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The second jet ski zoomed up close to the boat.
Fearghas waited until the rider came alongside the boat and then launched himself out of the boat onto the rider.
The jet ski tipped over, dumping the driver and Fearghas into the water.
Jasmine cried out.
A moment later, the machine bobbed upright. A man climbed onto the back, settled onto the seat and raced off after the other jet ski.
“Was that Fearghas?” Jasmine asked.
“It was,” Dmytro responded.
The boat’s driver pushed the throttle forward, resuming their mad dash toward the shore.
Jasmine glanced back at the two jet skis.
Fearghas reached the other device as the man was mounting and ran his jet ski into it, once again unseating its rider. He used his machine to push the other away from the man in the water and further out to sea until it was too far for the man to reach.
Jasmine watched until she couldn’t see Fearghas or the bobbing heads of the attackers in the water. Then, she focused on the shore.
Their driver didn’t slow until they powered through the waves and then only slightly as he drove the boat onto the sand.
Ace and Dmytro leaped out. Jasmine followed.
Ace was there to steady her, and then all three helped push the little boat back out into the water, and it sped back to the yacht.
The roar of another engine sounded as the little boat sped away.
A jet ski shot toward them and slid onto the sand beside them.
Fearghas leaped off and ran toward them.
Dmytro tipped his head toward the hotel. “I know someone who works here. He will know how to get to Bertolli’s summer home.”
“Will he be awake at this hour?” Jasmine asked as she jogged beside him toward the building.
Dmytro nodded. “He works the night shift. I texted him earlier to let him know we were on our way in.”
Jasmine’s lips quirked. She realized she’d only scratched the surface of Dmytro’s network. She would be forever grateful he was her friend.
As they approached the hotel, men surged out of the shadows.
Trained as special forces operatives, Jasmine’s team of four had no other choice but to meet them head-on.
“I count four coming in from our right,” Fearghas said.
“Four more from the left,” Ace said, his voice tight. “All are armed, their weapons pointed at us.”
Jasmine held up her arms and shouted in Greek. “Don’t shoot! I have the copper scroll.” She patted her bag with one hand and then raised it again.
“What are you doing?” Ace asked in a harsh whisper.
“I told them not to shoot,” Jasmine said, still holding up her hands. “And that I have the scroll.”
“Brilliant,” Fearghas said. “They can’t shoot and risk hitting the scroll. Ace, repeat what I say. It’ll be Greek for No, I have the scroll.” He held up his hands. “Óchi,” he shouted, also in Greek, “Echo ton chálkino kýlindro.”
Ace’s brow twisted.
