Beachcomber Santa

by Stephanie Queen

  “I’ll call the local police to check it out. I bet you my unborn children and future wife that he doesn’t have permission to be running the games in these various vacation homes.”

  “Let us go in first. Get some information, then you can have it if it’s worthwhile,” Dane said. He figured he was doing Jim a favor. Maybe he had a soft spot for the old ex-Marine. Either way, the case was an indulgence all the way around. He knew Cap had no desire to handle the small matter. Dane didn’t have much, but Shana was hell bent on taking the case—any case for money. Plus, she seemed to have a soft spot for Santa.

  She said, “Rusty is a decent man from what I know—let’s see what’s going on before we jump to conclusions. Give us a chance to find him.”

  “Sure. Go for it.” Cap sighed. “You get anything, come to me. I’ll pass it to the chief over in Edgartown so he’ll owe me.”

  “Men,” Shana said. But she was smiling at Cap as she stood.

  Cap said to Dane, “Why the hell are you looking for a missing Santa anyway? It’s a far cry from the usual gun smuggling and human trafficking missions you’re on.”

  Dane shrugged. “It’s Santa. We need him for the church Christmas party in three days. Too short of notice to get a replacement.”

  “You’re kidding? There are lots of guys who would—”

  “He’s a goddamned human being. His nephew is worried. Jesus. What do you want me to do—say no?” Dane pushed a hand through his hair. How else could he explain it?

  “All right, all right. Just asking. Guess a guy’s got to do something around here all winter.” Cap left the unspoken words hanging. Dane knew what they were. What the hell was he doing on Martha’s Vineyard on the off-season? Why wasn’t he out doing what he was meant to do? Ridding the world of evil men.

  He turned to Shana. She raised a brow like she wanted to know the answer to the unspoken question. Dane’s chest tightened. He controlled his impulse to reach out and haul her to his side and hang on.

  He forced a shrug and said, “You never know. Winter’s not over yet.”

  She went to the passenger side and slipped into the front seat the way she had so many times, but she felt less sure about her place. What the hell had he meant by the winter’s not over yet?

  Today they were partners, but the feeling that their partnership was precarious wasn’t helped by his attitude or statements like that.

  Plus, there was the other problem—the one where their relationship was about more than a partnership. At times she felt like they were on the precipice of something more—but that was something deadly and therefore forbidden, wasn’t it?

  The tantalizing possibility was always there in the background. She glanced back at the giant wreath hanging above the entry of the State Police headquarters and longed for something more than partners. They didn’t have to be partners or lovers, did they? Was there nothing else in between for them?

  Shana needed to be emotionally connected to Dane—like true friends, like family. With hers so far away in Sydney, Australia she felt the pang more intensely at the holidays. Skyping with her mother and brothers wasn’t enough to bring home that holiday feeling. The need she had for a lasting connection she could count on dogged her like a dark cloud. Wishing she had that with Dane might be useless, but she wished with all her heart they could put aside their sizzling physical attraction and the impossibility of a long term romance and be real friends—now would be a good time to try and get past their destructive tendencies to the good place.

  She turned to him and he looked grim. Shana stifled her sigh and flipped on the radio to drown out the slamming of her heart in her chest as her anxiety gurgled in her throat strangling her ability to speak.

  Dane spoke. As usual, he sounded unaffected and confident and completely self-contained.

  “Dress warm. And disreputable. Cover your hair.” He glanced over at her offending hair. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Sharp.” He spoke as if she were habitually late although she never had been. Not even a minute late. Ever. She wanted to shout this at him. Shake him. Wrap her arms around him and console him. Lose herself in him.

  “What about the business cards?”

  “See what you can find out on the net, the phone. We’ll make house calls tomorrow if there’s anything promising.”

  He was so close. And so hard and cold and needy. She pulled herself back from going further down that dark road. She’d been there before. She was smarter than to make the same mistake twice. She needed to be patient. He was worth it. She was crazy. Nothing was certain with Dane Blaise. Stilling her hammering heart and taking a gulp of sea air for courage, she spoke.

  “I didn’t know you were planning on going to the church Christmas party?”

  He shot a glance at her. A typically unreadable glance. Then he smiled like a spider. Her heart hammered faster again.

  “I have a date,” he said. She watched his sizzling dark stare and said nothing. She could wait him out.

  “With you,” he added.

  The tension got to her and she couldn’t help the flare of her nostrils and the intensity of her gaze tracking his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was moving closer to him like he was a magnetic field she was drawn to, or if it was only in her head. Her heart hammered and hiccupped with excitement.

  Licking her lips, she collected herself and said, “I’ll be under the mistletoe waiting.” She jutted her chin up. She wasn’t sure if he was up to the challenge of sentiment at Christmas time. It was so foreign to him. She felt like she was trapped in an impossible attraction to an alien.

  Chapter 4

  At the Craigslist poker game later that night in a closed-up vacation home in Vineyard Haven, they found Tom Jones, owner of the Lucky Parrott and two young rough looking men. The three of them sat at a table set for five. They darted suspicious glances Dane and Shana.

  “We have room for one more chair. We’re waiting for the fourth chair to show.” Lucky parrot man recognized Dane but said nothing.

  “Where’s Poker Santa?” Dane asked, using the man’s code name from Craigslist. Jones shook his head.

  “He usually late?”

  “No,” Jones said. “He’s usually here to let us in. Tonight these gentlemen let me in.”

  Dane looked at the pair.

  “Don’t look at me,” the skinny one said. “The bulkhead was open. So I figured he was in here.”

  “Where was the lock?”

  “The lock?”

  “The one that would normally be keeping the bulkhead closed.”

  He shrugged and looked at his friend. His friend started to rise. He was bulkier, but short and Dane had no trouble pushing him back into his seat.

  “Hey. I don’t know a thing. I ain’t seen no lock,” bulky man said.

  “Who are you—the heat?” Skinny said.

  Shana spoke up, “Whose house is this?”

  “How do I know?” The skinny man said. “I’m leaving. Looks like there ain’t going to be no poker game tonight.”

  Dane stepped back and let the two players rise from the table and take a step toward the stairs out through the bulkhead.

  “Before you go,” Dane said. “Let me see some ID.”

  He knew they wouldn’t like his request, so he was prepared when the bulky guy grabbed up a chair and rushed him with it. He stepped aside, pushing Shana aside as well. Then he used the man’s forward momentum to shove him into the furnace head first. Not too hard as to permanently injure him—Dane hoped—but hard enough so he was groggy and didn’t put up much fuss when Dane reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  “Hey,” his skinny friend said. Shana grabbed the skinny man’s arm and hauled him back when he tried to go to his bulky friend’s aid.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “How about your ID?”

  He handed it over. Feeling the generous Christmas spirit, Dane smiled at Shana. She squinted suspiciously back at him and handed the wallet over to Dane.

 
After taking a look at who the men were and where they resided according to their licenses, Dane turned to Tom Jones and nodded. The man nodded back from where he still sat at the now empty table.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Shana said. She stepped up the stairs and even with the big bulky coat hiding most of her charm, Dane felt compelled to follow her. Warmth spread following his smile as he did. Maybe it was the holidays finally catching hold to let him give into warm feelings more than usual. He had a bad feeling it was being around Shana that did it. Should he indulge in her company? Should he take that chance? What would he do when she wasn’t there any more? That was the question that scared him.

  Shana welcomed the cold night air and gulped it in as she emerged from the bulkhead and trotted back out front to the street. Dane and the confined space of the basement made her chest feel like she was deepwater diving. She looked back at the unlit gray-shingled Cape Cod house and watched Dane saunter toward her.

  “Psst.”

  She spun around to see the kid emerging from behind a bush in the neighbor’s lawn.

  “Need any food? I got a meatball sub—”

  Shana would have laughed, but Dane spoke up.

  “What the hell are you doing here and who told you where we were?” Dane had a pretend scowl for the kid and his hands on his hips. Was he mocking her?

  “No one told me. I followed you. Pretty good, huh?” The kid stood up and joined them in the moonlight.

  Shana scanned the street and spotted Ronnie’s van three houses down.

  “Very good. I’m glad you didn’t try to come inside.”

  The kid looked at his feet.

  Dane scoffed and aimed his scowl at Shana. The look was real now.

  “How about a meatball sub?” she asked.

  Dane cleared his face to a blank.

  “May as well.” He started walking toward the van as if he knew it was there all along.

  “I have steak and cheese, too.”

  “I thought you worked for a high end restaurant?” Dane said.

  “I moonlight on the off season. It’s real slow man.”

  Shana patted his back. “Don’t worry, we’ll pay you—”

  Dane stopped short and turned.

  “We will?” He raised his brows. Even in the dark she could see the twinkle lighting his face.

  “Yes. We’ll have him check out one or two of the business cards tomorrow and pay—”

  “You heard it, kid. Don’t let her forget. She’s tight with the purse strings.”

  Shana felt warm and not from embarrassment. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed Dane’s constant teasing. It was like a thorn in her side that she’d grown used to and befriended and now she wanted it by her side all the time.

  Her heart palpitated in fright. She couldn’t count on Dane Blaise all the time for anything. Except maybe to save her life.

  “I’m calling Cap,” she said.

  They reached the van and the kid went inside to get the food.

  “Who’s your partner, Shana? Him or me?” Dane wore his blank look. His words were not accusing—more curious about her answer. But she knew there was something underneath it. She’d seen it explode to the surface on occasion in the past.

  It was the macho competitiveness of the alpha male whenever another male was involved. Probably.

  “You worried?” She paused a beat to watch his response, to see if he’d laugh. He smiled a lazy knowing smile. He was such a game player. And she was so out of her league playing with him.

  “We told him we’d let him know. I’ll give him the names.” She slipped her phone from her pocket.

  Ronnie emerged from the van with two wrapped subs. Dane took one.

  “Forget the call. Let’s go see him in person.”

  “Great—where are we going?” Ronnie asked.

  “Not you. You’re done for the night. And don’t let me catch you following us again.”

  Ronnie smiled.

  “I doubt he’s still at the station—”

  “At home. We’ll visit him at home,” Dane said. He had a sneaky look. He was all nice and reasonable, but she could tell there was something simmering underneath because her heart started hammering and her adrenaline gave a spurt.

  “Fine by me,” she had the nerve to say. Dane’s evil smile in return bumped up the adrenaline so that her throat bubbled with excitement.

  “Let’s go.”

  Dane took his sub sandwich with him and walked toward the Jeep. She had no choice but to follow. She hated following him all the time. She wanted to walk with him. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Arm-in-arm.

  Dane knew very well that Shana was throwing Cap up as a shield between them. He wasn’t sure whether she knew it. He was certain that Cap knew it. The damn man enjoyed it. Taunted him with it. Used it for everything it was worth.

  Once he got in the Jeep, he wasted no time unwrapping his sub. Shana was right behind him. He wanted to be eating rather than talking on the short ride to Cap’s house on the outskirts of Vineyard Haven. He lived in a spacious ranch with a garage. Dane envied his friend’s garage.

  Shana hadn’t bothered taking a sandwich with her, but she busied herself with her phone, texting or internet surfing or something.

  When they got to Cap’s house, Dane banged on his front door. He could feel Shana’s discomfort.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “It doesn’t seem right bothering Cap at night at his home.”

  “Don’t pretend this is the first time you’ve been here off-hours.” He didn’t know why he’d said it. It was a wild accusation more than an excuse. She raised her brows at him and laughed.

  He deserved it. Cap opened the door then.

  “If it isn’t my two worst nightmares. What’s the big joke?” Cap stepped aside and opened the door wide to let them in.

  “You don’t want to know,” Shana said as she replaced her laughter with a ridiculous grin. The kind of look that made a man want to know what was on her mind. Dane knew what was on her mind. She was thinking he was an over-possessive idiot who had no right to be possessive at all.

  “Is that right?” Cap said as he followed them into his well-appointed living room where he had a fireplace lit and his black lab Lady sitting on a braided rug next to his comfortable looking recliner.

  “Where’s your pipe? You got Norman Rockwell hiding in a corner somewhere?” Dane looked around, aware that he was scowling.

  “Nice Christmas tree,” Shana said and went straight to it to inspect the ornaments close-up. The tree stood perfectly placed in front of the picture window with lights twinkling. Naturally.

  “So how did the poker game go? You win?” Cap asked.

  “Game called on account of our Missing Poker Santa never showed. But there was another missing chair. We’ll look into it.”

  “Any filled chairs?”

  “Sure. I got you some names—couple of ferry workers,” Dane fished the paper with the names from his pocket and gave it to Cap. “You can give them to the Edgartown Police chief to shake down if you want. There was no poker, but he can have them for breaking and entering. Let me know if they spill anything on the Missing Santa.”

  Cap nodded. “So what the hell are you two doing here? You want some eggnog? Or is that too cliché for you?” He jutted his chin pointedly at Dane.

  “I’ll have some eggnog.” Shana came away from the tree looking all warm and melty. “My family always had a great big tree like that with ornaments collected since we were babes—I’m sure they have a tree this year too. I’ll have to ask Mum to send a picture.”

  Damn if she didn’t sound wistful. Damn if Dane hadn’t been an idiot. Of course she missed her family at Christmas time especially.

  “It’s been a while since you’ve seen them,” Cap said. He handed her an eggnog and kept one for himself as he sat back in his chair and gestured for Dane and Shana to sit on the couch opposite.

  Shana sat and sipped. Dane stood. He watched them l
ike they were part of a scene from some ideal Christmas fantasy—and he was outside the picture. This was not a scene from any Christmas from his life. At least not in a very long while. He remembered his childhood, but the pang in his chest struck hard and fast so he put the memories aside. He put the notion of ideal Christmas scenes aside. Not his reality.

  “Nice place, Cap,” Shana said.

  “Glad you like it. I should have invited you over sooner—both of you—for dinner or something.”

  Dane scoffed. Shana had never been here before. He was an idiot. Christmas at his beach shack instead of some foreign outpost was having a bad effect on him. He was either an idiot or a sap. Neither a good thing. He went to his regular even breathing routine and closed his eyes.

  Then Cap said it. The question he knew the answer to.

  “Why don’t you go home for Christmas, Shana? There’s nothing going on here in the dead of winter.”

  She laughed an un-merry laugh. “That’s the rub—no business means no money. I can’t afford to fly all the way to Sydney, Australia. Not this year. Maybe next year though.”

  Her stiff upper lip killed him. Stabbed at his heart. She hadn’t complained to him about missing her family. Not that he’d asked. Leave that to Cap.

  “You two are forgetting—we’ve got a paying case right now. We’re charged with finding Santa’s whereabouts before the Church Christmas party in three days and put everyone’s mind at ease.”

  “What about the church’s money?” Cap asked.

  “What money?” Dane and Shana both said.

  Chapter 5

  “The money Santa, aka Rusty Gates, was collecting for the church—for the needy families in Vineyard Haven?” Cap said.

  Shana felt the warmth of Cap’s home, and the eggnog and the case of the Missing Santa had melted away into the background. Until she remembered the needy families and the missing church money.

  Dane said, “He took the money—along with all his floating poker game earnings—and left town. He’s probably in the Caribbean as we speak.”