As soon as he swerved onto their road Dane took in a crazy scene—lights flashing, police cars and several black SUVs lined up, and men running. He slowed the car and as they got to the house, he saw Ronnie leaning against a police car that blocked the end of the driveway. The kid looked white as the moon in a black sky. Three fed types were talking to him, one taking notes.

Stilling the rising rate of his seemingly endless adrenaline, he clenched the steering wheel, but there was nothing he could do about the pain clenching between his shoulder blades. He pulled the Jeep onto his already rough front lawn, angling sideways because his yard was shallow. Before the vehicle stopped, before he shoved it into park and pulled his key, he put a steadying hand on Shana’s shoulder.

She’d been about to leap from the car, but he made her wait until it was fully stopped.

“We’ll deal with this. You and me.” He gave her a hard look and she gave him one right back.

“Sassy.” It was all she said, her voice crumbling. But the slight nod and softening around her eyes before she flew out the passenger door placated him. He watched her run for the house and disappear.

Maybe he didn’t need to worry about her. Maybe he worried about her so he didn’t focus on his own churning gut at what they’d find inside his home. Yet again ground zero for a crime scene. Damn, damn, damn.

Exiting the car at a deliberate pace, the loudness of the scene hit him. The cacophony of the shouting voices, police radios and cop and ambulance sirens closing in ratcheted up the vise grip his muscles had, pulling his shoulder blades together unnaturally and painfully. At least the stabbing sensation hadn’t started. Yet.

He walked toward their back door, listening for Shana’s voice in the melee of sounds. In the six seconds it took to walk from the Jeep to the back door, he’d taken in everything—the state police car, the officer trotting over to Ronnie, the two unfamiliar unmarked sedans, the dark-suited men with grim mouths and troubled eyes, walking the perimeter looking for whatever. He counted the number and volume of voices shouting orders at each other at eight. Then he zeroed in on his back stoop, where the screen door hung open.

Every possibility of what might lie inside that door sped across his mind. He prepared himself to be gut punched by whatever it was, because he knew it would be bad.

Dane stepped inside his kitchen. He thought he’d been prepared, but he wasn’t.

Blood spatter covered his white refrigerator, leaving long reddish-brown lines to the floor.

“Sassy’s gone.” Shana spoke as if she were out of breath.

Tearing his eyes from the refrigerator, Dane saw everyone in the small kitchen at once. Cap stood with an arm around Shana. Andrews stood at the sink splashing water on his face. And Agent Goodley lay on the floor with a man leaning over him, ministering with a hunk of bloodied gauze and a needle and speaking in a low voice.

Dane addressed Andrews first as he turned from the sink.

“He’ll be okay?”

Andrews shrugged. He looked pale. “Shot to the shoulder. A lot of blood loss. It depends.”

Shana left Cap’s arms then and came to Dane.

“Sassy is missing.”

Dane felt the blow like a vicious kick to his balls. His mind filled with dust for a moment like someone had shaken it up. He felt guilty for being glad it was Sassy missing and not Shana.

Andrews said, “She could be anywhere. Don’t assume the worst—”

With the aid of Shana’s hand on his arm and his mental bag of survival tricks, he marshaled his thoughts and everything else in him, reviving his cool. Albeit with a fiery blast of vengeance fueling him.

“Let’s assume the worst,” Dane said. “That way we can find her if she’s in trouble.” He put an arm around Shana and was almost surprised it wasn’t shaking. They knew where he lived. Where Shana lived. They’d followed him or somehow found them after all.

“Let’s go talk to Ronnie and see if he can tell us more.”

“The kid’s useless,” Andrews said. “In shock I’d say.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cap said. They all escaped the bloody room. Dane slammed the screen door closed, making sure it stayed shut.

When they approached the men surrounding Ronnie, Cap took the lead.

“Gentlemen, we’d like a word with Ronnie.”

The two agents looked at each other before noticing Andrews trailing toward them.

Dane didn’t wait for a response.

“How are you, kid?”

“Not too good, sir.”

Shana put an arm around his shoulder in as motherly a gesture as a bombshell blonde in a short dress and heels could possibly manage.

“Take your time and tell me what happened.” Dane spoke quietly and calmly. The kid relaxed, but Dane would bet it was Shana’s arm around him and her hand holding his. She towered over Ronnie, making him seem smaller than the skinny teenaged kid he was.

Dane had never been a skinny little teenager, never shy, never intimidated or awkward. Not until recently if you counted some recent interactions with Shana. But he wasn’t counting those. Any awkwardness with her had been erased once they’d made love again.

He smiled at Ronnie.

The kid took a deep breath and blew it out.

“There were two men wearing black masks—”

“Two men? Are you sure?” Andrews said.

“Let him tell his story, Liam.” Dane used Andrews’s first name and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. His partner, such as he was, had just been shot and he deserved some consideration.

“I don’t know. They were in black and wearing masks and they moved fast. One of them could have been a woman. I think.”

“What happened? They came inside?”

“They burst in the back door. They went straight for Sassy and grabbed her. I yelled. I stood there and just—”

“What about Goodley?” Andrews prompted.

“Agent Goodley had been in the office—the living room—and he came out with his gun and yelled at them to stop. He had his badge out and yelled loud that he was Secret Service and kept his gun aimed.”

He paused and looked down. “I didn’t do anything. I just stood there watching.”

“Where were you standing?” Dane asked.

“I was in the dining room. I’d been sitting at the table and I stood. They looked right at me and had guns pointed. I yelled out of panic and then I froze.”

“What happened when Goodley came into the room with his gun?” Andrews prompted again, more patient this time. Dane saw the red rimming his eyes, saw the whiteness of his skin, knew he was on the edge.

“As soon as Agent Goodley came in the room shouting, they took Sassy and held a gun to her head. The other one aimed the gun at Goodley. I don’t know what happened next or why the masked man shot his gun. Maybe it was something Goodley said. I don’t know what he said. He was yelling. Then he was shot and slammed back against the refrigerator and the two men took Sassy out the back door.”

“I called Cap then.” He looked at Dane for confirmation. He could see it in the kid’s eyes. He needed someone to absolve him.

“You did the right thing, Ronnie.”

“I got a towel and held it over Goodley’s wound. He told me to press hard, but it didn’t stop the bleeding.”

Cap said, “When I found them, Ronnie was with Goodley on the floor pressing the towel. I think it saved his life or he could have bled out.”

Dane wasn’t sure this was true. The bullet wound hadn’t hit a major artery in spite of the generous amount of blood spattered in his kitchen. It struck him that normally Sassy would have cleaned the place up. She always had whenever it had been called for in the aftermath of whatever craziness had transpired. She would have been the one to set things to right while he and Shana were off taking care of the culprits.

Shana squeezed his arm. It struck Dane that the kid was too skinny. When this was all over he’d take him down in the basement and set him up with a workout in his private gym.

“I stood there and did nothing like I was frozen in place. I’m such a loser.” Dane could see the shame strangling the kid’s soul. “I didn’t even go outside to get the license plate number.”

“But you did call the police,” Shana said.

“Cap. I called Cap. Cap called everyone else. Andrews got there first because he’d been on his way. Goodley told me he was on his way. Me and Sassy were just talking about getting something to eat when the two men crashed through the door.”

“They took Sassy but they might not know it was Sassy.” Dane said out loud what he’d been thinking.

Andrews scowled. “What do you mean they didn’t know it was Sassy?”

Dane prompted Ronnie. “Did they say anything?”

“It sounded like they thought it was Shana they had. The man said something about one half of Beachcomber Investigations.”

Dane’s heart skittered at the words. Not that he was surprised. He shouldn’t be. But it was a damn heart-stopping thing to hear his most dreaded thought spoken out loud as real and happening.

“Sassy didn’t have her glasses on,” Ronnie said. “and she was dressed pretty in a new sundress—one Shana had given her.”

“Oh, God.” Shana broke form and enveloped Ronnie in a hug then, murmuring how sorry she was that they had taken Sassy instead of her.

Shit. Dane knew the kidnappers would figure it out sooner than later and then they’d take action. He didn’t like the scenarios playing out in his head about what kind of action that might be.

“Did they say anything? Give you any messages to pass along?” He pressed Ronnie. No more handling with kid gloves. Shana peeled away from him so he could speak. Dane knew she was aware of the same nasty possibilities that crossed his mind.

Ronnie shook his head. He looked like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. Dane was familiar with the feeling.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll get her back. Even if they think she’s Shana, they know I’m still out here. They won’t do anything until they find me.” Dane wasn’t lying. It was a likely possibility. Dane wasn’t lying.

“Oh wait. They said they’d be in touch. With you.”

“With me?”

“The bigger one said, ‘I’ll be in touch with Dane Blaise.’”

“This is just damn great,” Andrews said. “Our plan to flush them out is busted, they’re still at large who knows where, and they have a hostage—”

“Let’s take this inside, Andrews.” Dane pushed him toward the front door.

“And our damn safe house is compromised and now a crime scene,” Andrews said.

Dane kept pushing and nodded to Cap to take care of Ronnie.

“I’ll take Ronnie to the station. Then he can stay with me.” Cap led the kid in the direction of his police car.

The ambulance had arrived and the medics were loading Goodley in the back.

“Let me go see if I can talk to Goodley before he goes,” Andrews said.

Dane and Shana followed him. She took his hand. Every nerve ending in him screamed to hold her in his arms and take her off the island far away from the violence that had happened and the promise of more violence to come. But as his heart rate normalized and his insides cooled to the familiar icy resolve, the professional in him returned. The need to make this right, to find Sassy and take care of the assassins asserted itself above every other need he had. Even his need to love and protect Shana.

As he realized this, he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. But it was what it was. And he wasn’t going to talk to her about it. Not now.

Andrews stopped the EMT from pushing Goodley into the back. The EMT started to give him lip, but Dane recognized the young man.

“Let us have five seconds, Fred. I promise you it’s important—”

Andrews cut him off. “It’s only a goddamn matter of f—king national security.”

Fred nodded at Dane but didn’t leave Goodley’s side, holding a bag of fluid and ready to move. As for Thaddeus Goodley, the prick’s eyes were closed but Dane would bet his favorite Glock the man was conscious.

“Goodley—Thaddeus.” Andrews leaned in as he spoke, but Dane could hear him. He stuck close to make sure.

Goodley took his time opening his eyes and when he did, the first thing they found were Dane’s staring back at him. Thaddeus wasn’t up to a staring contest. He looked at his partner.

“What did they say? Anything?” Andrews spoke quietly.

“They said they would be back.” Then Goodley turned his head back to look Dane in the eye again. “To come for you.”

Dane kept his eyes on Goodley and though he knew he had only a few seconds, waited to draw everyone’s attention, especially Andrews, before he spoke.

“Which one of them said it, Goodley? Was it John Doe or Jane Doe?”