Rumble on the Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  The pressure was building in her chest, so she released a little air and continued to swim slowly on the bottom, searching for Richard with her hands while straining to keep her mind focused and calm. She had been under for at least a full minute already. She had maybe another minute of air if she conserved, but after that, she had to surface. Picking what she hoped was the right direction, she started a slow swim for the pier.

  A minute or so later, her left hand hit a chunk of wood and she felt a thin slice across her palm. Reaching out with her other hand, she carefully felt around the object. It was definitely a pylon. But was it one of the pier's pylons or one of the many hundreds of old ones sunk below the bayou's surface?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Touching the pylon with her nails in order to avoid the razor-edged barnacles, she began a slow assent to the surface, hoping all the while that her last gasp of air wouldn't be in the face of a killer.

  Seconds later, she broke the surface, releasing the last of the air from her lungs, and sucked in a deep breath. A hand reached out and grabbed her and she stifled a scream.

  "It's me," Richard said.

  She swallowed the cry in her throat and wiped her eyes, trying to clear her vision from the saltwater. It was still blurry, but Dorie could make out Richard and saw that they were underneath the pier and behind the seawall.

  "Is he gone?" she gasped, still trying to breathe normally. Why was it that her chest felt more constricted now than it had under the water? Her arms and legs tingled and she knew they were going numb.

  "I don't know," he replied and looked back out between the boards. "I never heard a boat, but he could have left before I surfaced."

  "Or he could still be out there."

  Richard nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah, but we're sitting ducks here as well. I think I should-"

  Suddenly, she raised one hand to silence him. "Listen," she whispered.

  Richard cocked one ear toward the front of the pier and heard the distant sound of an approaching boat. They peered between the boards, looking in both directions for the source of the noise, and Richard was sure neither one of them breathed. Finally, on the west side of the bayou, two boats full of fishermen rounded the corner. They continued a short distance past the camp and anchored just east of them on a bend in the bayou.

  He heard Dorie let out of breath of apparent relief. "He must be gone, right?" she asked. "It's not like he'd hesitate to kill a group of fishermen."

  Richard took another look at the boats anchored on the point. "No. He wouldn't hesitate. I think it's safe to get the hell out of here." He turned to look at Dorie and was frightened by what he saw.

  Her tanned face was as white as paper, absolutely no color left at all. Her arms were draped by her side and she swayed with the motion of the water, seemingly unable to keep herself still. "Dorie?"

  He reached out to touch her and her body went slack.

  Shocked, he rushed to put his arms underneath her and struggled to keep his balance. Once steady, he pushed through the water toward the bank on the far side of the pier, where he hoped, the fishermen would not see what was going on and come to investigate. He wasn't sure that the shooter was gone, and he didn't want to put a bunch of innocent people in the middle of the situation.

  Bad enough he'd gotten them there by wanting to look at the camp again. He laid Dorie down on the edge of the bank where she would be sheltered by the end of the pier then crept slowly up the bank and scanned the marsh on the other side of the bayou. He waited several seconds, but when no shots came, he figured it was as clear as it was going to get. Moving Dorie inside where he could examine her couldn't wait any longer. He returned to Dorie, put his arms underneath her limp form and carried her up the bank, cursing himself the entire way.

  This is all your fault. You want to get Roland so bad that you're compromising your instincts. Even worse, you're taking other people with you. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the fishermen, but apparently they hadn't noticed the activity at the pier. He hurried to the camp, checking Dorie every few seconds, and desperately hoped she would be all right.

  He was a little surprised to find the front door open, but walked inside anyway, certain the shots had not come from the camp. He laid Dorie on the couch just inside the door and made a hasty scan of the remainder of the tiny cabin, just in case anyone was still lurking.

  The camp was clear.

  Letting out a huge sigh of relief, he returned to the couch to see if he could bring Dorie around. He knelt beside her lifeless body and put two fingers to her neck. Her pulse was good. Steady. But he would have sworn it was racing earlier. Her breathing was still rapid, but not labored. Richard couldn't figure out what in the world had happened to her. Shaking her gently, he called her name. She moved slightly and tried to open her eyes.

  He called her name again, and her eyes popped open, staring wildly at him. She sprang to a sitting position and he grabbed her before she could stand. "Dorie, it's me, Richard. Dick," he said, trying to calm her.

  Her eyes began to lose some of their frantic glare and became more subdued, but still troubled. “Are you all right?" Richard asked. "Please say something."

  "Yeah," Dorie said, clearly confused. "At least, I think so." She looked around at her surroundings in obvious surprise. "How did I get here?"

  Richard let out a breath when she spoke, unaware that he had been holding it. "You blacked out under the pier right after the fishermen went by. I carried you up here."

  "I blacked out?" Dorie asked, sounding offended at the thought. "I never black out. Never." Her expression grew more irritated. "I thought I could handle it." She looked down at her quivering hands then crossed her arms in front of her, covering her hands with her arms as if angry with their lapse of strength.

  "Handle what?" Richard asked. "You know, it's all right to be afraid of being shot at. It's happened several times to me and every time, it takes weeks to get over it. Minimum."

  "It's not the shooting," Dorie said, her voice barely a whisper. "I've been shot at before. It's the water. I reacted fine, until I had time to think about where I was. I hate water!"

  Richard stared at her in complete amazement, unable to believe what she'd said. "How in the world can that be?" he asked. "You work on the water every day. Hell, you live on a boat."

  "That's different. I can be on top of water. I can't be in water. It makes me claustrophobic. I feel like giant weights are pressing me from every angle."

  He shook his head. "What are the odds? And you living in a place like Gator Bait all of your life. Where everything is about water."

  "One of life's little ironies, I guess. And such fun for me" She settled back on the couch and drew her knees up to her chest, shivering. "Look, Dick," she said softly. "I'd really appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us. No one else but my dad knows ... well, and Joe. It would kill my ability to enforce the law around here."

  He made the Boy Scouts sign. "I promise, I won't say a word."

  “Thanks."

  He put one hand on her arm and noted her skin felt cold and clammy. Taking a good look at her eyes, he realized that despite her fairly normal ability to converse, they weren't out of the woods just yet. He rose from the floor and headed for the bedroom.

  "You're still in shock," he said as he left the living room. "We need to warm you up before you black out again"

  He returned with a blanket and a couple of towels. "You need to get out of those wet clothes and wrap up in this blanket. At least until your temperature returns to normal" He set the blankets on the couch next to Dorie. "I'll be in the other room. I need to get out of these wet things myself so maybe they'll be dry by the time Joe comes looking for us. I figure we got at least an hour to wait unless you want to flag down the fishermen."

  "No. I don't want anyone in Gator Bait to know what happened here. We don't want to tip our hand. It's bad enough that Roland already knows we're on to him." She stared at him.
"I'm assuming Roland was the shooter."

  "Unless you know anyone in Gator Bait who has a big grudge against you and a supplier for heavy artillery, I would say that's a safe bet. That was an automatic weapon he fired at us. They're not that easy to obtain."

  "Not just any automatic weapon, Dick," Dorie said. "That was an M16, military issue."

  Richard stared at her, momentarily surprised by her statement. "You sure?"

  Dorie gave him a weak nod. "There's no other sound like it. I'm absolutely certain."

  "Does anyone in Gator Bait have that kind of firepower?"

  "Only my dad," Dorie replied, "but I doubt Roland dropped by to borrow a gun from the sheriff." She shook her head. "We're lucky your criminal isn't a good shot. We wouldn't have stood a chance with a professional marksman."

  Richard nodded in agreement, certain that someone had been watching over them, someone with the power to make a spray of bullets from an automatic weapon miss two large targets. He looked closely at Dorie, who still hadn't made a move to change out of her wet clothes, and grew more concerned. "Do you need some help getting up?"

  "What?" she asked, obviously miles away, then shook her head. "No. I'll be fine."

  "Okay," he said, not sure whether to believe her or not. "I'll be in the next room. Yell if you need me."

  Dorie waited until Richard closed the bedroom door behind him and struggled to rise from the couch, still unsteady. She unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them and her underwear off her wet body, hanging the garments over the plastic dining chairs. So much for doing laundry. This was not an event requiring clean underwear. Next time, I’ll save my quarters.

  She shrugged off her T-shirt and reached for one of the towels, drying her long hair as best she could, then grabbed the other towel to dry her body. When she was done, she wrapped herself in the blanket and curled up on one corner of the couch.

  "Can I come out?" Richard called from the other room.

  "All clear," Dorie said and he opened the door and walked into the kitchen. He wore a beach towel wrapped around his lower body, which might have covered the important parts, but left his chest open for full consideration. He must have a hell of a workout when he's not trapped in small towns.

  "Would you like a drink of water?" he asked.

  It took her a second to realize that one, he had asked her a question, and two, she was staring quite openly at him.

  "No," she said and spun around to stare out the front window. Behind her, she heard him open the refrigerator door. She told herself she wouldn't look, but sure enough, he was just bending over to remove the water from the refrigerator when she shifted her gaze back to him. It was a hell of a view. His back and shoulders were as equally impressive as his chest, the muscles rippling gently from top to bottom. He wasn't overdone, like some she'd seen before, but he was definitely built.

  Just before he turned around, she caught sight of a scar, low on the back near his waist. It was a bullet hole. She was sure of it. Although she hadn't had the pleasure of the experience, she had seen many in her lifetime. In their line of work, it was impossible not to. Living in Gator Bait, where accidental gun discharge was as common as jaywalking, only added to the odds.

  Richard took a seat on the couch and looked closely at her. "You feeling any better?" he asked, and she was surprised to hear the genuine concern in his voice.

  "I think so," she said. "I'm still cold, though. I can't seem to get warm enough and it's got to be ninety degrees in here."

  Richard nodded. "It's shock. It will take a while to wear off. But at least your color is coming back. You really had me worried for a minute there."

  Dorie squirmed uncomfortably and looked down. "I know you're probably used to working with tougher people. I'm really sorry you're stuck here in Gator Bait with me."

  "Hey," he said and put one hand on her blanket-covered leg. "You don't have to apologize to me. Everyone has weak moments. That doesn't make us incapable. It makes us human."

  "I bet you've never had a weak moment on the job," she said, still unable to look directly at him.

  "You're wrong," he said softly. "I had the worst moment possible on the job. I hesitated, and because of that, an agent died and the killer got away."

  She raised her head and looked at him. He stared straight ahead at the wall, the pain on his face clear as day. "Do you want to tell me?" she asked.

  He looked back at her for a moment and nodded. "It might help you understand why I take the chances I do and why this case is so important to me." He took a big drink of water and rubbed the side of his face.

  “It was a little over eight years ago. I was still a bit of a rookie then, but the agent who had been after Shawn Roland for years asked me to back him up on a check of an abandoned building. He had received a tip that Roland was staying there."

  Richard paused for a moment, fingering the edge of the towel, then continued. "His regular partner was in the hospital having his appendix removed. He didn't want to waste time asking the agency to reassign, so he asked if I'd go. I said I would."

  "Did you find Roland?"

  "Yes and no. Roland was there. The DNA match later confirmed it, but I never saw him. We were ambushed from the beginning. As soon as the other agent entered the stairwell, shots rang from above us. He was hit and instantly went down. I heard running on the stairwell, and he told me to go after him. Kill him if I needed to. Just don't let him get away again."

  "But you didn't go?" she whispered, already knowing the answer.

  *No. l started to, but I couldn't leave him that way. I radioed for an ambulance, then tried to suppress the bleeding."

  "He didn't make it," Dorie said, her heart constricting.

  Richard shook his head, the horror and misery of the situation etched on his face. "He was pronounced DOA at the hospital. And because I didn't follow orders, he died for nothing. Maybe I could have gotten Roland right there and finished all of this."

  "Maybe. But there's no way to know for sure. The agent you were with had chased Roland for years and hadn't caught him. Do you think that agent was incompetent?"

  Richard looked directly at her, his eyes beginning to turn red around the edges. "No," he said quietly. "He was one of the best we had. He was my father."

  She felt a rush of blood to her head, unable to fathom what he must have felt, must still feel to this day. The pain on his face was unbearable, but Dorie knew he'd made the right decision, regardless of the outcome. She leaned over close to him and put her hand on his arm. "You did the right thing. Don't ever doubt that."

  "But he died anyway. Nothing I did made a difference."

  “It makes a difference to you. If you had gone after Roland and your father had died, you would have always wondered if you could have saved him. That would have been harder to live with. Roland is only temporarily out of reach. That chance will come again."

  His expression hardened and he nodded. "You're right. I'll get another chance, but I've got to stop risking so much trying to force one. Coming here today was a mistake. I should never have asked you to do it."

  "I wanted to be here," she said simply, knowing she would have done the same had she been in his position. "Nothing that happened has changed that."

  He reached up with one hand and stroked the side of her face. "I hope you still feel that way after this," he said and leaned over to kiss her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dorie was surprised at the tenderness of the kiss. Soft and undemanding, his lips pressed against her own, his hand still gently touching the side of her face. The heat returned to her body in a flash and her breasts went on high alert, her nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of the blanket. The warmth spreading between her legs told her that despite her reservations, her body would not be denied.

  "I still want to be here," Dorie said softly, "but with a lot less material in between us." Before she could change her mind, she gave Richard a smile and dropped the blanket from her shoulder, exposing herself down to the
waist.

  Richard blinked in obvious surprise and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Dorie leaned over, grabbed him by the back of the head and locked him into a kiss.

  There was no gentleness in her kiss, just a hunger akin to starvation. Their lips parted and Dorie felt his tongue on hers, all tenderness gone. Pure appetite had taken over and it felt as if every nerve ending in her body were on fire. Dorie pressed one hand against his chest, the taut warm skin causing her head to spin, but there was no stopping herself now. She trailed her hand down his chest, across his abdomen and trickled her fingers across his lap, causing him to groan. Even though her touch had been light, there was no disguising his arousal and she gave him a smile.

  "It's nice to see not only your wardrobe is stiff," she teased and pressed her hand on his erection, stroking the hard length of him beneath the towel.

  His body stiffened and she heard a sharp intake of breath. "What are you doing to me?" he asked.

  Dorie laughed. "If you don't know, then you're in for a real treat," she said. She pushed the towel to the side, freeing the long, hard length of him. Although she hadn't thought it possible, his kisses grew more intense as he reached both hands around to cup her breasts, his thumbs making a circle around her nipples. She gasped at first and felt another wave of heat rush over her. She had no more recovered from that action before he pushed the blanket down, exposing her lower body.

  "We'll see who's in for the treat," he whispered, causing her skin to tingle with anticipation.

  With a gentle touch, he reached between her legs, running his hand slowly up her thigh until she thought she would cry out from the agony of waiting for his fingers to touch her where she wanted it most. When at long last he reached the moist spot between her legs, his initial touch almost sent her over the edge and she gasped for air. He smiled at her and pressed his fingers into her warmth before resuming his kiss. Softly he stroked her, over and over until she thought she would explode. With every increasing flick of his fingers, she quickened the pace of her hand on him as her own pleasure increased, and she could tell it wouldn't be long before they both spiraled over the edge.