Page 18 of A Spark of Luck
“She’s your mama.”
“She’s claiming you, too, so don’t think you can get away with anything. I’m here when you’re ready to talk about Dr. Michaels.”
For once in his life, Hunt struggled to keep a blush off his face and his eyes blank.
Doogie bent closer. “I know that trick, too. Talk when you’re ready. That’s all I’m saying. I’ll get the team ready for afternoon training.”
He strutted off to the garbage and disappeared out the door.
Hunt grunted in agreement. Training would refocus him, but for once he wasn’t sure he wanted refocused.
He drank cold coffee and stayed put.
Eight Weeks Gone
Hunt kept his eyes focused on the monitors with the operations satellite feeds. Aboard the USS Carl Vinson, he observed his team race across the choppy surface of the Pacific Ocean east of the Philippines. He could feel the spray of water acrosshis face even though he wasn’t on board with the team.
He'd stepped back to let Doogie run the mission on orders from the ship’s doctor to give his leg a rest. Yeah, Cait had sewed him up fine, but the stress of constant missions on a man’s body couldn’t be discounted. That muscle was a weakness now. The thought of Cait sent a pang that he shoved away. No time for that now either.
Running silent through the dark of night, the team flew across the surface of the water to the small yacht of billionaire Darren Drake who had possession of commercial technology used to interfere with satellite communications. Intelligence chatter also had the man in negotiations to hand off said technology to Ibrahim Qurban Sadozai or IQS as he was known in special operations. The man was the number four terrorist on the Department of Defense’s most wanted list. The mission comprised one small slice of the battle against the terrorist that included tracking and freezing his assets, identifying his weapon sources, monitoring his travels whenever his image popped, investigating who he interacted with, and locking down his technology access.
Hunt turned to the tech sailor at his side. “The yacht still holding in place?”
“Yes, sir.” The young woman tapped the screen. “Hasn’t moved.”
He’d been over the plans a dozen times with the team. A quick board, a search for the tech and the terrorist, and a faster exit. He’d been all for dragging the billionaire on board, too, for aiding and abetting a terrorist. Except the yacht was currently in international waters, not subject to U.S. law, and he was no expert on maritime law as related to terrorism. He could have questioned the legal standing, but it wasn’t in the mission parameters to punish someone for being stupid.
“Eagle One, alongside and ready to board. Going silent.” Doogie’s confirmation agreed with the images.
“Copy. Go.” Hunt kept his eyes on the screen and counted as each man boarded. They split into two-man teams, moved across the deck like lightning, and disappeared below.
At the seventeen-minute mark, Doogie broke silence. “Eagle One, no tech. All on board dead. Drake is not among them. No IQS.”
“Perfect,” Hunt muttered under his breath. “Copy. Exfil.”
The ship’s Executive Officer came to his side. The man was inches shorter than Hunt but wore his uniform with an ease that backed up his authority. “No luck?”
“No, sir. We’ll check satellite images to see what was missed.”
“Possible he’s dead, too?”
“Maybe. Might have been tossed overboard.”
The men reached the side of the yacht, and he counted as each man went off the side. The boat separated from the yacht and turned a wide arc to come to the carrier.
“We’ll notify the Philippines they have a compromised yacht with dead to pick up.” He left Hunt alone with his thoughts.
This wasn’t the first time intel had led nowhere, but it was a pisser.
Twelve Weeks Gone
Cait looked over the empty room and let the hurt slash through her. All her gear was on the way back to the states. She would be on a transport plane in a few more hours. Deployment number two finished. To look at her room as it was now, she’d tumbled into disbelief that anything earthshattering had ever happened in this room. Obviously, those moments hadn’t meant anything to him. No contact was no contact. If he’d wanted to get in touch, he could have. She was the one at a disadvantage, and it was time to face reality. War zone flings didn’t last. Jackie disagreed, but she had to drop the hope, or she’d never be ableto move forward.
She took deep breaths, banished the memories, and went to the door. She was going home. It would take time to normalize her routine and to deal with the overwhelming tiredness and depression. But she’d get in a routine immediately, find some friends, and start dating. If she’d done that before, none of this would have happened. Except she’d wanted those moments with Hunt deep down, and that was a fact she couldn’t escape no matter how she tried. She pulled back her shoulders and lifted her remaining bag sitting by the open door. Cait shut the door quietly and didn’t look back.
Her progress to boarding was stalled by a stop to navigate exit procedures and the suffering caused by the hurry-up-and-wait process. By the designated flight time, she fastened into a transport plane seat with dreamland beckoning.
Hunt be damned.
