Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
V iper was seething, but he fought hard not to show it. Adaptability was his middle name, but he preferred knowing the plans in advance. It made it easier to anticipate the risks.
They left the hotel and walked the short distance to the marina. Yachts of all shapes and sizes bobbed on the inky blue water, their white hulls shining in the moonlight. It was a perfect evening. Still, balmy, not a breath of air.
High Yield was a forty-five-foot luxury yacht with a silver hull and a smart mahogany deck. It was also lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. A sniper would have no problem locating the guests through his scope. Fairy lights twinkled on the railings and a warm amber glow emanated from within. Music swept off the deck accompanied by the sound of laughter and tinkling champagne glasses.
"Wow," gasped Emily, who must have seen her fair share of yachts. "She's beautiful."
"Welcome aboard." Robert offered a hand to help the women onto the deck, then pulled himself up, positioning himself to block Viper's way.
Unfazed, Viper scanned the dock before springing aboard. Boats were second nature to him. Typically, he approached via wet insertion, scaling the sides with caving ladders and using climbing gear. The ease of this boarding wasn't lost on him.
On deck, he surveyed the yacht. She was a beauty, no doubt about that. The soft listing made him feel right at home. It took him less than a second to find his sea legs.
"God, I feel like I'm already drunk," laughed Emily, clutching Izzy's arm.
"You'll get used to it." Robert strode ahead past a covered jet ski. Viper didn’t miss the arrogant swagger. This was his domain. These were his people. "Come on, let's find Casper."
Viper followed, analyzing the threat level. About fifty guests dressed in evening wear. The hot weather meant many had discarded their blazers. Shirts without jackets meant fewer places to hide weapons.
Threat level minimal, so far.
At least the yacht was a contained space, he could mitigate the risk onboard.
"Great, you're here!" sang a male voice. A rotund man in an unashamedly pink shirt came to welcome them. He had a cigar in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. "Now we can set off."
"What?" burst out Viper.
Robert glowered. "Oh, that's Izzy's security detail. Got a stick up his ass."
Viper clenched his fists. He'd like to shove that stick up Robert's ass.
Izzy touched his arm. "Don't mind him. He's just jealous."
He frowned, unsure what she meant. Jealous of what? There was nothing going on between them. No reason to be jealous. It was obvious Robert had designs on Izzy, and she wasn't fighting him off.
The luxury yacht got underway. He felt the powerful engines kick in as it reversed out of its berth and then thrust forward into the midnight-blue bay. The smell of the sea swept him back to his training days when everything was fresh and exciting. Untold adventures lay ahead. Who would have thought that a decade later it would have all gone to shit?
Izzy and Emily got a drink and mingled among the other guests. He watched the heiress work her magic. It was effortless, a warm smile here, a touch of the arm there.
How is your sister? I haven't seen her in forever. No, the Hamptons were dreadful. Overrun by tourists, couldn't wait to leave. San Diego is so revitalizing.
Every now and then she'd glance at him, just to make sure he was still there.
The evening wore on. They finally anchored about twenty miles out to sea. San Diego was a sparkling jewel in the distance.
Viper did a lap of the yacht and returned to where Izzy was talking to Robert on the deck. He felt on edge but didn't know why. Arguably, they were safer here than back in the marina. Out here, there was nobody around to take a shot at her. Still, he knew better than most that just because you were out in the ocean, it didn’t mean there were no threats.
Robert had steered Izzy away from the rest of the party. Viper approached silently but stood a respectful distance away. As much as he didn't like the self-entitled prick, it wasn't his place to judge. Izzy’s life was her own, and he had no say in who she dated.
Robert, who'd been talking in earnest, glanced up and frowned. "For Pete's sake, can't we have a moment's privacy?"
Izzy tensed, he saw it in her shoulders. "It's his job, Robert."
"Well, there's nowhere to go here," he said with a snort. "Tell him to get lost."
"He can stay," she said tartly.
Viper barely concealed his grin.
Robert huffed but resumed their conversation in a hushed voice. Viper heard the words "iron ore" and "the company" as well as "members of the board." They were talking shop. He turned away.
A low hum caught his attention. It sounded like an outboard motor.
Alarm bells fired off in his brain. He stared out to sea, but it was pitch black and he had zero visibility. The flickering fairy lights on the railings didn't help.
"What's wrong?" asked Izzy, noticing his agitation. He liked that she was in tune with him. Robert didn’t have her entirely captivated, just yet—but he couldn’t focus on that now.
"I don't know. I thought I heard something."
"What? Out there?" She too gazed into the darkness off the bow.
"There's nothing out there but ocean," scoffed Robert, glancing around. "You're paranoid."
Viper listened hard, but the sound had vanished, yet the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Over the years he'd learned to trust his gut. Slowly, he reached for his gun.
Two other couples had wandered out onto the bow, but most of the guests were at the stern, which was designed for entertaining and had easy access to the bar.
He peered over the side into the water.
Nothing.
The prickling moved to his arms. Something was definitely up.
A shot echoed through the night air, making everybody jump. Seconds later, four armed men in ski masks leaped over the guard railing onto the deck.
Fuck!
He was on the wrong side.
Viper raced toward Izzy, firing at the attackers in order to create some kind of cover. They returned fire and he had no choice but to dive behind the leather seats. His Glock was no match for four semi-automatic weapons.
"Get down!" he yelled.
The guests screamed and ran back inside. All except Robert, who stood rooted to the spot. Izzy screamed as a black-clad man swooped her up and tossed her overboard into the waiting motorboat.
"Izzy, no!"
Viper belly-crawled out from behind the seat only to duck back again when a hail of bullets rained down on him. He was outgunned, and he fucking knew it. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t get to her without ripping himself to pieces.
Robert cried out as a bullet nicked his arm. The idiot was still standing up in full sight, staring at the kidnappers like a deer in headlights. He might not be able to get to Izzy, but he could reach Robert. Viper lurched forward, grabbed him, and pulled him back down behind the seats as another torrent of bullets flew overhead. If the idiot had still been upright, he'd be a dead man.
Something glittery caught his eye. He glanced down and saw it was Izzy's turquoise pendant. It must have come loose in the struggle.
The outboard motor sprang to life and the men jumped over the railing back onto the craft. As soon as they’d stopped firing, Viper took off across the deck.
"I'm shot. Help me. I've been shot," cried Robert, clutching his bleeding arm.
Viper gripped the railing and stared out after the inflatable. He watched as it disappeared into the darkness, its black hull a mere shadow in the glow of the superyacht. It was designed for stealth over speed. He gauged the outboard motor to be at least fifty horsepower.
Viper thought hard. It would take too long for the yacht to pull up anchor, and he didn't particularly want to lead fifty wealthy partygoers into a shootout with a bunch of pirates.
That left the jet ski.
He raced along the gangway to the stern and ripped the cover off the machine, before pushing it onto the launch pad. In the background, he could hear Robert still yelping on the deck.
"Call 911 and the Coast Guard," he shouted to Emily, who'd come out to see if the coast was clear.
“Is Izzy all right?” Her face was ashen.
“No, she’s been taken, and Robert’s been shot.”
“Oh, God.” Her hands flew to her mouth.
“Call, now!”
Emily was still fumbling for her phone as he pushed the jet ski out, leaped on, and took off after the retreating motorboat.