Chapter 55
Rocco stood waist-deep in the tepid waters. The self-propelled semi-submersible, a low-profile silhouette against the backdrop of twilight, seemed part of the sea itself. Its matte black finish absorbed the moonlight, becoming a shadow, nearly invisible to the untrained eye.
The trip to Rocket Island would take one hour.
One hour until he could see Jemma again, wrap her in his arms and tell her how he’d felt about her from the very first moment they’d met. He didn’t know it back then, but she’d stolen his heart from the start and he had no fucking plans of letting Nomar take her from him.
Hoisting his body onto the glass-reinforced hull, glistening with droplets beading and running off its surface, he followed Tatiana and Everett toward the open hatch leading into the bowels of the SPSS. The top of the sub was dotted with small, sealed hatches, tubes, pipes, and a minimal conning tower with a periscope that was vital to the SPSSs operation. The lifeline to the world above that allowed them to breathe and navigate while remaining hidden beneath the waves. The vessel hummed with a quiet power, a promise of the speed and agility of the top-of-the-line engine. Once they departed, a mere three inches of the vessel would be discernible above the water, virtually guaranteeing that no one would track their movement to the private island.
Several feet away, Sebastian, Lachlan and Kane were entering a twin SPSS. No one said a word, attuned to the precision required for the task at hand. Rocco took purposeful steps across the hull as the SPSS undulated with each passing wave.
Tatiana had given the team a crash course in navigation. Sebastian had gone over the plan dozens of times during the hours before dusk. Rocco knew the likelihood of success was low. Despite the odds, Rocco had seen enough in the men of Stingray Security to know there was no better team he’d want by his side to execute this rescue mission.
Jemma’s life depended on them operating at their best and that was what he and the Stingray guys planned to do.
As Tati, then Everett disappeared down the hatch, Rocco took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, then eased down into the cramped space of the vessel. The hatch closed behind him with a clang, sealing him into the sub’s dimly lit interior.
The air was thick and stale, a cocktail of diesel fuel, salt, and sweat. His eyes adjusted to the sparse illumination inside the cramped space. Tatiana faced the control panel, the glow of navigation screens and digital displays lighting her face as she set the sub in motion.
“The conditions of the sea and the navigational path has us arriving sooner than we planned,” Tati said.
The hour passed in a blur as the waves jostled and shook them closer to the private island. Through the narrow, distorted views from the periscope, the island came into view. A shadowy mass against the starlit sky. The grotto loomed ahead. Tati steered the vessel deftly through the narrow opening, then idled the engine. Rocco’s heart raced as he disembarked through the narrow hatch, every sense on high alert.
One thing was for sure.
He wasn’t leaving this island without Jemma.