Page 60 of Fire on the Moon

Chapter Eighteen

“Out of the boat, and no funny stuff,” a patrol officer ordered, his voice gruff as he threw Zane a line. He took it and tied up.

One of the uniforms helped Francesca out. Another man was keeping the crowd back from the scene of the capture.

“Okay folks. The excitement’s over,” he called out. But nobody was stepping back from the impromptu show. Zane could hear murmurs from the spectators and hoped none of them was going to do anything stupid.

“Hurry it up,” another gruff voice advised him.

“Keep your shirt on,” Zane snapped.

His arm was throbbing, but he made it to the dock under his own power. One of the cops climbed into the boat to pick up his bag with the computer. Two men on the reception committee pulled his and Francesca’s hands behind their backs.

“Stop it,” Francesca called out. “Can’t you see his arm’s bleeding?”

“He should have thought of that before he got himself into trouble,” one of the cops answered without breaking his stride. The officers marched them down the dock.

“Back up,” another uniform shouted to the onlookers as the fugitives were escorted to a pair of waiting black and white Florida State Police cruisers. They were both helped into the back seat of the lead car. Two of the men climbed into another black and white and followed as they headed out of the marina.

Zane wanted to put his arm around Francesca and pull her close, but that was impossible.

The best he could do was mutter to their captors, “Nice performance. You can drop the Law and Order act now.”

The driver turned to his prisoners with an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry about the restraints. We had to make this look real. I’d stop and get the cuffs off of you, but I want to get out of the area before some hothead gets excited.”

“You should have read us our rights,” Zane answered after letting out the breath he’d been holding.

He looked from the driver to his life mate and back again. “Francesca, my brother Knox Marshall is driving. And the guy beside him is Jonah Raider. They’re both Decorah agents—and good friends.”

Francesca stared at them. “Are you both wolves?” she asked.

In the rearview mirror, Knox shot him a look. “I see you had to fess up to your lupine condition.”

“It was either that or risk getting shot after she saw a wolf on the back deck of the boat.”

“And why was a wolf there?”

“Chasing away a Florida panther.”

Jonah cut into the conversation. “I’m not a wolf. I’m a telepath.”

“A what?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can communicate mind to mind. It’s useful for finding kidnap victims.”

Francesca’s head swung to Zane. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“We don’t talk about our talents unless we need to.”

Knox gave him a smirk.

They headed for an airstrip where a small plane was standing by. The cars pulled up, and everybody got out. As promised, Jonah cut the wrist restraints off of Zane and Francesca.

Zane flexed his arm.

“You need a new bandage?” Knox asked.

Zane inspected his shirt. “It looks like it’s stopped bleeding.”

---