Let the Hunt Begin

by Alex Ander

  Devlin pulled with her leg and arms. Her stomach scraping up, onto, and over the stern, she dragged herself into the boat and trundled onto her back. Her chest heaving, she looked right and locked eyes with Tim McGantry.

  She rolled clockwise and went to hands and knees before standing on rubbery legs.

  McGantry reached to his right.

  Devlin staggered a few paces then willed herself to charge forward.

  He pivoted right while swinging out his right arm.

  She closed the distance before he could line up the Ruger GP100 with her face. Grabbing the cylinder with her right hand, his wrist with her left hand, she wrenched his arm backward while spinning right.

  He went with the motion, his left hand rotating the steering wheel in the same direction he was being pulled, clockwise.

  Heading west, the boat started a gradual right turn.

  Throwing out her left leg, Devlin tripped him.

  He came down on his chest.

  She landed on top of him.

  The two combatants grappled for control of the revolver.

  Her wet right hand slipped down to the front sight atop the four-inch barrel.

  The cylinder rotated a sixth of a revolution.

  A 357 Magnum concussion filled the space, as a 125-grain bullet chipped off a piece of the vessel and continued across the water.

  Hot gases escaped from around the gun’s forcing cone, singeing the marshal’s thumb knuckle.

  Wincing, fighting through the pain, Devlin jammed her now tingling right thumb into the trigger guard, keeping McGantry’s finger—and the trigger—from coming forward. She then delivered a series of left elbows to his head and face.

  He wrestled with her.

  She beat his inner wrist against the floor.

  On his stomach, the man reached up, over his head, grabbed her ponytail with his left hand, and pulled.

  Her left shoulder bearing down on his right shoulder blade, her head being jerked backward, she raised his right arm higher and slammed his wrist onto the handrail.

  He let out a yell while his fingers splayed.

  The Ruger bounced once off the gunwale and fell into the water.

  The craft now heading north, the combatants exchanged a couple blows and scrambled to their feet. Facing McGantry, her back to the bow, Devlin went for the gun on her right hip.

  The six-foot robber charged, wrapped his arms around her, and the two crashed into the dash panel.

  McGantry rocked backward to deliver a headbutt.

  She kneed him in the groin.

  His bear hug on her loosened.

  She wriggled her arms free, slapped both of his ears at the same time, and pushed him.

  Backpedaling, he latched on to her right wrist. And like a pro wrestler tossing his opponent into the turnbuckle, he pulled, did a one-eighty, and threw her toward the outboard motor.

  Devlin’s heel scuffed.

  She toppled onto her backside and skidded a few feet along the floor until her shoulders banged against the stern. She put a palm to her forehead, shook loose the cobwebs, and looked up.

  The boat now cruising eastward, McGantry towered over her, a knife in one hand.

  The federal agent laid her forearms on the stern and pushed herself into a sitting position before thrusting out her right leg and driving the heel of her tactical boot into his genitals.

  Holding himself, he staggered backward, cursed at her, and reversed course, his face twisted into a snarl.

  Devlin grabbed the butt of her holstered Colt 45. In the next heartbeat, her eyes bulged when she spotted a long structure getting taller and wider just forward of the bow.

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 20

  Go Faster!

  Randall entered Shilshole Bay, his eyes scanning the horizon from southwest to northeast in search of the red speedboat. Cruising further into the bay, he heard a crash and looked to the north.

  On fire, a half-mile away, a mangled red boat floated in the water.

  His heart in his throat, he rammed the throttle forward and steered toward the wreckage. Leaning on the controls, “Come on, damn it,” he made a fist and pounded on the dash panel. “Go faster!”

  Up ahead, black smoke billowed upward, and flames rose higher into the air.

  Unknowingly, he bobbed forward a couple times in a subconscious effort to coax more speed out of the watercraft.

  On his one o’clock, a yacht had puttered out from a harbor and come to a halt near the flaming boat.

  Randall noticed something sail away from the yacht and land in the water. Drawing closer, he followed the line from the expensive vessel to a floating orange disk. His eyes darting back and forth, he picked up movement, splashes near the disk.

  Sixty seconds later, his belly tingling, his heart pounding faster, he cut his speed, made a hard right, reversed engines, and backed up to the orange-and-white, donut-like object, the arm of a swimmer clutching the flotation device.

  A man at the rear of the yacht cupped his hands around his mouth. “Are you sure we can’t be of any more assistance, Miss?”

  “Thanks guys. But I’m g-good. I appreciate the help.” Devlin let go of the lifebuoy and knifed through the water.

  Cutting the engines, Randall raced to the back of the boat, hopped over the stern, and landed on the swimmer’s platform while clutching a ladder with his left hand.

  Two strokes later, Devlin grabbed the platform then reached up with her right hand.

  He clasped her forearm and wrist and pulled.

  She got both knees on the solid surface.

  Throwing his right leg over the stern, he hugged his partner around her back and hefted the drenched woman aboard.

  Out of the water, she caught a chill from a breeze and shivered. “Th-thank you.”

  The deputy marshal eased her into a sitting position against the wall to the left of the steering wheel. “What the heck are you doing going for a swim, anyway? That water’s probably only fifty degrees.” He lifted the lid on a storage compartment, letting it bang shut while he moved on to the next bin. “And the air temp’s not much warmer.”

  “Just c-can’t wait for summer, I g-guess.”

  Finding what he was looking for in the last box, he scooped up a couple green blankets, dropped to his knees in front of her, and peeled off her soaking wet blazer. “Take your clothes off. We need to get you dry.”

  “I’m okay.”

  He noticed her entire body shudder. “One way or the other, Jessica, you’re getting out of those wet clothes.”

  “I’m not undressing in fr-front of you.”

  Frowning, he tilted his head back and looked at her down the end of his nose. “So, let me get this straight. I fondled your breasts in that shack in Mexico. You pressed your face up against my groin on a rubber raft. And, together, we dangled off the side of a mountain with our privates grinding away in some semi-quasi sex swing. And this...”

  She inwardly chuckled at their sexual mishaps.

  “...this is where you draw the line? You won’t take your clothes off in front of me to keep from freezing to death?”

  Biting her lower lip, she glanced away then came back to him. “Well, when you say it like that,” she undid a button on her blouse.

  Randall took off his leather jacket and laid it beside her. “I’ll even give you my pants.” He flipped out the end of his black belt.

  “I don’t want your p-pants.” She undid two more buttons. “You still have to get us to sh-shore, and I don’t want you doing that in your b-boxers.”

  The corner of his mouth inched upward. “Who says they’re boxers? Maybe I’m wearing a...”

  “No.” She thrust out her palm. “I don’t want to know what...”

  “...thong.”

  “...you’re wear—I said,” she slapped his right calf, “I d-didn’t want to know. Now I’ll have that image burned into m-my brain. Thank you very much.”

  He s
nickered.

  She spread apart the lapels of her shirt to expose bare shoulders and black bra straps before looking beyond him and spotting a couple people on the nearby yacht. “Can you at least hold up a blanket to give me some m-measure of privacy?”

  He lifted a blanket. “I’ll even close my eyes.”

  She glanced up at him. “Or you could just t-turn around.”

  His eyes popped open. “Oh yeah. That would make more sense.” Doing a one-eighty while twirling the blanket around behind him, he faced the yacht.

  Turning the sleeves inside out, Devlin pulled her arms out of her shirt, removed her gun and spare magazines, boots and socks, and pushed her waterlogged jeans down off her legs. She reached for the second blanket then hesitated while feeling her undies clinging to her delicate parts. She shrugged. In for a penny...in for a pound. She took off her underwear and bra then curled up in the blanket before rocking onto each cheek and tucking dry fabric under her butt to give her some separation from the cold floor. “Okay. I’m decent.”

  Randall spun around and went to one knee to put his jacket around her shoulders and drape his blanket around her body. Overlapping the covering under her calves and feet, he wrapped her up like a newborn baby in swaddling clothes.

  Devlin brought her knees to her chest and tried to relax.

  “So, all joking aside,” he rubbed his hands up and down the outsides of her lower legs, “how are you doing?” He walked forward on his knees to do the same thing to her upper arms.

  “Much better now th-that I’m on dry land.”

  “But you’re still shivering. Come here.” Whirling around, he plopped down on her right, put his back to the wall, and held her while vigorously caressing the blanket over her arms and legs. He looked up and around. “This is a good spot. You’re out of the wind here, so let’s just rest a while until you’re warmed up.”

  Thirty seconds passed.

  Randall peeked at the top of her hair. “I don’t mind telling you, Jess,” he faltered, “you had me worried there. I saw that crash and thought—” his voice hitching, he squinted at the bobbing carnage nearby and choked down his emotions. “Well, I’m sure you know what I was thinking.”

  Her right ear on his left shoulder, Devlin smiled.

  “So, tell me. What happened, anyway? The last thing I knew some guy was telling me you had jumped onto the back of a speeding boat.”

  Her smiled widened. “Yeah. The benefits of long arms and long legs.”

  FIVE MINUTES AGO...

  Sitting on the floor of the red speedboat, McGantry coming at her, Devlin let go of her holstered Colt 45, brought ankles to her butt, and pushed off while twisting her torso to the right to bail out of the watercraft.

  Noticing a low-in-the-sky sun casting a wide and deep shadow behind the vessel, McGantry frowned and spun around. His shoulders drooped and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “Oh, fu—”

  The speeding machine crashed into a ten-foot-high rock breakwater.

  McGantry went airborne and slammed face-first into the jagged rocks.

  The stern heaved out of the water, and the pleasure vehicle mashed him further into the rock face before bouncing back into the water.

  A small fire soon became a blaze with black smoke rising into the air.

  Fifty feet away, Devlin broke the surface and blew water out of her mouth and nostrils. Coughing, she treaded water, rotating forty-five degrees to see how close she had come to death. She coughed, expelled more water from her mouth, and ran a quick hand down her face.

  A minute later, the rumble of an engine drew nearer.

  “Ahoy!”

  Her legs kicking, her hands slapping at the water, Devlin turned around and squinted at a black shape blotted out by a rising sun.

  “Catch!”

  A round disk hit the water ten feet away from her. She swam the distance and hooked an arm through the lifebuoy. Breathing hard, she managed a quick wave. “Thank,” she gulped air, “thank you.” A tick later, she spotted a white boat heading straight for her.

  “Hang on, Miss. We’ll haul you in.”

  “Actually,” she put a flat hand to the side of her face to block the sun and get a clearer view of the oncoming craft, “I think my ride just arrived.”

  PRESENT TIME...

  Having filled her partner in on everything that had happened from the time he had dropped her off at the pier near the Ballard Locks, Devlin lifted her head away from her partner’s shoulder. “And that’s when you showed up.”

  “You must be beat.”

  Mentally taking note of the various pains coming from her ribs, back, left thigh, arms, and right thumb knuckle, she nodded. “I definitely burned a few calories this morning.”

  The two made small talk for the next ten minutes before Randall looked at her. “You good to go yet?”

  Another nod. “Please. I think the cold has seeped into my bones.”

  He hopped to his feet and fired up the motor. “Stay there, and you should be somewhat shielded from the wind, as we head back to shore.”

  “Hey, thanks for hauling me out of the water and,” she paused to peek at her blankets, “well, for pampering me, too, I guess.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He pushed on the throttle and eased the steering wheel to the right. “Besides,” the ‘boat captain’ glanced down at the woman on his left, “you’re quite the catch, anyway.”

  Devlin met his gaze, noting a twinkle in his eye. “Did you just make a fishing joke?”

  He grinned. “I’ve been trying to work that one into the conversation for the last ten minutes. Thanks for the lead-in.”

  Sniggering, feeling the vessel picking up speed, she pulled the covering tighter around her body. “Glad I could be your straight man.”

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 21

  Crash at Your Place

  10:17 A.M.

  Navigating traffic, his right hand holding his cell phone against his right cheek, Randall looked over at his sleeping passenger. “We’re,” he kept his voice low, “a mile away from the hospital, and she’s already out like a light.”

  “Oh my gosh,” said Faith. “How-what...is she all right? Is she hurt? What did the doctors say?”

  Back at the houseboat, after having instructed officers to take Tom McGantry to the police station, Randall had helped Devlin into their rental car and driven her to the hospital.

  Two hours later, after having had her wounds looked at, and been given a clean bill of health, she had been dispatched with a prescription for some light pain medication for her smarting ribs.

  “She’s fine. The doctors said she just needs some rest.”

  “Thank God.”

  “So, I was going to take her to a hotel but then remembered you live here in Seattle and thought we could crash at your place. Would that be okay?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course. Use whatever you want. I’ll call my building manager and ask him to have a key waiting for you.”

  “Thanks, Faith. I thought being at a family member’s home would be better than a sterile hotel room...you know, to help her relax. We’re almost to your apartment now.”

  “I’ll hang up and call the manager.” A pulse. “Oh, and Noah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for taking care of my sister.”

  He huffed. “I didn’t do anything. She took down both bad guys all by herself.”

  “No. I mean thank you for taking,” she paused, “care of her...as in caring for her.”

  “Shoot. That’s easy.”

  “Well, I’m here to tell you that for a lot of men...it’s not. So, thank you.”

  He glimpsed Devlin and half grinned, knowing she would be fussing over him, too, if the situation were reversed. “I’m happy to do it.”

  *******

  EIGHT HOURS LATER...

  6:33 P.M.

  SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

  BELLTOWN NEIGHBORHOOD

&
nbsp; Devlin yawned, stretched, and sat up in her sister’s bed before gingerly touching the bandage covering her aching right thumb. Bits and pieces from her harrowing adventure came back to her while she worked the digit up and down. Letting out another yawn, she threw back the covers and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed.

  Naked, she slid her feet into blue slippers by the bed and stood, her mind recalling how she had walked in on Randall vacuuming the bedroom floor, earlier.

  Shutting off the vacuum, “Watch your step,” he had said while snatching slippers from off the bedspread. “I picked up the big pieces by hand.” Ten days ago, Faith had broken a floor lamp’s glass globe while defending herself from kidnappers. “And I’m pretty sure I sucked up most of the tiny ones, but,” he held out the slippers, “you never know.”

  Wearing a red and white robe, she accepted the footwear then glanced around the room, remembering how it had looked the last time she had been here. “You’ve really been cleaning.”

  He yanked the power cord from the wall outlet and wrapped it around the sweeper. “Just straightening up while you were showering.” He gestured. “I scrounged some clean sheets and made a fresh bed for you, too.”

  Devlin smiled at the kindness.

  PRESENT TIME...

  Smiling at his attentiveness, Devlin donned the red and white robe and cinched the attached cloth belt around her waist.

  A hushed female voice came from beyond the ajar bedroom door.

  She turned toward the sound and frowned before leaving the bedroom and ambling into the living room to find two people sitting on the couch.

  “Once Jess is feeling well enough to leave, I’m going to drive down to—” noticing the man on her right crank his head further to his left and look behind her, the woman whipped her head around to stare in the same direction. “Well, what do you know? She lives. How are you feeling?”

  His right ankle resting on his left knee, Randall glimpsed Devlin’s red and white robe and blue slippers before poking out his chin at her. “Patriotic, it would seem.”

  Glancing at her attire and chuckling, Devlin made her way to an easy chair on Faith’s eleven o’clock and sat down. “When did you get here?”