Page 10 of Beachcomber Danger

“We have to get out of here.” Shana glanced at her Apple watch, a new toy she was determined to put to good use.

Dane stood. She was right. Andrews and Goodley were bound to be on their trail by now. And so far, the Secret Service was one federal law enforcement agency he hadn’t managed to piss off. Maybe he could keep it that way. Not that he cared. But Shana worried about it.

He stepped into the hall with Shana behind him close enough for him to smell her old-fashioned Chanel No.5. Before he could let the scent overwhelm his senses and take over, he heard loud voices coming from the front entrance.

“Shit.” The two suits had caught up with them. Aiming for the back door, he said, “Keep up with me.”

They half ran, slowing to a walk whenever anyone came into sight, through the same side streets, residential neighborhoods and backyards until they reached the parking lot of the grocery store. They slipped inside, rushed through the back storeroom, and pushed through the double doors into the deli area. By the time they swung around to the customer side of the glass case, Dane had made eye contact with Joe, an ex-marine deli man and part-time assistant investigator.

Shana slipped her phone from her small bag, still looking cool, but overdressed for shopping at the deli, and tapped in a number. He assumed she was calling Cap. Dane moved to the end of the counter to talk to Joe and she followed, nodding her head and listening.

“What’s up?” Joe asked.

“You see two guys in dark suits come through here?”

“You mean one tallish and one short, looked like Secret Service?”

“Those are the ones.” Dane half smiled.

“About eight, ten minutes ago. They looked around, had a short, tense conversation, then left a couple minutes later.”

Dane nodded.

“I won’t ask what’s up. ‘Bove my pay grade, I figure.”

Shana shoved her phone back into her bag.

“They’re on their way back. Left three minutes ago with an attitude. Cap told them he hadn’t seen us. He said to tell you the count is up to three cases. Dare I ask three cases of what?”

“Sure, but then I’d have to—”

She was looking over Dane’s shoulder when her chin went up. “Trouble at twelve o’clock high.”

“What do you think? We’re in a war movie?” He felt the approach of the two oppressive men and wondered if they knew how obvious and un-secret their presence was wherever they went.

“Where the hell have you been, Blaise?” Dane turned and stood in front of Shana, taking the full glare of the pair of scowls. Since they didn’t have their weapons drawn, neither the menacing look Andrews gave him nor the smirk from Goodley had any effect whatsoever.

Joe handed him a pound of baloney and he displayed it for Andrews. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re up to something. I know you went to see Lynch.”

Dane pushed past him.

“Where are you going?” Goodley said.

“Why bother asking?” Shana took Dane’s arm and walked with him. “You’re going to follow us anyway.”

“Meet us back at the house. Be there in ten minutes and don’t make us come looking for you.” Andrews was pissed. Dane looked over his shoulder to smile at him. He noticed Joe watching, arms folded. Now that Joe already knew something was up, Dane might enlist the old marine’s help with this one.

On the way to the Jeep he slipped out his phone and punched in Sassy Stephens’s number. He didn’t care if he was being listened to. They’d find out about it soon enough.

“Sassy, it’s your boss. I have an assignment for you.”

“Really? I mean, sure. What’s up?”

“It’s a babysitting assignment.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.