Page 2 of Ricochet

Trace grumbled. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Hell if I know.” Luke moved toward a tight corner, providing cover as they slipped by.

Colin took the next corner. “Home base, you hear this? No one is on deck.”

“Roger that,” Brock answered.

“Roger,” team two’s CO said. “My team? What’re you seeing?”

“Same. Like a ghost ship.”

“Quarterdeck ahead,” he apprised Brock.

Space was cramped. Grayson and Javier came forward while Ryder trained his weapon on the door. Luke turned to watch the Aussie’s back.

Colin nodded to his coverage. “Let’s do this.”

Javier knelt, ready to pull the door where captain and crew had to be.

“If Titan Group sent us on a ghost run, we’re having words, Brock.” Graysonangled high.

“Keep your eyes open,” their team leader said. “No one’s leaving this ship unattended.”

“That bodes well,” Javier mumbled.

Adrenaline-fueled blood thumped in Colin’s ears. A blind op with a team he didn’t know, an unfamiliar location with a green light to engage—what the hell was Delta team doing in the Indian Ocean on a cargo liner? Tracking stolen Mercedes or fake Prada purses?

“On my count,” Colin whispered.

Javier and Grayson nodded.

“Three, two, one, and—”

Javier yanked the door, dropping down with his weapon trained as Colin rushed through with no idea what was waiting on the other side of the windowless door.

Three men froze in place, two standing and one in his chair. A cigar smoked in an ashtray. Dinner and drinks sat on a table and bar.

“Hands up! Handsup!” Colin shouted, motioning with his gun. “Hands in the air.”

Grayson went right, Javier the other way, their voices loud and demanding the same thing: compliance or else.

In Colin’s earpiece, the second team’s words flew. Hostile fire. Heavy engagement. But they had Delta covered.

Colin surged forward, reissuing Delta’s orders. Two men had AK-47s within their immediate reach. One man stayedat his dinner with a steak knife and fork in hand.

“Drop the knife,” Colin ordered.

The man stood slowly, not dropping his utensils.

The other men didn’t talk, didn’t look at one another, but their faces were the same. Dead eyes. Parted lips. But their look wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t fear.

Javier shouted in language after language. Grayson layered orders for hands up with aggressive gestures.Taking anyone on the ship alive had been a direct request, but those weapons were too close.

“Update,” Brock questioned Colin quietly, relying on him to be his eyes because their live feed from the weapons cam had a significant delay.

Colin couldn’t explain the unmoving silence, how the three men were the living dead, smothering the tight space.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Colin explainedwithout lowering his weapon. “Hands in the air. We just want to talk to you.”

---