Beachcomber christmas mi.., p.7
Beachcomber Christmas Miracle: a Beachcomber Investigations novella,
p.7
It was Acer and Ronnie who stopped him from ending the man.
“Shit,” Ronnie said as Sergey slumped to the floor in a pool of blood.
Heaving lungs full of air to keep up with his racing heart, Dane wrangled himself free from his friends’ arms.
“Don’t worry about that piece of shit. It wasn’t a killing wound.”
“You sure about that?” Ronnie stared at the growing pool of blood.
“I’m sure. Not if you grab something and stop the bleeding.”
Ronnie went to work immediately, checking under the piece of shit’s jacket and then visibly relaxing as he applied pressure.
Before Dane could move he heard the sirens and Peter showed up with the FBI Chief from Boston, fresh in from their helicopter trip with agents to make arrest and take over, Beauregard showed up at the same time with his two thugs. Predictably, he pretended he had nothing to do with it, pinning the kidnapping on Toly and Agapov.
Dane dragged Agapov’s miserable bloody, yet still alive and kicking carcass off the floor and shoved him at the nearest FBI agent.
“Why don’t you tell them who’s idea this was, Sergey? You willing to take the fall for this piece of shit? He’s even lower than you are because he’s a traitor to his badge on top of everything else—”
“You’re a no-good lying bastard and you always were,” Beauregard thundered, lunging at Dane. Both Peter and Acer grab him before the special agents can react. Dane would have preferred they let him go to give him an excuse to strangle the bastard.
“Cuff him. Take the piece of shit in and arrest him for kidnapping, assault, conspiracy—” Dane stopped listening to the litany of charges the SAC spouted against Beauregard and headed toward the alter at the front of the church.
That’s where he saw the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. His family, whole, intact and unharmed. Shana ran toward him, carrying both babies in her arms while they whimpered and Dane thought his heart would burst if he didn’t reach them and hold them in the next second.
Some state troopers—the ones who’d been there before Cap left—showed up at the church to help sort out the situation. George drove Dane and Shana and their babies who’d finally calmed back to police headquarters where they spoke with the FBI agents. Ronnie and Sassy were let go first and Dane told them he and his family would return to the beach shack as soon as they could. Acer, Cap and Peter were also being questioned, but they all knew where to go when they were finished.
It was two a.m. and a million stars twinkled in the velvety dark sky like their own personal, yet universal Christmas ornaments. It was Christmas Eve and he held his wife and two babies in his arms as they finally walked from the cape cod house that masqueraded as police headquarters, promising the FBI they would cooperate and answer all their questions some other time, some other place.
“I’ll see you back at the shack,” Peter said when Dane passed by him in the lobby. Cap nodded like it was a good idea. It looked like they were all wrapping up.
Dane didn’t bother arguing that the shack was no longer his, no longer a shack, that it belonged to Ronnie and Sassy, a new generation of fresh energy and self-righteousness to fuel them in their fight for justice. It was their turn to flail like a windmill in the never-ending currents of good and evil.
When Dane and Shana arrived with the twins back at Ronnie and Sassy’s place, they both refused to relinquish hold of their babies to Sassy or Ronnie, not even for a minute. Not even when Ronnie offered up glasses of tequila.
Dane accepted his glass and gulped his tequila while he held his sleeping baby girl. Shana refused the drink, albeit politely and Sassy let her off the hook with compassion and understanding as she downed a half a glass of the fiery liquid herself.
Dane grinned and shook his head.
“And so it starts,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast. “To impossible odds and friends who help us fight them.”
Acer, Peter and Cap all showed up, arriving in succession.
When Cap walked into the new kitchen, everyone held their breath until Dane gave his old friend a hug and Cap hugged him back. Or at least, that’s how it felt to Dane.
“We’re good?” Cap whispered as they separated.
“You’re now officially Uncle Cap and obliged to attend all the birthday parties.” The words were spoken casually, but he felt them like a twist in his gut because the invitation was impossible.
“I’ll be there. Wherever that is.”
“Good point,” Dane said. He slid a look at Shana. She squeezed his hand.
“We may move. Not sure how far.” She took a shuddering breath. “But far.”
Everyone fell into a melancholic silence.
“Who wants pie?” Sassy said.
Peter raised his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about your pies and haven’t had a chance to have one yet. Something always seems to come up.” He raised a brow in Dane’s direction and smiled. Sassy and Ronnie got busy dishing out pie.
“Don’t worry, Sassy,” Shana said. “Wherever we end up, you’ll know. We’ll be safe.”
“Flying distance or driving distance?” she said.
Everyone looked at Shana for her answer, including Dane. She looked at him and her eyes looked sad and tired like she’d been tested to her limit. Kind of like he felt.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Someone once told me it’s not wise to make a decision on an empty stomach—or immediately after a brush with death.”
Dane laughed and the dam of tension broke.
Peter arranged for Dane and Shana and their babies to fly back to Boston that nigh. Acer volunteered to drive the car back in the morning.
They all went to the airport where Peter’s private jet waited on the tarmac outside the FBO building. Dane stood with Shana in his arms and their babies in their strollers in the small lobby of the private aviation terminal. He turned to his friends and blocked the pang with practiced accuracy like an NBA center blocking a shot. Cap caught his eyes with a knowing stare.
“What’s next for you?” Dane asked his friend. He couldn’t think of him as anything less. Not anymore. He’d protected Shana and Dane didn’t care if it had been for selfish motives.
“I’ll be returning to Boston tomorrow,” Cap said. “What about you?”
“Home,” Dane said the simple word that was anything but simple.
“You should go far away, Dane. And maybe take your time about letting anyone know where you are.”
Dane nodded. “You’re right. Though it doesn’t seem fair that I can’t retire in peace.”
Cap raised his brows. “Since when have you expected life to be fair? You’ve always known it wasn’t. Better than most.”
Right again. “Let’s go.” He helped push the double stroller out the door onto the tarmac to Peter’s waiting jet. Peter nodded and said his good-byes to Cap, Acer, Ronnie and Sassy, then jogged ahead of them up the stairs onto the plane. He sent a flight attendant out to help with their luggage.
“Looks like this is it,” Shana said to Dane.
He took a long look into her sad fierce eyes. Then they both turned to face some of their dearest friends in the world. Acer, Ronnie, Sassy and Cap all stood outside in the cold wind in the middle of the night with them. They came to see him and Shana off, to give them a proper good-bye.
“I have a feeling it may be a long while before we return to Martha’s Vineyard,” Dane said to no one in particular. Cap caught his eye with a slight nod of approval. He knew.
Dane and Shana were never coming back to Martha’s Vineyard. They needed to make the separation from their old life complete and permanent. It was a matter of survival for their new family to make a new life.
“Merry Christmas.” He paused while they all said merry Christmas back to him. “And good-bye.” These words were for everyone, but he aimed them at Cap and felt the painful and ruthless butchering of his ties, his friendships and his very identity, felt the blood seep from his heart as if it were pooling at his feet. The excruciating pain of loss held him hostage, disabled him until Shana touched him, wrapped her arm around his and whispered something.
He wasn’t sure what Shana said because crippling pain stunned his mind into uselessness, but he felt her pull, like the struggling dawn after a long dark night and he turned to her automatically, his survival instincts knowing she was his new life, and the babies they made together.
He turned and walked with Shana. They lifted their babies from the strollers and carried them onto the plane, without looking back.
# The End #
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The compulsion to write stories has been with me always. I’ve written for fun since I was in second grade. In college, I started to work seriously at writing, and have been writing ever since (a wicked long time!) (I’m from the Boston area).
Improving my craft remains a constant goal, but I finally couldn't wait to share my stories, ready or not. And here I am now, 50+ books later, sharing all over the place and loving it!
Writing romance is me sharing my heart and my deeply held view of the world. An enthusiastic optimist, needing to envision the best in humanity, I bring this view to life in my stories, where the good guys always win and two people fall in love and live happily ever after.
What else besides writing? Ready for chocolate, morning, noon and night, I also adore kittens even though I’m allergic, love dancing like a maniac, bright sunny winter days that make you go snow-blind, and UConn Women's Basketball (go Huskies!).
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Queen, Stephanie, Beachcomber Christmas Miracle: a Beachcomber Investigations novella
