Game of Secrets and Shadows (Book One in the Covert Operations series)

Eighteen

The name of the boat was Second Chance.

It was fitting, I thought as I climbed aboard the floating vessel, that I should step upon a boat with such a name on the very day that I needed a second chance. A day where I'd lost my brother again. A day where Brent Grimes had gotten shot and Gregory Lauer had died. A day where Daniel had been kidnapped and I was the only one who could get him back.

What a day.

The boat was more of a small yacht. I wasn't too familiar with boats. I'd learned how to drive one, courtesy of Brent and Lydia who'd taken it upon themselves to teach Lia and I such things during one of spring breaks from school, and that was where my knowledge of them ended. Not only did I have no weapons, I had zero knowledge on my surroundings. I didn't think it was possible for a day to go from bad to worse but, low and behold, there I was.

I crept across the deck of the yacht, hoping to god that the floor of the thing didn't creak or moan and give away my position. I saw the stairs that led below deck but I didn't go down them. Instead, my eyes swept across the upper deck, searching. One thing Brent had told Lia and I on that fateful spring break was that it was always smart to keep tools on board. I kept my eyes peeled and—there, a wrench. The metal tool was sitting next to a collection of screwdrivers and some bolts in a bag up near the wheel.

I picked up the wrench, it was a heavy, sturdy thing, and one of the screwdrivers. I tucked the latter into my pocket and looked back towards the stairs. For some reason, they seemed even more daunting than my descent into the Paris catacombs had. Maybe it was because I actually knew that Daniel was down there waiting for me. Expecting me to come find him. Expecting me to come save him.

There was no more time to waste. I padded across the deck towards stairs and quietly began my descent. I went down carefully, making sure that the stairs didn't make any noise. I kept my body flattened against the wall so that no one could see me. A few steps from the bottom, I stopped, listening. I could see shadows dancing across the ground and kept my eyes on them, making sure they didn't move any closer to me. My breath stayed low and even. With the gentle waves crashing against the side of the yacht, they wouldn't be heard.

"—sure this is the one? He doesn't look like much."

"Positive. He's the one from the photograph the boss gave us. He was with the bitch's brother. Wish we could've gotten there before those CIA pricks sent in that strike team. The brother would've been a lot more useful." This second voice was just slightly bitter.

A slight pause. "You think Izzy will be happy with him?"

"When is Izzy ever happy?"

"Good point."

There was a long, heavy sigh and then the second voice sounded again, deeper and gruffer than the first. "What's on your mind, Bates?"

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing? We're using an unarmed, untrained civilian to lure out an eighteen-year-old girl—"

"An eighteen-year-old girl who killed Romney and Brakston, or did you forget about that part?"

"I just want to make sure that we're doing the right thing."

I heard the second man's voice—Bates—rumble as he growled out, "We are. Romney was my best friend. Hell, he was practically my brother. I was his best man at his wedding, I'm the Godfather to his children. And she killed him. I don't give a shit what Izzy wants with her. But she won't get away with killing Rom."

The first man, the one who was a little quieter and more uncertain about this whole ordeal, was quiet for a moment. "Fine. What should we do with the kid for now? I don't want him getting loose."