shana lunged forward with the knife pointed close to Ned’s face, stopping a hair from his nose. Ned’s eyes widened and he jerked backwards.

  “Get this crazy bitch away from me.” A thread of panic laced its way into his voice.

  Dane folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

  “I want to cut you, Ned. Real bad.” She moved the knife closer and he backed away until his head hit the solid fiberglass of the well and went no further. She moved the tip of the knife around the surface of his face, barely touching his skin, but forcing him to keep still. Very still. Then she surprised Dane by poking the tip of the sharp blade into one nostril of Ned’s nose. And she left it there. The panic in Ned’s eyes was unrestrained now.

  “Okay, Dane. Ask your questions,” she said without taking her eyes off Ned. Her rock-steady hold of the knife stuck in his nostril, blade up, was poised to rip the man’s nose to shreds if he breathed wrong.

  Dane took a breath, impressed and swelling unnecessarily with pride in his girl. If she was his girl. Pushing that thought aside, he glanced at C
hauncey, who looked worse. The man wasn’t smiling and barely had his eyes open. Not good.

  He looked back at Ned and said, “Where are they holding Susan Whittier and how many men are on her?”

  “I don’t know.” Ned’s voice was tight.

  “Although that answer was not unexpected, I am disappointed that you’re wasting our time—”

  “Want me to cut him?” Shana spoke in a low voice. She stood like a statue, watching and waiting.

  “No!” Ned’s eyes stared back at hers and widened. He darted his eyes to Dane and said, “She’s in a bunker room. On the Tavares boat. In the bow under the deck. There’s a hatch and a stairwell that goes to it.”

  “What about guards?”

  “How the hell do I know? That’s the Tavares brothers’ operation. They run women all the time. They got a setup and plenty of muscle. They know what they’re doing. You can’t go against—” He screamed. Shana nudged the knife and blood spurted disproportionately out of the cut because it was the nose. Very strategic, Dane thought.

  “Enough,” he said to Shana and put a hand on her knife arm. Her arm felt like a steel rod, but she relented and withdrew the blade, stepping back.

  “I’ll radio Cap. We need to get there—”

  “No, we need to get Chauncey some medical help first—and dump this piece of garbage before we go in. Cap and his men can hold out another five minutes. I have a feeling the Tavares brothers are waiting for Ned to deliver a special package.” He looked at Shana and she raised her brows. He knew she realized that package was her. Ned had been assigned to deliver her and they were waiting.

  Dane turned to Ned for confirmation and found Ned watching Shana with nothing short of terror in his eyes.