Chapter 19
Wyatt’s hand left the cold glass of the porthole. “We need to disable that crane. Permanently.”
He turned toward the two women. Caro was still wrapped in her thermal blanket, color just returning to her face. She’d held it together better than anyone had a right to expect.
And Jen.
Arms crossed. Jaw set. Blood dried in a dark line from her temple to her jaw—a wound she’d been carrying all night without a word of complaint. She looked exhausted, battered, and absolutely ready to fight.
Something shifted in his chest. The same thing that had been shifting all night, pushing against the walls he’d spent a lifetime building.
The women weren’t trained for this. Either of them. And he was about to send them into a combat zone.
Jen nodded. “Hydraulic lines. We cut the hydraulic lines and kill the crane.”
“Not enough.” Tension ran in a painful line across his shoulders. He shrugged against it.
Her head turned sharply. “What do you mean, not enough?”
“They could jury-rig something. Some kind of manual winch. It’d be slower but possible.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“Demo charges.” He met her eyes. “There are explosives in the armory.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Jen’s face. “Of course you noticed.”
He dragged his gaze from her and looked at the crane through the porthole. “We put shaped charges on the structural supports and the whole thing drops into the ocean.”
“And the cargo ship captain sees it happen.” Her mind was already running calculations—he read it in the way her focus sharpened. “No recovery is possible. Mission over.”
“Exactly.”
Caro shifted in her seat. “I know where the weak points are. Where the supports would fail if you hit them.”
She looked fragile under her thermal blanket, and yet she was volunteering for more.
“Good,” he said. “We’ll need that.”
They’d be exposed during explosives placement. One person couldn’t do both. They’d have to split up—
“My palm print will open the armory. Yours won’t.”
Damn, Jen just read his mind. “No—”
She straightened, arms uncrossing. “I know the fastest route through Engineering. You don’t. And you’re the one with combat training and a gun. We need the crane area cleared so we can plant the charges.”
Every tactical instinct he had said she was right. Every other part of him said absolutely not.
“Too dangerous,” he said. “You’d be exposed the whole way.”
“So would you be.” Her eyes didn’t leave his.
There it was again. That stubborn refusal to let him carry everything alone. It infuriated him, but it was also the thing he admired most about her.
Caro’s blanket rustled. “No one knows this rig like Jen. If anyone can do it, it’s her.”
He flexed his fingers, locking his reaction down.
“You’re worried,” Jen said.
He didn’t lie. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Something softened in her voice. Just slightly. “I’d worry if you weren’t. But I can do this, Wyatt.”
He knew she could. But knowing someone was capable didn’t make sending them into danger any easier. Especially when that someone was her. If she got hurt or killed—
The pressure behind his ribs ramped up. He breathed out. He hated it, but trust meant not stopping her.
She straightened. “I’m not asking for permission. This is the plan.”
She was willing to walk into a terrorist-controlled station alone.
Christ. She was magnificent.
His dad’s voice surfaced in his head. Sometimes the hardest part of protecting someone is knowing when to step back.
Wyatt let the air drain from his lungs. “Okay.”
Jen blinked. “Okay?”
“You get the charges. But you take the radio.” He reached up, unslung the M4, and held it out to her. “Any sign of trouble, you call it in. Don’t be a hero.”
“Says the man who took a knife to the leg.”
“Do as I say, not as I do. Twenty minutes. You get to the armory, grab the demo charges and detonators, get back out.”
“I can stay out of sight.”
“Caro and I will move to the crane. Clear any guards. Scout the placement points.” He tipped his head toward Caro. “You stay with me. If shooting starts, you get flat and stay flat. Understood?”
Caro ducked her head in agreement. “I’m in.”
“Rendezvous point should be the northeast corner behind the hydraulic manifold we passed on the way here, close to the crane. Good ground—sight lines on two approaches and hard cover if things go wrong.”
“Perfect.” Jen pressed her lips together.
“Twenty minutes. Don’t stop for anything.” He looked her in the eye.
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes snapped to her as she moved closer. “Just be careful, Jen.”
She lifted onto her toes and kissed him.
His brain stalled for half a heartbeat—the first time all night survival hadn’t been the only thing on his mind.
He caught her waist, fingers spreading against her hip through the damp coveralls.
Her lips were cold and chapped from the wind, and for an instant there was nothing but her.
Salt on her lips. The hitch of her breath when his thumb pressed into her side. The impossible warmth of her.
His hand tightened at her waist, holding her there a second longer than he had meant to.
Then she drew back.
His hand fell away, and cold air rushed into the space she’d left behind.
“I can do this,” she said.
They were still only inches apart. Her eyes searched his—looking for something. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if she’d found it.
Caro cleared her throat softly.
Wyatt stepped back, creating distance he didn’t want, locking the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her waist into the same box as everything else he couldn’t afford to feel.
Crane first. Process later. If there was a later.
Jen’s voice steadied. All business now. “You clear those guards. I’ll get the charges. We meet at the crane.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes.” She paused with her hand on the hatch’s locking mechanism. She looked back over her shoulder. “Wyatt?”
“Yes?”
He almost said don’t go.
Almost said stay here where I can see you.
Instead, he just met her eyes and waited.
“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
Then she was through the hatch and gone into the sleet.
Every instinct screamed to follow her and keep her safe, but he forced himself still.
“She’ll be okay,” Caro said in a hushed voice. “She’s brilliant, yeah?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded like gravel.
Caro shifted the thermal blanket off her shoulders. She folded it with shaking hands and set it on the seat. “Let’s go clear those guards, then. Sooner we finish, sooner she’s back.”
Wyatt pulled himself together. “Stay close. Stay quiet. If shooting starts—”
“Get flat and stay flat.” She smiled. “Not arguing with that.”
He opened the hatch.
Sleet hit his face—cold needles that cleared his head. He scanned the deck. Visibility was low, and the storm still raged.
Clear.
For now.
He climbed out first, then reached back and caught Caro lightly by the sleeve, guiding her to the shadow of the pipe run before she could step fully onto the deck.
They moved quickly, hunched low, using the storage tanks and pipe runs for cover.
Twenty minutes. Jen had twenty minutes to get those charges and get back.
He couldn’t stop her.
But if she didn’t make the rendezvous point, he’d tear Seven apart bolt by bolt until he found her.