Page 96 of Boomer
Anna stepped forward, her expression carved from steel. “Our resources on this mission reflect the massive undertaking of this operation,” she began, her tone flat, clipped, professional.
He looked away before he drowned in it. All of them went rock still, the focus snapping into place. Boomer upped his concentration, but held onto Taylor with just as much fervor, just softer now.
“We are interdicting twelve ships, people, with the expectation of it taking several days. We will be working around the clock to execute this plan: disable, dismantle, confiscate, and extract intelligence.” She turned and clicked, and a list appeared on the center wide-screen. “Our targets are: F/VSanta Merida– fentanyl tablet compression lab onboard, M/VTarnów Sky– floating chemical refinery disguised as industrial cleaner ship, F/VVila Nova Dawn– arms transport for cartel security forces, F/VNeves Fortuna– converted tuna boat, low signature, carrying cartel lieutenants, M/VDuarte Veloz– speed-fitted former coastal patrol boat turned transport, M/VLaurel Blight– rusted cargo freighter, carrying tainted pill batches for test markets, M/VAnastazija– Montenegrin-flagged trawler, mobile money-laundering base, M/YGaspard’s Fortune– luxury yacht converted into floating safehouse, M/VMarseille Dawn– small merchant ship, retrofitted engine room lab, and S/VSeverina’s Ghost– abandoned ghost ship, now used for trafficking women, girls and boys.” She shifted, frowning. “M/VBlack Warden, an armed escort ship, working as a floating guard dog to the rest will be our first target.” Anna lifted her head and locked eyes with them. “Our last target will be their flagship…F/VMálaga’s Reach– tagged and shadowed.” Anna turned to Taylor. “It’s your show now, Detective.”
Boomer leaned slightly toward Breakneck and muttered, “Hell of a shopping list.”
Taylor rose, her eyes showing why the arctic lived in those blue depths. “Our assets include two Black Hawk helicopters, provided by the US Naval Special Warfare support via Lajes Field, Azores. We have the Nightstalkers flying them. Our navaland maritime assets consist of four RHIBs, one Portuguese Navy NRPViana do Castelo, offshore patrol vessel assigned to MAOC. On standby will be one Navy Cyclone Class PC, the USSFalchion, as needed for international waters pursuit.” Taylor’s gaze sharpened. “The Lisbon House will be our Tactical Operations Center, and the TOC will be manned by Officer Graham with CIA and US and Portuguese Naval support, real-time coordination, command and control via joint ops room for all operator assets.” Her voice lowered. “If our intel identifies ground-based targets, we’ll fit them into the operation. Rapid strike. No margin for error.” She paused, letting it settle.
As Taylor finished, a beat of silence fell over the room, heavy, loaded. “Any questions?” she asked.
Bash exhaled softly. “Twelve ships. Can’t wait to see how the Americans measure ‘moderate workload.’”
One of the junior SBS operators shifted in his chair, arms crossed tight over his tac vest. “If we have to work on the fly for ground assets, and breaching is our ingress, how are we going to coordinate that with two breachers? They can’t be everywhere.”
Silence.
Every SEAL at the table stilled, Skull’s smirk faded, Breakneck’s boot stopped mid-bounce, and Iceman’s jaw ticked with command energy.
Bash turned his head. Slowly. “Are you daft?” he said. Calm. Flat. But final. “Just give the BoomMonster the blueprints and he’ll bloody do it…on the fly. Hell, he’ll talk any one of us through it.”
Boomer blinked once. He couldn’t believe his ears. Looked up. Met Bash’s eyes.
They held a flicker of annoyance, sure, classic Bash. Irritation, even. But under it all was something Boomer hadn’t expected. Respect. Heavy. Clear. Unmistakable, and it rocked Boomer harder than he wanted to admit.
Bash seemed to realize what he’d just done. His mouth opened like he wanted to walk it back, but the damage was irreversible. His pride took a hit. His soul had already defected.
“I mean…bloody hell, the man reads structure like he wrote the damn book on it,” Bash added gruffly. He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable now. “Tactile genius, really. Don’t ask me how. It’s unnerving.”
Boomer raised an eyebrow. Didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. He deliberately thickened his drawl. “Tactile genius.Shoot, son… I’ll add that to my CV.”
Breakneck choked on his protein bar.
Kodiak muttered, “Boomer’s LinkedIn’s about to be un-fucking-real.”
Hazard nodded once. “We’ll endorse him for ‘structural supremacy.’”
Skull smirked and the entire room braced. “Everyone’s thinking it.Hübscher Sprengmeister.”
Taylor’s eyes narrowed just slightly, lips curving. “I stand by my observation,” she murmured dryly, her eyes dancing when she glanced at him.
GQ laughed. “Oh yeah...our resident fuckingTier 1demo god.”
Breakneck didn’t miss a beat. “Handsomedemo god. Get it right, G.”
The room cracked, tension bleeding into a ripple of grins and shoulder bumps, the kind of release only brothers and bullets could forge.
But Boomer didn’t break eye contact with Bash. That public support landed hard, right in the center of his chest.Even Bash thinks I’m enough.Fuck. That hit him like a blow to the solar plexus, fast, and devastating. He wasn’t able to brace for it because he hadn’t seen it coming, and now it was sitting there in his lungs like he couldn’t quite draw breath around it.
In that moment of that accidental British betrayal, he’d beenseen, and the weight of it untangled some of those knots inside him.
“Boomer?” Iceman’s voice cut in.
“Sure, boss. I have breach charges prepped for every scenario. We’ll get them distributed.”
“Bloody hell,” Bash said under his breath. “Of course he does.”
Taylor had the final word. “We own the water tonight. Let’s act like it.”
