Another Chance

Chapter 62

Sous chef Marley Crainbridge has a bad feeling. He's had one all morning. He usually leaves his knives onboard or puts them in his luggage if he'll be ashore for a few days. But today, they are beneath his fall coat and close to his heart. He can reach his favorite, the filleting knife with the razor sharp blade, almost instantly.

His crew is leaving the ship ahead of him, and men are moving toward them. The pace of the arrivals seems slow and casual, but his chef's nose smells cop. He turns to go back aboard. There are at least 20 places below decks he knows of where he can conceal himself until he figures out how to get away. The approaching men switch from a stroll to a dead run. If his people get caught, well that's just the price of doing business, but he'll be damned if he'll let himself be taken in. He's spent too much time and effort filling up his account in the Caymans, not to be able to enjoy the money.

As his men tackle the other targets, Charles Richfield goes after the retreating Marley Crainbridge. The cook didn't look like he was in good shape, but appearances can be deceiving. The fleeing felon's long legs fly over the deck. Marley has the further advantage of knowing exactly where he is going.

Through her binoculars, Kate watches anxiously as one man after another is cuffed and escorted to waiting black SUVs. "Babe, Richfield is taking too long to catch up to Mr. Thinly Sliced. Something's wrong."

Rick grabs her arm as Kate starts toward the ship. "No way! What you said about Aletha needing a father and you needing your husband works both ways. Our daughter needs you, and so do I. You're not back in harness yet, and you don't even have your gun or a vest. The N.Y.P.D. is here as back up. Let it do its job."

Marley's hand curls lovingly around the handle of his weapon. He's neatly separated hundreds of fish from their innards. If anything, a cop, a cop will be even more fun. Once he's where he wants to go, in the storage pantry he could navigate with his eyes shut, he'll let his pursuer catch up.

Charles can see that Crainbridge is slowing down, and his quarry's steps are controlled, not the wild dash he's seen in desperate attempts to escape. He's being led into a trap. He can feel it. Other than have his gun ready to fire, he's not sure what to do about it.

Kate approaches the N.Y.P.D command center. Oh, God! It's Captain Petersen! Could they have chosen a bigger asshole to run the operation? She can't change that now. The best she can do is voice her suspicions. She's been right before, and Petersen knows it. She'll have to make him give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Detective Beckett, I was told that you were an observer at this roundup. That's what you and your writer-partner should be doing, observing.

"It's Beckett-Castle. That writer is my husband and we've both been observing the entire cruise or the abduction ring on this cruise line would never have been uncovered in the first place. And I'm telling you, you need to send in a squad of officers to back up Charles Richfield. Marley Crainbridge is on his home field and smart enough to take every advantage of that. I know what it's like to try and work with the FBI. I've been there, but if they end up needing help from the N.Y.P.D., it may even take their attitude down a peg. I've seen it happen before."

Petersen purses his lips and runs his palm over the shiny skin of his bald head. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it." He picks up his radio. "Yellow team, move in!"

Ready to spring, Marley is hiding behind the shelves where sacks of flour and sugar and cans of shortening are stored, right near the door. When the cop comes through it, the blood that will stream to the floor will be from the freshest kind of meat. Marley's breathing quickens as he anticipates his blade meeting warm flesh.

Charles moves deliberately, knees bent, gun in both hands, eyes alert for anything he encounters. As he passes through the doorway to the storage area, he's listening for the sound of breathing. He hears it and starts to turn as Marley slashes at his neck.

Marley was aiming for the jugular. He missed, but there is still a stream of blood, slickening Charles' hold on his gun and blurring his vision. As Marley lunges at Charles, the agent steps aside, using the attacker's momentum against him. Marley stumbles but doesn't go down. Charles can hear a thunder of footsteps coming his way as he points his weapon toward Marley's center of mass. "Drop the fucking knife, or it will be the last thing you ever hold."

Marley stares back at the cop, who's visibly wobbling on his feet. "Screw you!"

The N.Y.P.D. rush into the room, encircling Marley with rifle barrels. The knife is torn from his grasp, and he is pushed to his knees.

Ignoring the pain of his wound, Charles smiles down at the defeated figure. "I'm not the one who's going to be screwed."

"Annoying as FBI agents can be, I'm glad Charles Richfield is going to be all right," Rick says as he slides behind the wheel of the car for the trip back to the loft. "He might not be if you hadn't sent in the troops. I know you wanted to be more hands-on, but you did good Kate. Marley Crainbridge and his goons are going down, and you'll be returning to the force in one piece, ready to continue the good fight while you prepare for your next step."

"You know Babe, we still have a week before I go back."

"And what are you planning to do with that week?"

Kate runs her fingertips up his thigh. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

Aletha is contentedly ensconced in Alexis' arms when Rick and Kate return to the loft. The redhead glances up as they come in. "From the looks on your faces, you got the bad guys."

Rick grins. "Was there ever any doubt?"

"Thank you for watching Aletha," Kate inserts.

Alexis affectionately runs her hand over her sister's hair. "No problem, but there's something I need to talk to you about before I go. Micah and I are getting married."

Rick points to the ring on his older daughter's finger. "I think the rock makes that statement loud and clear."

Alexis and Kate roll their eyes almost simultaneously as Alexis hands Aletha to her mother. "I mean we're getting married next week, in Judge Markway's chambers. Of course, we want you both to be there. Micah's invited his parents, and we'll have a few friends from school and Gram and Mr. Beckett. There's just one thing."

Rick coughs. "One thing besides your wedding?"

"Uh huh. Dad, I need you to play poker with Judge Markway. And I need you to lose."

Rick sinks down in a chair shaking his head, then shrugs and looks up at his older daughter. "Why not? I always pictured myself springing for your wedding. I just didn't think I'd do it that way. Baby, I will do my best to abandon my prodigious skill with the cards."

Alexis throws her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. "You're the best! And Dad, bring your seven-layer dip."