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Yeah, wow was an understatement. The Sea Nymph was an incredible water toy and boasted an opulence and luxury only achievable by superyachts. From the intel Banshee sent, Ryland knew no expense was spared when the ship was built. It boasted a glass-bottomed swimming pool on the main deck which illuminated the clubroom below, a stunning, specially-designed Swarovski crystal masterpiece that hung in the main salon for diners to admire as it caught sunlight, and a high level of privacy and security, including a drone defense system.
But Ryland wasn’t worried in the least because he had one very important thing the Sea Nymph and its crew didn’t.
He had Banshee.
Tapping the tiny comms in his ear, he said, “Eyes on the target.”
“Roger that, Rip.” Pharaoh’s voice came through loud and clear as though his team leader were standing right beside him and not actually thousands of miles away. “Proceed to the port side. Banshee hacked into their system and has eyes on everything. Proceed to the southern corridor and the meeting is happening in the third room on the left, facing the ocean, so watch your six and stay below eye level.”
“Roger,” Ryland said and dropped anchor. Then he reached back, pulled his shirt off and slipped the backpack over his shoulders. He swapped his deck shoes for flippers and decided to swim over in his shorts rather than wear that hideous speedo again.
Harper watched him closely, worrying her lower lip.
“Everything will be fine,” he assured her. Then he pressed a hard, fast kiss to her lips, laying a hand over hers where she clutched a two-way radio tightly. If she saw anything alarming or suspicious, she would call and warn him.
“Be careful,” she whispered fiercely.
“This is child’s play.” When she lifted a concerned brow, he sent her a cocky smirk. “It’s me in the ocean. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Please, don’t tempt fate.”
“I got this.” After another quick kiss, he threw one long leg over the side, followed by the other, and dropped into the ocean.
With strong, smooth strokes, Ryland swam toward the yacht. He would’ve loved to have some scuba gear, but they hadn’t had time to steal that, too. Fortunately, he could hold his breath for a long time, so once he was within range of the stern, he pulled in a deep lungful of air and dove beneath a wave.
Approaching underwater kept him out of sight and he slowly broke the surface exactly three minutes later right next to the boat. Treading water, Ryland tapped his comms and reported in. “I’m alongside the yacht. Banshee, do you see anyone near the swim platform?”
“Negative. And cameras in the south corridor are looping. You’re clear, Rip.”
“Roger.” Ryland pulled himself onto the platform, removed the flippers and stashed them beneath a bench. After giving his head a shake, he grabbed a towel from the shelf and quickly wiped his body down. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a watery trail in his wake.
Tossing the towel into a bin, he stalked forward, not bothering to pull out his Glock. He needed his hands free and didn’t anticipate any problems. At the same time, he wasn’t arrogant enough to not have a backup plan.
Backup plans had saved his life on more than one occasion.
Sticking close to the wall, he moved forward on silent, bare feet, counting doors until he spotted the maintenance closet and ducked inside. Dropping into a squat, he slid the backpack off his shoulders, unzipped it and pulled out a minuscule fiber optic camera.
God, he loved the toys he was able to play with.
Banshee’s voice crackled in his ear. “I’ve got eyes on Tillman. He just arrived and is boarding now. The south corridor is clear and you’re good to go.”
“Roger that,” Ryland responded in a low voice, replacing the backpack on his shoulders and standing back up. Opening the closet door, he slipped out and made his way up the hallway, ignoring the cameras above him that Banshee had put on a loop.
When he reached the room next door to where the meeting would be taking place, he slipped inside and got to work. Dropping down on his belly in front of the vent, Ryland extended the small, steel pole and slid the camera through the slats.
If everything went according to plan, Ryland would get the entire meeting recorded with sound. “Fiber optic cam is hot,” he murmured.
“Okay, we’re live,” Banshee reported.
“Going for audio.”
“Audio confirmed. Tillman is approaching the room, but I don’t see our mystery guest yet.”
“He’s coming,” Ryland said calmly. The contact from The Agency had to be there to meet Tillman or what would be the point of this? They weren’t even sure who owned the superyacht because it was listed under an umbrella corporation with multiple subsidiaries, and Banshee was still digging for that tidbit.
But Ryland had a feeling they were about to find out.
A moment later, the door opened, and Ryland watched as a bulky man, clearly armed, escorted Tillman inside and motioned for him to sit down at the large conference room table. Once Tillman was seated, the other man immediately exited, closing the door behind him.
