Chapter Twenty-Two
One Mile South of Cabrera Island
Mallorca, Spain
Mia quietly climbed out of the storage compartment beneath the berth, then stretched to work the stiffness from her limbs.
Her back and shoulders ached the most, and her legs tingled with the familiar pins and needles as her blood started circulating again.
She took twenty seconds to regain full control of her body, focusing on her breathing to suppress the disorientation she suffered from lying cramped in the dark for so long.
Since the patrol boat sat lower in the water than the Veloce, Mia had a slight tactical disadvantage, and she could only see the Guardia Civil officers who were on the Veloce from the waist up.
To compensate, she would need to use extreme violence and move fast to maximize her biggest advantage: surprise.
She debated whether to leave the spotlight on. It would blind anyone trying to look toward the Rodman-55, which would make it easier for her to engage targets on the Veloce. But it would also silhouette her the moment she stepped onto the Azimut yacht.
Better to kill the light and use the cover of darkness.
Mia flipped the spotlight’s switch at the helm station, and the light went off.
Not wasting time, Mia moved to the cockpit door and opened it.
As she emerged onto the deck, she immediately spotted a short Guardia Civil officer standing near the bow, his eyes on the now extinguished spotlight.
He turned toward her and was about to yell a warning to his colleagues when Mia’s pistol barked twice.
Her two rounds shattered the man’s mouth, and he crumpled backward.
Eighteen.
Mia pivoted to her right before the officer even hit the deck. A female officer was on the Veloce’s aft deck, holding a shotgun across her chest. Another uniformed figure stood beside her, slightly to her right. Mia’s brain registered both as threats and noted their black bulletproof vests.
Mia squeezed the trigger again, sending two rounds at the woman. The first grazed the officer’s right temple, but the second hit an inch to the right of her nose. Blood sprayed, and the officer went down.
Nineteen.
Though the suppressor attached to her pistol somewhat quieted her shots, it didn’t completely silence them.
The other figure, a good-looking man with a closely trimmed beard, must have heard them because he turned around, his hand reaching for the pistol holstered at his right hip.
Behind him, stood a tall woman with black hair.
Verena Kaine.
Fearing overpenetration or a miss, Mia hesitated to go for a headshot.
She lowered her aim and squeezed the trigger once just as the officer managed to pull his weapon free.
Her round struck him high on the chest, just above his light body armor.
The officer dropped his pistol and stumbled backward and to his left into one of the cockpit’s chairs, disappearing from Mia’s view.
She moved forward and jumped onto the swim platform of the Azimut and raced up the four steps leading to the main deck.
The first person she saw was Justin Burton, the Veloce’s skipper. She remembered his name and face from the mission brief Operations had sent her. Burton was frozen in place with his hands raised to his side. But Verena Kaine, who had jumped away from Mia’s line of fire, was another story.
That woman isn’t giving up.
Kaine dove for the pistol the male officer had dropped. Since the gun lay far closer to Mia than to her, it was a reckless, desperate move.
But it certainly shows courage, Mia thought as she stepped forward and kicked the pistol away, sending it sliding across the deck and out of Verena’s reach.
Then Mia adjusted her aim and fired one round into her target’s forehead.
Twenty.