Chapter 5 - The Shadow Fleet
Two miles away, cutting through the towering swells of the midnight squall without running lights, a sleek, matte-black military-grade rigid-hull inflatable boat bounced effortlessly over the crest of a wave.
A searchlight flared to life, cutting through the driving rain and locking directly onto my position.
I swam toward the vessel, raising my hand as the rubber hull slid alongside me in the trough of the sea. Strong, calloused hands reached down, grabbing my arms and hauling me effortlessly over the gunwale and onto the dry, nonskid deck.
“Welcome aboard, Commander,” a familiar, gravelly voice said.
My uncle Marcus stood wrapped in a waterproof tactical jacket, handing me a thermal blanket and a steaming cup of black coffee. Water dripped from my hair as I wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders, shivering not from the cold, but from the electric fury burning inside my chest.
“Status on the yacht?” I asked, my voice steady and cold.
“Intercept vector locked,” Marcus replied, tapping a tactical tablet displaying the real-time GPS coordinates of the Azure Horizon. “They’re currently reducing speed as they enter the sheltered cove near Ensenada to anchor for the night. They think they’ve secured their alibi.”
I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee mug, staring out through the rain at the distant navigation lights of my father’s yacht.
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“Let’s go tell them congratulations on their inheritance,” I said softly.
Marcus smiled, a grim, humorless expression that mirrored my own, and signaled the pilot. The twin outboard engines roared to life, shooting the black boat forward across the dark waves like a missile.
