Partners in Crime

By Barbara Butterfield

Federal Piracy Interdiction Capt. John Peterson once again teams-up agents: Alex Bach and Zach Szarbino to infiltrate a piracy ring in the Bahama’s. Though it’s 2021, the marauders are staged as pirates of the 1800’s.
Bach & Szarbino, who are more like oil and water together, are true to form in pursuing justice. Problems arise when the lawmen decide they may enjoy the pirate lifestyle. Tables are turned when Bach and Szarbino are no longer the hunters, but the hunted. But, while they’re running for their lives are they also, in their own way…running from God? Only time will tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664151956

Barbara Butterfield

Ms. Butterfield is California born and raised, and currently resides in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona…where she lives with her favorite feline friend: Baybee. Integrity, suspense, camaraderie, romance, and personal growth are all values that play a vital role in her novels. More importantly, the gospel and spiritual growth are also an aspect of life into which she delves. Ms. Butterfield has written for many years; her first novel having been penned at the age of fourteen. She also studied writing and journalism, becoming the Editor-In-Chief of the school’s newspaper. She is currently working on her 60th novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Butterfield.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

English Standard Version (ESV)

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Cover photography by James Wheeler.

www.pexels.com

Rev. date: 01/13/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

817785

Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue

Epilogue (2)

Chapter 61

And Finally…

Dedication

My thanks and appreciation are extended to Savannah Sanchez

for allowing me to use her name as one

of my characters in this story.

Blessings always!

Chapter 1

The staccato sound of gunfire echoed across the usually serene business campus. Every police officer within hearing range either instinctively ducked or cringed as they steadily advanced on the suspect’s locale.

The stand-off had been going on for hours and though still on-point it was obvious that the officers had grown weary, both emotionally and physically. Originally, back-ups had been called in, but since that time the FBI had also arrived on the scene.

The bank robbers…having made good on their get-away were soon found to have taken shelter in a nearby business park. It had been discovered that an empty office and warehouse…with the bullet-riddled For Lease sign out front had become the gang’s hide-away.

Shots had been fired by both sides but so far no persons had been injured. Though too numerous to count at the moment many windows, walls, trees and parked cars had sustained a fair amount of collateral damage.

I want you guys on the scene, now! Capt. John Peterson shouted at his two most maligned, but also most efficient Lieutenants: Alex Bach and Zach Szarbino.

"Ya hear that, Alex? The boss wants us to…make the scene," Zach quipped, as was his usual way.

Zach, that is so ‘60’s, Alex scoffed at his partner-in-crime as they walked down the hall toward the double-door entrance of the FPI.

An off-shoot of the FBI, the Federal Piracy Interdiction team was a small, highly-specialized and technically-trained group. Perceived as the golden child of the federal agency, they were also often the most distrusted by the rest of the much larger FBI.

Szarbino! Peterson shouted after the departing backsides of his two officers. The dulcet tones of their boss’s barked bellow caused the two lieutenants to pause and turn half-way around to see what their boss wanted.

Yeah boss? Bach hollered.

"I said make the scene, not make a scene!" He reminded the two partners in justice.

He’s talkin’ to you, you know, Alex offered as he turned a sidelong glance on his partner.

No foolin’, Zach replied, fully aware of the reputation he had. It was something of which he had carefully cultivated over the last several years.

I know, boss, Szarbino hollered back. We’ll make you proud, daddy!

Like hell you will! Peterson muttered. Make sure you do! With that he turned around and retreated back into his office. Inwardly, John wondered just how long it would be before the first phone call came in protesting his teams arrival on the scene.

He just wants us to make him look good, Alex offered as they each pushed a glass door outward. Breaking into a slow jog, the agents made their way down the front steps of the aged, brick office building.

Don’t we always?

Well, yeah, Alex shrugged. But sometimes we do go the round-about way.

Look, who cares how you get from A to Z, as long as you get there, Zach rationalized.

Reminds me of Algebra class in high school, Alex mused, mentally reminiscing.

How so?

You remember how the teachers…you know, even if you got the right answer they want you to get there by a certain method. Like, even if you got the right answer if you didn’t get there by going from A to Z as taught, then it didn’t count?

Crap, I hated that, Zach muttered as he unlocked the car door. Remind me to go visit my old Algebra teacher some day. Just make sure I’m not armed when I do, okay?

I’m not your keeper, Alex argued.

But you do it so well, Zach teased, while Alex just idly shook his head.

* * *

Within minutes, the duo was speeding down Interstate 10 as they approached downtown and the building that was currently under hostile fire.

* * *

The team parked their unmarked vehicle a half-block away from the area of interest, and Zach was quick to grab the shotgun from the rack as he swung the car door open.

Alex readied his service weapon…a highly-efficient Glock .45mm as he ably chambered a round, and then he too exited the car. With numerous spare magazines in the pockets of their olive-drab cargo pants, the duo determinedly strode down the sidewalk toward the site of the stand-off.

Arriving at the command vehicle the two FPI agents were warmly greeted by their fellow team-mate.

Oh, it’s you two. Swell, Capt. Max Wojokowski muttered as Bach and Szarbino approached his location.

Good to see you too, Wookie, Zach greeted with a smile, forced as it was.

I’ve told you before, Szarbino…do not call me that!

Whatever, Zach replied as he blew off the captain’s nagging with a one-shoulder shrug.

Sir, what can we do to assist? Alex offered, gamely bringing the two would-be combatants back on topic.

Get the hell outta here, Max rudely replied.

How in the hell did you ever make captain? Zach asked. Sleep with the chief’s daughter? Or…son? He added, under his breath.

What’d you say? What was that, Szarbino?! Max demanded as he whirled about, turning on the agent.

Nothing, it was nothing, Zach lied, and then coughed a few times, politely covering his mouth as he did so.

As I was saying, sir…how can we assist you? Alex asked, again.

Well, you really can’t. You aren’t needed here. If Peterson weren’t in such a hurry to upstage my department with his own little band of boot-licking flunkies you wouldn’t have even been sent here to begin with.

Alex, I’m gonna deck this bastard, Zach warned as his right hand curled into a fist.

No, you’re not, Alex advised, hoping to stay his partner’s ire. Just then shots rang out adequately getting the three men’s attention.

Screw you, Maxie! Chuckie and I will unknot your cojones for you! Zach stated, and cocking the shotgun he took off at a run.

Where’s he going?! Max shouted as he pointed at the quickly departing backside of an agent for which he had little concern.

He’s probably going to interfere, Alex reassured.

Yeah, and screw up my outfit!

No. But it’s highly likely that he’ll save the lives of some of your men. Something you really haven’t demonstrated a propensity for, Alex admonished the arrogant captain, and then took off at a run following in the same direction his partner had gone.

Bach! Lest you forget, I’m your superior officer!

Officer maybe, but superior? Not a chance! Alex hollered over his shoulder, and then he was out of sight.

Chapter 2

I thought we weren’t gonna kill anyone! Shayne asked, worriedly.

Do what you have to do, Shayners! His boss, Joe Denali shouted.

How did they find out we were here?

Someone must’ve squealed, huh? Morty, was it you?

No, it was not the hell me! Why do you always finger me, huh?

Because we all voted you Most Likely to Sell Us Down the River, that’s why!

Why, you bastard!

You freakin’ rat!

Would you two shut the hell up, or I’ll do you a favor and shoot you both right now!

You couldn’t finish this job without us, and you know it!

I know no such thing! All I know is that I can do without the arguing and fighting, and I can shut you both up…permanently!

You ain’t our boss.

I most certainly am. Who’ve you been talkin’ to…again?

Manny.

Well, don’t listen to that little beetle."

Weasel.

That too.

And what of the stoolie?

I’ll take care of him, don’t you never mind.

Big talk.

Just be ready.

"We are ready!"

Listen, just do your job. When the limo pulls into the first bay door, get the package out of the trunk and toss it into our van.

We know…we know, Shayne groaned with a roll of his eyes.

If either one of you screws-up this gig I’ll see to it that you’re both out of this gang, for good!

Yeah…yeah, Shayne sighed with an airy wave of his hand.

"But Manny, Lou, and Morty are all out front keepin’ your ass safe."

So? It’s what they’re supposed to do.

And if they buy it?

"Then before we leave town we simply visit a couple liberal colleges and recruit some sophomores desperate to…change the world," the boss stated, dramatically emoting as he did so.

Shit, more gunfire, Shayne muttered as he quickly reverted to being worried again.

Shouldn’t we go help those guys, Joe?

No! Your job is here…right here. Get ready to receive the package, and whatever you do…don’t leave your post!

What about the guys out front?

Look, Shayne…as soon as the package arrives go out front and fire one shot into the air. The boys know they can retreat at that point. They’ll run back out here and take the limo on a nice little joy ride while we take the van to the dock.

And make good on our get-away, right boss?

You bet, Denali tried to reassure his young and very nervous recruits. Once we hit open water they’ll never catch us."

Yeah, once we hit open water, lamented Shayne, always the worrier of the small, clandestine group. What will slow ‘em up until then?

The bomb should keep them occupied for a while.

Bomb? What bomb?!

Never you mind, it’s been taken care of. All of the bases have been covered, it’s just a matter of time now, the boss, Joe Denali spoke. His demeanor and body language displayed just how overtly confident he was of his planning.

Defiantly, Joe stood at the entrance to the warehouse, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back and head held high. All that was lacking was the feel of the wind in his hair and the warmth of the sun on his face.

It was just like when he stood at the wheel of the Challenger…his 3-masted schooner. The vessel was his pride and joy, and it was also the craft that he used to beat the odds when pirating the seas of the Caribbean.

Denali’s big plan…and his biggest heist to date was under way and it would net him millions of dollars. Like a rat that had been run through the same maze dozens of times, he knew all the right twists and turns. Joe knew just what to do, and when to do it. This was the heist of the century and his name would be in all the history books, or so he thought. As long as he could pull it off, collect the reward and run far and fast…he would be set for a lifetime. It was all his, and it was just waiting to be taken.

Chapter 3

He had always wondered what it would be like to get shot. Not that he wanted to experience that particular aspect of life, it was still something that played about his brain every now and then.

Usually those thoughts assailed his soul in the middle of the night, after a particularly stressful and demanding assignment. Though his body was exhausted there were just times when his mind refused to relinquish itself to slumber.

Zach lay on the pavement. He hadn’t felt anything…at first. All he knew was that something had hit him…and hit him hard, and the force of the jolt had thrown him to the ground.

Damn, where did Grandma’s old mule come from? Zach groaned. Inwardly, he knew that the way he was feeling was reminiscent of an unplanned incident between himself as a ten-year-old boy and his grandmother’s fifteen-year-old mule. It hadn’t been pretty…the mule won.

Rolling onto his back, Zach decided to remain where he was, staring up at a brilliant blue sky. Through the leafy boughs of the tree he lay beneath, he blinked a few times and saw a bird perched up above him. Every now and then it would cock its head side ways to curiously peer down at the agent sprawled upon the sidewalk. Zach just hoped it wouldn’t poop on him.

Zach could hear gunfire, but it sounded so remote. He knew he should get up and go fight the battle. But dazed as he was he could only wonder where he was, and why he was just laying there. Overall, he wasn’t too interested in getting up.

Amidst the birdsong, the sound of multiple gunshots rang out and the combination of the two sounds just didn’t make sense to him.

Immediately, he had done the ol ‘tuck and roll’ maneuver. He didn’t know what had happened, all he knew was that he had to present himself as a smaller target. He would sort the details out later.

Within moments he tried to stand up, but that didn’t work and he crumbled back down to the welcoming pavement.

Like they always say, it all happened so fast. One moment the ample number of various law enforcement personnel seemed to at least be keeping pace with the gang of bad guys holed up in the empty office building. The next, he was laying on the ground.

Until that moment, multiple shots had rung out, though thankfully no one had been shot, or worse…killed. But the goal was to see that justice prevailed, and not just end up with a tied game.

Cover me! Zach had shouted. I’m going over there! He explained, pointing to his right and to the other four-foot tall, solid brick wall. It’ll provide a clear shot the next time that bastard comes out of hiding and shoots again!

Okay, go for it! Alex encouraged.

Cover me!

You got it! Go! Go! Go! Alex shouted as he unloaded about one or two dozen rapid-fire answers to the stand-off.

Thanks, Chuckie! Zach shouted over his shoulder.

And stop calling me Chuckie! Alex shouted, loudly wishing that his partner would cease calling him by that inane nickname as derived from his middle name. It was something Zach had started years ago, and unfortunately it had stuck…and stuck good over the years.

Zach stayed low, and with shotgun firmly in hand he had dashed across the unprotected, thirty-foot span between the decorative landscaping walls.

Just as he was about to slide home behind the relative safety of the wall, he felt it. Though at the time he wasn’t really sure what it was that he had felt.

Come on, get up you freakin’ cry-baby! Max shouted from where he was still taking cover. Zach rolled onto his side as the fingers of his right hand instinctively searched for his shotgun.

Well, crap! You’ve been shot? Max hollered, upon seeing his colleague’s bloodied shirt. Deciding to at least temporarily put any animosity aside, he had run over to the downed agent.

Crap Szarbino, it’s just a freakin’ scratch, get your ass up off the ground and get back to work!

Zach managed to raise the shotgun upward, even though he was in shock as the life-giving fluid was freely flowing from his shoulder.

Alex happened to notice the one-sided confrontation between the two agents. Adrenaline-heightened anger rose up within him and after quickly unloading a few more deterrents, he ran toward his buddy holstering his weapon as he ran.

Without slowing down, Alex ran right up to Max and decked him with a sharp, hard-swinging round-house to the jaw. The unexpected assault sent the superior officer flying…right to the ground.

Thanks, Zach whispered. I thought I was going to have to shoot him there for a minute, and relaxing, he let his arm…and the shotgun, fall back down to the ground.

I told you to duck! Alex admonished.

Oh, sorry…I thought you said something else.

Don’t move! Alex ordered as he knelt at his buddy’s side.

No worries, Zach replied.

Guys, we need medics here…pronto! Alex shouted to the officers that were also responding to the downed Federal agent.

Zach idly watched as Alex tore off his t-shirt, and wondered why he was doing that. Wadding it up, Alex tore open the front of Zach’s bloodied shirt, pressing the t-shirt against the hemorrhaging wound.

Does that hurt? Alex asked, certainly not wanting to cause further discomfort.

Does what hurt? Zach replied. I…I can’t feel anything. I feel kinda floaty.

Floaty? Alex questioned, his brows having knit together into a concerned frown.

Yeah, like…remember that New Year’s Eve party? Shoot, what year was that?

2010, Alex replied, a slight grin touching his face. Who could forget that one? That night was supposed to be the party to end all parties, like the end of the world or something…remember?

Man, the hang-over sure was, Zach offered, but the effort caused him to start coughing.

Don’t talk, man…just lay still. Help is on the way.

This is weird.

What is?

My Uncle Lester.

He’s dead, man, Alex reminded his buddy.

I know, but he’s standing right there, next to someone in a white robe. Oh hell.

"Dude, if you’re lookin’ at someone in a white robe, I wouldn’t use the term: hell," Alex worriedly advised, taking his friend’s hand in his own.

Maybe you’re right, Zach thoughtfully replied. His smile is real nice though.

Lester?

No, the other guy. Looks real friendly…you know, like He gives a crap, you know what I mean? Like He cares, or something.

By any chance, does He have a beard? Alex asked, though on some level he was afraid to.

Yeah, he does…and sandals, and his hands…they’re both scarred.

Ah geez, Alex muttered under his breath, remembering Bible stories his grandmother had read to him so many years ago.

Uh-oh. He wants me to come with Him.

No! Alex shouted, tightening the grip on his friend’s hand as if that simple gesture would forestall the inevitable.

Zach, listen to me, man. As cool as He may be, I don’t think you’ve got to go…not just yet anyway!

But…oh shit, my chest…it’s starting to hurt, Zach muttered, his head lolling from side-to-side as the searing pain was beginning to overwhelm him.

No buts, Zach! Hold on! You’ve got a job to do right here! You’re needed here! Zach? Zach! Alex shouted, as he felt his friend’s grip suddenly grow weak. In shock, he watched as the light seemed to dim in his friend’s eyes.

Zach, Alex sighed, and just then the paramedics arrived on the scene.

The elder paramedic held the large, red First Responder kit, while two others carried the white-sheeted stretcher.

He needs help. Help him, guys…okay?

We’re on it. Don’t worry, the senior medic advised. Alex, rising to his feet backed off, giving the men room to do their job.

As the senior medic first began looking over the situation, Alex took it as a positive sign that the paramedics…at no time, raised the white sheet over his buddy’s face, so he figured there must still be a pulse.

Alex had never been much of a praying man, but he did now. He and Zach had been through so much together that this just seemed to be a crappy way to end a really great run.

"God, look…You know I’ve never been into the whole God thing, whatever that is…but I mean, if you do exist, you could always just show me, you know…and let Zach live. Heal him, God. He needs help. Help him, God…please."

Still, Alex wondered just what it was that Zach had seen, and why. Was he just hallucinating, or was it real? That’s what bothered Alex the most…what if it was real.

Chapter 4

Capt. John Peterson worked-out a minimum of three hours a day in order to maintain his physique. He ate the right foods, and all of his dedicated lifting and cardio helped him to maintain his former high-school football body.

At age thirty-six he was still young, but he realized it wouldn’t get any easier as the years flew past. John fully realized that he could never be an eighteen-year old stud again, but he also didn’t want to grow old over-night either.

Not only did the rigorous exercising assist him in keeping in shape but it was an excellent way to let off some steam as well. So it was that every day, after work…Monday through Friday, he hit the department’s gym.

Afterward, he made his way home where he showered, fixed himself something for dinner and then crashed on the couch watching a movie, or the game. Half of the time he would simply just fall asleep and end up spending the night on the couch, the television on and droning away throughout the night.

His ninety-pound Labrador Retriever whom he aptly named: Warrant, would always join his beloved master on the couch, having curled up next to him. John had always been thankful that he had purchased a couch that was larger than most. It worked well since Warrant took up most of the available space.

Today was no different, it was Thursday after work and he was bench-pressing a hundred-seventy-five pounds like a pro. Generally speaking, it’s considered the norm to bench eighty percent of a man’s body weight.

Where physical fitness was concerned though, John always seemed to be striving to attain the arbitrary level of an over-achiever. Thus, at one-hundred-seventy pounds, he found himself benching a bit more than his full weight.

Laying on his back upon the lightly padded bench, once again his arms pressed the weighted bar upward to the full extension of his arms length, and held it there. Having been at it for a while he was worn out, and had completed his reps. Per usual, he called for his personal trainer.

Hey Larry, I’m done now, he called, knowing his trainer would be hovering somewhere nearby. But no one came to his aid in lowering the heavy bar to the rack.

Larry! Dude, where’d ya go?! He called again. Just then two hands reached out, gripped the bar and assisted in lowering it to the vertical rack of the bench. Sighing heavily, for he’d been working out for just about three hours, John sat up and looked around to his able-bodied assistant.

About time you stepped in, John chuckled as he grabbed a small, white towel to wipe the excess perspiration from his forehead.

I just can’t stand it when I see a guy in need, the woman stated, and resting back on her heels, her arms were folded across her mid-section.

Not expecting to hear a woman’s voice, John’s eyes tiredly popped open as he glanced in the appropriate direction.

You! He exclaimed, defensively jumping to his feet.

Yes, me! Savannah exclaimed in return. Long time no see! How’ve you been? She greeted cordially, but John was skeptical. Was this She-Cat about to attack again, or had a flag already been thrown on the play? In short, John was speechless.

The last time they had seen each other was during their ultimately disastrous first date a couple years prior.

Both parties realized the date was officially over when paramedics had been called to mitigate the physical damage done to him…by her. Savannah had been an arrogant, self-centered, belligerent, know-it-all bitch.

In spite of that failed date, John had found himself thinking about her quite a bit. Idly, he wondered just where she had gotten to in this life, though he was in no mood to wrestle the Hispanic dynamo again.

Cat got your tongue? Savannah asked…smiling, and he had to admit she did seem to have calmed down in her demeanor since their last encounter.

No. I’m…I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.

Afraid? She asked, turning a coy expression on her former suitor. Savannah was glad to see that John’s good looks had improved over the last couple of years, even though he had been hot back then as well.

No, John replied, shaking his head. Just not sure.

"Allow me to put your mind at ease, Captain. It is Captain now, right?"

It is, John warily confirmed. He hadn’t moved an inch since he’d first laid eyes on her. She was still beautiful…as well as fit and trim, but there was something different about her. The apparent change in attitude perplexed him, especially since he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that had changed about her.

Captain Peterson, Savannah began as she sat down on the bench. I’m the new member of your staff.

You’re what?! John replied, his voice breaking under the strain.

Easy Captain, easy, she chuckled, holding up a staying hand. I see you haven’t received the inter-agency memo yet.

No, I haven’t. But I was made aware that a new agent was transferring into my group.

That’s me! You’re lookin’ at her! Savannah exclaimed, happily cocking her head to one side.

A woman?! In the FPI?! He exclaimed. Adamantly, Savannah stood up ready to face her new superior.

Now, don’t get riled up! He encouraged, holding up both hands as if that gesture would stop her if she really got angry.

I’m not. Its okay, Captain, Savannah reassured her edgy new boss who still wasn’t ready to let his guard down. Like the old adage goes: Beat me up once, shame on you. Beat me up twice, shame on me.

Or something like that.

I’ve been fully briefed on your department.

By whom? John asked his right eyebrow cocked skeptically upward on his forehead.

Wojo…

Wojokowski? John suddenly interjected.

Yes.

The most lying, conniving prick in the entire upper reaches of our mother agency, John duly…though accurately stated.

FBI?

You said it, I didn’t.

Well, be that as it may regarding this Wojo guy, I’ve been briefed that it’s not really a woman’s gig, she assured her new boss.

I’ll say. Unless you’re weird enough to be into violence, rape, torture, etc.

"No, I’m glad to say that I’m not. But, as you well know, I do like a good kerfluffle every now and then. It keeps me in shape, honed…both physically and emotionally. If I need to fight, I know I can and…I know I will win."

Don’t get cocky. That’s the first slip up right there, the knowledgeable Captain advised, and rightly so.

Not cocky, just…confident, Savannah offered, backing down a notch.

You’re different than you were the last time we were together.

I was an ass back then, she concurred.

Don’t look to me for an argument, John replied, his arms spread wide with perceived innocence.

I was a total jerk, Savannah sighed, shaking her head. If you had kicked my butt that night, I would have totally deserved it.

I wanted to.

I know, she nodded, understanding his male angst. And you would’ve had every right to knock me silly. But you don’t have to be afraid of me anymore.

"I was never afraid of you," John reassured his newest staff member.

You weren’t? Savannah questioned, genuinely surprised by his comment.

Well, not really. I can handle a good kerfluffle too.

I’m sure you can, she replied, eying his physique with genuine interest.

"But, I was angry with you. I’d always been taught to not hit a girl, and here you were kickin’ my ass and I couldn’t…not really, haul off and deck you."

I understand. You should have though.

You seem much more subdued now. Somewhere along the way you seem to have lost your anger.

I did, Savannah replied with a smile, and it was a pretty gesture too.

Someone kick your butt?

You could say that, and again the smile touched her beautiful features, and John felt his heart melt…just a little. Jesus.

"For we are His workmanship,

created in Christ Jesus for good

works, which God prepared

beforehand, that we should

walk in them."

Ephesians 2:10

I beg your pardon? John asked. Now listening intently, they both sat back down on the bench, turned slightly toward each other.

I found Jesus, Savannah replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Indeed, it is.

Swell, and this is the point where you begin to hit me over the head with your Bible, right? John commented, testing her.

"Not quite. What I discovered was that the Lord was leading me to Him…that was the way He had for me. You have to work your salvation out with Him, personally. One-on-one. No one can do that for you, especially not a Bible-thumper."

That’s good to know, John replied, with an obvious sigh of relief.

"It’s up to you to decide if you want Heaven…or Hell. For me, I was tired of being angry with men, and tired of the personal, inner struggle. I was beating myself up more than I was beating others up.

One day, I got angry…again, and I stood outside on my back patio…looked up at the sky…it was nighttime. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides…I can see it all as clear in my mind as if it had only just happened, she explained, continuing.

"Well, anyway, I screamed at the top of my lungs, If you’re real, then prove it! I dare you!"

"You will seek me and

find me when you seek

me with all your heart."

Jeremiah 29:13

You dared God? John asked, amazed by the extent of her former insolence.

Goes to prove just how cocky I had become, right?

I guess so, John replied, genuinely perplexed. But on another level he was also impressed with her amount of macho…misplaced as it had been.

"Over the next few weeks, things began to happen in my life…crazy things. I’m talkin’ things that you just can’t explain away…and it got me to thinking…what, or who was doing this to me?

And I remembered my nighttime challenge to the Heavens, but it wasn’t just a night sky, or stars…or my neighbors that heard my cry. God heard me, and He’s not one to overlook a good challenge. So instead of fighting with myself, I was now fighting with God.

Holey crud, woman…were you nuts?!

"I think so, but it was a good thing, because through that experience God brought me to my knees. Ohhh my goodness, did He do a number on me!

"One night, at home…alone in bed, finally I couldn’t take it anymore. He was unrelenting, let me tell you. I sat up, pushed back the blankets and sank to my knees on the floor beside my bed. It was there that I prayed…for the first time ever in my whole life.

Suddenly, I wasn’t taking the Lord’s name in vain anymore, but I was speaking His name, talking with Him. He’s real, and he cares. If you don’t know Him, I urge you to pursue Him, it’ll be totally worth your while.

With a night time challenge?

Whatever it takes. He changed me. The anger is gone. Not that I can’t hold my own in a fight, but that’s my professional training. Arguments are no longer based on the inner rage that burned so brightly, deep within me.

So what took its place?

The Holy Spirit, Savannah succinctly replied. "He took the anger away and in the voided, empty space He filled it with Himself.

"I don’t expect you to understand. In fact the Bible states that people who have never met Him can’t understand. You come to Him by faith, and He opens up the floodgates of understanding. In short, you have to meet Him, before you can know Him."

"The person without the

Spirit does not accept the

things that come from the

Spirit of God but considers

them foolishness, and cannot

understand them because they

are discerned only through

the Spirit."

I Corinthians 2:14

I get what you’re saying. I just wanted to hear it from you.

Testimony time! Savannah chuckled, smiling.

About a year ago I met Him too, and He changed my whole life around, John patiently explained. Now I live for Him, instead of living for myself.

"For to me, to live is

Christ and to die is gain."

Philippians 1:21

That’s wonderful! Sure makes a difference, doesn’t it? Savannah enthused.

You bet, John replied, smiling. So you’re a member of my team now.

Yes, apparently in more ways than one! She added, smiling at the wonderful difference that the Lord had made in both of their lives.

Every human has an inborn hunger for God. We all…each in our own way seek God. It’s an enduring desire to try and fill that empty place in our hearts, a space that only God Himself can fill, John explained, though truly at this point he was preaching to the choir, as they say.

I hear ya, Savannah agreed. I think the main problem is that people tend to overlook God because they don’t want to experience personal accountability. So they look for some other way to fill the void in their souls…all fake ways, for Jesus is the one…and only, way to God.

"Jesus answered, ‘I am the

way and the truth and the life.

No one comes to the Father

except through me’."

John 14:6

Truer words, he agreed, enjoying this aspect of his new team member’s personal life. Have you had dinner yet?

Nope.

Want some?

Sure, what’d ya have in mind?

Like Chinese?

Love it!

Come on, let’s go, John said, and taking her by the hand they checked out