“What’s goin’ on Dan?” I feel stupid asking; it’s obvious what is happening. Pausing next to Dan leaning on the door frame of his office, I cross my arms tightly over my chest. “What’d I miss?”

  “Before you were called down, the team and I were talkin’ with the HR guy, and Aleesha started going ballistic—yelling that it didn’t matter what she said. She called him a jerk, and a racist, right in front of all of us. I’m not sure what happened when we left, but she just came up a couple minutes before you, and a security guard was waiting for her.” Grimacing deeply at what Dan reveals, I gulp harshly before he shrugs. “What about you, Kaitlyn? You’re obviously still here.”

  “Oh, I got taken off the promotional track and won’t get a quarterly bonus, but I didn’t want a promotion, and I don’t need the money so bad,” I mumble a reply, and Dan glances at me with surprise swirling in his eyes. “I guess I know why they were so lenient. Um, I wanted to take everyone out to lunch, as thanks. On me. For backing me up.”

  “She’s just a design tech, she’s replaceable. I’m having someone interview from another team after lunch who was referred highly. It’s been a long morning,” Dan says, rubbing his chin absently before nodding firmly. “You better be ready to shell out, Kaitlyn. We have a lot to celebrate, and today’s gonna be the last day before we’re all ridiculously busy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Owen

  “There it is.” Pointing across the bay, I suck my teeth in irritation before glancing over at Michael. “You ready?”

  “Me? I’m not doin’ jack shit. This is your plan, and you’re the one that’s gotta make it all the way out there.” Clapping me heavily on the shoulder, Michael grins maliciously as I shrug him off. “Good luck and have fun. I’ll meet you at Edmonds in four hours.”

  Retreating from the railing that separates us from a twenty-foot sheer drop down into the bay, Michael leaves me all on my lonesome. For a moment, I just stare out into the depths, taking in the peaceful, calm water in a daze. Small islands and land masses separate Seattle from the Pacific, but I can smell it when I take a deep, calming breath. To the north, the opening to the bay is clear of congestion from other ships, and I turn my gaze back to the one moored about half a mile offshore.

  “Seattle Bay is beautiful at night,” Even though it’s actual name is Elliott—who names a bay a name like that? My musing pulls a sigh from my lips, but it’s drowned out by the deep bellowing of the ferry announcing its arrival. Pushing myself off the railing, I wander down the walk to stand in line and pull out a few small bills from my slack pockets. “Here I go. Rowlan, I hope you’re ready for me.”

  Tonight is the night. The last ferry to go out would bring me close enough to the ship that I could swim the rest of the way easily. Patting the lump under my wife-beater, I nod to myself as I count the knives strapped to my waist.

  Knives, a lighter, and two large suction cups hang over my shoulder, tied with a shoestring. That is all it’d take to get onto Ryan’s ship and take off with it. Hopefully.

  “Have fun, he says,” I mutter as I shuffle towards the toll for the ferry. My chest tightens at the notion; this is fun. Sneaking onto a ship in a weird, convoluted way and making off with treasure? Yeah, that’s my idea of a good time. “But the aftermath is gonna suck. Rowlan won’t take this lying down.”

  Ryan had reassured me that he’d take care of Rowlan, but I don’t believe him. I had no faith that my brother would end up in a weighted bag in the Pacific. Worry nibbles at my gut. If it were so easy to get rid of Rowlan, it would’ve happened long ago. Ryan isn’t the first of his enemies, but I want to be the last.

  And stealing everything on the ship is going to send him over the edge. The ship is Ryan’s, the security is Ryan’s, but what’s on board is his payment to my brother. Washed money, jewelry, tech—all legally obtained, and all . . . fucking . . . mine.

  “Well, according to the cargo manifest. Who knows what else is on that big boat?” I smirk sharply, pulling a few bills out to pay the toll and head for the ferry. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I finger my switchblade absently as I glance around. The water below gently sloshes up the boat’s hull, and I lean on the railing facing out into the quiet bay. Streetlights and ship lights illuminate the far-flung reaches of the bay, and I stare out at the ship—my target.

  I fiddle with the shoelace tying the big, sophisticated suction cups I’d ordered online for this. Twisting the handles, I grin broadly as the cup pulls taut. The ferry horn sounds again, and I glance up as the boat’s engines rumble tellingly underfoot. Around me, the breeze picks up as we slowly take off, and I hang over the railing slightly to look out into the bay. My blood pressure spikes briefly, and a cold sweat breaks out under my loose clothes before I palm my knives again agitatedly.

  The ferry cuts through the water towards native land in a straight line, and I glance over my shoulder as I near the jump spot. An ache forms against the backs of my eyes, and my hands tremble slightly as I tie off my suction cups under my arm. Briefly, my mind wanders to Kaitlyn, and I bite my bottom lip hard. I hope I don’t get shot and die on that fucking boat.

  Shaking my head viciously, I climb hastily over the railing to launch myself in a dive into the bay. The saltwater slams into me like I landed on concrete, and I choke slightly as I resurface to sweep back my hair. Blinking furiously, I glance around to start swimming towards my target. Suddenly, doubt clouds my mind, what if Ryan put extra security on deck, knowing I am going after the ship? What if I misread him, and continuing with the heist is a mistake, because he knows about it?

  But even if Ryan didn’t tell me he knew, the fact remains that he does. He knew about it in depth before we’d even met in person. Guess I know that he got the celebrated half of my dad’s personality.

  I swim deep, easy strokes and keep one eye out for other boats as one trains on the ship just a little too far out towards the mouth of the bay. The harbor is dangerous, less so at night, and I focus on breathing and trying not to strain myself. Giant lights strafe the surface of the water, blinding me with each pass.

  The real work hadn’t even started yet, and I’m losing my head. This would be my biggest score if I could pull it off. Growling lowly in my throat as water sloshes over my head, I wipe my face furiously and focus on the boat that had rapidly came up on me. Lights illuminate the deck, and over the rustling water around me, I can hear people talking.

  Untying the suction cups from my arm, I swim along the long, sleek hull away from the voices before glancing up. The deck rises thirty feet, maybe, above the water. I grip the handles before jamming one cup onto the side of the boat. Twisting to secure the grip, I hoist myself up and bite back a grunt.

  “Fuck me, I need to work out,” I grumble to myself, my panting harshly scraping the back of my throat. Balancing precariously on one arm, I clamp the other suction cup as high up the hull as I can. Metal creaks around me, and the water soaking my clothes drags me down. My muscles burn, and I grind my molars and slowly, arduously make my way up the side of the ship. “I’m gonna die . . . holy shit, my arms are gonna fall off.”

  Reaching near the deck, I leave one suction cup low to stand on it precariously as I peek over the edge of the hull. Alarm rings in my head, and my heart leaps into my throat at the multiple pairs of boots shuffling along the deck. The flat plateau isn’t the same as the plans I’d looked up, and panic slams into my gut.

  This ship had been modified. Shit! Shit! My free hand trembles as I clench a tight fist, my nails digging into the meaty part of my palm. That two-timing mother fucker is fuckin’ with me!

  Of course, Ryan would do something like this. I mean, he had tried to play mind games with me yesterday after ruthlessly waking me up at the bar. My face heats with anger and conviction. I snarl nastily as I lower myself gingerly to close my eyes and breathe fire through my nose.

  “Okay, okay.” Inhaling deeply, I rub my face of salty water and sweep back my hair before very carefully unbuckling my slacks and dropping them into the water. Balancing on this fucking suction cup is as painful as it is impressive, and I work my free arm under my shirt to leave it hanging off one shoulder. “I can do this.”

  Closing my eyes, I listen for the voices heavy in the thick air. At least four people are standing around down towards the stern. I glance around the deck through narrowed eyes. The port side is practically empty; silently cursing that I had chosen wrong, I sniffle harshly before hoisting myself up. Gripping the railing, I kick off my sneakers and remove my socks hastily before climbing onto the deck.

  My heart hammers against my ribs as I slink forward to the anchor bulwark, and I sit down behind it to make myself small. Adrenaline builds in my system as I peek around the curved, polished metal head to spot a man patrolling towards me. Holding a semi-automatic gun to his chest, he bristles with weapons, and I pull my shirt off to twist it together.

  Licking my dry lips with a dry tongue, I close my eyes to count his footsteps as they reverberate along the metal deck. My eye rolls hard in its socket, and I balance on the balls of my feet as he reaches me. Jumping out, I wrap my shirt around his face to pull taut circling his neck, and he struggles, but can’t claw his way through my wife-beater. Thank you, Walmart!

  Dropping to his knees, he falls unconscious, and I grunt as I stop him from hitting the deck with a telling thud. Dragging him behind the anchor pulley, I reach for a zip tie only to realize I’d fucking dropped my pants into the bay. “Shit.”

  Searching various pockets on the guy, I grin giddily when I find his stash of ties curled up in his tactical vest. Tying his hands and feet hastily, I empty him of his weapons before tossing the semi-automatic rifle overboard. Cocking the pistol with hot hands, I glance up panicky to examine the deck.

  Two half levels stand between me and the bridge, but my only cover is a short, wooden crate that takes up most of the deck. I can fucking see into the bridge when I pop up over the bulbous head of the anchor chain mechanism. Taking a few, gulping breaths, I force the unease and panic rising in my gullet down before crawling towards the crate. The voices get louder, and my adrenaline spikes at the notion that I’m gonna have to take on four guys at once. I have to get them all overboard or something as soon as I can.

  “Shit. Fuck me. Fuck . . . Goddamn.” Muttering a string of profanities, I ramp myself up and bop my head as I rush the width of the shipping crate. This fucking crate is only three feet tall. I’m not made to bend and curl up like this, dammit! Gripping the gun with a clammy palm, I hold my finger far away from the trigger as I prepare myself.

  Glancing around the corner of the box, I quickly pull back when I see one guy facing me, but I can work with one guy. Panting harshly, I purse my lips thinly before slipping along the side of the box. Pointing the gun at the guys, my hand shakes wildly. I pull a knife out of my belt when twenty feet becomes ten, and ten becomes five.

  The flat, beautifully crafted knife in my hand burns my skin, and my vision narrows as I slide the gun along the deck behind me. The scraping of metal-on-metal grates my ears, draws their attention, and I lay low to throw my knife with expert precision. Shouting rings out dully, as if coming through a tunnel, and the man originally facing me goes down when he steps on my knife and slips backwards.

  The clunk of his head hitting the floor echoes horribly, but I ignore my rattling teeth as his friends turn their eyes and guns to him. Gripping my wet shirt with white-knuckle tightness, I rush forward to throw the fabric around his neck and pull, and several guns wave at me. Pulling his pistol out of its holster as the second man goes down, I fling it at the guard closest to the railing before rushing him to send him flailing into the bay. Bouncing on the balls of my feet as I crouch low, I take a step and thrust my palm up into the fourth man’s nose throwing him tumbling backwards.

  Blinking hard, I reach to rub the back of my neck at the sudden silence. “I can’t fucking believe that worked,” I mutter, bopping my head side to side as a smirk tilts my lips, and race up the short, grated stairs towards the bridge with leisurely steps.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Owen

  “Sorry about this,” I yell down at the furious glares from the dingy, and I give a mock salute before walking away from the railing. Clapping my hands at a job well done, I smile broadly as I throw out my arms and sigh hotly. “They’ll be fine.”

  Heading up to the bridge, I put the engines at full speed, and the puttering of their furiously pumping pistons practically sings to me. Staring out over the mouth of the bay, I tap the lever with my fingertips absently. Glancing behind me at the wall, guilt stains my mouth. I’d tied all those guys up and shoved their asses into a tiny lifeboat. Though it isn’t like we were a hundred miles offshore or anything. Sucking my teeth lightly, I sigh rocking back on my feet as satisfaction and pride replaces the dread and adrenaline in my veins.

  “I’ve got time. Edmonds is an hour up the coast. I wish I had a phone.” Glancing around instruments I don’t know do what, I scoff before grabbing the paper cargo manifest off a lean, open drawer. “Let’s see here. I’m gonna have to make this last me an hour.”

  Private, corporate cargo ships this small . . . it’s almost like sailing a large fishing boat. Flicking off the radio and navigation, I sit back in the captain’s chair to flip through the manifest quietly. Briefly, I wonder if Ryan is fuckin’ with me and had replaced the manifest with something more extravagant, because hot damn . . .

  “There’s so much shit. How’d he get his hands on all this stuff?” I question myself, after all, there’s no one else here. My voice echoes off the metal walls, and I rub my chin and neck absently. Current year cell phones, jewelry, textiles, even a shipment of marble—packed up in the hull somewhere. “I’m glad I told Mike to get the big truck.”

  For something I had expected to be a difficult one-man job, I got pretty damn lucky. The ship’s main deck might’ve been flattened to accommodate that box, but all my other intel was good. Which meant that Ryan hadn’t interfered.

  “Speaking of that crate,” I lean over the controls to stare down at the wooden crate, a huge stamp of some Asian letters across the top. Twenty feet long by five feet wide by three feet tall . . . I couldn’t even begin to guess what is inside. “I can’t fit it on the truck, either. I’ll have to check it out when I dock in Edmonds.”

  Oh, shit, I can’t parallel park a car, let alone a fucking hundred foot ship. The lights of Edmonds small harbor and dockyards poke through the night earlier than I expected. I stand up to toss the manifest on the floor, gripping the wheel and slowing the ship down. Weakly, I can make out the truck nearly hanging off a concrete pier with Michael waving a flashlight around wildly through the gloom.

  “Aw, fuck, fuck . . . wait,” I straighten, realization washing over me like a liberating, cooling wave. “I don’t have to give a fuck about this boat, just the shit on it. Why would I care if I scratch it all to Hell on the dock?”

  The entire ship creaks and groans as I pull the bow up into the dock, I wince when the boat shudders as it hits the concrete breakwater. “Shit. Oops!”

  “Hey, you did it! Look at you.” When I blink, I’m on the pier, and Michael cups my jaw with both his hands to smack my cheeks happily. Pride shines in his eyes as he jostles me back and forth, but a haze falls over my mind. Disbelief that I had made it this far settles thickly on my tongue, and Michael throws back his head to laugh heartily. “You actually did it, you crazy son of a bitch!”

  “Did you pick up some guys to help load all this stuff?” I look back over my shoulder, and the ship is nearly diagonal in the dock bay. “How’d I do that? Jesus Christ.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll take care of the offloading,” Edmonds had one offloading dock that isn’t used at night, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t out of the woods. Security, other boats, or even the Coast Guard could come up on us. “So, how’d it go?”

  “I feel like I’m gonna throw up or pass out . . . or both,” I admit tiredly, and Michael claps me on the back firmly as I rub my face with my hands. “I gotta sit down before I fall down. I can’t believe I pulled that shit off. Where’s Ryan? He probably watching us, right?”

  “Probably, but I haven’t seen anything suspicious. The car’s back there in front of the eighteen-wheeler,” Michael points towards the land, and I shuffle off to let him take care of the rest. I had done the hard part, the least he could do is clean up after me. Sniffling harshly, I look down at myself through bleary eyes. “And put some clothes on! They’re in the trunk!”

  My shirt had disappeared at some point, and I stood in just boxers to flop my head back and breathe a massive sigh of relief. Wandering toward Michael’s car, I sweep back my hair to rub my neck and shoulders with a groan. Tomorrow is gonna suck.

  “And Rowlan doesn’t even know about it yet. That’s gonna be some shit.” Popping the trunk easily, I grab the reusable Walmart bag that had my clothes in it to dump out the contents. Digging around for my phone, my hands shake, and my fingers tingle with the beginnings of numbness. Pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and socks, I sit on the trunk to navigate through my phone.

  Kaitlyn’s two-hour old text demanding I call her glares up at me, and I grab my t-shirt to crawl into it before holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder. Interest chases away my tiredness briefly as I tug down my shirt and gulp down the cotton in my mouth.

  “Owen! Hey! How’d your meeting go?” Her voice rattles my teeth, but in a pleasant way and I smile as excitement and eagerness ripple down my face. Before I can open my mouth, she squeals with a little, hysteric giggle, and my brows twitch in surprise. “You’ll never guess what happened! I’m gonna be involved in a global campaign! Me! My team was picked to take on a global client!”

 

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