Page 44 of Beachcomber Danger

Andrews scowled. “What do you mean they didn’t know it was Sassy?”

Dane prompted Ronnie. “Did they say anything?”

“It sounded like they thought it was Shana they had. The man said something about one half of Beachcomber Investigations.”

Dane’s heart skittered at the words. Not that he was surprised. He shouldn’t be. But it was a damn heart-stopping thing to hear his most dreaded thought spoken out loud as real and happening.

“Sassy didn’t have her glasses on,” Ronnie said. “and she was dressed pretty in a new sundress—one Shana had given her.”

“Oh, God.” Shana broke form and enveloped Ronnie in a hug then, murmuring how sorry she was that they had taken Sassy instead of her.

Shit. Dane knew the kidnappers would figure it out sooner than later and then they’d take action. He didn’t like the scenarios playing out in his head about what kind of action that might be.

“Did they say anything? Give you any messages to pass along?” He pressed Ronnie. No more handling with kid gloves. Shana peeled away from him so he could speak. Dane knew she was aware of the same nasty possibilities that crossed his mind.

Ronnie shook his head. He looked like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. Dane was familiar with the feeling.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll get her back. Even if they think she’s Shana, they know I’m still out here. They won’t do anything until they find me.” Dane wasn’t lying. It was a likely possibility. Dane wasn’t lying.

“Oh wait. They said they’d be in touch. With you.”

“With me?”

“The bigger one said, ‘I’ll be in touch with Dane Blaise.’”

“This is just damn great,” Andrews said. “Our plan to flush them out is busted, they’re still at large who knows where, and they have a hostage—”

“Let’s take this inside, Andrews.” Dane pushed him toward the front door.

“And our damn safe house is compromised and now a crime scene,” Andrews said.

Dane kept pushing and nodded to Cap to take care of Ronnie.

“I’ll take Ronnie to the station. Then he can stay with me.” Cap led the kid in the direction of his police car.

The ambulance had arrived and the medics were loading Goodley in the back.

“Let me go see if I can talk to Goodley before he goes,” Andrews said.

Dane and Shana followed him. She took his hand. Every nerve ending in him screamed to hold her in his arms and take her off the island far away from the violence that had happened and the promise of more violence to come. But as his heart rate normalized and his insides cooled to the familiar icy resolve, the professional in him returned. The need to make this right, to find Sassy and take care of the assassins asserted itself above every other need he had. Even his need to love and protect Shana.

As he realized this, he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. But it was what it was. And he wasn’t going to talk to her about it. Not now.

Andrews stopped the EMT from pushing Goodley into the back. The EMT started to give him lip, but Dane recognized the young man.

“Let us have five seconds, Fred. I promise you it’s important—”

Andrews cut him off. “It’s only a goddamn matter of f—king national security.”

Fred nodded at Dane but didn’t leave Goodley’s side, holding a bag of fluid and ready to move. As for Thaddeus Goodley, the prick’s eyes were closed but Dane would bet his favorite Glock the man was conscious.

“Goodley—Thaddeus.” Andrews leaned in as he spoke, but Dane could hear him. He stuck close to make sure.

Goodley took his time opening his eyes and when he did, the first thing they found were Dane’s staring back at him. Thaddeus wasn’t up to a staring contest. He looked at his partner.

“What did they say? Anything?” Andrews spoke quietly.

“They said they would be back.” Then Goodley turned his head back to look Dane in the eye again. “To come for you.”

Dane kept his eyes on Goodley and though he knew he had only a few seconds, waited to draw everyone’s attention, especially Andrews, before he spoke.

“Which one of them said it, Goodley? Was it John Doe or Jane Doe?”