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“Sit down, you two,” Captain Lyons says, gesturing to the large high-back leather chairs across from his desk. I take a seat as Scottie slides into the adjacent one, stretching his leg toward me, lifting his pant leg ever so slightly, letting me know exactly where a piece is secured, and I in turn touch my chest, pretending to pick a piece of fuzz from my sweater, gesturing up and down to let him know that it’s right in between the crevice of my breasts, where most women keep a small extra piece, just in case we need it fast.
“So, let’s get the preliminaries over. I know you folks are tired, so we’ll get this done as quickly as possible. I’ll let you guys fill out the paperwork sitting here together. Just no talking. Once you’re done, we’ll take you into separate rooms, ask you some clarifying questions, make sure there’s nothing our teams don’t need to provide closure on, if you know what I mean,” Captain Lyons says, handing us both an official document that is in triplicate. “These pens will work,” he says, sliding one to each of us. “I’m going to get some coffee. I trust you not to talk. Either of you want anything?” he says.
I nod. “It was cold out there. I would love a hot cup of coffee to warm up with,” I say.
“Coming right up,” he says.
“Remember what the man said, no talking,” Scottie says, pretending to begin filling out his form, letting me know to keep quiet in case they have mics on us, which I have no doubt they do.
Moments later Captain Lyons saunters back into the room with two steaming cups of coffee and slides into his desk chair, pushing an aromatic brew toward me. I continue writing and hope we are just being paranoid after the events of the evening, until we hear the distant chopper coming in. Interpol is a global operation, and I’ve almost convinced myself that these satellite ships are used for multiple purposes and we are just being overly cautious, but when four men covered head to toe in black gear walk into the room, my body’s response is all I need to know that we are in trouble. “Alrighty, Scottie, Marenah, let’s collect your summaries, get you split up with the interrogation teams, and then we’ll get you on your way home,” he says with a smile.
They say you should trust your body’s natural instincts, and that, I do.
26
MATT
I watchher walk away under the moonlight, the gentle sway of her hips moving toward the beach. She has a commitment, a highly confidential and stringent one. She has pledged herself to Interpol, and my lifestyle prevents me from being a suitable partner, not even close. If they dig deep enough, they will find my connections to the mob years ago. Hell, they may even be able to pin me to the murders of the people responsible for the rape and trafficking of Alyse, and after the last month, they will sure as hell be able to pin me to both the Chicago and Italian Mafia.
If I were her, I would walk away too, but that doesn’t stop the ache in my chest as I watch the only woman that I have ever wanted to claim as my own walk away from me and board a chopper that will lead her to the other side of the globe. Even though our security team is well intentioned and we consider ourselves on the right side of the law, we slip into the opposite side of the law and take things into our own hands when we need to.
Dereck and Nate are walking toward me, and I take a deep breath. Things will be fine eventually, but it won’t be today, that’s for damn sure. My phone buzzes and I read the text from Jay twice. Fuck!
Intel intercepted a message. Interpol is infected and pulling Scottie in rt now.
I text a message back as quickly as my fingers can type.
Marenah went with Scottie. They just lifted off in a helicopter, 5 mins out.
I’ll interface with intel. Get your asses on the Augusta. Pilot’s ready.
I race toward Dereck and Nate. “Let’s go. They’re pulling Scottie and Marenah in,” I say, and they don’t ask any questions, just turn about face and hightail it with me to the beach. “The silver Augusta,” I say, knowing Jay wants us on that one because it’s one of the fastest helicopters in the world, and it’s armed and dangerous. We haven’t even reached it before the pilot’s got the blade’s whirling in anticipation of our ascent, and it takes less than a minute for all of us to haul our asses in and Dereck to heave the door closed.
“Go, go, go!” Nate yells to the pilot, and in seconds we are ascending and on our way, flying by all the helicopters and drama on the beach below, and looking for anything suspicious as our intel teams try to determine where to send us.
It feels like hours until Jay texts.
Give me a call.
Fuck! This can’t be good. I push Jay’s button. “Matt, our intel team has a lock on an Interpol-registered copter. It’s just recently landed on a satellite ship. You’re close! We believe Scottie and Marenah went aboard. The helicopter they were on was Interpol’s, so you have to know, whatever is going on is at the hands of Interpol,” Jay says.
I nod, knowing exactly what he’s telling me. “Jay, I won’t bring trouble to Chase and Brian’s door, but I won’t leave her to deal with this. She did everything she could to save those people, not knowing Scottie was on our side. I’ll send a text to Chase and Brian, letting them know I’m resigning. Nothing will blow back on them. Just have the Augusta drop me within distance from the boat. I’ll take it from there,” I say, texting both Brian and Chase that I am resigning, before heading to the back to snatch a set of wet gear from the racks. I don it and turn, my eyes going wide as both Dereck and Nate don suits of their own.
“We heard, and we go in as a family,” Dereck says, and Nate nods.
My chest tightens, and all I can do is nod as the words of appreciation and love for these men catch in my throat, because I know what they are gambling with. If the Italian Mafia, or Chase or Brian, for that matter, don’t approve of their alliance with someone who has resigned, they will be out of the family with a snap of a finger, and we all know it.
The pilot lets us know when we’re at our drop, and one by one we hit the water and silently move toward our mark, finally reaching it and making the climb up the ladder in silence. We slink along the walls of the boat until we reach the lower level undetected. No sign of anyone else on the ship.
We know the drill, scanning the area, taking in the four suits and the captain that we’ve all been warned about, but my eyes home in on my beautiful princess sitting in a chair next to Scottie. The men split into two groups, one walking toward Scottie and one toward Marenah on the pretext of taking them and corroborating their stories.
If they get them split up, we all know what will happen. These bastards play for keeps, and as if sensing my presence watching her through the wall venting, she turns and her lips shift into a little scowl. If they’re going to keep from being separated, it has to happen now, and I nod to the men to get ready, we’re going in, but my princess picks that moment to take a sip of her coffee and it falls from her hand, splashing everywhere. The man behind the desk jumps up to avoid getting a lap full of the hot liquid.
She leans down, and all hell breaks loose as she comes back up with a gun pointed at the captain’s face, and Scottie turns, holding off the others. Nate and Dereck are first into the room, taking them by surprise and easily overpowering two of the men, with Scottie holding them at point until they’re done securing them. The two that were going after Marenah turn, and I kick the weapon out of one man’s hand and lunge for the other, but he spins out of the way, maintaining possession of his firearm.
He points it at me and gestures for me to drop my weapon. I don’t know how many men are on this ship, but the chances of them being friendly if they hear gunfire is not likely, and I’ll take my chances with these odds. I drop my weapon, and the minute I do, his eyes lower to it sliding across the floor, not anticipating the full-length kick of my foot to his chin. He reels with the force and I deliver another punch, this time to the nose, as Scottie reaches him and pushes the point of his Glock into the back of his neck. “On the floor, Lad,” Scottie says calmly, but I turn toward Marenah and my chest tightens hard.
The captain has managed to get the best of Marenah. Her gun lies on the ground, and he’s standing behind her with a knife to her throat. His walkie-talkie crackles, and he uses one hand to lift it to his mouth. “Land now,” he says into it and slides it back to his pocket.
