Page 52 of Corey
“Let it out,” Lottie said, getting up and hugging her. Julia stood and joined their hug.
“I’m so glad I met you,” Sera whispered, sniffling, and they all hugged harder. God, she adored these women. They accepted her, hangups and all, and she could see a future here in Cielo Springs. Wanted it so damn badly.
Maybe she’d found her new home. And that beautiful, broken protector was going to be all hers. She sure hoped so. Because, without a doubt, she was falling in love with him. And by some miracle, they were healing each other in the moments they spent together.
???
Once again Corey found his ass vibrating up in the air, but this time they weren’t on Lex’s bucket of bolts. Thingshad turned into an official op, and—thanks to Mitch and his extensive connections—they’d been quickly transported down to San Diego on a private jet and then hopped straight onto a waiting helicopter. Now Lex was currently flying them over the ocean, closing them in on their prey.
It was pitch black out over the Pacific, and the sooner they intercepted the rogue submarine, the better. But it wasn’t an easy, cut and dry op. Narco subs had improved over time, becoming faster, more seaworthy and possessing higher cargo capacity. The CIA estimated its departure and travel time based on when Corey snapped his pictures, when it disappeared and how many nautical miles it could most likely travel per hour, so the Motley Crew had some catching up to do.
Brand laid out the details provided by Mitch via the CIA. Intel confirmed the sub was traveling down the Baja Peninsula then would head toward Mazatlán. Submarine smugglers routinely unloaded their cargo onto fast-boats for the final leg to shore.
If Corey and crew were lucky, the gunrunners wouldn’t get that far, and they’d capture the sub sooner. In the meantime, Corey triple-checked the quantum sensors he’d attached to his drone.
Due to satellites and cutting-edge technology, submarines weren’t truly invisible any longer. Thanks to a fun CIA gadget on loan and delivered straight to Brand in record time, also courtesy of Mitch, they were employing some of that tech on Corey’s drone. The compact and lightweight quantum sensors could analyze data and pinpoint the sub’s exact location by detecting subtle magnetic and gravitational changes. It was pretty freaking genius, and Corey was excited to play with the tech.
“According to Cor’s pictures and CIA intel,” Brand stated, “we’re dealing with an eighteen-meter long narco sub that can carry up to ten tons of cocaine.”
“That’s a whole lotta blow,” Chaz commented.
“Or, in this case, weapons,” Brand stated.
“How fast is it moving?” Wes asked. “Will we be able to catch up?”
Brand nodded. “With its diesel engine, it can reach speeds up to nine-point-seven knots. It’s also made mostly of fiberglass and is fully submersible, unlike a lot of the semi-submersibles used by the cartels. It travels just beneath the surface and will be very difficult to spot visually, especially since it’s camouflaged with blue paint and produces almost no wake.”
“Who’s the eagle eye here?” Lex asked through the radio. “Did you remember your glasses, Madden?”
“I only need them to read. My distance vision is twenty-twenty, asshole.”
“We don’t have to eyeball this fish until it’s time to board. The drones will do all the work,” Xander stated confidently.
“How many crew on board?” Jayson asked.
“Up to four, and cramped as hell.”
“Any sane person would say it’s nearly impossible to pirate a submarine,” Chaz stated.
“But that person isn’t a motherfucking Navy SEAL,” Wes responded.
“And by the time you find out a SEAL team’s hit you, we’re already gone,” Corey added.
“Hooyah.” Murph and Corey bumped knuckles then mimicked an explosion with their fingers.
“And, let’s face it, who among us is sane?” Xander drawled lazily.
They all chuckled, knowing they’d done too many crazy, dangerous ops to ever be classified as well-balanced or normal. Mad, demented and maniacal? Definitely.
“Okay, so Plan A is to intercept and commandeer the sub,” Brand recapped. “If we don’t find it—”
“We will,” Xander assured them.
“If we don’t find it,” Brand repeated, “Plan B is to head over to Mazatlán where the fast-boats will be waiting to take the cargo. It’ll mean more tangoes and add extra complications, though.”
“I assume Plan C is to blow shit up?” Chaz asked.
“Hopefully, we don’t get to Plan C,” Brand said.
