“Chief Engineer James.”
Jen froze, her stomach in freefall.
Wyatt’s hand went to the radio slowly. When his eyes found hers, she read something she’d never seen there before.
Not exactly fear. But the absolute stillness of a man recalculating every variable and not liking the answer.
They knew who she was.
15
Now that thecutter had stopped, the quiet felt wrong.
Wyatt thumbed the receiver. “She’s busy.”
A pause. Then a low chuckle through the static. “And who might you be?”
Jen tugged on his elbow. “Wyatt. I know that voice. He’s the one who shot the tech. In cold blood. Didn’t even hesitate.”
A man who killed to motivate.
Wyatt logged it without thinking.
Good.
This was a language he spoke fluently—violence without sentiment. The world was easier when it stayed that simple.
Wyatt held the radio to his mouth. “I’m the guy who’s been playing with your men all night.”
Silence. Longer this time.
“Ah, the missing Coast Guard.”
“Perhaps.” Wyatt kept his tone easy.
“An overachieving Coast Guard,” the man mused. “How rare. Former military?”
Wyatt let the silence hang.
“What branch?” There was an edge now.
“Does it matter?”
A sigh. “I’ll make you a deal,” the voice continued, smoother now. “You tell me who you are. I tell you who I am. Professional courtesy.”
Wyatt glanced over at Jen.
She stood with one arm around Caro, watching him intently, as if learning the shape of him under pressure. He turned back to the radio before she could finish whatever conclusion she was drawing.
“Petty Officer Wyatt Meyer. United States Coast Guard.”
“Ah, Coast Guard.” The man sounded almost disappointed. “I expected more.”
“Keep expecting. Your turn.”
“Captain Igor Akilov,” the man replied. “Former Russian Naval Infantry. Though I suspect you already knew that.”
Wyatt didn’t react. He’d known exactly what kind of man he was dealing with.
