Page 155 of Rescuing You

Shehab or whoever was at the helm hadn’t slowed. If anything, he was going faster than before, the boat hitting the swells hard.

The Jet Ski got air more than once as Michael worked to match its speed. When he was close, he said, “Two minutes.”

“Copy.”

He aimed for the starboard side, bouncing over the larger vessel’s wake and breathing thanks for the howling wind and downpour that covered the noise of his approach. When he was alongside, he matched the boat’s speed, getting near enough that someone would have to look straight down from the deck to see him.

Now came the hard part. He had to figure out how to get from the Jet Ski to the boat without landing in the water. At thirty-plus miles per hour.

Lord, I’m gonna need some help.

To his team, he said, “Boarding.”

“Copy,” Stone said, adding, “Careful.”

Yeah.

He took a breath. Held the throttle with his right hand and lifted his right foot onto the seat.

A big wave nearly bounced him off the watercraft. But he managed to keep his grip, only dropping behind a little. He sped up again.

A waist-high metal bar surrounded the swim platform at the stern. He reached out with his left hand, let up on the throttle.

He launched himself toward the bar, shoving the Jet Ski away in the process.

He gripped the bar.

It was wet and cold and slippery, and his fingers slipped.

He managed to swing his other hand up and held on.

That was close. Too close.

He dangled, his feet dragging in the freezing surf. He swung them onto the swim platform and ducked under the metal bar.

Once on the slick surface, he tucked himself against the low wall beside a short ladder that led to the deck.

“You on?” Stone must’ve been watching through binoculars.

“On.” He kept his voice low, unholstering his Glock.

And listened.

At first, he heard nothing but the engine and the surf and the wind.

Lightning flashed. Seconds later, thunder roared.

He’d seen two men on the deck near the stern when he’d approached but had no idea where they were now. Even if they’d looked behind, they probably hadn’t seen Michael. If they knew he was there, bullets would already be flying. He needed to keep his presence hidden as long as possible to give the team the opportunity to close in.

And him the chance to get the twins into the water.

He didn’t want to think about what that might require.

As he calmed and focused, he heard voices. They carried not above the other sounds, but below them, nearly concealed in the low-pitched roar.

Two men, speaking in rapid Arabic. Too fast and too distant for Michael to translate.

But not so far away that he could get by them without being seen. Which meant he’d need to take them out.