HERO Force Boxset Books 1-8

by Amy Gamet

  17

  The Coast Guard commander crossed his arms. “These are international waters. We can't just go out there and board a ship because you think there might be something wrong.”

  Jax moved closer to the commander. “I realize that, sir. But I don't just think it, I know it. Hostile forces have infiltrated that cruise liner, putting all five thousand passengers and two members of the British royal family at risk.”

  “Then maybe you should ask the Brits to help, because I can’t touch this one. That ship is flying a Bahamian flag. I have established radio contact and offered the assistance of the U.S. Coast Guard and been refused — very politely, I might add. Now, if I take your word for this and board that vessel, that could be taken as an unfriendly act from our country unto theirs. You see my problem.”

  Jax did see the man's problem, which only served to exacerbate his own. Without the assistance of the Coast Guard, he and his men had no choice but to board the cruise ship on their own.

  “There’s a storm at their location. Heavy rain and lightning with poor visibility. Looks like the worst of it’s about past them, though.”

  Fuck.

  Nothing like a helicopter coming down out of the sky to land on a cruise ship during a storm. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you for your candor,” said Jax. He walked off the bridge of the U.S.S. Rapture and back onto its sweltering deck. The rest of his HERO Force crew were standing beside their chopper.

  It’d taken more than a dozen phone calls and calling in three favors to get an accurate location of the cruise ship and permission to board the Rapture, just three hundred miles from the Gem of the Seas. But no favor on earth would be great enough for a navy commander to board another country’s ship when he wasn’t welcome.

  Jax spit on the ground and joined their small group. He looked at Matteo. “The cruise ship doesn’t want us there, so the Coast Guard can’t get us on the ship. The only way we’re going to make it on that boat is if we land on their helipad, uninvited.”

  Hawk whistled. “Somebody could get hurt. There are thousands of civilians on that ship.”

  Jax nodded. “The helipad is located on the point of the bow, like a triangle with water on two sides. The other side can see us coming. That’s not what I’m worried about. If they really don’t want us there, they’re not going to sit still like a bride on her wedding night waiting for us to hop on top of them. They’re going to keep going.”

  Matteo pursed his lips. “You’re asking me if I can land on a moving ship. Mierda. How fast are they going?”

  Logan cleared his throat. “The ship has a maximum cruising speed of 20 knots, about 23 miles per hour.”

  “I know how fast a knot is, Doc,” said Matteo.

  Jax knew what he was asking. It was the same thing he always had to ask. What’s the best you can do, and are you willing to put your life on the line for this mission? Neither question required an apology from him. His men knew what they’d signed up for.

  He watched as Red considered his answer. Matteo had earned the nickname for the red matador’s muleta he kept in his locker. In a bullfight the muleta hid the sword, and Red had hidden swords of his own.

  “I can do it,” said Red. “I’ll have to hover for a minute until I get the speed right, but I can land that bird on the bow, no problem.”

  18

  The courtyard belonged on a tropical island more than it belonged in this floating metropolis. Two clear waterslide tubes mirrored each other’s twists and turns as they fell from the highest stories of the ship to a pool a hundred yards away.

  A piercing scream echoed in the distance and someone shot through a clear tube overhead. Cowboy sat with Harrison, Charlotte, and Abby at a table beneath a palm tree in the lush oasis of vegetation.

  Harrison leaned forward in his chair. “I’d rather not talk in the security room anymore. Someone is communicating with the cruise line. Sending daily check-ins and reports.” He took a sip of his coffee, his hand shaking the cup.

  “I thought the radio wasn’t working,” said Cowboy.

  “There are protocols to be followed. If we completely stopped transmitting, they would send help to find us, but no one has come. They must be in contact somehow.”

  Charlotte tapped her fingernails on the table. “So the radio isn’t out, it’s just been rerouted.”

  “That’s right,” said Harrison. “And we know they’re controlling the navigation system. But what if there’s more?”

  Cowboy furrowed his brow. “Come again?”

  “What if it isn’t just the radio that’s been moved? We know their virus affected our security cameras. Who’s to say they haven’t tapped into those, too?”

  The idea that a hidden enemy could have eyes all over the ship was beyond unnerving. Cowboy thought of the first mate preparing the helipad for HERO Force’s arrival and felt a sudden rush of concern for his teammates.

  “Almost like a second bridge,” said Charlotte.

  Cowboy shook his head. “So let me get this straight. This ship has been taken over by somebody — or a bunch of somebodies — without ever showing their faces? How the fuck is that possible?”

  “And what are we going to do about it?” asked Abby.

  “How many cabins are there on the ship?” asked Cowboy.

  “Two thousand seven hundred eighty, not including the crew.”

  Too many to go door to door, especially considering the people they were looking for could easily move from one room to another. Cowboy’s mind was whirling. They had a seemingly insurmountable task ahead of them and nowhere near enough resources to accomplish their goals.

  Charlotte leaned forward. “You know, when I went to dry my hair this morning, I couldn’t believe how few outlets there are in the staterooms. I’ve got pretty nice digs, and I only counted two.”

  “Five thousand people use a lot of power,” said Harrison. “We try to limit consumption.”

  She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “But these things you’re talking about — monitors and radios and computers — they use a lot of power.”

  Harrison’s head shot up. “That’s it! We don’t have to search all the staterooms because most of them couldn’t supply the amount of power these guys need to operate.”

  “How many of the staterooms does that eliminate?” asked Cowboy.

  “Almost all of them. There are only a handful of luxury suites that could handle it. A dozen, maybe less. And the restaurants, the casino, the theaters with all their lights. But this narrows down the list of possibilities significantly.”

  “Then we start there.” Cowboy stood up. “I say we stay together. It’s too risky to split up when we can’t communicate with each other.”

  Harrison nodded. “Agreed. Let’s get started.”

  19

  Charlotte already had her hair in a ponytail and she was beginning to wish she’d worn sensible shoes. The three-inch wedge sandals were cute, but after traipsing around a boat the size of her hometown for almost four hours, she’d pay good money for a nice pair of sneakers.

  None of the luxury suites had panned out, and they’d moved on to searching areas of the ship that could provide power and some sort of secrecy.

  The Stargazer Theater was home to Broadway-like shows and a French acrobatics troupe. On the main stage, two women were twirling on ropes hung from the high ceiling while the crowd oohed and aahed over the music.

  Harrison led the way through the backstage area and a series of hallways, ending up in what seemed to be some kind of lighting control room. “Nothing,” he said. “Let’s head to the arcade.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. She knew where the arcade was, more than half the ship’s length away. Why couldn’t he go in some kind of order instead of traipsing all over hell’s half acre? “Wait.” She walked toward the window overlooking the theater, the performers mesmerizing even from here. “I need to take my shoes off. I can go after bad guys barefooted, right?”

  She be
nt down to unbuckle her sandals, a small red light catching her eye. She squatted and peered under the console, making out a rectangular shape with wires and a digital timer.

  It looked like a bomb.

  No. Surely actual bombs didn’t look so bomb-like. It was probably a prop.

  Cowboy and Harrison were going to laugh at her, though she held out some hope Abby wouldn’t. “Hey, guys? I think you should take a look at this. You know, just so you can tell me it’s not a bomb.”

  The men crouched down on either side of her. Cowboy pulled out his cell phone, a beam of light shining on the device. He and Harrison both cursed out loud. “It’s a bomb, all right,” said Cowboy. “Just when you were afraid that Navy SEAL training was going to go to waste.”

  20

  3:53.

  Three hours and fifty-three minutes.

  The bomb was set to detonate during the last show of the evening, the most crowded of the day.

  Cowboy was sweating, the still air in the control room now stifling and stale. Harrison had stopped the show and evacuated the theater while Cowboy gathered tools and materials to shield himself from the blast just in case.

  If the bomb detonated, the theater was toast. The ceiling was structured in such a way that taking out the control room would knock out the main support beam over the audience. Cowboy had insisted Harrison and the women take cover a safe distance away from the theater.

  Some level of explosives training was required in BUD/s training, but Cowboy had taken it one step further and become an explosives expert. There was nothing quite as satisfying as blowing shit up, or in this case, keeping an explosion from happening. At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.

  He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts before picking up the wire cutters. He’d had plenty of time to study the structure of the bomb and it looked simple enough. Problem was, looks could be deceiving.

  He’d given Charlotte a casual squeeze before heading back in here alone, but there was nothing casual about that squeeze in his mind. He had every intention of cutting a wire and walking back out of this room, but in his experience, very few soldiers intended to die.

  The life or death nature of what he was about to do colored the lens through which he looked at the last two days. He’d been a solitary man all his life, a solitary man who enjoyed a hell of a lot of company. But none of those women really got inside, not to the part of him that counted, the part of him that was more than the funny guy who liked to have a good time.

  And Charlotte did?

  She really had, with her carefree and sexy ways, her foul mouth, and her in-your-face attitude that made him smile. It seemed crazy. Two days ago he’d been pushing her away; now he was afraid he might never want to let go.

  Chill out. First things first. Defuse this sucker, then worry about Charlotte.

  But since his BUD/s days, he’d had a tradition. He’d make a wish before he made the all-important cut. If he lived through it, he might get what he asked for, a lot like blowing out his birthday candles.

  Cowboy took his wire cutters and positioned them over the wire. An image of Charlotte’s sweet face came to his mind. He wanted more of her beyond this week, beyond this ship, beyond just sex. If he made it through this one, he wanted to give them a try.

  He kept his eyes open as he squeezed the handles. The cutters snapped together with a quiet click, the timer went dark, and Cowboy exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

  The bomb was deactivated.

  21

  Charlotte stood with the others in a hallway far from the theater, telling herself Cowboy knew what he was doing. She knew that was true, but she still wanted to bite her fingernails to the quick like she used to when she was younger, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep from doing it.

  “He’s going to be okay,” said Abby. “He does this for a living. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Charlotte nodded noncommittally. She and Harrison exchanged a knowing look. Cowboy was an expert, but even that provided little comfort. At this very moment, Leo was defusing a bomb that had the power to kill him.

  She felt the urge to cry and bit down on her lip to stifle it. He was such a great guy. The world needed him to be okay. She needed him to be okay.

  He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. He’s a Navy SEAL, for God’s sake.

  Her eyes closed. She willed him to walk around the corner so she could throw her arms around him and squeeze him tightly. How she loved their night of passion and the easy comfort between them. He felt good by her side, as if he was meant to be there and had always been so. Already she knew her bed would feel empty without him, the nights both longer and cold.

  Maybe we can see each other after this cruise.

  That was not part of the plan, but hope lit in her chest like a distant candle, small and far away but visible in the darkness. Wasn’t he enjoying their time together, too? Surely it was possible he would want it to continue.

  She wanted it more than she had any right to want anything, and the intensity of her longing frightened her. Since her divorce, she’d tried to embrace being alone. She’d never done that before, hopping from one boyfriend to another until she’d married Rick her senior year of high school, and she didn’t expect to want another man in her life so soon.

  But I do.

  Cowboy's voice startled her. “Piece of cake.”

  Charlotte’s eyes flew open and she ran to him, her arms open wide. Then he was against her, his body solid and whole, and the tears she had been struggling to contain stung her eyes. “You stupid shit,” she said, punching his arm. “I thought you could be dead.”

  Cowboy chuckled. “Don’t mince words, Charlotte. Tell me what you really think.”

  Abby thumped Cowboy on the back. “Great job, Leo.”

  Charlotte smiled against Cowboy’s neck. “You’re all sweaty.”

  “That happens when your life flashes before your eyes.”

  She let him go and looked into his smiling face. He was beautiful, and he was alive. She took a deep breath and exhaled with relief. “You should take me to dinner after all of this is over.”

  “Should I?”

  Oh, fuck.

  She’d crossed the line, stepped out of the box, violated their unspoken agreement. She had offered him a fling — sex, and only sex — not a relationship and certainly not a commitment. Although she wanted to tell herself it was just dinner, she knew she was asking for more than that and it was clear as day to both of them. Who could blame Cowboy for feeling blindsided?

  “Never mind. You don’t have to,” she said.

  “Relax.” He smiled. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “You were?”

  “Yep.”

  Between him being alive and him wanting to date her, Charlotte thought her heart might burst.

  A quick, rhythmic thump reverberated through the ship, slowly getting louder. “What is that?” asked Harrison.

  Cowboy’s eyes went wide. “Helicopter.” He ran down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, “HERO Force is here.”

  22

  An enormous rotor spun atop the chopper, interrupting the spray of rain like an umbrella. The first mate stared disbelieving out the window of the bridge as the helicopter hovered in front of him. His eyes fell to the green helipad below, illuminated by lights and clearly visible despite the weather.

  Anger surged through his bloodstream. They had no right to board this ship. He moved to the controls. If he could slow the ship down enough at the right moment, they would miss the helipad and go over the bow, right under the ship if he was lucky.

  He screamed in impotent frustration when the controls failed to respond to his touch. Of course, all control had been taken over by the second bridge, and the irony that he now needed that power back at the helm was not lost on him.

  He pulled a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. “There is a chopper landing on the bow. Send two men to shoot it down, now. They must not be permitted to
board the ship!”

  The door to the bridge opened behind him and he spun around.

  “What can I do?” asked Abby.

  He exhaled with a huff. “Go to the dance club. They’ll need your help there.”

  “But the chopper! These men are from HERO Force—”

  “I will take care of them.”

  She bowed her head and left the room. He turned back in time to watch his first man go down. His slammed his open hand on the console. He should be out there himself. No one else could be trusted to take out the men in the helicopter.

  They were so close he could feel it. He looked at his watch.

  Just over an hour until the first bombs went off. The passengers would panic and the damaged vessel would limp to the closest port, Nassau in the Bahamas, where thousands of tourists sat waiting on the beach, their cameras close at hand.

  The destruction of the Gem of the Seas would go down in history forever as one of the most spectacular terrorist acts of all time.

  “Kill them,” he said, peering through the rain to his man in the shadows below. No sooner had he thought the words than his second man fell to the ground, just as the other had done. “No!”

  He pulled his weapon from his holster.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  The first mate’s head whipped around to see the captain standing in the open doorway. He swallowed hard, his gun pointed at the ceiling. “They are boarding us. A helicopter has landed on the bow and they are boarding us!”

  The captain moved to the window. “It’s HERO Force. You knew they were coming.”

  “They shot two of our men!”

  “I don’t understand.” The captain picked up the microphone and reached for the intercom switch. “We have to warn the passengers and get help on the deck.”

  The first mate flicked the captain’s hand away from the switch, unsure if the men had cut the intercom wires, too. “No. You can’t do that.”