The men flanking the door had raised their guns, trained them on Skeet. He didn’t even glance at them as he approached the table.
“The famous Easton Blackwood. Volkov described you as predictably heroic. I was hoping for something more... creative.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Skeet’s eyes flickered again to Chloe, back to Martin. “But I’m here to offer a trade.”
“You have nothing I want.”
“I have Hamilton Jones’s complete file on you. Your history, your financial records, your network—everything.”
She glanced at Cooper-slash-Martin. What was she missing?
Cooper laughed. “So does the CIA.”
“Well, how about that plus we don’t send your yacht to the bottom of the river.”
Really?How she hoped she was able to get off this pleasure cruise by then.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Ham.” Skeet spoke into what looked like a throat mic. “Show him we’re serious.”
The yacht shuddered. Something—multiple somethings—had attached to the hull. Not an impact, but enough to make the boat shake.
“Shaped charges,” Skeet said conversationally. “My friends are former SEALs too. They know exactly where to place them for incentive. Or maximum structural damage, if we can’t reach an agreement.”
Cooper lifted a shoulder. “The Petrovs own a fleet.”
“Your choice, Martin. Give up now, or we all go down together.”
Lightning crashed overhead, so close the thunder was simultaneous. In the strobing light, Chloe saw movement outside the windows—dark shapes in the water, positioning around the yacht.
“You know what I think, Blackwood?” Cooper’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I think you’re not willing to risk their lives. I think underneath all that tactical training, you’re still the same man who got his team killed in Myanmar because he couldn’t make the hard choice.”
Skeet’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “Maybe. Or... maybe not.”
Cooper smiled. “We’ll see.” He raised his pistol—not toward Skeet, but toward Elena.
Be still.
The words whispered through Chloe’s mind again, not a command to freeze—a command to trust. To stay calm while chaos raged around her.
But—oh, God, please!
A terrible wave slammed against the boat, causing it to careen against the dock.
Chloe fell sideways, tackling Elena off her chair just as a gunshot exploded through the cabin. They hit the deck hard.
Chaos erupted around them. Gunshots. Shouting.
Chloe broke her silly zip ties—seriously, she had at least a few skills—and pulled Elena behind the desk.
More gunshots. Emergency lighting sparked and died, plunging the cabin into darkness broken only by muzzle flashes and lightning.
The yacht’s windows exploded inward.
Elena lurched as if to run.
“Stay down!” Chloe grabbed her, pulled her tight under the table. “Don’t move!”