I couldn’t stop looking at her. She was wearing Nike running shoes, tight jeans, and a long, loose white shirt.
She’d pulled up her long hair and fastened it with a banana clip. She wore a bit of coral lipstick and no other makeup. I’d nearly kissed all of it off. I looked at her mouth and decided it was my duty to get the rest of it. I closed my hand over her forearm and pulled her to a stop. We looked out over the ocean, following the flight of several seagulls that were cruising for dinner in the water below. It was quiet and peaceful, tastes of salt blowing in the wind.
“Let’s sit down,” I said. We found a trio of rocks leaning into one another, back about fifteen feet from the cliffs.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“You want me to tell you how sexy you look?” “Yeah, but it can wait a minute. Tell me about yourself,
Laura,”
“Nothing wild in my youth, Mac. Actually, I had a pretty normal life growing up in Tacoma, Washington. My mom and dad were close to me and my older brother.
“I played the clarinet growing up. I had great technique but my tone wasn’t very good, I could never be first chair because of that.”
“You couldn’t play those sweet solos, huh?” “Only once in junior high. I was a pretty sight, my mom said, but my clarinet wasn’t a pretty sound. I went to Boston College, dropped the clarinet-no loss to the music world-and got a degree in psychology. I always knew I wanted to be a cop. I love my job, Mac. My older brother, Alan, is a homicide detective in Seattle. My dad was a cop. He’s dead now. My mom lives near my brother and his family in Seattle.”
I noticed how the wind, stiffer now than just five minutes before, lifted some stray hair and blew it across her face. I watched the fading daylight shadow-play across her face.
In that instant, a bullet struck the rock not an inch from her hand, spewing out sharp shards. She looked at me blankly as I grabbed her and hurled her to the ground, rolling back behind those rocks. Not much cover, but it was all we had.
Two more shots rang out, one striking the rocky ground and flinging out clumps of dirt and shards of stone, and the other probably high and wide. I grabbed Laura’s head and flattened her face against the ground. I had all of her covered with my body, I hoped.
I leaned close to her ear. “Damn, we’re about twenty-feet from the cottage and there’s not even a stump for cover.”
There was another shot, this one thudding solidly into the ground beside us. I pulled her back farther under me.
I looked back at the cottage, beyond that huge expanse of naked ground, and saw the front door slowly open. “Sherlock, Savich,” I shouted. “Keep inside. Call the cops.”
I saw a good half-dozen bullets slam into the cottage. Those shots came from my right, near the cliff. I squirmed around, pulled my SIG Sauer, rose up on my elbow, and fired off six rounds in that direction. I heard a yell.
I smiled. “Maybe I got one of the bastards. Now they know we’re armed, they won’t take the chance of rushing us. They might have heard me yell for Sherlock and Savich to call for the backup. Just hold tight, Laura. Think of me as your Kevlar vest.”
Her face was covered with dirt. She spit some out. “Damn, that was close. This is incredible, Mac. Who are these people coming after federal agents? What good does this do them?”
I was lying only half on top of her now. Three more shots sounded, these toward the cottage. I wasn’t surprised to hear return fire from the cottage, fast, an entire clip in a matter of seconds. I knew I wasn’t mistaken- there was a shout of pain. Sherlock or Savich had hit one of them. How many were there?
There was silence now. Even the seagulls were quiet. Laura began to squirm away. “No,” I said, grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t move, not yet. Wait a few more minutes.”