Ethan

“Boss, how good of a swimmer are you?”

Jace’s question from twelve hours ago echoed in my mind as I crouched low in our inflatable raft, the Atlantic waves gently rocking beneath us. Stars reflected off the dark water, the moon providing just enough light for us to see the outline of Tommy Fitzsimmons’s mini yacht about a hundred yards ahead.

“Almost there,” Logan whispered, his powerful strokes cutting silently through the water as he paddled. “Ty, keep us steady.”

We’d been tracking that boat for the past eleven hours, ever since Jace had pulled off his technological miracle. After discovering that Tommy Fitzsimmons was the one who’d taken Mel—facial recognition software had confirmed he’d been at over a dozen tour locations in the past month—we’d deployed every resource we had.

“Still picking up the coffeemaker’s signal.” Jace’s voice came through our waterproof comms. “Target hasn’t moved in the last twenty minutes. Must have dropped anchor for the night.”

The absurdity wasn’t lost on me. We were tracking a kidnapper using his coffeemaker because the son of a bitch had been smart enough to avoid using phones or computers. But he hadn’t thought about the digital signature from his high-end espresso machine—the kind that automatically ordered new beans when supplies ran low and brewed different strengths of coffee based on weather.

“Should be less than a quarter mile from you now,” Jace continued. “Ready for extraction once you have the package.”

Nova had spared no expense getting us here as quickly and as prepared as possible. She hadn’t hesitated when I’d explained what we needed—an ocean-capable vessel, no questions asked, and immediate availability. The charter captain we’d hired had claimed to be “familiar with discretion,” which I took to mean he’d done plenty of shady shit before. I didn’t care about his past as long as he was ready to pull us out of the water when we had Mel.

“Any additional thermal readings?” I asked, keeping my voice at a whisper.

“Still showing two heat signatures on board. One’s been stationary in what appears to be the cabin area. The other moves between there and the bridge.” The faint clicking of keys carried through the comms.

We were on our own. Since we had no proof Tommy was the kidnapper, the red tape of law enforcement would take time Mel didn’t have, and I wasn’t fucking waiting.

Still, Detective Corey Hollis had once again come through, pulling strings we didn’t even know existed. Local police had checked all of Fitzsimmons’s properties—his estate outside Baton Rouge, the mountain house in Vail, even the apartment in NYC. All empty. The Airstream trailer had proven to be a dead end too. That had left the boat .

When the Coast Guard confirmed they’d received an emergency beacon distress ping from an EPIRB registered to Tommy’s vessel yesterday evening—followed by his radio call claiming it was a false alarm—I knew without a doubt Mel was on that boat. And that she’d tried to signal for help.

“Visual contact,” Ty murmured, pointing ahead.

The small, sleek yacht materialized out of the darkness, floating silently on the calm waters. White hull, darkened windows, high-end but not ostentatious. The kind of boat that cost serious money but didn’t scream it.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” I asked, checking my waterproof bag. Inside was my Glock, secured in a vacuum-sealed pouch. “We board silently. Locate Mel. Extract her without confrontation if possible.”

“I’m a little bit hoping it’s not possible,” Logan said. The man loved a good fight.

We paddled closer, maintaining silence. As we approached within fifty yards, the cabin lights on the boat suddenly illuminated. I raised my fist, signaling an immediate halt.

“Down,” I breathed.

We pressed ourselves flat against the bottom of the raft as the cabin door opened. Two figures emerged onto the deck—one unmistakably female in what appeared to be some kind of light-colored clothing, the other male and slightly taller.

“Targets on deck,” I whispered into my comms.

“Visual confirmation on Mel?” Jace asked.

I squinted, trying to make out facial features. The woman’s hair was dark, her build matched Mel’s, and though I couldn’t see her face clearly, something in the way she moved sent recognition surging through me.

“It’s her,” I confirmed, my chest tightening. “She appears uninjured.”

From this distance, I couldn’t see if she had any visible bruises, but she was walking on her own and, most importantly, she was alive. The sight of her sent relief crashing through me like a fucking freight train, followed immediately by a fresh wave of rage at the man standing too close to her.

Tommy said something we couldn’t hear, his hand moving to Mel’s lower back. She stiffened at his touch. My fingers tightened around the edge of the raft, the urge to leap into the water and swim directly to her almost overwhelming.

“Easy,” Logan whispered, reading my tension. “Wait for them to go back inside.”

The pair stood at the railing for a few minutes, Tommy gesturing at the night sky, playing the role of romantic host while Mel stood rigid beside him. Finally, he led her back toward the cabin, his hand never leaving her back. The cabin door closed behind them, the deck plunging back into darkness.

“Move,” I ordered. I was not leaving her with that bastard one fucking second longer than necessary.

We paddled the remaining distance, approaching from the stern to minimize the chance of being spotted through the windows. Ty maintained position in the raft while Logan and I silently hauled ourselves onto the swim platform at the back of the boat.

I unzipped my waterproof bag, extracting my weapon and checking it quickly. Logan did the same, his movements economical and practiced.

“Remember, nonlethal if possible,” I reminded him. “Tommy needs to face charges.”

Logan nodded, though his expression suggested he still wouldn’t be too broken up if things went the other way.

“Ty, maintain position and be ready for rapid extraction,” I instructed. “Jace, any movement inside?”

“Heat signatures still in the cabin area,” he confirmed. “No indication they’re aware of your presence.”

I moved forward, testing each step for creaks before committing my weight. The teak deck was wet with sea spray, requiring careful movement. Logan followed close behind, covering my six.

We reached the cabin door without incident. Through the small window, I could see light but no movement. I tried the handle—locked.

“Secondary entry point?” I breathed to Logan.

He gestured toward a smaller hatch that likely led to the same area. I nodded, and we split up—him circling toward the front of the boat, me moving to the side hatch. As I reached for the handle, my boot scuffed against a metal cleat, making a soft but distinct sound.

I froze, listening. For a moment, nothing.

Then, from inside: “Did you hear that?” Tommy’s voice was suddenly alert.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Mel’s voice replied, sounding strained but steady. My heart clenched at the sound.

“No, someone’s out there.” Footsteps approached the door.

Fuck. So much for the element of surprise.

“Compromised,” I hissed into my comms. “Executing immediate entry.”

I moved to the main door just as Tommy yanked it open, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of me. Before he could react, I slammed my shoulder into the door, sending him staggering backward.

Tommy lunged toward Mel, who stood frozen in the center of the cabin. I caught a glimpse of her wide eyes, her split lip, the darkening bruise on her cheek—and something in me snapped.

I drove forward, intending to tackle Tommy before he could reach her. But I underestimated his speed. He grabbed Mel, spinning her around to face me just as Logan burst in through the side entrance.

“Stop right there,” Tommy barked from the corner, and I saw the glint of metal as he pressed a gun to Mel’s temple .

Logan and I froze, our weapons raised but useless without a clear shot.

“Ethan,” Mel whispered, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

“Let her go, Tommy,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm. “It’s over.”

“It’s not over until I say it’s over. Mel is mine.” Tommy’s eyes darted between Logan and me, calculating. “Drop your guns or I’ll kill her.”

Neither of us moved. “You don’t want to kill Mel. You love her.”

“If I can’t have her, no one can!” he screamed, pressing the gun harder against Mel’s head. She winced but didn’t make a sound.

We weren’t going to lower our weapons. As soon as we did, he was going to kill us, and Mel would still be trapped with him.

“Tommy, stay focused.” I kept my voice calm. “Logan is going to leave, okay? This is a discussion between you and me. See, Logan is putting his weapon down.”

As Logan bent to move his weapon, I caught his eye and gave him a barely perceptible nod. Our backup plan. He returned the gesture, understanding immediately.

Logan backed toward the door, hands raised. “I’ll be right outside,” he said.

But I knew what the real message was: I’ll be setting the charge.

Logan left, and I knew I wouldn’t have much time. I just needed to keep Tommy from doing anything stupid.

“What’s your endgame here, Tommy?” I asked. My gun was still in my hand, but I didn’t point it directly at him. I couldn’t take the chance with his weapon still against Mel’s head.

“My endgame is you dead and Mel with me, the way it should be. And if I can’t have her, no one can.”

“Tommy,” Mel said, her voice remarkably steady. “You don’t have to do this. Let me go, and they’ll make sure you get help. ”

“Help?” Tommy’s laugh turned bitter. “I don’t need help. I need you to stop fighting what’s meant to be.”

“This isn’t meant to be,” she said gently. “This isn’t love, Tommy. Love doesn’t hurt people. Love doesn’t take their choices away.”

“Shut up!” He tightened his grip on her, his knuckles whitening around the gun. “Just shut up and let me think.”

I watched his eyes, recognizing the frantic calculation of a cornered animal. Outside, I knew Logan would be placing the small explosive charge on the hull—just enough to penetrate and cause the boat to take on water. Not enough to blow it up, but sufficient to create an opportunity for me to get Mel.

“Look, Tommy,” I said, “all I want is Mel. You let her go, and we’ll leave. You can take the boat, go wherever you want. We won’t follow.”

It was a lie, of course. The moment Mel was safe, I’d ensure Tommy Fitzsimmons never saw daylight outside a prison cell again. But he didn’t need to know that.

“You think I’m stupid?” he spat. “You think I don’t know how this works? The minute she walks out that door, you’ll put a bullet in my head.”

“That’s not how we operate,” I said, which was almost true, although I would take Tommy out without hesitation to save Mel’s life. “We just want to bring Mel home safely.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Home to what? Her sister who treats her like a servant? The tour she hates? The life she was desperate to escape?”

His words cut close to the truth, which made them dangerous.

“Tommy,” Mel said, “if you care about me at all, you’ll let me go.”

“I care about you more than anyone ever has!” His voice cracked with emotion .

The possessive delusion in his voice made my skin crawl. But I needed to keep him talking, to buy Logan time.

“You’re right about one thing,” I said, drawing Tommy’s attention back to me. “Mel deserves better than what she’s had. She deserves to make her own choices.”

“That’s what I’m giving her!” Tommy insisted. “Freedom from everything weighing her down.”

“At gunpoint?” I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not freedom, Tommy. That’s just another cage.”

It was almost time. I had to be ready.

His face contorted again, rage battling with his twisted sense of righteousness. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly?—”

The explosion cut him off mid-sentence.

The charge detonated with a muffled boom, the concussion rippling through the boat’s structure. All three of us were thrown forward as the bow dipped suddenly, water already beginning to rush in through the newly created hole in the hull.

I had anticipated it, bracing myself to maintain balance. Tommy hadn’t. He stumbled, his grip on Mel loosening just enough for her to twist away. She lunged toward me just as Tommy regained his footing.

“Mel, get topside!” I shouted, positioning myself between her and Tommy. “Now!”

“Ethan—”

“Go!” I ordered. “Ty’s waiting in the raft. Logan will help you.”

She hesitated, then scrambled toward the stairs, grabbing on to furniture for support as the boat’s angle increased. Water was already rushing into the cabin, past our ankles.

Tommy raised his gun, aiming at Mel’s retreating form. I tackled him before he could fire, sending us both crashing to the tilting floor. The gun discharged, the bullet punching into the ceiling .

“You’re not taking her from me,” Tommy growled, struggling beneath me.

I drove my fist into his jaw, trying to stun him long enough to disarm him. But Tommy was stronger than he looked, fueled by obsession and rage. He bucked upward, dislodging me, then smashed the butt of his gun against my temple.

Stars exploded across my vision. I rolled away, narrowly avoiding a second blow. The cabin was filling with water now, already calf-deep and rising fast.

Tommy staggered to his feet, aiming the gun again. I kicked upward, connecting with his wrist. The gun fired again, pain blossoming in my left shoulder as the bullet grazed me.

Son of a bitch.

“You’ll die here,” Tommy said, his face twisted with hate. “And Mel will never be yours.”

Ignoring the pain, I lunged for his knees, taking him down into the rising water. We grappled in the darkness, the cabin lights flickering and then dying as the electrical system shorted out. The water was at our waists now, the boat leaning heavily to one side.

“Stop fighting, asshole,” I gasped as we surfaced. “We need to get out of this cabin, or we’ll both drown.”

“Good,” Tommy snarled, shoving me back underwater. “If I can’t have her, neither can you.”

I fought against his grip, my lungs burning for air. The salt water stung the wound in my shoulder, but the pain kept me focused. I twisted, breaking his hold, and drove my knee into his stomach.

Tommy doubled over, and I used the moment to surface, gulping air. The water was chest-high now, the cabin almost completely submerged. I couldn’t see Tommy, but I felt his hands grasp my legs, pulling me down again.

This time, my head struck something hard—a cabinet or table now floating in the water. Blood clouded my vision, my movements becoming sluggish as oxygen deprivation set in. Tommy’s hands closed around my throat, squeezing with manic strength.

My vision began to tunnel, darkness encroaching from the edges. I fought to break his grip, but my strength was fading.

Suddenly, Tommy’s grip loosened. A new pair of hands grabbed me, pulling upward. I broke what was left of the surface inside the cabin, gasping and coughing.

“I’ve got you, boss.” Logan’s voice came through the rushing in my ears. “Come on, we need to move.”

I couldn’t respond, couldn’t do more than focus on drawing air into my burning lungs. Logan dragged me toward the stairs, now nearly submerged. Tommy was nowhere to be seen.

“Ethan!” Mel’s voice, panicked and desperate, penetrated my mental fog. She appeared above us, reaching down. “Give me your hand!”

I extended my arm, feeling her fingers close around mine. With Logan pushing from below and Mel pulling from above, they hauled me up to the deck, now tilting at a forty-five-degree angle.

The moment my feet found purchase on the sloping deck, Mel threw herself against me. I grimaced, more leaning on her than catching her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to inspect her as best I could in the darkness. Logan was already moving toward the raft.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “I?—”

Tommy emerged from the water behind Mel, drenched and wild-eyed, his gun still clutched in his hand. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead, but the rage in his eyes burned through the pain as he raised the weapon toward her back.

“Mel, down!” I shouted, my voice returning in a surge of adrenaline.

She dropped instantly without question. Tommy’s shot went wide, the bullet splintering wood where she’d stood a second before. Logan had already tossed me his backup weapon. Despite my trembling hands and blurred vision, my training took over. I squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession.

Tommy jerked backward, surprise replacing rage as he looked down at the crimson blooming across his chest. His gun clattered to the deck as he stumbled, his legs giving way. He reached toward Mel one last time, his mouth forming words I couldn’t hear over the roar of water consuming the boat.

Then he slipped backward into the churning darkness, the sea claiming him before he could draw another breath.

The boat was sinking rapidly now, the stern rising as the bow plunged deeper. We swam to the raft, and somehow the guys managed to pull me on board, because I sure as shit couldn’t get there myself.

“Pickup boat is on the way.” Jace’s voice came through the comms. “Two minutes out.”

I lay in the bottom of the raft, staring up at the stars, Mel’s hand clasped tightly in mine. The realization that she was safe—that we’d gotten her back—washed over me in a wave of relief so powerful I almost blacked out.

“You know,” I managed to croak through my damaged throat, “when I said I’d always come back for you, I didn’t mean I’d sink a yacht to do it.”

Mel’s laugh was watery, halfway to a sob. “Next time, maybe just call a cab.”

“Next time,” I echoed, squeezing her hand as the edges of my vision began to darken, “I’m not letting you out of my sight at all. So, there won’t be a next time.”

The last thing I heard before consciousness slipped away was Mel’s voice, fierce and certain.

“No,” she agreed. “There won’t be.”