Mendoza flopped over and swung an arm back and forth.
Devlin heard the blade rip her jacket sleeve on the first pass. She rolled away to avoid the knife’s second swipe. Leaping to her feet, she threw back the right half of her jacket.
The criminal charged and thrust out the switchblade, slicing at the deputy marshal.
Retreating, while arching her back and lifting her arms, she dodged the attacks.
Mendoza lunged and brought his cocked left arm forward.
Reversing course, Devlin got inside the arc, grabbed the offending wrist with both hands, pivoted clockwise, and wrenched her left arm backward. Her elbow caught the side of his nose.
Mendoza staggered away holding his face. Red liquid oozed from between his fingers.
Devlin drew her Colt and leveled the 45 ACP at his chest. “Drop the weapon! Drop it now!”
Lowering his hand, revealing a crooked and bloodied nose, he glimpsed his stained palm and glared at her.
She cocked her head at him. “Don’t be stupid. You’re outgunned...and federal agents will be here any second now.”
Standing taller and wrinkling his twisted nose, Mendoza toyed with the knife, tossing the switchblade from one hand to the other.
Devlin barely shook her head. “This ends with you in handcuffs or a body bag. Make the smart choice.”
He snorted a red glob out of his nose before spewing a vulgarity, a word unique to the female anatomy.
Her eyebrows bounced once. Sticks and stones...
Raising the weapon above his head, “You’re dead,” he rushed her.
She sidestepped left, lowered her aim, and got off three shots in less than a second.
Howling, Mendoza grabbed his left knee and toppled to the floor.
Devlin stomped on his wrist.
His hand opened.
She kicked the knife away, buried one knee into his back, and thrust the other into his neck, pinning him to the tile. “Lucky for you this,” she repeated the name he had called her, “didn’t follow protocols...or you’d be dead right now.” Devlin had violated one of the most important self-defense shooting tenets when she moved her pistol away from the target’s center of mass; however, she wanted to see Mendoza in prison, not in the ground.
The door to the loft burst open, and the S.O.G. team stormed the room.
She whipped out her cred pack, held the badge high, “U.S. Deputy Marshal,” and dipped her head. “Secure this prisoner.”
The two closest tactical operators slung their short-barreled Colt 9mm SMG rifles and pounced on the downed man.
Mendoza writhed in pain.
Devlin stood, holstered her pistol, and spied the slices on her leather jacket. She saw skin, but no blood. That was close.
Hawkins wove his way between the other five S.O.G. team members and hurried toward his partner. “Jessica, are you—” he spotted her jacket’s shredded sleeves, “did he cut you?”
“I...” she slipped out of the black covering and inspected her forearms, “I don’t think so.”
His chest falling, he let an audible sigh slip by his pursed lips and slid his Glock into its belt holster. “Thank God.”
“In fact,” she gave her arms and body a second look, “there isn’t,” before flashing him a quick smirk, “a scratch on me.”
He shook his head and huffed. “If you think I’m laughing at that,” he wagged his finger toward the ceiling, “after the stunt you pulled on the roof...”
“Come on.” She showed him her palms. “That was a little bit funny.” She lightly slapped his shoulder. “And everything worked out fine.” She motioned toward the man in restraints. “We got Mendoza.”
Hawkins eyed the captive and came back to her. After holding her gaze for a few moments, he plopped a hand onto her shoulder. “Do me a favor. The next time you’re planning something foolish like that...tell me first.”
Devlin half grinned. “If I told you first, you’d never let me go through with it.”
He snorted. “Damn straight I wouldn’t.” He gently squeezed her shoulder for a split second before patting her upper arm twice and smiling. “I’m glad you’re okay, Jess.”
Matching his expression, she twirled her jacket around her shoulders, slid arms into sleeves, and flipped out her hair. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Hawk.” She flattened the coat’s collar. “Let’s go. I have a family to get home to.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 4
Always
11:19 p.m.
alexandria, virginia
Located near the center of Alexandria’s Southwest Quadrant, within walking distance of parks, schools, supermarkets, and restaurants, the two-story, brick townhouse had a small footprint, but offered its residents plenty of interior space; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large, combined living room/dining room/kitchen area that encompassed most of the first floor.
Although built only thirty years ago, the cozy structure had a design that appeared to date back to Colonial times, blending modern convenience with old-world charm; all while managing to remain detached from the Capital Beltway noise levels.
While overlapping the ends of the black full-length bathrobe, and cinching the belt around her waist, Devlin crept across the bedroom carpeting and stopped at the side of a twin bed. For the next couple of minutes, her mind took her back to Mendoza, a man who had skipped bail and missed his court date, a man charged on three counts of child molestation. Interlacing her fingers in front of her body, she peered at the side of her daughter’s face. You’re the reason I do what I do...to keep you safe.
After regarding the six-year-old for another minute, Devlin brought the quilt up to the innocent one’s chin and tiptoed toward the door. Pulling on the handle, she heard a muffled voice behind her.
“Thank you, Mommy,” the girl yawned, “for keeping your promise.”
Devlin looked over her shoulder and beamed at the rustling lump under the covers. “Always, babe,” she whispered. “Always.” She sneaked out of the room, eased the door shut, and ambled down the hall. Yawning, she made her way into her own bedroom. Gently scratching her scalp with all ten fingers, she closed the door with a backward swing of an elbow.
The door stopped two inches from shutting, allowing the hallway nightlight to bathe a portion of the room in a
