Page 75 of Under the Radar
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Darkness settled across the choppy Chesapeake as a storm front blew in from the west. Several feet of fog radiated from the August, heat-stoked water. Mac flipped the cloaking switch and watched the hull and antennae of The Liberty fade and shimmer into the same color as the water. It never failed to amaze him that the built-in fiber-optic system turned the vessel from a pristine white to green-black in under three minutes. It always made him feel like a pirate.
They were a mile from the boat where Mo’s GPS pinged. He set the motors to troll. That system was fantastic too. It mimicked the whoosh and sounds of nearby sea animals. This ship had the smallest footprint he’d ever seen.
He decided to push the distance to an eighth of a mile from Mo’s vessel and checked the heat sensors for the number of souls onboard her boat. As much as he wanted her in his arms, like, six hours ago, his responsibility was to send his crew in as informed as possible. And yeah—it tore at his heart and pride that he wouldn’t be the one to pluck her from the hands of the enemy. He’d be a couple stories up in the nest, coordinating the effort and sending sniper bullets when needed.
It fueled his angst that he was without audio, but if Alice told the truth, Mo’s audio was no longer on her person. He raised his binoculars and honed-in on the deck of the yacht. There she was—his heart skipped several beats—sitting at a table. There was one other person on the deck. Judging by the height and shoulder width—a man. What the hell? It was that scumbag Hadley. He handed the binoculars to Ethan, who took a look and passed them to Mooney.
At an eighth of a mile, Mac turned off the propellers and allowed the ship to float while he checked how many were onboard with Mo. He probed from every direction. There were only two people on the yacht, and both were on deck. Seriously? Where were all the gun-toting madmen they’d encountered in the Bahamas?
Mac let his crew know there were two people on the yacht and then assigned positions. Liz would cover the rear just beyond the sundeck, and Beck and Mooney the mid-section. Ethan would stay at the control panel onboard The Liberty. On Mac’s signal, the crew slithered into the water and breast-stroked toward the yacht. A few seconds later, he couldn’t see any of them. They blended in seamlessly, and the fog bathed them in a steamy blanket.
With his crew on the move, Mac ascended the mast and made himself at home in his sniper’s nest. He bolted his rifle into place and waited for confirmation that Mooney had placed the audio piece on the yacht’s deck. He peered through his scope and focused. Damn if it didn’t look like Hadley was dictating something as Mo typed. He cursed when he zoomed in on her face with the scope. Motherfuckers gave her another shiner. Her left eye was almost swollen shut. Hang in there, Mo. Only a few more minutes and you’ll be heading home.
In his earpiece, Mac heard Mooney report, audio on board. He adjusted his volume so he could hear the conversation between Mo and Hadley.
* * *
Mo pressed a fist to her clenching stomach as she watched him wipe down her computer with alcohol wipes. “What are you doing, Jason?”
“Cleaning up. I’m getting ready to leave, Maureen. My ride will be here in ten minutes.”
“Are you taking me with you?” Under the table, she still worked the restraints on her ankles to get them to give a couple inches. She slid her right hand down and gripped the knife hidden near her butt.
Jason cocked his head and stared at her. “No, you’re not coming with me. It’s time for you to go.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a syringe.
Fight or flight ignited Mo’s system at once. “What’s that? What are you doing?”
He grabbed her by the hair. “You’re going to commit suicide with a heroin overdose. There’s a note to your family on the computer confessing to everything and apologizing. Nice touch, I think. You wouldn’t want to leave them without an explanation. Don’t worry about suffering. This syringe is laced with Fentanyl. You’ll be outta here in no time.”
She seized his hand and bucked at the back of the chair. “I’m not taking the rap for you, you bastard. It’ll have to be obvious that you killed me.” Lifting her knees, she kicked at the table. The needle pricked her hand as Mo swung around. She grabbed him by the balls with one hand and squeezed as hard as she could. Her other hand drove the knife into his thigh.
Jason dropped to his knees, and Mo pushed the chair back so fast, it fell on top of him. She bunny-hopped toward the sundeck, glancing behind her. He was up again—panting toward her. She shoved armchairs in his path, and he stumbled around them.
“You broke the tip of the needle, you idiot. This is really going to hurt now.”
If she could just get to the sundeck, she’d roll into the water. Of course—use her arms to stay afloat even though her legs were still tied. Jason grabbed her hair again. Mo spun around and clawed at his face, pushing his nose farther out of joint and causing the blood to spurt on her hand. He cursed. She screamed. They tumbled onto the sundeck. Mo kept her hands on his wrist, grappling to steer clear of the needle, pushing it back at him.
There was a crack in the air. Jason howled and slumped on top of her. She shoved the needle in his neck and shimmied out from under him, rolling off the sundeck into the water.
Mo reached for the surface but couldn’t see it in the dark. Her heart hammered so hard she felt lightheaded. Someone grabbed hold of her arm and tugged. What if it was Jason pulling her back? She tore her arm from their grasp.
What if she didn’t have the strength to fight him again? Confused and flailing in the dark, Mo thought of Mac and a soccer field in the suburbs. Someone gripped both her wrists and pulled. She broke through the water gasping for air.
A woman slid a life preserver over her head and under Mo’s arms. Her eyes were full of concern. “It’s okay, Maureen. Jason Hadley is down. He’s handcuffed. Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you. Mac will be here any minute.”
“He tried to kill me. The needle pricked my hand,” Mo sputtered.
The woman pulled her close and stroked her hair. “You did real good, girl. He’ll never hurt you again, Maureen. I’m Liz. I work with Mac.”
Mo reached for Liz and sobbed on her shoulder as they bobbed in the now stormy chop. Mooney and Beck yanked the lifeline, reeled them to the side of the yacht, and lifted Mo out of the water. Mooney offered Liz a hand. She grinned at him, gave him a high-five, and hoisted herself onto the sundeck.
* * *
Mac’s orders were to bring Hadley in alive—if possible. Otherwise, Mac would’ve blown the top of his head off. As it was, he never got a clear shot of Hadley’s head without risking Mo’s life at the same time. He’d had to settle for a shot to the butt and allow Mooney to administer a dose of the anti-opiate Narcan to the bastard. The world would’ve been a nicer place without the scumbag lawyer, but the feds needed the cartel and drug information housed in Hadley’s psychotic brain. There would be plenty of time for that in a maximum security prison.
Mac glanced for the umpteenth time at Mo. They’d wrapped her in heated blankets, Liz was helping her hydrate, and Beck had just finished removing the multiple layers of duct tape and torn sheets from her ankles. Mo stretched her legs. Mac made sure the doctor assumed control of Hadley’s gurney and then swung himself over the rail onto the deck of the yacht. He couldn’t wait to hold Mo in his arms.
He knelt on one knee in front of her and curved a hand around her cheek. She opened her eyes and drew him into a fierce embrace, kissing his face and neck.
“I’m so sorry for leaving the ship without you,” she lamented.
“It’s all over, cupcake. It’s okay now,” he whispered in her ear. Her body relaxed against his chest.
“I love you with my whole heart and soul, Mac. Thank you for coming to get me.” She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his neck again. “I lost my bearings in the water, and thought I might drown. All I could think about was you and a soccer field in the suburbs. We have to drive to the country soon and watch the sun set over a field. Okay?”
Mac nodded and kissed one of her palms. Her arms and hands were covered in scrapes and bruises. “Can you see out of that eye, honey?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Enough to know that I could really use a spa day.”