Beachcomber Danger is the 8th book in the Beachcomber Investigations romantic detective series.
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The trouble with being stupid-in-love is that it makes you stupid. And you have your whole world to lose…
Dane Blaise was once a special ops legend, so he’d been in danger before.
But not like this. This time it counted for all the marbles.
Shana was not going to let Dane take on this assignment without her, though she knew he wanted to. The stakes were off-the-charts high. This was about saving the President. And there was no way she would let him shield her from the dangerous consequences.
The only problem was, when someone was out to assassinate the President of the United States, things got complicated. They had a way of spiraling out of a man’s control until legendary status meant shit.
And in the end, there was nothing left but you fighting for the life of the one you loved most…
They were blessedly alone at this ungodly hour of the morning. Dane ran behind Shana along State Beach, mostly for the view of her backside. He could catch her and pass her if he’d wanted to. Sweat trickled down his temples and he bent his head to wipe the sweat off on his sleeve. When he did, he caught a glimpse of a moving car out of the corner of his eye.
He turned his head only slightly to see two men in a gray sedan creeping along the road about fifty yards behind, tracking them.
Picking up his pace, he caught up to Shana. Ever the competitor, she speeded up to try and stay ahead of him. Before she got too far, he managed to snag her t-shirt, almost tearing it from her shoulder. She slowed and swung around, pulling the shirt back on while she scowled at him.
She was about to protest but he quieted her with a look and hauled her in close. He didn’t want it to be obvious to the men in the car that he’d made them. He had no idea who they were or what they were up to, but it was scalded into his DNA by now to be cagey. Never play it straight.
He put an arm around Shana’s sweaty body, enjoyed the effects of running with the heat and humidity of the day rising, and nuzzled her ear while he whispered.
“Two men in dark glasses and suits are following us in a non-descript sedan. What does that tell you?”
“Are you in trouble with the feds?” It was both good and bad that she stopped squirming in his arms.
“No.” He thought for a moment, running his mind in reverse back to the last time he’d had a run-in with a federal law enforcement agency. The ATF. One of their agents had been bad and they hadn’t been thrilled that Dane had been the one to discover this fact. But the man had killed their client’s husband and Dane and Shana had nailed him with a recorded confession and a gun aimed squarely at him with intent to kill. No one was happy about that mess. As a reward for uncovering the ATF agent’s drug ring, Dane had been threatened with imprisonment for his so-called interference that they’d insisted labeling as obstruction of justice. But that fiasco ended a while back with a truce.
“Then what’s it about?” Her scowl changed over to something more loving, not worry, not yet.
“I’m hoping it has nothing to do with the President’s upcoming vacation on Martha’s Vineyard, but I’m not that optimistic.”
She stood stock still now and looked at him.
“Do you think they want us to—“
“No. I think they think we’re suspicious characters and they’re keeping an eye on us.”
She slapped his arm and took off at a sprint before he could stop her. Damn.
Now he’d have to catch up with her. And he’d have to acknowledge that she was probably right. The feds, likely secret service, wanted something from him—from them. He needed to remember he wasn’t in this alone. And never would be again.