Page 47

CHAPTER 47

S weat poured down Jake’s face as he stared at the wires.

The bomb wasn’t super complicated. But he was all too aware that one wrong move could mean certain death for everyone on board.

He didn’t want to be responsible for ending the lives of innocent people.

Besides, Raven had just come back into his life.

He couldn’t let things end this way.

Jake knelt before the panel, sweat still pouring down his forehead despite the cool air around him. His fingers, once steady in the Afghan desert, trembled slightly as he pried open the access panel beneath the navigation console.

The bomb was crude but effective—C-4 with a digital timer counting down from 3:16. Memories flooded back: the smell of dust and fear, the weight of his EOD suit, the silent prayers before each wire cut.

But today, there was no suit.

He ignored the sounds above him. Focus was everything. He’d learned that in Fallujah when he disarmed an IED with seventeen seconds to spare.

The yacht rocked on the water. He wondered how many people were aboard—twelve? Twenty? Each one depending on his skills.

His mind cataloged the bomb’s components with mechanical precision. Primary charge, secondary trigger, failsafe mechanism.

Jake reached into his pocket for the multi-tool he still carried everywhere, a habit his therapist called “residual hypervigilance.” She’d never understood that it wasn’t paranoia if the threats were real.

With 2:46 remaining, Jake identified the sequence. Red to yellow, then the blue junction.

His breath steadied as the world narrowed to just his hands and the bomb. This was when he felt most alive, most himself—in that space between heartbeats where there was only the puzzle and its solution.

The irony wasn’t lost on him: that the thing that broke him in the desert might save him now.

With surgical precision, he separated the first wire.

A bead of sweat fell from his brow onto the timer’s display, but the countdown continued.

One wire down, three to go. He’d done this before. He could do it again. He had to.

The second wire required a steadier hand. Jake inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he clipped the yellow connector.

The timer flickered momentarily . . . then it continued its relentless countdown—now at 1:53.

The blue wire junction was tricky—connected to what appeared to be a secondary trigger. If he cut it directly, the failsafe would activate.

Instead, he carefully stripped back the insulation and bridged the circuit with a paper clip from his pocket before severing the connection.

The timer continued: 0:58.

His hands moved with deliberate certainty, muscle memory taking over as he disabled the mercury switch with a gentle touch. The final wire—red—lay exposed.

In his experience, it was never the red wire in real life . . . except when it was.

Jake closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, said a silent prayer, and made the cut.

The timer froze at 0:22.

For three heartbeats, nothing happened.

Jake remained perfectly still, waiting for the click that would mean he’d failed.

Then the display went dark.

He exhaled then carefully disconnected the detonator from the explosive.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels, suddenly aware of how badly his knees ached against the hard deck and how thoroughly his shirt had soaked through with sweat.

Someone stepped into the room behind him.

“It’s clear,” he announced, his voice hoarse.

“Good job.” Ty. That was Ty’s voice.

Jake didn’t have to turn to confirm.

Instead, he was already mentally cataloging the bomb components, noting distinctive elements that might identify the maker.

Some habits never died. Neither, thanks to those habits, had anyone on this yacht.

Raven rushed downstairs, breathless as she did so.

Time had to almost be up.

How was Jake doing?

She trusted his skills completely. But she also knew how precarious this situation was.

As she stepped back into the engine room, she saw Jake rise, stretching his stiff body.

Her gaze jerked to the bomb.

The numbers were dark.

He’d done it!

As he turned and spotted her, his shoulders relaxed.

She rushed toward him and threw her arms around him.

He squeezed her back.

“I knew you could do it,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything. He only held her more tightly.

Applause broke out behind them.

Because of the bomb, she assumed.

Not because of her and Jake.

But as she pulled away and looked behind her at Colton and Ty, she wasn’t 100 percent sure.

But the important thing right now was that they’d done it.

People were safe.

Now they just needed to catch Kingston and his cohorts.