More bullets struck the surrounding water.
His shoulders hunched before he returned the wooden stick to the water. “You have the gun. Use it.”
On her backside, his lower legs straddling her upper arms, Devlin gaped at his dripping groin, a few inches from her nose. She rolled her eyes. This is NOT how I thought my day would go.
Loud bangs came from the shore, and mini water fountains emerged a few feet away.
“Take your time, Devlin. He only has three mags left.”
Staring at the night sky, going by feel, she fed another magazine into the 45 ACP. Running the slide forward, she performed a partial sit-up, pressed her left ear against Randall’s manhood, and rested the Colt on the raft’s port side.
Feeling a tingling sensation in his private area, he glimpsed himself and continued pumping his arms. “I thought you were married.”
“Just shut up and keep paddling. I’ll take care of him.”
Delivering fast and powerful strokes, he let out a quick snigger. “Aye aye, Captain.”
Devlin closed her left eye and pulled the trigger. She got off slow, accurate shots, making sure her aim was only near the human target.
The American side of the river was fifteen yards away. A hissing, gurgling sound drew Randall’s attention. He peeped over his shoulder. The rear of the craft was flooded. His feet were under water. “The gator poked a hole in our boat.” He doubled his pace. “We’re going for a swim.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 23
Straight for Alexandria
Randall rolled over the starboard side and splashed into the water. He emerged at the head of the raft and hauled the failing vessel, with Devlin aboard, the last five yards to shore, saving her from getting drenched.
She gathered her empty magazines and the backpack and jumped out of the flattened boat. Aiming her Colt at the Mexican side of the Rio Grande, she retreated up the embankment.
Winded, standing in silt, he bent over and put hands on knees.
Not seeing the officer or hearing incoming rounds, she tugged on Randall’s shirt. “Come on. Let’s get to cover.”
“I Just,” his chest expanding and contracting several times, “need,” he gasped for air, “a moment.”
“You can take a whole minute,” Devlin slung the pack, holstered the 1911, and pulled him by his arm, “when we get to cover.”
Letting her lead him away from the river, Randall staggered toward the short trees ahead. “You know,” after filling his lungs, “some of us,” he exhaled and grabbed more oxygen, “didn’t get an extra hour of sleep.”
She slipped into the shrubbery. “And whose fault was that? I told you to wake me up at two.”
“I was being nice...a gentleman.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.”
He chuckled. “Don’t backslide on me now, Devlin. I thought we were,” he pushed a limb out of his face and swung a finger back and forth between him and the deputy marshal, “starting to get to know each other...starting to bond.”
She appeared from the narrow forest and stopped at a two-lane road. More trees were on the other side. In the distance, she saw the lights of country homes. After glancing up and down the roadway and spying no traffic, she faced him. “You’re right. That was rude of me. Thank you for not waking me...and letting me sleep.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.” He lifted arms out to his sides. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
A sliver of a smile crossing her lips, she turned away while shaking her head. A beat later, she eyed him again. “So what happened back there with the cop?”
“I made a couple turns, took a back road, and double backed. I thought I had lost him, but,” Randall caught his breath while scanning the area, “he came out of nowhere during the last mile. He must’ve taken a different fork in the road...or a shortcut.” Randall shrugged. “Anyway, here we are, standing at our own little fork in the road. Well,” he dipped his forehead toward the barrenness on the opposite side of the motorway, “minus a couple of the tines that is.”
She peered at him.
He noticed her quizzical expression. “Now that we’re on American soil,” he brought wrists together and presented them to her, “I believe you have a duty to perform.”
Her gaze dropping to his hands, Devlin felt the handcuff case pressing on her lower back. Instinctively, she reached for the manacles. A fraction of an inch later, her arm stopped its motion. Biting her lower lip, she regarded him.
Randall hiked his brows a bit and glimpsed her wiggling fingers.
Her arm reversed course and she slapped his hands apart.
A broad grin cascaded over his face.
Devlin retrieved the cell phone from Steele. After eyeing the screen, she stared across the road. “It looks like the airport’s about three miles,” she gestured, “in that direction.” In addition to arranging for Paco to get Devlin and Randall over the border, Steele had contacted a pilot he had used in the past during off-the-books CIA operations.
Randall took the backpack from her.
Her back feeling instant relief, she flashed a smile his way. “Thanks.”
“Thank you...for not arresting me.” He slid the bag over his shoulder. “Are we going to steal a car?”
“No,” she ambled west, following the pavement, “I want to make it back to Alexandria without leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for people to follow. We’ll walk.” She glanced at the cell. “In a mile, we can cut across the countryside and shave some time off our journey.”
Randall let out an exaggerated sigh. “We’ll walk...says the woman with the extra hour of sleep.”
“Are you still on that kick? Drop it already, Randall. The humor has passed.”
He smiled at the back of her head. Randall...first time she’s said my name. He jogged a couple paces to draw even with her. Definitely warming up to me.
*******
an hour later
4:34 a.m.
private airstrip, south of
carrizo springs, texas
Devlin ascended the Beechcraft King Air 200’s retractable stairs and claimed a seat facing the front of the twin turboprop airplane. Randall sat across from
