Chapter Twelve
Phoenix
I immediately revised everything I knew about her and the sniper. “Anyone can buy a Sig.”
This woman grew up Navy. I was betting on it.
Same as I was now betting the sniper had also been Navy, despite his choice of scope.
Husband, boyfriend, brother, accomplice.
Someone connected to her. Which could mean the sniper may not have been after me specifically.
It’d explain why he hadn’t taken the shot when he’d had the chance.
Even though she’d stood up at the last minute, he’d still had the trajectory, but he hadn’t risked it.
“True.” The little trespasser stepped fully into the wheelhouse and moved closer to the bridge controls, drawing a finger across the edge of the console. “You have a lot of touch screens.”
“Flat-panel monitors.” I rechecked the ship’s security feeds for any breaches. None. Except for the barefoot trespasser invading my helm station.
“What do all these controls do?”
“Ship handling, navigation, and communication.” The latter of which she was adept at avoiding.
“Makes sense. What are you doing now?”
Giving her a false sense of security by speaking to her. “Opening the gull wing door to the tender garage under the foredeck.” And lowering the swim platform on the beach club in case Ares and Helios had to abandon the tender and board from the stern.
“Did you learn how to captain in the Navy?”
I glanced at her. “Why was the sniper after you?”
She half smiled. “Smooth. Avoidance and distraction. I can respect that.”
“But not my private property?” I reengaged all the nav systems but left the AIS off.
She held up her hands. “Hey, you’re the one who kidnapped me and brought me to this boat.”
“Ship,” I corrected. “And I removed you from a firefight.”
“You only had to remove me because you started it,” she countered. “Also? This isn’t a cruise ship or containership. It’s a giant yacht.”
“Mega yacht is the proper term, and technically, I didn’t start the firefight.” She’d trespassed. Which I needed to remind myself of as I quickly disabled the lockdown on Ares’s and Helios’s cell phones before checking their GPS locations. Moving across the water, they were heading toward us.
“Is it all yours?”
“Yes.” Setting a heading, I engaged the autopilot, then sent a geo location to Ares’s cell before shooting him a text.
Me: Kill or capture?
“Hmm,” she murmured, running her hand over the leather captain’s seat.
Ares: Neither. Tango exfilled NE side of estate. Friendlies in outdoor gathering at adjacent property prevented further engagement.
Me: ID?
Ares: Negative. No image capture for facial rec.
Fuck.
Me: Estate?
Ares: Cleared.
Me: Copy. Underway. Tender hold’s open.
Ares: Roger that.
Pocketing my cell, I glanced at the little trespasser who now had her arms crossed over her chest like she was cold. “This way.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No clipped follow command this time?”
Ignoring the veiled insult, I exited the bridge, but her lack of fear, lack of most all normal behavior—reactionary and proactive—had me wondering. “Is the age on your passport accurate?”
“You’ve seen my passport?”
“Answer the question.”
“Why break my winning streak?”
Halfway down the side deck stairs, I paused and turned. “Do you think you’re winning, Isla?”
Standing a step above me, she still had to look up to meet my gaze. “I think you have a lot of toys for one person.”
My cell rang.
Answering, I held her gaze. “Sitrep.”
Ignoring my command, Helios spoke over the drone of the tender’s engine and slapping swells. “Do you do this shit on purpose to piss me off?”
I glanced portside toward the shoreline. “ETA?”
“Less than a fucking klick from your stern as that goddamn boat of yours clocks ten-fifteen knots. Kill the engines.”
Assuming the trespasser would follow, I continued down the stairs to the lower deck. “We’re at twelve knots. Negative on engines.” I didn’t know where the sniper was or what resources he had. The further out we were, the better.
“You’re not a tanker, and I’m not a goddamn receiver. This isn’t a fucking aerial refuel. These waves are tossing us around like a damn washing machine. Stop the boat.”
“Autopilot’s engaged. Heading to the garage now. Approach starboard. Clock your speed once you’re alongside the tender hold.” The barefoot little trespasser was stealth. I didn’t hear her behind me, but I caught a glimpse of her cast shadow on the stairs.
“Fucking great,” Helios muttered. “Being fished out of the goddamn ocean like an arcade claw game.”
I’d done it before. So had Ares. “I’ll handle the crane. Ares’ll manage the harness straps. Maintain twelve knots.”
“Next time, I’m taking the fucking helo.” Helios hung up.
I strode into the tender garage, and her commentary followed.
“Oh look, more toys.” She stepped next to the Jet Skis. “Do you even use these? They look brand-new.”
Cutting through the five-foot swells, Helios came at the Paragon full throttle. Then he swung the tender parallel and eased back to twelve knots.
Ignoring the trespasser, I already had the crane out.