“Hands in the air!” I shouted the minute I set foot on deck, flashing my forged badge. “You’re under arrest!”

Otto played the role of my partner this time around. His MO was to say next to nothing but maintain a steady, hyperalert expression that said, If you try to run, not only will I catch you—I will destroy you.

Kurtz knew better. Clearly, he had been on the other side of a Miranda warning before. He put lifted hands, palms out, to indicate he wouldn’t be reaching for a weapon (to shoot his way out) or a wallet (to buy his way out).

His young boss, however, was clearly a law enforcement virgin. Jamie Halsey’s face burned bright red, as if he’d been caught in the act of something naughty, and he began to stammer a weird blend of explanation and threat.

“W-wait wait! We weren’t d-doing anything! We were due to leave tonight because I have a meeting in the morning. Ask Captain Kurtz—I swear it’s the truth. You can’t stop us! I don’t even think you have jurisdiction here. My father will make you both sorry you ever set foot on this boat!”

Kurtz shook his head and muttered, “Jamie, quit it.”

I nodded at Otto, who pulled a pair of handcuffs from a case strapped to his belt and approached Kurtz. Otto cuffed Kurtz in front, an indication that we could be civilized about this whole thing.

“What’s the charge, Officer? Or is that Special Agent? Or perhaps some other title you guys made up?”

Otto merely smiled.

Halsey, on the other hand, was freaking out at the sight of the cuffs in my hand. He looked like a schoolboy who’d just watched his teacher pull out a whipping cane.

“You’re not putting those on me. I know my rights. I get a phone call!”

I shook my head. “Jamie, calm down. You still have the chance for this to go relatively easy.”

Halsey turned to his captain. “Kurtz—do something!”

“Kid, let her put the cuffs on and get this whole thing over with.”

“No—no way!”

And then he went for it. Some primal part of his brain made the calculation. Fight was impossible, so he chose flight. Perhaps he thought his youth, combined with a small element of surprise, would do the trick. With Otto busy with Kurtz, he bolted and attempted to go around me, out of arm’s reach.

So I dropped down, crouching on my knees and using my fingertips for balance on the boat deck, and kicked out my left leg. His foot hooked over mine and BAM, down he went. He probably didn’t know what had happened until he kissed wood and blood began to gush from his nose and mouth.

“Kid, I told you,” Kurtz said with a sigh.

Within a second, I had a knee in the middle of his spine and was cuffing the brat’s hands behind his back—an indication that we could go the uncivilized route, too. His body began to shake, and at first I thought he was trying to throw me off. But then I realized he wasn’t fighting. He was crying.