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Hang on, babe.She flexed her hands on the crossbar. He’d been a field agent. He had skills.
“Room-by-room clear, Copper. We can’t afford to be ambushed when we don’t know their numbers.” The orders rippled over her, and she nodded. One thing she did damn well was a mission. If his captors had hurt him… Copper closed her eyes, counted to three, and let it go. The emotion drained away.Insert, assess, assault.
Capturing her gaze in a quick glance via the rearview mirror, she saw Tungsten’s eyes held a promise. “We’ll get him back.”
Yes, we will.
Sure enough,the yacht weighed anchor and moved into deeper water away from the destruction on the beach. The speedboat theyacquiredallowed them to skim the waves and trail the boat. It took some maneuvering, but the yacht pressed on past the cruise ships and more. They were definitely heading away from Tortola waters. Copper’s gaze remained fixed on the boat, her whole body one long line of tension.
Merc took over driving the boat while Brad got their gear together. His shoulder protested the exertions, and he ignored the pain. He’d bleed out before he let someone in his family down again. When the yacht slowed and parked, Merc angled them away, as though they were a group on their way out, and they dropped anchor a mile out. Open water everywhere.Fun.
“We don’t have equipment to go deep, so we’re going to snorkel it.” They did have those. Breathers at ready, weapons wrapped in waterproof gear and secured, Brad studied the distance. A mile long swim would leave them all somewhat fatigued.
“Three points of entry,” Copper said, as though reading his mind. Then again, she probably had, since she knew how he thought.
“Rally on the deck, move together.” They were better in pairs, but once they cleared the deck, Merc could hold it. Pausing, he ran his knuckles down Copper’s cheek. “We’re getting him back.”
“I’m holding you to that.”No anger. No emotion. Just focus.
“Do.”
Without another word, they tumbled into the water. Tin’s group would be backing them soon enough. If they followed the trackers, they’d be there by the time the deck was cleared and they were below. Soon enough to save their asses if necessary, or clean up the mess. Either worked.
Slicing through the ocean, he concentrated on keeping his breathing even. Copper extended herself at first, pulling away from him and Merc. She’d always been a better swimmer, but her hindbrain seemed at war with her tactical mind. When she slowed her pace, conserving her energy, Brad relaxed a fraction. Copper was too professional to lose her shit, but after witnessing the dream and hearing Gabriel’s assessment, he worried about her.
Worry later. Mission now.Training shuttled his personal thoughts to the side, but instead of going quiet, they continued to whisper all the things that could go wrong. Once upon a time, he could go into these missions with clarity of purpose and faith in the team around him.
He didn’t doubt Merc or Copper’s skills, not even a little. He worried about Copper’s state of mind. He worried about the risk to her personally if she let emotion take over where her training would normally dictate. He worried if they were too late, it would destroy them both.
We won’t be.Being late wasn’t an option. At the yacht, they surfaced one at a time. Merc went up first, and Brad followed him. The stitches on his back complained about the salt water and the pulling. He ignored both. Copper tread water, her gun pointing upward. If they were spotted, the shooters would have to come to the side to get a clear shot, and she’d take them out.
On the deck, he went fore while Merc went aft. Three guards down later, and he covered Copper coming up the side while Merc headed toward the control room. With Copper on his six, they went below decks. The quieter they took out the opposition, the better.
A six and a half foot behemoth appeared in front of him, and the man let out a shout. Seizing his wrist, Brad drove it upward then used a knife to slide right between his ribs. The warning, however, had already been given. Copper emptied three shots into the man racing down the hall toward them. An alarm went off, the klaxon blaring overhead, and below them, the rumble of the engines engaging accompanied the haul of the anchor.
Fuck.
Descending to the next deck, it became a free-for-all. How many fucking guards did the ship have? They dropped the twelfth—since he’d been keeping count—when the engines and alarm both ceased at the same time. Merc had secured the bridge.
A shout from below echoed up the last set of stairs in the aft, and Brad held up two fingers as he checked for resistance. Copper went still next to him, her gaze facing the way they’d come. A second shout accompanied a sizzling, staticky sound. She stiffened at each echo.
“Where is he?” A woman’s voice drifted out to them. English wasn’t her primary language, and a distinctly Ukrainian accent emphasized her words. “I saw his bitch on the beach, so I know he was with her. Where is he? Turn him over to me, and the pain stops.”
A pause, then Gabriel said, “Really? That’s all you got? Tickling me to death?” The sizzling sound began again, and Gabriel let out another shout.
Copper cut a look to Brad. Yeah, they were going. With two fingers, he gestured her to the other staircase, then pointed to himself and the aft stairs where they stood. She understood and moved on swift, silent feet toward the fore descent stairs. He gave her five seconds to get into position, then began his descent.
The stairs emptied into a long, open hallway. Copper appeared a second after him on the opposite end. Tracking the sound, they cleared each room, checking them. Computer terminals occupied one. An office another. The third he came to was open, and Copper pressed to the other side of the door.
Inside, Gabriel was strapped to a chair with electrodes hooked to his chest. Brad counted two guards besides the woman they’d heard talking earlier. He held up three fingers to Copper.
She shook her head. Five fingers.
Who the fuck was the cunt in the other room? She had some heavy ass firepower, personnel, and a wealthy fucking boat. Meeting the question in Copper’s gaze, he nodded. One heartbeat. Two. They went on three. In the room, he took the guard at the immediate right of the door. One hard fist to his temporal bone, and the man dropped. A blade flew from Copper’s hand and lodged into the device sending electricity into Gabriel. It shorted, then stopped.
She shot the man holding it.
The fight was swift and brutal. Neither of them waited. Copper broke one man’s knee, even as another tried to grab her in a headlock. A sickening wrench preceded his scream. She slipped low and slammed her head into the second man’s groin. Swinging up, she was behind him. One shot to his kidney and the second to the back of his head with the gun.
