Page 90 of Wild Fever

I took off after him as he ran into the salon, weaving through the horde of revelers.

Drinks spilled and hit the deck as he put shoulders into people, plowing a path.

A big guy put a shoulder into me as I raced after the punk.

It knocked me aside for a step, but didn't deter my forward progress.

Jack was right behind me. He grabbed the big guy, slammed him to the deck, and flex-cuffed him.

"Get the fuck off me, man! I didn't do nothing."

"You assaulted an officer.”

I kept after the skinny punk as he darted onto the port side deck and sprinted forward.

Trent was almost at the foredeck when he craned his neck over his shoulder with wide eyes to see my progress. He pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed it at me. It was a stupid move on his part. But coked up, he might not have been thinking properly.

The punk squeezed the trigger twice.

Muzzle flash flickered.

Two bullets rocketed in my direction.

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Imade myself slim against the bulkhead. The haphazard shots whizzed past me.

The punk disappeared around the Portuguese deck.

I advanced, heart thumping. Nothing like getting shot at to spike your adrenaline.

The revelers on the foredeck froze with wide eyes, drinks still in hand, watching the chaos unfold.

I held up at the Portuguese deck, then angled my pistol around to the starboard side.

By that time, the punk had moved to the starboard side deck.

I edged my weapon around the Portuguese deck.

Trent angled his pistol around and fired off two more shots.

I ducked for cover as the bullets blasted. "Put the gun down, Trent. You're only making it worse."

"Fuck you!”

Erickson and Faulkner flanked him on the starboard side deck. Gunshots filled the night. It wasn't long before Trent was out of options.

He angled back around the Portuguese deck, moving forward. Trent squeezed the trigger, blasting off rounds at me as he advanced to a forward settee for cover. The U-shaped dining area was just forward of the sun pads.

I took cover around the Portuguese deck as bullets peppered the bulkheads.

Trent grabbed a girl and pulled her close. Her glass fell and shattered on the deck. She shrieked in horror, her eyes wide as Trent put the gun to her head. He crouched low with her on the forward side of the settee. "Back off or she dies. I want every one of you scumbag cops off the boat. Now!”

“Quit being a dick, Trent,” his friend, standing nearby, said. “Let Lauren go!”

That enraged the little punk. His jaw clenched tight, and his face flushed with anger. He pulled the pistol away from Lauren’s head and aimed it at his friend, who was standing nearby at the gunwale. "Fuck you, Travis!”

Travis raised his hands in surrender. "Take it easy, bro.”