The shooting was already slowing. Voices she recognized calling “Clear!” and “Secured!”
“Chloe!” Skeet’s voice cut through the aftermath. “Where are you?”
“Here!”
A light flashed around the room, and she raised her head. The cabin was a war zone—shattered glass, overturned furniture, smoke in the air. But the shooting had stopped.
Volkov’s woman was on the floor, unconscious but breathing, zip-tied by someone who clearly knew what they were doing. Same for the two thugs at the door.
But Volkov and Cooper had vanished.
Skeet appeared beside the table, dropping to one knee. His face was grim but his hands gentle as he checked them both for injuries. “You hurt?”
“No.” Her voice came out shaky. “Elena?”
“No.” Elena’s whisper was barely audible. “Is it over?”
“It’s over.” Ham’s voice came from across the cabin. Chloe looked up to see the older man surveying the scene. “Nice work, people. Let’s get these ladies somewhere dry.”
Through the shattered windows, Chloe could see another boat pulling alongside—sleek, fast, with someone waiting to help them aboard. The evac Skeet had planned.
But as Skeet helped her to her feet, her gaze landed on something. A red light, blinking from under the table.
Recording equipment.
Everything. Cooper’s confession, his cryptic plans—all of it captured.
Evidence.
“Skeet,” she said, pointing. “The recording. We need?—”
“Come on.” He gripped her arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“But the evidence—” She pulled back, looking at the device. “Everything’s on there. His whole confession.”
“Chloe, we have to go.”
The sound of her name on his lips, the desperation in his voice, made her look at his face.
Fierce yet raw, hoping . . .
Please trust me.
She let him pull her away toward the shattered cabin door.
More shooting started. Muzzle flashes erupted from the shadows, wood splintering around them. Skeet tackled her to the deck as bullets whined overhead.
Ham called for backup, someone screaming orders. The yacht tilted as something heavy hit the hull.
Skeet hauled her upright, one arm around her waist. “Move!” They ran—stumbling through debris, Elena sobbing behind them, the storm still howling outside.
They reached the bow, rain lashing their faces. The evac boat waited, Ham holding onto their boat, fighting the storm, West atthe helm with engines running. Elena ran to Ham, who helped her onto the boat, North catching her.
And then a wave jerked the rescue boat away.
It caught Ham, who tripped and went over the side.
“Ham!” Skeet shouted and took off.