Let the Hunt Begin

by Alex Ander

  Deputy Director: “Three days ago, there was a bank robbery in Eugene, Oregon. Four armed men shot and killed two people before making off with over half a million dollars. One of the victims was an off-duty police officer.”

  Devlin stopped at the bathroom sink and put a flat hand to her forehead. “That’s terrible. I take it the robbers are still at large?”

  “Correct. And I’d like you and Deputy Marshal Randall to fly to Oregon and speak with the bank manager...as well as a woman by the name of Julia Witten. She’s the slain officer’s girlfriend. I’ve already sent you everything the FBI has gathered, including her statement, but I think you should talk to Ms. Witten yourself.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “I’m in the process of lining up a jet for you. It should be ready to take off by eleven this morning.”

  Devlin checked the time on her phone and put the device back to her face. “Understood. If you haven’t done so already, I’ll call Randall.”

  “I was going to ask you to do that, so thank you.” A tick. “You have all the information I have, but if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Will do.” A moment passed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is the FBI turning a bank robbery over to us?”

  “They’re not. They’re still investigating.”

  Devlin frowned. “So, we’re conducting a separate investigation?”

  “For now, yes. I’ve spoken with the President, and he’s instructed Director Jameson to keep us in the loop on this.”

  Recognizing the name of the director of the FBI, Devlin nodded. “May I ask why we’re doing this?”

  “I’ve reviewed the video recording of the robbery, and something strikes me as,” a pause, “familiar, I guess. I don’t know. I just want us to poke around and see what we see.”

  “I can do that, ma’am.”

  “Have a safe flight, Jessica.”

  “Thank you.” Devlin clicked off and tapped the icon for Randall. She got his voicemail. “It’s Jessica. I just got off the phone with Marissa. We have an assignment and need to be at the airport by eleven. I’m going to shower and be at your place within the hour.” She tapped the ‘END’ icon, set her mobile on the sink, and regarded her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes going downward, she laid hands on either side of her belly and spied the tiny bump protruding from the broken circle made by her curved thumbs and forefingers.

  Naked, the six-two, two-hundred-pound Ashford came up from behind her, wrapped his arms around hers, crossed his forearms, and cupped her breasts before pecking her right shoulder.

  Seeing herself and Randall, from a few days ago, escaping a cabin in Norway on a snowmobile—the unconscious former Deputy Director Crane sitting between them and strapped to Randall’s back—Devlin heard her partner’s words, as the snow machine sped away...

  Keeping the headlight off and navigating via night vision goggles, Randall shook his head and smiled while steering toward the trees on the downward side of the mountain. “Like I keep telling you...I said it was a little tummy bulge.”

  Ashford’s kisses made their way up to Devlin’s right clavicle.

  Devlin tipped her head a tad to her left and scowled at the mirror. “Does my stomach look fat to you?”

  Freezing in place, his puckered lips touching the pointy part of her collarbone, he mentally cursed. Well, Curtis, I guess six months of marriage is all you’re going to get. His focus went to the few extra pounds he knew she had been trying to lose since giving birth to her daughter Cassandra six years ago. Answer too quickly and she’ll think you’re just telling her what she wants to hear. A beat. Take too long, though, and she’ll think—

  “What’s the matter? Do you need a minute to consult with your attorney?”

  He lifted his gaze to see her grinning at his reflection. Releasing her bosom from the man-made bra, he stood tall and laid hands on her shoulders. “Of course, you’re not fat. And, if you think that, or if some...some magazine article or bodyweight chart has told you that, then...then...then I’m here to tell you you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  After admiring his black hair, dark eyes, long eyelashes, and square jaw in the mirror, she spun around and clutched his wide shoulders, feeling the power in the former college football player’s heavily muscled arms. “I’m glad you didn’t say there was more of me to love.”

  He grinned.

  She took his neck in both hands and laid a smooch on his lips. “Thank you, Curt...for the ego boost.”

  “It wasn’t an ego boost. It’s just the cold, hard facts.” He kissed her. “You’re drop-dead sexy gorgeous every day of the week, Jess.”

  Devlin beamed before her countenance turned mischievous. “Are you trying to have sex with me again? Because I need to get ready to leave.”

  He matched her playful features. “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Her eyes grew wider. “What? Again?”

  Ashford reared back. “Hey! I held in there for you...all the way to the end.”

  She sniggered. “Yes. You did.”

  He made two finger guns. “I was like the last man standing in a gunfight.” A beat. “With one round still left in the cylinder.”

  Her shoulders rocking, Devlin laughed and patted his chest. “And I appreciate that, too.” She gave him a quick kiss and stepped into the tub. “Cassie’s probably up already. Can you go check on her while I shower?”

  “Sure thing.”

  She flung the shower curtain closed and turned on the faucet.

  A second later, the hiss of water coming out of the overhead nozzle sounded.

  Ashford took two steps, peeled back the curtain, and got her attention before giving her wet figure a long down-and-up. “You really have nothing to worry about. You have a great body.”

  Devlin rubbed water out of her eyes and kissed him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He pivoted away from her.

  She gently smacked his bare butt with her wet hand.

  He flinched and cranked his head around to see an impish grin on her face.

  Grabbing the curtain, “I think you’re pretty hot yourself, Mister Ashford,” she threw shut the plastic panel.

  Smiling, he headed for the door, stopping when he drew even with the mirror. He scrutinized his left butt cheek, the one she had hit. Ashford pursed his lips and shook his head, Definitely can’t argue with the woman, before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 4

  Freeze the Puck

  8:43 A.M.

  Naked, except for her red thong, Faith lay on the bed, her arms pointing at ten and two o’clock, her legs wrapped around the backs of Randall’s jean-clad thighs.

  His fingers entwined with hers, his forearms supporting his upper body, he kissed the left side of her neck.

  Groaning, her right cheek burrowing into a pillow, she gently writhed her hips beneath him.

  He let more of his lower half bear down on her while his lips transitioned to hers.

  Swallowing up his kisses, she crossed her ankles and pulled him higher, closer. Oh, Noah.

  From just south of her core, broadcast on heightened nerves, tingling sensations raced outward in all directions, intermingling with the heat radiating from her skin.

  “Oh, Noa—Ouch!”

  Randall performed an inverted bench press to relieve her of his bodyweight. “What’s wrong?”

  “Okay,” wriggling her hands out from under his, then propping her torso onto elbows, “these,” Faith listed right and used her left hand to undo his jeans, “must go.” She pushed them down over his gray boxer briefs, “Period,” before fiddling with the corner of a zipper’s metal pull-tab. “Getting poked...down there...by something sharp kind of ruins the mood. You know what I mean?”

  “I do indeed.” He high-stepped knees out of his pants while admiring her full breasts. “And I certainly wouldn�
�t want anything ruining the mood.”

  Smiling, “Me neither,” she overlapped wrists behind his neck and gently pulled. “Now, what were we doing? Oh, yes. That’s right.” She kissed him. “You were showing this Mahoney girl how you undr...”

  Randall cut her off with a quick peck.

  “...how you undress a woman.”

  Going in for a long French kiss, he slipped his left hand under her back and dropped to his same side elbow. Hooking the side string of her thong with his right thumb, he glided his palm and the undergarment down her left thigh.

  Feeling the release of the lingerie’s stranglehold on her intimate parts, she lifted her left leg.

  He slipped the unmentionable over her bent knee and down to her ankle, frowning a beat later at the echoing of Faith’s words in his mind. Mahoney girl. His urges waned. His thoughts drifted. Devlin...

  Curling both hands around his ribbed obliques, Faith rumpled the waistband of his underwear and pulled while raising her hips.

  Randall met her gentle thrust with one of his own, Jessica, then reared up and sat on his haunches. His chest heaving, he mashed the heel of one hand into his forehead and slammed shut his eyes.

  Panting, Faith went to elbows again and spied him. “Are you okay?” She grabbed a quick breath. “Is something wrong?”

  He dropped hands onto his waist and let out a long sigh. “Yes. There is.”

  “What is it?”

  He looked away before coming back to her. “It’s your sister.”

  “What about her?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  Faith groaned, flopped onto her back, and slapped both hands over her face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re thinking about her...now...at a time like this?”

  “I’m sorry. You said, ‘Mahoney girl,’ and I think my subconscious,” he paused, or my conscience, “drew a straight line from there to her. This just...it doesn’t seem right to me. I feel,” he wavered while squeezing the back of his neck, “well...guilty.”

  “I told you,” she said to the ceiling. “I’d make it right with her.”

  “I know. However, at this point, you haven’t had the time.”

  “But I will.”

  “I know you will. But she’s my partner. We’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to,” Randall bobbed his head from side to side, “I don’t want to breach the trust we’ve built up.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Her inner passions subsiding, Faith lifted her head off the pillow to take in his bulging briefs. “I mean,” tipping her forehead toward the out-of-sight anatomy she had been envisioning, “do you,” she wavered then forced herself to make eye contact with him a heartbeat later, “do you really want to freeze the puck?”

  His brows came together. “Freeze the puck?”

  “Yeah. It’s a hockey term. It’s when the puck becomes trapped, and the referee has to blow the whistle and stop play. In case you didn’t know, the Mahoney family is big on—” What am I doing? She shook her head. “Forget about all that. We’re getting off track.” She filled her lungs and blew out the air, sending locks of her hair flying upward. “Don’t you want to do this?”

  His eyes took in her long blonde hair, rounded breasts, and curvy hips. His mind conjured the physical pleasure he knew would come if he and Faith continued. His chest tightening at the notion of betraying his partner, another part of him pushed his will in a different direction, imploring him to override his sensibilities.

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 5

  Hat Trick

  8:55 A.M.

  Devlin opened the door of her black cherry Ford F-150 and lowered a black Merrell Strongfield Tactical six-inch boot onto the driver’s side running board. Glancing at a small two-door car parked behind her, she climbed down from the truck and shut the door before peeling back the left half of her lightweight navy-blue blazer, fishing out her cell phone, and trying Randall’s number for the third time.

  His phone kept ringing.

  She strode up the driveway, entered the apartment building where he was staying, and found his apartment. Envisioning the white two-door at the curb outside, she tried to recall the make and model of her partner’s rental car. Her detective senses firing when she heard his recorded voice for the third time, she clicked off, shoved the mobile into the left-front pocket on her blue jeans, and sent a forefinger toward the door buzzer.

  *******

  “I have to admit,” rising to her feet, Faith pulled her skimpy underwear to her waist, “your loyalty to my sister is quite admirable...frustrating, but admirable nonetheless.”

  Randall fastened his jeans.

  “Most men in your position wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to—”

  “Slap the puck into the net?”

  Sliding arms into bra straps, she stopped to smile at him. “So, you do know your hockey?”

  “Not really, but I’m not totally ignorant of the game, either. And besides...” he laid hands on her hips and applied gentle pressure.

  Going with the force, she spun in place and turned away from him.

  “...it wasn’t too hard to follow your analogy.” He brought the lingerie’s band around to her back and attached the clasps.

  “Thank you.” She hooked thumbs under the straps and adjusted them. “It’s not as much fun doing that in reverse, is it?”

  Grinning, he eyed her lingerie, “Of course it is,” then hugged her waist and dipped his head to peck the nape of her neck.

  “Liar.” She reached up behind her and cupped the back of his short, dark hair. “Back to the hockey thing. Hopefully someday...”

  His kisses found the rounded bone at the back of her jaw.

  “...someday soon, you’ll get a chance to score a goal.”

  His brain worked overtime for a snappy comeback. “Actually,” he smiled, “I had my sights set on not just one goal but,” he paused, “a hat trick.”

  “Ooh,” beaming, she cranked her head around to give him a single kiss, “I love an ambitious man.”

  He folded his arms around her belly, each forearm nudging a clothed breast upward a bit. “Let’s hope I’m not all talk.”

  Fifteen seconds of French-kissing passed.

  Feeling himself swelling against her left butt cheek, Randall backed away, inhaled deeply, and expended a whirlwind of air. “We’re doing it again.”

  Faith caught her breath. “We haven’t done anything yet.”

  He stooped, picked up her pants, and held them out. “In time...”

  She accepted the clothing.

  “...I’m sure we would have.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Have you had breakfast? I don’t have much, but I can make you some—”

  The doorbell rang.

  He whipped his head toward the sound.

  She put one foot into her jeans and joined him in staring at the bedroom door. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No one knows I’m even here.” He left the bedroom, jogged across the living room, and peeped through the hole in the door. Son-of-a— he whirled around and reversed course. Halfway to the bedroom, he snatched Faith’s leather jacket off the floor before darting into the private chamber and tossing the coat onto the bed. “Get dressed. It’s your sister.”

  “Good. Now I can have that talk with her.”

  “No. It’s not good. She’ll take one look at us and,” he gestured toward the front panel of her exposed thong, “well...what would you think was going on?”

  Faith hunched her shoulders. “We didn’t do anything.”

  He grabbed the door handle. “Let me re-phrase that. What would someone—who didn’t know that nothing had happened here—think?”

  She bobbed eyebrows and jammed her second foot into her jeans. “Fine. I see your point.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Just stay in here and,” he noticed a weird smile on her face, “stay,” a beat, “quiet.” He frowned. “What’s
with the look?”

  “I don’t know. All of a sudden, I feel naughty...like I’m the mistress or something.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled, closed the door, and crossed the main area again while donning his shirt. He grabbed the doorknob, took a big breath, holding it for a moment, before exhaling and opening the front door. “Jessica.”

  “I’ve been calling you for nearly an hour.” She brushed by him. “Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?”

  “No.” He spotted his cell on the kitchen counter and lifted a finger. “I must’ve shut off the ringer on my phone.” He closed the door. “What’s up?”

  “We have a new assignment.” Devlin glanced around the dwelling. “A bank robbery that killed two people. Thorn wants us to head out to the crime scene.”

  “Sounds good.” He swung open the door again. “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

  “We have a minute. Why don’t you give me the grand tour of your place? Do you like it?”

  “It’s great. This is the living room.” He pointed to his right. “The kitchen over there has a nice little breakfast nook.” He swung the finger to his left. “There’s the bathroom and bedroom as well as a second room which is set up as another bedroom. But I’m thinking of making that into a home office.”

  “My realtor contact told me—” rounding the sofa, Devlin spotted a woman’s blouse crumpled over a cushion.

  Randall’s eyes zipped to the same area. A curse word entering his brain, he felt a bead of sweat run down between his shoulder blades.

  Devlin stopped to stare at the article of clothing. “He,” she wavered, “he told me it wouldn’t have lasted long on the market.” Her body stiffening, she recalled the white car parked outside.

  Randall noticed her posture change. His mental synapses fired off another curse.

  She ambled toward the bedroom while picking up the top. “How about showing me the bedroom?”