Page 6 of Beachcomber Enemy

“Not so much for the airplane,” Dane said. “It’s so small we’ll be lucky to make it to Cape Cod Airport.”

“F—ck you.”

“I owe you for the uniforms. I don’t want to get you in trouble. We’ll take them off as soon as we get a chance,” Dane said.

“You’re a f—cking bastard, you know that?”

“So they tell me.”

“Make sure you get back here in one piece. I’m holding you to that hundred thousand clams.”

Dane nodded and squeezed Shana to him. She was unusually quiet. Hell, she was never quiet, and since she’d gotten that text she hadn’t said more than a few words. There was a whole lot of something she wasn’t telling him.

The flight to the Cape was going to be tense—and that was without her unloading that world of trouble she was holding in.

“Come with us to run through the checklist,” he said to Vendi.

After raising one brow, Vendi trotted along with them to the plane. He stood just inside the open door while they went over the controls and checked the fluids, the electronics, and the mechanicals after starting the engine.

“I’ll be damned. All systems are go,” Dane said to Vendi.

“You ever flown a small prop plane like this?”

“Not in a while. I learned on a plane about this size. Around the same year. A 1945 Taylorcraft.”

“Very funny. My Piper isn’t too different from a Taylorcraft, but considerably newer than 1945. The radio call number is on the control panel.” Vendi pointed. “One-nine-five-N-three-Kilo. Don’t get me in trouble.” He looked up. “You fly in the dark?”

Not for a while, but this was no time to take out the manual. “Don’t worry, Vendi. I have no intentions of taking chances. I can fly a Piper in the dark. You have lights, don’t you?

“Where are you going to land her?”

“I told you. On the Cape. We’ll take a taxi from there and then we’ll get lost.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me your final destination?”

Dane was about to make a wisecrack, when Shana spoke up.

“I’d like to know that too—where are we going, Dane?” She sounded worried, like maybe she was hoping he’d take her to the other side of the world to escape.

“All in due time, my pretty,” he said.

“You make a terrible Wicked Witch of the West,” she said, but there was no humor in her voice.

“He’d scare the Wicked Witch if they met,” Vendi said. Then he saluted. “Godspeed. Call me when you can.”

Dane saluted back and pulled the flimsy door closed. Then he pulled back on the steering column. The engine revved and the plane jolted forward. Using the pedals, he maneuvered the Piper toward the empty runway of the otherwise silent airport. It was only nine p.m., but it was a Tuesday night in May, well before the full-fledged summer season. Thank God for that.

“Well?” Shana looked at him.

He turned his attention to her for a quick once-over while he guided the plane to the end of the runway for their race to takeoff. She held her hands on the edges of the seat as if they were climbing to the top of a roller coaster track and she expected the worst.

“We’re going to visit the governor.” It was the best place he could think of to keep her safe while he sorted things out, tracked down their mad bomber and shot him dead. He wouldn’t confess his intentions about that last part to anyone, not even Shana. But there was no way Dane would let this madman who had exploded their home live for more than five seconds after he got him in his sights. Maybe five seconds was too long.

Shana nodded. She knew it was a safe haven. Massachusetts Governor Peter John Douglas had been the commander of Dane’s special ops unit back in the day, a mentor and a friend ever since. They’d saved each other’s lives and called on each other in times of duress many times over the years. The governor could keep their dead-or-alive status under wraps and keep Shana safe at the mansion with his family. Because once Dane got the whole story from Shana about who this bomber was and what his beef was, there was no way in hell Dane was letting her work the mission with him. He could get someone else to help.

Hell, he’d track down the assassin alone if he had to. No way was Shana leaving the safety of the Governor’s Mansion until that bastard’s heart stopped beating.

He reached the end of the runway and turned the plane around. The tower gave him the go-head and he pulled on the throttle. The engine roared and they sped forward, increasing in speed. Before fifteen seconds elapsed, he pulled back on the wheel and lifted the Piper into the air.