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He stepped up to the open cargo door, then looked back at me with a salute and jumped.
I was the last to go, everyone besides the pilot already having left. With one last glance at the now-empty cargo hold, I jumped. I had to pull my parachute immediately, the jump not high enough for even the slightest delay.
I plunged into the icy waves, immediately unclipping my gear. After clearing the parachute, I swam toward the lights of the yacht. As soon as we’d stepped foot out of the plane, it was complete radio silence.
I knew my team would make their way to the light as instructed. I’d catch up with them once there. We all had different directives on where to enter the boat and what to disable first.
Our goal was to take the yacht back and then get the clients safely to the closest harbor, which in this case was Genoa. We already had a plane waiting there, ready to take them to the States. No matter how much we suspected this was another hysterical client who thought their butler was out to get them, we’d take all necessary precautions.
My muscles burned by the time I made it to the side of the yacht. The rough conditions slowed me down, the gear strapped to my body heavy.
My job was to secure the hostages. According to our intel, there were three staff and the two owners on board.
Only an hour had passed since they’d sent the distress call. If we hadn’t already been doing a job in The Haag, we wouldn’t have been close enough to respond so fast.
Usually, high-profile clients always had one of our men with them, but they’d opted to go by themselves this time. We’d tried talking them out of it, but in the end, clients made the final decisions over their security, no matter how much we advised against something.
Bet they won’t ever do that again.
Water splashed against the side of the boat, masking any sound I made pulling myself out. I’d lost at rock, paper, scissors and had to go over the side, solely relying on the suction caps I’d attached to the hull to pull myself up.
Once I was in, I’d be right next to the living area, where we’d detected the most heat signatures and someone would likely hold the hostages.
I made it up the side using only my arms, unable to find purchase for my feet.
Since becoming part of Locked Security, I’d taken any job I could. Being busy meant there was no time to think. My head wasn’t a good place to be these days, and burying myself in work was much easier than dealing with my demons.
I chanced a peek over the side and didn’t see anyone. Sloppy work, not covering all sides of the yacht, but careless bad guys made my job much easier.
Rolling over the side, I came to a stop in a crouch, getting my gun out of its protective pouch. Checking the magazine, I advanced on silent feet, my destination the door a few feet in front of me.
Voices drifted out through the windows. Someone was yelling, and then a loud slap sounded, followed by a whimper.
I lifted my head, peering inside. A guy who must have been one of the kidnappers stood over a kneeling figure, lifting his hand before bringing it down hard.
The person tumbled to the side, only to be righted again by another guy standing off to the side. My blood heated, and my hand tightened on the gun.
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” the guy doing all the slapping yelled, his words easier to make out now.
Time to break up the party.
Counting three guys in black gear and machine guns, I waited for the signal that all the other men on deck had been taken out.
The few minutes it took to hear the three clicks in my comms seemed to take years, the sound of a hand hitting flesh again and again testing my self-control.
One last glance through the window confirmed all attention was on the hostage getting the shit beaten out of them. Bad for them, but fortunate for me.
Easing inside, I shot two guys with tranquilizers before they even knew I was there.
The third man turned my way but was down before he’d even touched his gun. That only left the hostages, who looked at me as if I was about to take them out next.
I holstered my gun and held my hands up. “I’m with Locked Security. We’re here to get you home.”
Once they realized I didn’t mean them any harm, they all started talking over each other.
The headache that had been slowly building all day developed into a throbbing ache. “Calm down. We’ll get you out of here as soon as the chopper arrives.”
Ignoring the questions hurled at me, I made my way to the form slumped on the ground. I saw shapely tanned legs first, followed by jean shorts and a white blouse spattered with blood. The mass of shiny blonde hair was hanging over her face, making it hard to see how badly she was hurt or if she was even awake.
