Chapter 8 - Night on the Water
The Atlantic Ocean was pitch black, the calm water reflecting the cold glow of a crescent moon.
A sleek, radar-invisible speed launch glided silently through the dark waves, cut through the water two miles off the coast of Montauk.
On board were Gabriel, Hannah, and eight elite Moretti operatives dressed in wet suits and tactical gear.
In the distance, the grand lights of a two-hundred-foot luxury yacht, The Czarina, gleamed against the dark ocean horizon.
Gabriel stood at the bow, holding a pair of night-vision binoculars, observing the enemy vessel. "Four guards on the main deck. Two on the flybridge. She's anchored, just like you said."
Hannah stepped beside him, pulling a tactical hood over her dark hair. "Orlov’s personal quarters are on the lower deck, starboard side. He keeps his master encryption drive in a safe behind the desk. That drive contains every bribe, every payoff, and every murder order he has ever issued."
Gabriel lowered his binoculars, looking at her in the dim red light of the cabin. "You really want to put him in prison."
"I want justice, Gabriel," she said softly. "Not just revenge. The world you live in... it eats everything it touches. I saw what it did to my family. I don't want Claire and Sophie growing up in a world where violence is the only answer."
Gabriel was silent for a long moment. He looked out at the ocean, the cold wind whipping his dark hair. "My father was killed when I was sixteen, Hannah. I didn't choose this life. It was handed to me in a casket. I built this empire so no one could ever put my daughters in a casket."
"I know," Hannah murmured, reaching out and gently touching his gloved hand. "But you don't have to carry the weight of the world alone anymore."
Gabriel looked down at her hand covering his. A strange, profound shift occurred deep within his chest—a feeling he hadn't experienced since his wife had passed away five years ago during childbirth. He didn't just desire Hannah Mercer. He respected her. He trusted her.
"Boarding in two minutes," Marcus announced over the radio from the helm.
"Stay behind me," Gabriel told Hannah, drawing his suppressed pistol.
"Not a chance, Moretti," Hannah smiled faintly, racking the slide of her weapon. "I'm taking the lead."
They scaled the rear ladder of the yacht like ghosts.
The assault was swift, silent, and brutal. Before the guards on the main deck could sound an alarm, Gabriel and his men neutralized them with suppressed shots.
They descended into the opulent lower deck, moving systematically through the mahogany-lined corridors.
Gabriel kicked open the doors to the master stateroom.
Inside, Viktor Orlov—a fat, gray-haired man in a silk robe—was frantically stuffing stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a leather duffel bag.
He froze, turning slowly, his face turning pale as paper when he saw Gabriel Moretti standing in his doorway, flanked by the woman he had spent six months hunting.
"Gabriel..." Orlov gasped, dropping the duffel bag. "This... this is a misunderstanding! We are businessmen!"
Gabriel stepped into the room, his gun trained on Orlov's chest. "You sent armed men into my home, Viktor. You put my daughters in danger."
"It was the girl!" Orlov shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Hannah. "She killed my brother! She stole from me! Give her to me, Gabriel, and I will give you half my empire! Fifty million dollars! Right now!"
Gabriel walked slowly toward Orlov. The room went deathly cold.
"You don't have enough money in the world to buy back your life, Viktor," Gabriel whispered.
Orlov's eyes darted to a drawer on his desk. He lunged for a hidden revolver.
TAK! TAK!
Two silenced shots echoed through the stateroom.
Orlov collapsed back into his leather chair, clutching his knees, screaming in agony as blood seeped through his silk robe.
Hannah walked past Gabriel, pulled the master encryption drive from the open safe, and tucked it into her vest. She then pulled out a pair of heavy steel handcuffs, stepping toward the weeping syndicate boss.
"Viktor Orlov," Hannah said, her voice ringing with absolute authority as she cuffed his hands behind his back. "You're under arrest."
May you like
She turned to Gabriel, a triumphant smile on her face. "Call your federal contacts."
Gabriel looked at the bleeding mob boss, then at Hannah. A small, rare smile touched his lips. "You really are something else, Miss Mercer."
