Hands shaking, Caitlyn sent her a text.
The boat has been hijacked by gunmen. Call 911. I’m safe for now.
She deleted the text after she sent it in case somehow the men got hold of her phone and saw the message. Then, she made sure it was in silent mode before slipping it back into her pocket. Although she didn’t think they’d seen her, in the next moment, they’d grabbed a large empty bin and were moving toward the group of women, demanding phones, jewelry, and keys.
Caitlyn froze. Did she dare try to keep her cell phone? She wasn’t wearing much jewelry, knowing it would just get in the way when she was working. And her purse was stashed elsewhere. Maybe, since she was near the back of the group of women, they wouldn’t notice her.
The waitresses were quickly pulling their phones from their pockets and removing any jewelry they had on, while the guests appeared more alarmed by the request. No doubt, the admiral and his wife had friends who were older than the hired staff, with expensive clothing and jewelry. Plus, like Caitlyn, most of the waitstaff hadn’t bothered with wearing much that was expensive given that they were working.
Of course, some of them had wedding and engagement bands, she realized with disdain. One of the waitresses shook as she pulled her diamond from her finger, a few tears running down her cheeks.
One of the men ripped his black ski mask off now that they were inside. It wasn’t the guy from outside her office. This man wasn’t as tall, and had dark stubble on his jaw, not a bushy beard. He was muscular though, and he looked like he could hurt them even without the large gun he was holding.
He seemed to be wearing an earpiece, she realized. These men were clearly prepared and heavily armed. It wasn’t some random attack. This was pre-plotted and executed by a group of men that knew what they were doing.
“Damn it,” he said to the taller guy. “Why the fuck didn’t they get him off the yacht yet?”
“A complication,” the tall guy muttered.
They moved more quickly, demanding jewelry and cell phones. Finally, the tall guy moved toward Caitlyn, and he instantly recognized her. “You,” he said with a chuckle. “The party planner. I know where your office is, sweetheart.”
She resisted the urge to cringe. When Troy had called her sweetheart, he’d been concerned about her. This guy was just taunting her. He pulled his mask off, and Caitlyn stumbled backward. There was nothing but pure evil in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed her bicep. “You’re coming with us. We’ve got a lot to do so we can get the info we need. She knows the admiral’s wife,” he said to his friend.
“What? No!” Caitlyn protested as he pulled her away from the other women. He squeezed her arm tighter, yanking her toward him.
“Don’t argue with me, bitch. I know where you work, I can easily find out where you live, and we can harm all of your friends and family.”
“I’m coming!” she hastily said, moving closer to him. He was wearing an overpowering cologne, which made her want to gag. Why the hell he thought he needed that to take over a ship was mind boggling.
“Don’t hurt her!” one of the middle-aged women said, shooting them an angry look. Caitlyn had a feeling she might’ve been one of the military spouses. Not that this small woman could help her against two armed men. But the rest of the group had remained huddled together. Caitlyn was the only woman who’d been separated from the others, and she knew it couldn’t mean anything good.
The yacht turned, slightly, and she looked to the windows again, catching the last view of the bay before they hit open waters. Her stomach churned. Normally, she loved the view of the city from the water. Not that she spent much time on boats, but it was beautiful in the rays of the setting sun. Now that she was being taken away against her will, it felt like her safe haven. It represented people, safety, and security.
“You guard the women,” the tall guy said, spitting on the floor of the dining room. “I’m taking her with me.”
Chapter 8
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Troy muttered, changing into a wetsuit in the locker room. He peeled off his shirt then pulled the black wetsuit over his arms, adrenaline surging through his veins. The team was all moving quickly, grabbing their wetsuits, SCUBA gear, waterproof packs, weapons, and everything else they’d need to board the Navy boat and head out into the Pacific. “They fucking hijacked a yacht?”
Blake frowned. “The commander said the Coast Guard vessel that went after the yacht was fired upon. They pulled back and are watching from a distance.”
“No shit,” Ethan muttered. “What did the Coasties expect? Armed gunmen on a luxury yacht aren’t going to let a tiny Coast Guard dinghy stop them. As much as it blows, this was a well-thought-out plan. They knew the admiral would be there and knew how to take over the ship.”
“The Navy’s been unable to obtain contact with either the captain or hijackers,” Grayson said. “Which begs the question—what do they want? The admiral? Money? If they’re demanding a ransom, they’d need to negotiate with authorities.”
“If they only wanted the admiral, why’d they take the whole damn yacht?” Troy asked. He zipped up his wetsuit, stalking over toward the metal cage where the rest of his gear was stashed. “It would’ve been easier to just grab him somewhere on dry land.”
