Page 5 of Beachcomber Danger

Chapter 3

He entered the kitchen to find Shana pouring a glass of tequila for herself. Looked like they were going to have to hit a second bottle. That would have to do. No way he’d go for a third bottle in the basement if they finished that one. Not because he was a stingy host, but because he didn’t want to give a couple of Secret Service agents any clue about him having a stash of anything in the basement. There was a whole shitload of bigger and better things than tequila down there and he did not want them knowing about it, not even suspecting it.

Andrews watched Shana raise the glass to her lips to take a moderate sip. She was going all out for her badass role. Andrews finally tore his eyes away to speak to Dane.

“You talked to your friend, the Governor? We’re all set here?”

Dane nodded.

“I take it that old phone in your office is a secure line.”

Dane slashed a look at Shana. She didn’t flinch, but he knew she’d mentioned the phone. He supposed that was the least of their concerns. If he could claim that was the extent of their special equipment, that would work for him. He absolutely did not want them finding out about their house being wired.

Goodley spoke up then.

“Is it true what I hear about your house being wired to shock intruders?”

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re private investigators, not the CIA.”

Andrews laughed.

“It’s okay, Dane. We already have a file on you and your house. Have it on good authority—the FBI in fact—that the house is wired up like a giant electric fence.”

Dane took the bottle from Shana and drank the last shot.

“It’s time you boys read us in on the details of what you have going on.”

“Right after we get our stuff out of the car. We want to be all moved in before anything gets official.”

“You mean before anyone sees you.”

“We’re officially your pals from college.”

“Not exactly the right ages for that.”

“Okay, then we’re your pals from the army. Will that work for you?”

Dane shrugged. “Kind of the same thing seeing as I went to West Point.”

Goodley snorted. “That’s right. They must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel back in the day.”

Dane didn’t rise to the bait, but he didn’t have to. Shana did. Her tolerance for people treating him disrespectfully had shrunk to zero since they’d become betrothed.

“Where did you go to college, Mr. Dudley?”

“That’s Goodley. I went to Yale.” He smiled big like it meant something.

“Oh? I can’t imagine how you ended up in the Secret Service with a Yale education.”

“Enough of this juvenile crap,” Andrews said. “Let’s get our things.”

“You’re not really going to move in here, are you?” Shana said.

“Yes.” Andrews walked out the door with Goodley on his heels.

Shana turned to Dane. “That’s just great. Where are we going to stay? The island is booked solid. Sassy Stephens and Ronnie Ryan are living at the Pie Shop for two weeks while they Airbnb their apartment for a couple of thousand.” She thought for a beat and Dane recognized the avaricious gleam in her eye.

“Do you suppose the Secret Service is prepared to pay us for room and board? Ike and Mike must have an expense budget.”