Page 20 of Beachcomber Danger

“What do you know about fitting in?” Andrews looked him up and down with one of those snide expressions that said he was up to the challenge.

Dane didn’t have to look down at his own clothing to know what Andrews saw. The tan cargo shorts with a short-sleeved white linen shirt and mud-colored hiking sneakers might not look right to Andrews, but the attire covered the bases. Casual, classy and practical.

They both looked at Shana who came up from behind to stand next to him. She could wear whatever the hell she wanted, of course, and always fit in because she set the standard for gorgeous no matter where she went. That was Dane’s thinking, but it looked like Agents Andrews and Goodley might agree with him. Andrews sat back down.

“Dane’s right,” she said. “The look on Martha’s Vineyard is more conservative than what you’re wearing. You’ll stand out. But if that’s what you’re going for.” Shana flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture and walked away as if she were bored with them. Dane watched her go into the house.

“Damn it.” Andrews tapped something into his keyboard.

“What are you doing?” Goodley sounded angry, but then, that was how he normally sounded. The chip on the chippy agent’s shoulder must be getting heavier by the minute.

“I’m ordering us some new clothes. They’ll get here by tomorrow.”

“Don’t listen to—”

“Goddamn it, Thaddeus. This is exactly the kind of stuff we’ve been told to listen to.” Andrews shut down his laptop and stood. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk to you about your assignment.”

“Oh?”

“You and your partner. The assignment you agreed to when you agreed to cooperate.”

They all walked to the back door.

“You mean the one where the Secret Service was going to use us?” Dane let Andrews and Goodley go inside first.

Dane asked Sassy to go down to the basement to allow them privacy for the moment. There was some space Shana had set up as a lounge with a television, books and even refreshments if she didn’t mind stale potato chips.

“You sure she can’t hear us from down there?” Goodley stood with his hands poised on his hips, one of them noticeably close to his holstered gun.

“Cut the crap, Goodley. You’ve already run the place over for listening devices and she doesn’t have supersonic hearing,” Dane said.

“Let’s get on with this, gentlemen,” Shana said waving an arm toward the dining table a short distance from where they stood in the hall near the basement door.

No way Dane wanted them going downstairs to have a close look around.

“I can’t wait to find out how you plan to use Shana and me.” He moved forward, herding them toward the dining room where they’d stacked some documents.” I certainly hope it doesn’t involve life-threatening danger.” Dane flicked his eyes in Shana’s direction.

She’d changed her clothes when she’d gone inside ahead of them, from her business suit into a floral sundress and strappy flat sandals. He was sure no one would object to her Hawaiian outfit. She made a nice distraction.

Shana compressed her lips in that way she had when she was trying not to smile.

“Have a seat.” Andrews gestured toward the dining room table.

Dane went still. He’d intended to take a seat, but it was the way the man said it, as if this were his home and he were playing host. No way was this guy, federal agent or not, playing host.

“If I wanted to sit, I would. It’s my home. I’ll stand. Say what you need to say.”

Andrews gave him a measured stare while his junior partner snorted. Dane didn’t pay any attention to him and the four of them stood leaning on walls or the counter dividing the dining room from the kitchen, except Dane, who leaned against the refrigerator with his arms folded.

“I printed out the itinerary for you. You’ll need to attend every one of the President’s public events where he’s away from his vacation home, as well as the dinners and cocktail parties he’s hosting at the house. There are maps and blueprints to the house where the President is staying. Your assignment will be to look for a couple who doesn’t fit into the crowds wherever the President may be.”

“A couple?”

“Yes. We have intel that says we’re looking at a couple—man and woman—likely posing as tourists.”

Dane nodded at Shana. She held her face blank, and the only sign of her triumph was the barely perceptible lift of her chin.

“You’ll start with the President’s arrival on Air Force One tomorrow.”