Page 38 of Beachcomber Enemy

“Stick with me.” They headed to the driveway next to Reverend Hall’s home and approached an old Chevy Malibu. “I promise I’ll make it up to him, but we’re going to need to borrow the Reverend’s car.” Dane opened the door as if he knew it was unlocked and then proceeded to hot-wire the thing like a pro, undaunted by the newer electronic starter.

She said nothing because she knew that whatever came out of her mouth would sound admiring. And she wasn’t ready to concede to Dane. Not yet. She had too much to think about, too many emotions to work through yet.

In the next minute, they were driving the minister’s car at breakneck speed through the quiet streets of Vineyard Haven to Sassy’s house.

Chapter 13

Dane didn’t worry about coming in hot. He wasn’t in a cop car and he was delivering the prize package. His stomach turned at the thought of bringing Shana here to the place where he knew Nash wanted her. Somehow he had the idea that it was playing into the crazy man’s hands even though he knew the cops were in the process of arresting him back at the church.

Even before the car stopped short of the lawn at the end of the driveway, Shana flew from the passenger side.

“Damn it. Wait for me.” He flung the car into park, left the key in the ignition, and jumped from the car heading after Shana. He saw Joe and Ronnie watching the house from the backyard under cover of the woods. Both he and Shana headed that way crouched low as if that would save them from discovery. But then it wasn’t likely that Eli Hughes would happen to look out the basement window at that moment—or any time—to see them.

“We’re planning on entering through the front door, quietly. We need to take him by surprise to make sure Sassy stays safe,” Joe said.

“I’m going in first,” Ronnie said.

“I’ll watch Eli from close in and distract him if we need to,” Joe said. “You two can follow Ronnie inside for backup.”

“Do we have a key to the house?” Shana asked when a car screeched across the sidewalk and into the yard, heading straight for them.

“What the hell?” Dane yanked Shana behind him. Then he saw who it was jumping from the car.

“Go. Get in the house now and get her.” Ronnie and Joe spurred into action. Shana struggled from his grip to see who had been driving the car.

Then she yelled at the top of her lungs as the hideous Whitey Nash strode toward them across the grass fifteen yards away.

He was wielding a knife. Dane clamped down on Shana’s arm hard as she pulled away from him. Whitey was ten yards away now and Shana slipped the knife from her boot and faced him.

“Shana, no.” He breathed the words, his throat tight with fear and adrenaline. He had a gun in his shoulder holster, but he’d need to let go of her to get it. And she would lunge for Whitey if he let her go. Whitey stood twenty feet away now, holding his knife up prominently.

“Let her go. Let her come and try to finish the job. If she can,” Whitey spoke in a sick raspy singsong voice. Dane’s spine tingled with foreboding. He wanted to ask how he’d escaped from the cops. He wanted to hang onto Shana until the cops got there, which had to be soon. They must have known where Nash would run to.

It was an odd stand-off with Shana struggling to get at Whitey, Whitey standing patiently waiting for her to come to him and Dane holding on for dear life—Shana’s dear life—to stop her.

Whitey made a move. It was a small move, a half step forward, a tensing of his shoulders. Nothing obvious, but enough for Dane to know he intended to throw the knife. And he did.

At the same time, Dane threw Shana to the ground and landed on top of her. The knife went over their heads and planted in the ground. But he had no time to contemplate the near miss because Whitey was rushing at them now. Dane didn’t know if Whitey had another knife, but he had to assume the worst.

Scrambling to his feet, he lost hold of Shana as she rolled out of reach from both him and Whitey. Dane tried putting himself between the madman and his prey. It was clear that he was out for revenge.

Whitey came at him, trying to throw him aside to get at Shana. Dane went for his gun, but it wasn’t there. It had come out of his holster as he’d tried retrieving it when he’d taken a dive. Shit. Lashing out with his foot, he caught Whitey and knocked him off balance.

Shana pounced. At the same time Joe burst from the bulkhead doors of the house’s basement dragging Eli who was bleeding from the shoulder. Joe held a gun to the man’s head. That drew Dane’s attention for only one beat, but that was all the time needed for things to go straight to hell.

With a crazy screech, Whitey launched at Shana, using his brute force to knock her to the ground and force the knife from her hand. At the same time, Dane was knocked to the ground from behind as Eli jumped him. Joe lunged after him, but Shana needed his help more than Dane did.

“Help Shana,” Dane yelled as he pried at the stranglehold Eli had on him. When he headbutted the man they both fell backward and Dane freed the knife he had in his ankle strap. Eli abandoned him and, with a yell sounding like a battle cry, jumped onto Shana as she stood. Joe had Whitey in a hold. He’d lost his knife.

They all saw Whitey’s knife lying on the ground at the same time. Shana was the closest, but Eli had momentum. Dane was right behind him with his own knife in hand. Pulse pounding, his ears buzzing, the world shrunk to this tiny space between him and Shana as she reached for the knife a second before Eli landed on her.

Dane watched with horror as he leapt forward to stop it, but couldn’t. Eli got the knife. Shana wrestled with him, holding him off as Dane reached Eli and pulled him off. He heard shouts and the insane cackling of Whitey Nash as if he were in a cave with a strange echo. That one lost beat of time was all it took for Eli to stab his knife into Shana’s gut. It was the most sickening sound Dane had ever heard, the sucking sound of life torn and wrenched apart.

Rage boiled as he lunged from behind, grabbed Eli’s head and, wrapping his arm around, slit the man’s throat.

“Goddamn it.” Dane spun in time to see Whitey break free of Joe with a wail. Joe knocked him to the ground and, seeing only the horrific face of a lunatic, Dane dove into him, pounding the hideous face until his knuckles bled. As Joe pulled him up, Dane kicked Whitey where he lay on the ground moaning. Dane would have kept struggling against Joe, kicking Whitey until there wasn’t another breath in the bastard, but suddenly Cap was there, helping Joe pull him off.

All the fight left him at once when he heard Shana in a weak groan call his name.