Shake Down. Jill Elizabeth Nelson

made the battle lines fierce between the Morans and him, but if his enemies were behind the sabotage and knew Janice was only an agent, not the actual owner of the property, the arranged accident scenario made a little more sense. Shane might even encourage himself to believe his cover had not been blown. In fact, it was more essential than ever that he remain undercover. If the wrong people recognized him as Seth Grange, his presence in Janice’s vicinity would escalate the subtle hazing she was now experiencing into a death sentence in a hurry.

      However, the forces who wanted the property left vacant wouldn’t take kindly to Shane Gillum’s interference on the agent’s behalf, either. Maybe Shane would face a few of those arranged accidents himself, but watching out for those was better than the bullet to the brain he’d get if the Morans pierced his cover.

      The cottage was not the only place that called for a thorough shakedown. His mention of antiquing had been deliberate. Maybe Janice would let him sort through the storage unit’s contents in search of valuable items. She didn’t need to know that the item of the greatest value would be the most current, and finding it was the best way to move her clear of danger. With God’s help, maybe he could bring this terrible chapter in his life to a close without anyone else getting hurt—or at least any more hurt than she already was.

      Shane consulted his watch. He needed to check on Atlas. It had been nearly an hour since Janice had disappeared into the bowels of the hospital for treatment, and Shane had left the dog in the car with a pair of the windows cracked open. Good thing the weather was cool. In a few weeks, temperatures were likely to shoot up significantly.

      He rose and approached the small vending machine available to the people in the waiting area. A few coins sown into the machine reaped a bottle of water. The wastebasket next to the machine contained an empty cup that would meet canine needs.

      Out in the parking lot, Atlas was sprawled in the backseat, panting lightly, tongue lolling. He seemed grateful for the water and said so with a few laps of the tongue on the hand that offered the refreshment. The dog’s big, dusky eyes smiled at Shane, and he smiled back.

      Amazingly his pulse didn’t so much as skip a beat in handling this furry new friend. Shane might even keep the lovable galoot if he survived to succeed at his mission. Not that his knees wouldn’t knock and his tongue cement to the roof of his mouth if any other large dog came within ten feet of him. He wasn’t that phobia-free.

      A grim smile spread Shane’s lips. Only people with similar phobias could appreciate the emotional sweat equity he had put into making friends with Atlas. Wisely, he’d chosen a breed that, though large, was also particularly friendly. Atlas didn’t seem to have an aggressive bone in his body, which made him a horrible guard dog but perfect as an identity-camouflaging companion for a guy with dog issues.

      After taking Atlas on a brief walk to give him an opportunity to water a light pole, Shane returned the dog to the car and headed back into the hospital. From the hallway leading into the exam rooms, a willowy figure moved gracefully toward him, left arm in a navy blue sling.

      Janice smiled when she saw him, dark eyebrows lifting toward a tousled wealth of chestnut-colored hair. He should have known straight off the bat that this was no Moran. He had yet to meet one—male or female—who didn’t sport flaming hair and ruddy brows and lashes to match. Of course, her eyes were green like the Morans’, and hair color could be changed—he should know—but dying the facial hair might be excessive. Most conclusive of all, this woman didn’t act like any Moran he’d ever met.

      “Hey,” she said, halting in front of him, those green eyes frank and open. “Thanks for waiting. You didn’t need to feel obligated to do that.”

      “I didn’t feel obligated at all. Glad I could be here when you needed a hand. But I guess you’re kind of stuck letting me use your car to drive back out to my place. I can drop you off wherever you’re staying and then get another neighbor to follow me in my Jeep while I return your vehicle.”

      Her gaze went solemn. “That seems like an awful lot of bother. Glad I don’t have to put you to it. I’m staying at the cottage, which is apparently right next to your place. I think I can handle letting you drop yourself off then taking the wheel the rest of the way home.”

      “You’re joking, right? The place is falling apart around you, and you’re going to sleep there? What about a bed...chairs...a table...food? Of course, you can always eat out in Chilmark or Menemsha. In fact, I can recommend any number of the seafood places, but—”

      Janice cut him off with a wave of the hand and a laugh. “I appreciate your concern, Shane, but you should see the trunk of the car. It’s stuffed with more than luggage. After I flew in this morning, I spent a few hours in Edgartown picking up anything I thought I might need to rough it for a few days. Besides, the electricity should be on by the time we return, and a guy is coming tomorrow to check out the pipes and the water heater before getting the water service restored. I’ll be fine.”

      Shane puffed out a long breath and scratched his head. “You don’t exactly strike me as the ‘roughing it’ type.”

      “Oh, really! What type do I strike you as?” Her tone teased, but her eyes narrowed.

      Shane scrambled for the right words. He’d better not blow this deal now! He cleared his throat. “Would you think badly of me if I say ‘soft dinner music and caviar on toast points’?”

      “You’d put me in with the snooty set?”

      “No, I was picturing more the grace and elegance set.”

      “Hmm.” She tapped her lower lip, but a smile peeked out. “I’ll accept that.”

      “Whew!” Shane passed a mock wipe across his forehead with the back of his hand, and she laughed.

      “Does the doc say you’re free to go?” he asked.

      Janice lifted the sling-clad arm a few inches. “A hairline crack in a wrist bone, along with a bad sprain, as you thought. They gave me a short cast. And no stitches in my head, just a butterfly dressing. My brain seems sufficiently un-addled to require an observation stay in the hospital, so yes, I’m ready to blow this Popsicle stand.”

      Her bright gaze, brimming with wry humor, shot sparks of interest through him. He quenched them quickly.

      “What did they give you for pain meds? Maybe you shouldn’t drive at all.”

      “Nothing stronger than extra-strength ibuprofen.”

      “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night at a comfy hotel or B and B in Oak Bluffs. I could come get you in the morning.”

      Please let her agree to a night away from the cottage.

      He needed a chance to scout the place—check for signs of intruders, even use his amateur lock-picking skills to enter the premises and do whatever he could to make sure no more unpleasant surprises awaited the unsuspecting occupant. Who knew? He might even find what he was looking for and put an end to the threat altogether. It was the least he could do for someone thrust into a dangerous situation not of her own making.

      But Janice shook her head. “I’m stubborn to a fault. That place is not going to get the best of me. I have a job to do, and I mean to see it through.”

      Shane studied the lifted chin and determined gaze of the woman before him. She meant what she said. In that case, it behooved him to stick to her as closely as possible, not only in hope of discovering what he needed to find, but to offer what protection he could.

      “Are you still looking for someone to take over the nonprofessional tasks for you?”

      Her eyes glinted like emeralds. “You know someone?”

      Shane spread his arms. “You’re looking at him.”

      He gazed into her wide eyes. What if she said no? His heart throbbed in his chest. How would he keep tabs on the situation? But what if she said yes? How would he keep himself objective and detached when the smiles this woman sent his way dizzied him like a knock on the noggin?