Oblivious to the tactical team’s excited calls for compliance, and her partner’s pleas, Devlin drew nearer to the suspect, her focus shifting from Crane’s eyes to his right hip.
“Jessica.” Randall shot glances at the S.O.G. teams while flapping his left arm downward; however, the men kept their weapons up.
Closing to within ten feet, she squinted at the man who had directed a hit squad to kill her in Mexico, had sent hooligans to kidnap her daughter, and had ordered another attack on her family not three hours ago. Please show me a gun, you piece of...
Crane turned his head left and right and took in the scene. He looked over both shoulders before focusing on the woman a few feet away. He narrowed his eyes at her.
Placing the 45 ACP’s front sight on his chin, she heard the tactical operators.
“Show your hands. This is your last warning. Show your hands or we will open fire.”
Devlin matched his hardened expression while gripping the Colt tighter. Her index finger edged closer to the trigger.
Crane dipped his head and glared at her before his features softened and he brought forward his empty hand.
She bobbed her head toward the four-by-four. “Hands on the vehicle and spread your feet...you should know the drill.”
He did as instructed.
Randall kept his gun trained on the man. “I’ve got him covered.”
Devlin holstered the 1911, slapped cuffs on Crane’s wrists, and lifted the back of his jacket. She retrieved a handgun from the waistband of his pants, spun him around, and pushed him against the SUV. Holding the weapon higher, she eyed him. “Why didn’t you go for it?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Live to fight another day, Devlin.”
“For you, that day will never come. Two of the men you sent,” she gestured toward Randall, “to kill us...are still alive. They’ve agreed to testify against you.”
After shrugging a shoulder, he smirked at her. “I was following up on a lead,” he eyed Randall, “on a man accused of embezzlement charges. I believed him to be holding,” Crane poked his chin at Devlin, “one of my deputy marshals at gunpoint...at a home in the country.”
She handed Crane’s pistol to a tactical officer. “And you think that’s going to save you from prison?”
He offered another feeble shrug. “One never knows what strange turn of events lies around the next bend, Jessica. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Devlin gripped his jacket’s lapels and shoved him toward the officer. “He’s all yours.”
The agent took Crane into custody and ushered him away from the scene.
The deputy director cranked his head toward Devlin. “I have many, many connections. I’m confident we’ll see each other again.”
She spent the next minute gaping at the man until his head was pushed downward, and he disappeared into the backseat of a Chevrolet Suburban.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?”
She confronted Randall.
He folded arms over his chest, looked down for a moment, and squinted at her. “Eight guns behind you...two more in front,” he thrust a finger at her, “and you in the middle.” He half pivoted his head toward the vehicle holding Crane while jutting out a thumb in the same direction. “If he,” Randall whipped his head back at her, “had drawn his gun...” his voice trailed off, as he waggled his head and did a one-eighty. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“We had an arrest to make. I was taking the lead.”
He whirled back around and leveled a finger at her. “That’s bull—” he swore, “and you know it. All,” he spread an arm out in a wide arc, “of these heavily armed men around...and you had to be the one to arrest Crane?” He shook his head and turned around. “No. You had a personal vendetta to satisfy.”
“All right,” her cheeks flushing, Devlin felt heat building behind her face and chest, “you want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking,” she lunged toward him, clutched his shoulder, and spun him back to face her, “that that’s the S.O.B. responsible for everything I’ve had to endure in the last two days. Everything that...” her voice going up several decibels, she rumpled Randall’s shirt with two fists and pulled him closer, “my family’s had to endure.”
Their noses inches apart, they gaped into each other’s eyes. Both of them saw fire in the other’s soul, Randall noting a heavy dose of pain commingled with hers.
“I’m sorry your loved ones were dragged into this,” he shook his head and broke her hold on his apparel, “but what you did was dangerous,” he twirled a finger in the air, “for everyone involved. Your recklessness just now could have gotten agents killed. You yourself could have—”
“Like you did in Mexico?”
Randall bristled and leaned away from his accuser.
Staring down the length of her forefinger, Devlin watched the fight drain from his eyes. Inwardly, she groaned. What are you doing, Jessica?
He squashed his lips together and looked away.
She opened her fist, showing him a palm. “Look,” a deep breath escaped her lungs, “I...”
“Good one. You got me there.” A strained moment passed. “I suppose that’ll,” he faltered, “always be hanging in the air between us, won’t it?” He bobbed his head. “So be it.” Randall turned his back on her. “Good bye, Jes—Deputy Marshal Devlin.”
Her hand balling again, she winced at his departing figure before letting her arm fall. A moment later, her chin dropped to her chest. Her voice a whisper, she shut her eyes and pressed a flat hand to her forehead. “You screwed this one up, Jess.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 31
Hunting
two days later...
6 may—6:56 p.m.
mount desert island, maine
The last two days had seemed like a blur, albeit a good blur, a fun blur. Having forced her injurious words to Randall from her conscious mind, Devlin had taken a couple vacation days and spent the entire time with family. The best day had been yesterday. Although a little late, she had kept her promise to her daughter. Devlin, Ashford, and Cassandra had
