Chapter 26 - The Storm Over Blackwood Point
Slip 14 jutted out into the open bay, exposed to the savage fury of the nor'easter. Moored to the pilings was the *Sirena*, a hundred-foot luxury yacht painted matte black. The ship swayed violently against the roiling waves, its mooring lines groaning under immense strain.
Rain pelted my face like needles as I ran. Dominic and his tactical team took flanking positions along the perimeter of the slip, providing covering fire as two of Julian's low-level guards panicked on the gangplank.
*Pfft! Pfft!*
The quiet, muffled coughs of suppressed rifle fire dropped the two guards instantly onto the deck before they could raise their weapons.
"Deck clear!" Dominic shouted through my earpiece. "Clara, hold your position! Let the assault team breach the cabin!"
"I'm not waiting!" I screamed back into the wind. "My baby is in there!"
I kicked the gangplank gate open and lunged onto the rocking deck of the yacht. The smell of burning electrical circuits and high-grade cocaine hung thick in the air, drifting up from the salon companionway.
Inside the main cabin, expensive crystal glasses lay shattered across the teakwood floor. A duffel bag stuffed with stolen jewelry and foreign currency was thrown haphazardly across a velvet sofa.
From the master stateroom below deck came the sound that made my entire soul shatter and rebuild itself into pure iron.
A baby's cry.
Weak, hoarse, exhausted, but alive.
Noah.
I flew down the narrow spiral staircase, my boots slipping on spilled champagne. The heavy mahogany door to the master suite was ajar.
I kicked it open with everything I had.
Inside, standing by the king-sized bed with his back against the hull, was Julian. His face was bright red and peeling from his Caribbean sunburn, his expensive linen shirt disheveled and stained with sweat and liquor. In his left arm, he clutched a bundle of blankets containing Noah. In his right hand, leveled directly at Noah's head, was a gleaming silver revolver.
Cowering in the corner behind him was Victoria Sterling, shivering in a ruined designer dress, her mascara running in black streaks down her terrified face.
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"Don't move, Clara!" Julian shrieked, his voice cracking with manic hysteria. "Step back, or I swear to God I'll pull the trigger!"
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