Admiral Hendrickson refused to let Rico take part in the rescue. He considered throwing a bat shit crazy fit. Instead he went toe to toe with her. Stood his ground and begged.
Now he followed a SEAL down a passageway of the
Santa Monica
leading to the guest staterooms. During the chopper ride, the SEALs explained the EPIRB Olivia set off was registered as being in a stateroom. The plan was for two men to start searching that deck and work down while others took positions preparing for an attack. Knowing the problems she’d caused Silva they’d probably find her shackled in the lowest part of the ship guarded by eight goons.
Rico slipped through a door and his heart rate tripled. Olivia was curled on the bed, fully dressed, lying on her side, her right wrist handcuffed to the headboard. He crept closer. She stirred. Bruises were visible on her face and her lip was swollen.
Anger flared through him.
Rico bent over Olivia and her body jerked. Her legs went around his waist, trapping his left arm against his body. Squeezing hard she pulled him off balance. His right arm went up reflexively, successfully blocking her left fist from connecting with his face. He fell onto her, managing to get a hand over her mouth.
“Olivia, it’s me, Rico. Take it easy,” he hissed.
A gasp escaped her and he watched recognition grow in her eyes. Her lips turned up in a smile against his palm.
“You hurt?”
She shook her head vigorously.
“I’m going to take my hand away. You have to be quiet. Understand?”
She nodded. He removed his hand.
“They said you were dead. They went to my suite, found you unconscious, shot you.” The words swirled out in a hoarse whisper.
A hot shaft shot into his belly. She’d been out here thinking she was alone. That no one knew where she was, or was coming. Tonight he would kill Silva.
“They lied.” He forced a smile.
Her free arm wrapped around his neck so tight she choked him.
“I’m glad to see you too, Olivia, but you have to let go.”
She tightened her grip. He stood, bringing her off the bed, and her body caved against him.
“Cortes!”
Olivia jumped at the harsh whisper and peered over his shoulder toward the door.
“What the hell is taking so long?”
“She’s handcuffed.”
“I’ve got a key,” came a reply.
Rico kissed her forehead. “Wait here,” he said, and moved to the dark figure.
“Just where do you think I’d go?”
Free from the cuffs, Olivia massaged her wrist. Rico took her arm, guiding her to the door but she balked.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
She raised her hand to his face, sweeping her fingertips down his cheek across the edge of his jaw to his lips, sending a shiver through him.
“I didn’t trust you.”
Taking her hand in his, he pressed her palm to his lips. “Commander, as much as I’d like to discuss this in detail with you, we have to move. Your rescue team is on a tight schedule. Tomorrow will be plenty of time to talk.”
The dark figure reappeared in the doorway. “For crap’s sake will you
come
on?” He tossed a bundle in their direction. Rico caught it and held up a Kevlar vest for her to slip into.
“Hurry,” the voice ordered.
Olivia followed Rico into the passageway, where she met the owner of the voice—a large, thickchested man dressed in black combat gear. Rico was taller, but this guy outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. In the biggest hands she had even seen he carried a Colt A4A1 carbine, the preferred weapon for Navy SEALs. She was impressed. SEALs had come to rescue her. The front of the SEAL’s Kevlar vest held a holster sporting an H&K 45 with suppresser. Magazine clips circled his waist. Another sidearm rested in a hip holster and wicked long knives were strapped to each leg. A one man wrecking crew. The comfort and safety the two men represented sent a smile across her face.
The SEAL gave her an up and down look. “Commander Carver?”
Olivia nodded.
“I have Poster Girl,” he said into his tiny communication device.
Poster girl?
Her gaze snapped to Rico. Poster Girl had to be his doing.
“Let’s move,” the man said.
Olivia stepped past her guard’s corpse. Creeping slowly down the passageway, the three made their way aft.
She stopped short.
Rico pressed her against the wall, protectively covering her with his body. The SEAL stood with his back to them sweeping the A4 from side to side.
“What?” Rico whispered in her ear.
The SEAL leaned so close she felt the tension in his body.
“I want a weapon,” she whispered.
“Great Caesar’s ghost,” the man grumbled. He turned to them and exchanged a glance with Rico.
“And—” she looked at the other man, “—I want to know your name.”
Both men stared at her. Rico raised an eyebrow.
“My name is Hunter, ma’am.” He straightened and removed the 9mm from his side holster, handing it to her grip first. She checked it, finding a round chambered in the military issue Sig Sauer.
“Anything else?”
“Extra ammo would be nice and one of those knives,” she whispered.
Olivia jammed the two magazines into pockets and held her hand out until he slapped a knife onto her palm. The seven inch KA-BAR knife went to her back waistband.
“Thank you, Hunter.”
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t fucking do that again,” he growled.
“Where are we going?” she asked, completely disregarding his tone.
“Aft swim deck. Can we go now?”
Olivia nodded. She recognized the route Hunter was taking them. It led out to an open deck then back inside. She put her hand on the big man’s shoulder.
“This way takes us outside. There’s another staircase. The staff uses it and we won’t be exposed.”
Hunter gave Rico a questioning look.
“It’s your decision,” Rico told him.
“Are the staff armed?” Hunter asked.
“Nine that I saw. The captain has a side arm. The guard you killed and three others. Silva and Baker are probably armed.”
“Baker is here?” Rico asked.
Olivia nodded and turned to Hunter. “The helicopter pilot and another man, an arms dealer. Some of the men are eastern Europeans, military types.” She watched as Hunter digested this new information.
Rico put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back to the wall. “You know who Baker is?”
She nodded. “A fed. I’ve worked with him. I don’t know what agency. He bragged he killed Danny.”
“Describe him,” Hunter said.
“Five-eleven, blond, broad shouldered. Bandage on his nose. His face is messed up.”
Hunter put his hand to his throat to activate the communications device. “Change in plans,” he said, relaying the new route information, and gave Baker’s description.
She led them to the staff staircase. Quickly they descended until Hunter stopped, holding up his hand. He listened to the voice on his head set.
“Shit!” He spit the word out.
Before he had a chance to explain, they heard automatic weapons fire.
Hunter let loose with some profanities, grabbed Olivia’s arm and pulled her down away from the firing on the upper decks.
The SEAL moved so fast he was lifting her off her feet and she had a problem keeping up. They came to the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto the swim deck, where two men crouched at the edge. Beyond them, in the water, she could see the dark outlines of a zodiac. She watched as one of the men rose and pointed his weapon in their direction. Olivia raised her weapon preparing to return fire.
“Mine,” Hunter growled, pushing her arm down so forcefully she tilted forward.
Rico caught her shirt, keeping her upright. The men in the zodiac fired at the deck above them. Return fire was the rapid staccato of an automatic rifle. It sounded to Olivia as if a whole clip was emptied at the men on the deck.
Two men slipped into the water as gunfire began from every direction.
“We can’t get out this way, not yet,” Hunter said.
Rico and Hunter sandwiched her between them and started moving back the way they came.
“There’s a small craft launch on the starboard side. The hull retracts,” Olivia told Hunter.
He shook his head. “Won’t work. In two minutes the power plant will be disabled.”
“That won’t work either. They have a backup generator that could power half of Miami.”
“Shit. We didn’t know about that.” Hunter relayed the information.
“What now?” Rico asked.
“We’ll have to try for the zodiac,” Hunter said.
Rico’s arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed her hard. “You ready?”
“Yes,” she answered emphatically.
Hunter stepped onto the open deck, firing up. Rico followed, also firing. Bullets rained down in response, splintering the teak floor, sending shards in every direction. Olivia looked for the zodiac. It was gone. Rico crashed against her shoving her back inside.
“Get that fucking boat back and get her outta here,” Rico said, pushing past her.
“Where are you going?” she cried out.
“Up. To keep them busy. Give me three minutes. You, stay with Hunter.”
“We’ll wait—”
“No. I’m going after Silva,” he called out over his shoulder.
“Oh, hell no!” Olivia sprinted to catch up and heard Hunter hard after her.
“Stop,” Hunter grunted. She kept going. She wanted Silva and even more, she wanted that bastard Baker.
Rico stopped. “I told you to stay with Hunter.”
“I am with him.” They stared at each other silently for a long moment until Hunter broke the silence.
“I don’t know what the two of you think you’re doing,” he growled. “We have to get out of here. Now!”
“I told you—get her out of here.”
“No. The mother of all firefights is going to break out—”
An explosion tipped the yacht to starboard. They were thrown against the bulkhead and struggled to keep their footing. Rico and Hunter jammed her against the wall. The lights flickered and went out. Olivia shoved the men off her. “Quit that! I can’t breathe.”
“We’re getting off this boat now,” Hunter said with less confidence than she would have liked.
Rico was already on the move. He burst onto the deck, firing. She had no idea if he was laying down protective fire or had an actual target, but she followed. Hunter grabbed her and she kicked out. He yanked hard, wrapping her in an inhumanly strong grip and dragging her backward. The firing on the deck grew more intense.
“Let go of me,” she screamed.
Hunter said nothing. She got a hand under his chin and pushed his head back. He shook her like a rag doll.
“Stop fighting me.”
“No. He needs help. Let go.”
“No, I—” He stopped.
Olivia pressed her gun to his left cheek. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. More gunfire from the direction Rico had gone.
“Please,” she whispered.
He loosened his grip and she lowered the gun.
“Fuck.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m going to regret this.” He released his grip. “I go first. You do what I say.”
She nodded.
It didn’t take long to find Rico. He’d been forced by heavy fire to retreat.
Hunter looked at each of them and sighed. “Where do you think they are?”
“Their best chance at escape is the helicopter. They’ll be making their way from forward of this deck to aft of the deck above us,” Olivia told them.
They heard a small explosion. Hunter looked up and down the passageway and cursed. “This is how we are going to do it. We’re going to go aft, use the central stairs. I lead, we use hand communication only.”
The firing stopped, followed by an eerie quiet. Hunter looked at them. “Ready?”
They both nodded.
They threaded their way through the main salon and into the passageway leading to the staterooms. Rico walked almost backward, protecting their flank. She could not see over or around the bulk of the two men. She gave it up, allowing herself to be pushed along. Hunter stopped and made a V with his first and second fingers, put them to his eyes, then held up one finger—indicating one man was someplace ahead. He held up his hand in a stay here gesture and moved forward without a sound. Olivia could see the man standing with his back to them. Hunter’s right arm went over the man’s shoulder and his left hand went to his neck. He snapped back…and then lowered the dead man to the floor.
Heavy footfalls ascended the staircase behind them. Rico stepped around Olivia as Hunter rejoined them.
“I’m going up,” Rico whispered. “You take care of that.” He hitched his chin in the direction they had come.
Hunter nodded. They looked at Olivia. “Stay here,” they ordered in unison.
She started to protest, but remembering the hidden service stairs a few feet from where they were standing, she nodded. Rico and Hunter drifted away. The moment they were out of sight she started for the stairs, stopping at the body on the floor to snatch up the automatic rifle, some kind of Russian weapon.
Gunfire erupted. She crouched and listened. The firefight Hunter predicted had begun. She eased the stairwell door open a crack, waited a moment and moved inside. She stepped into the passageway and heard Silva’s and Baker’s voices coming from the first cabin she came to. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had them. A third voice joined in. The chopper pilot from the sound of the conversation. He didn’t want to take off. Silva’s voice rose. “We leave now.”
“The major?” the pilot asked.
“Not your concern,” Silva snapped back.
Olivia considered going back for Rico.
No.
She couldn’t risk losing Silva and Baker forever. She went to her knees, carefully positioning the weapons on the floor in front of her, and calmed her breathing. In one smooth motion she levered up, twisted the door handle and shoved the door hard with her shoulder. She dropped, pressed her cheek against the deck and covered her head. The men inside fired blindly, going for body mass and head height, not low. Wood and plaster shards from the door and wall peppered her.
Olivia listened intently to the sounds. Two guns fired, not three. One man didn’t have a weapon, or had chosen not to fire. She tried to keep count of shots fired. It was impossible. When the firing stopped, she looked through a cloud of dust at the splintered door. The room was silent.