Dane didn’t watch the ambulance drive away with Goodley. Instead he turned away from the street and took stock.

“You’re a man down, Andrews. How about if I fill in.” He had no intentions of staying out of this now.

“What was that crack about Jane and John Doe?”

“You know what it’s about. You may as well read me in on everything.”

Andrews looked at him and Shana. “You two are too hot. You’re targets. You’ll have to lay low. We’ll assign guards—”

“You have to be shitting me. You set us up as targets all along. That was the point. To draw out Jane and John Doe.”

“Stop calling them that. We know their real names now.”

“Well?” Shana asked.

“Preston and Emeline Chambers. They’re Eastern European but they’ve immigrated and taken up their new identity with gusto, gaining citizenship last year. They’ve even registered to vote.”

“How do you know they’re our Jane and John Doe hired assassins?” Dane doubted Andrews would tell him, at least not now.

Andrews waved a hand. “NSA shit. No one can hide from them.” Andrews gave him a look, like he knew a secret. Dane held his breath, hoping the secret he knew was not named Acer. Then the agent shrugged.

“Let’s get you two under wraps.”

“Not on your life,” Shana said. “Sassy is out there with these people and we’re going to find her.”

“I’m not so sure they have her.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Andrews?” Dane spoke before Shana had a chance.

Dane wondered then where the hell he and Shana would be staying. Glancing at his battle-worn beach shack, he didn’t know if they’d let them stay at the scene of the crime.

Andrews never answered his question.

“I’m heading to the President’s vacation house—our new headquarters. I suggest you two come with me. We need to regroup for the next outing.”

“I’ll come with you, but Shana is going to stay behind and see if she can get any leads on where Sassy might be.”

“You’re not going to put yourself out there for bait,” Shana said.

“You bet your ass I am. And you’re going to figure out where the Chambers are staying. But don’t make a move without letting me know.”

Shana said to Andrews retreating back. “Are you calling the FBI about the kidnapping?”

Andrews turned, “They’re already listening in along with DHS. Don’t get in their way. They have the full attention of NSA and if anyone can find the Chambers, they can. You’d be smart to go with Cap and the boy and lay low.” Andrews turned to Dane.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch. But I’m glad you’re still willing to play bait. We need to catch these f—ers.”

As soon as Dane the shithead who hadn’t given her so much as a wink, let alone a kiss good-bye, disappeared into the Secret Service agent’s unmarked sedan that may as well have a neon sign with arrows broadcasting that it was a federal agent’s car, she headed for the Jeep.

“Hold on there,” Cap said. He jogged over from his car with Ronnie trailing behind him.

“I thought you two left?”

“Where are you going?” He and Ronnie met her at the Jeep’s side in the middle of the small front lawn. An agent from God only knew what agency was plastering yellow crime scene banners across the front door as she watched.

Where was she going?

“The Lucky Parrot. To do some thinking.”

“I want to go with you,” Ronnie said. “I want to find Sassy.”

“You’re coming with me,” Cap said, putting a heavy hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “You look like you’re going to collapse as soon as your adrenaline runs out and I wouldn’t bet you have much longer.”

Ronnie looked white and she touched his cheek as much to feel his temperature as to comfort him. He felt warm, too warm. Like his blood had been working too hard racing around inside looking for a way out. She knew how it felt.

She had herself under control now. As long as she didn’t think of damn Dane and his insistence on playing the goat tethered to a pole.

Getting in the Jeep, she found the key in the ignition where Dane had left it. She tamped down on the glob of emotion that expanded and rose in her throat and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, ever strong and comforting, just like its owner. She pulled the Jeep off the front lawn and headed for the Lucky Parrot.

Clearing her mind as she drove, gaining confidence and resolve, she pulled around the back of the Parrot and parked on the narrow street half on the curb. Not bothering to check out the dining room, she went in the back door and down the stairs to find Acer. After rapping on the door several times she swore out loud and hesitated. Dare she call him?

Instead she went upstairs to check with Tom. Still dressed in a sundress against the heat of the day, she held back and scanned the cold air-conditioned room, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her arms, beginning with their usual booth. She knew the chills were from more than air-conditioning. In her booth sat Tom Jones with another man.

Damn if the other man wasn’t Acer. In disguise as promised. He wore a tweed driver’s cap with salt-and-pepper hair curling from beneath it and a matching moustache. What made her squelch a laugh was the British flag scarf he wore around his neck under a linen jacket as if he were an urbane man of the world. She’d been too used to him with his shaved head and rock band T-shirts to believe the façade. Someone had to tell him his big beefy frame defied the look he was after.

Not that it mattered. As she swept her eyes over the crowd, she noticed a dearth of federal agents in the place tonight. Either that or she was losing her touch for distinguishing them from the usual tourists. At least she knew who the Parrot regulars were and there were plenty in force.

Tactfully ignoring a few friendly smiles, she sat with Tom and Acer. Tom introduced him as Preston Chambers and she laughed.

“So you discovered their identities.”

“How did you know? Don’t tell me Dane’s intuition conjured up the name.”

“Andrews told us. Have you heard what happened?”

“No. I’ve been eating.” Acer said. His face went from affable smile to serious as a shark in a beat when Shana updated him on the situation, not holding back on the details except her assessment of Dane as the goat on a post. For Tom’s sake.

“We need to figure out where they’ve taken Sassy. Problem is neither Ronnie nor Goodley saw the vehicle the Chambers were driving, let alone where they took off to.”

“One thing is certain, they’re not off island unless they took a private boat,” Acer said. “There’s photos of our Preston and Emeline Chambers on every law enforcement website and bulletin,” Acer said.

“Then where are they?” Shana said. But she wasn’t expecting an answer. She was thinking about the problem.

“Don’t you think the FBI will find them?” Tom said. “God knows there seem to be more federal agents crawling around the island than legit tourists these days. And they don’t tip well.”

“I’m sure they’re looking, but their priority is the President. Same as all the agents. They want to find the Chambers’ but . . .” Shana didn’t finish. She was reluctant to share her fear in front of Tom. As much as he was a gruff, tough man of the world, he wasn’t law enforcement.

Acer spoke up instead. “You’re worried they’ll catch Sassy in the cross fire.”

“I think she’s not their priority.” She took a breath and shoved the fear and shakiness aside. She would not let her nerves get rattled now. She could do this without Dane, no matter how not right it felt.

“I want to find Sassy and the Chambers first.” She leaned in, aware of the possibility of surveillance, and spoke more quietly. “I don’t think they’ll return to wherever they were staying. In fact, what’s the least likely place anyone would look for them?”

“You have a place in mind?” Acer asked.

Shana flicked a glance at Tom, who was downing a shot of something.

“Yes, I do.” Becoming too aware of her surroundings and the need to get to Sassy first, she didn’t want to say it aloud, in fact, she didn’t even want to share her hunch with Acer. He needed to help Dane, not her.

She was thinking they’d make Sassy take them to where she lived the minute they discovered she wasn’t who they thought she was. And that would have probably happened as soon as they got into the car and Sassy had a chance to talk. She would take them to the Pie Shop. The basement would be perfect.

“You have a look on your face. Like you’re thinking of something,” Acer said. “Let it out. Dane would kill me if I let you go off on your own.”

Tom grunted and downed his drink.

“Right on that,” he said. “I’ll wager twenty hot ones that he shows up here any minute.”

“No,” Shana said. “He’s committed to . . . his assignment.”

Acer said, “You mean playing the target for a pair of assassins. You realize they’re expecting you to go after them. Could be a trap.”

“And you let Dane leave you behind?” Tom said.

“He’s counting on me to find Sassy. I’ll have to take a chance on the trap. Outwit them.”

“Nothing personal, but maybe you should both rely on the FBI to do—” Tom stopped short when she aimed her glare at him.

“To hell with that idea. They don’t care about Sassy. Besides, they’re too slow and they don’t know the island.” Or Sassy.

“And they don’t have me backing them up,” Acer said. “Although in their defense, they do have the NSA. Not too shabby.”

Shana smiled at him and picked up his glass for a sip of whatever the heck it was he was drinking. As the liquid torched a path down her throat she realized it was some kind of white-lightning poison they called whiskey.

“It’s a case of dividing and conquering. But Acer, you need to have Dane’s back. He needs you more than I do. I don’t think the feds care about him either.”

He watched her a beat and if she could read anything into his blank stare it would be skepticism.

“I can stay under the radar.”

“Not in that sundress. But then I suppose you look conspicuous no matter what you wear.” Acer took his glass back, and stared into it for a moment before nodding his head. Then he poured the rest of the healthy dose of every man’s courage down his throat.

“I’ll watch out for Shana,” Tom said.

He poured himself another drink from the bottle on the table and swilled it down. He’d already been half drunk before he’d downed it. She wouldn’t count on Tom Jones except to keep her secrets. She’d need to be sneaky to stay under NSA’s radar.

Her chest tightened at the thought that she could use Ronnie and Sassy’s help in a situation like this—if they hadn’t been the casualties. That bit of bitterness galvanized her energy and she stood.

“Where are you going?” Acer stood.

“I have a hunch.” She pulled out her throwaway cell phone. “Take down this number. I’ll be in touch.”

“You have a cupcake in that bag?”

She laughed at Tom’s puzzled scowl. Cupcake had been Acer’s code word for weapon whenever he sensed a blanket surveillance. No one was more paranoid than Acer.

“Of course. I always travel with at least one cupcake. A girl gets hungry at the most inopportune times.”

“You two are weird.” Tom stood and straightened his apron. “I’m getting back to work. You call me if you need anything.” He extricated himself from the tangle of chair and table with the lack of grace befitting a drunk man.

Before he returned to the bar, he said, “I don’t like to worry about you.” He cleared his throat and walked off with an unnaturally stiff back.

“That goes double for me,” Acer spoke almost too quietly for her to hear, but she did.

“I’ll be in touch. You take care of yourself, Mr. Chambers.” She winked and then went back out the back door. It had occurred to her on her way to the Jeep that maybe she ought to ditch it. It was well known to be associated with Beachcomber Investigations. Preston and Emeline would know the vehicle if they were worth their salt—and they definitely were that.

Stopping before she got to the car, she veered away and starting jogging down the road behind the restaurant. It was a long way—almost a mile—for a jog in heels to where she was going. She flipped her heels off and up, catching them and then speeding up in bare feet. It was a foolish mistake on her part not to get a change of clothes before abandoning the beach shack. Now she had no idea when they’d let her back in.

Shana ran in her bare feet with her bag swinging from her shoulder and her dress clinging to her legs. She laughed to herself at the picture she must make. The only thing appropriate about this dress was that the skirt was full to allow freedom of movement. Too bad it was brightly colored—not ideal for stealthy night work.

If her hunch was correct, she would need to be stealthy when she reached Sassy’s Pie Shop.