Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DRAVEN

Nearly two days it's been since Tavish was taken, and we're still nae closer to rescuing him. We've game planned every scenario and we're still in the same spot we were when Cato showed up on my doorstep.

He and his people were all here before the night fell the next day, and while they all seemed capable, we're wasting time. Time Tavish disnae have.

As hard as they tried, Cato and his people from the mysterious agency that he's refused to tell me the name o', couldn't get the yacht to make port. They've amped up the boating activity near the yacht. One o' the guys boarded the ship and dismantled something that they felt certain would make the boat go into port, but it dinnae. It went in, but only as far as the harbor. They fixed the mechanical failure at anchor.

Cato comes into the study and I glance up from the paperwork in front o' me. He sits down in the chair in front o' my desk, throwing his feet up on my desk. He smirks at me and I raise my brow at him. He drops his feet to the floor and sits forward.

"I love fucking with you."

I grunt and turn back to the paperwork. I skim the page and realize I've read this same page at least ten times. I toss it to the side and lean back in the chair, lacing my fingers behind my head.

"What now?"

"Well, the guys have an idea."

"If it gets Tavish back, I dinnae care. Do it."

"It's risky."

"So is leaving the lad there to be…" I stop, unable to voice the next words. Swallowing, I close my eyes.

"They're going to take the boat."

"Ye said that wasnae an option."

"It wasn't."

"But it is now? What changed?"

"We're outta options, which means Tavish stays put until they come back to shore, or we storm the castle or the yacht, rather."

"When?"

"Now."

"What?" I yell, shooting to my feet.

Reaching over the desk, I grab him, pulling him across the desk toward me. When his nose touches mine, I growl, "I told ye I needed to be there when he was rescued."

"Sheesh. Dude. Breathe. Now means get your shit together; it's go time."

I shove him from me, and he staggers back, brushing the wrinkles out o' his shirt. He glares at me for a bit.

"No one has a sense of humor."

"I'll work on that when Tavish is safe."

Cato rolls his eyes at me and leads me out o' the study toward the guys he's brought in. Stepping out o' the house, I look out over the gardens and lawn toward the North Sea. Tavish is out there somewhere, and I pray it's nae too late. That they havenae hurt him. I ken it's ridiculous. Samuel hurt Tavish before he ever got him out o' the castle.

I push those thoughts away as one o' Cato's guys steps up next to me. None o' them have actual names. This one's called Ghost. He's the only one whose name I've been told. He's similar in size to me and looks like a right, mean fucker.

"Have ya ever done something like this before?"

"Nae. I've done my fair share o' killing, but they were assassinations nae rescue missions like this."

"You're with me."

I protest, but he steps in front o' me and cuts me off. "You will stay on my hip, or I'll shove your fucking ass overboard. I'm the team leader. That means I'm the boss no matter who is cutting the check. I have two jobs. Mission Complete and get everyone home alive and in one piece."

I nod. I dinnae like it, but I respect him for saying it.

"Och, aye. Agreed. That's what I want as well."

"Then let's get ya geared up."

He turns and heads back inside. Mack's standing at the door to the room Cato and the others have been using. I smile when I see what he's holding. Ghost gives me a look and shakes his head.

"I know ya look the part, but axes? Really?"

I smirk. He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he walks into the room. I take the axes from Mack and Ghost's throwing gear at me before I'm even close to him. He doesn't explain what he's doing, but I watch as he gears up, and I follow suit, strapping the same things on in the same way. When we get to the vest, he takes the harness I wear to hold my axes.

"Nice leather work. Did ya make it?"

"Nae. My husband bought it for me from one o' the clan members who does leather work."

"Imma need an introduction. This is damn fine work."

"I thought my axes were ridiculous and outdated."

"They are. The leather's not."

I chuckle at him, and he helps me into the harness, fitting it over the vest. Once he's satisfied, he picks up several weapons. "Do ya know how to shoot?"

I nod. "Och, aye. It's just nae my first choice. I'd rather use a blade."

"Yeah, ya look like one of those crazy fuckers that can take out a roomful with a steak knife."

He hands me the rifle, and I sling it over my head and arm like he does. Sliding several cartridges toward me, he shows me where to stow them.

"Ya ready?"

"More than. I need to get to my boy."

"If I were lucky enough to have one, and someone took him, I would be too."

"Ghost?"

I turn. Cato is there next to Mack, and the cocky little fucker seems nervous, almost submissive. I would have sworn Cato was a Dom, but the way he stands now, glancing between Ghost and Mack, I'm realizing he's a switch. Looking between the three o' them, I curse. We dinnae have time for a love triangle.

Ghost turns and looks at him, a soft breath snorting out o' his nose. He stalks out o' the room, past the boy, shooting Mack a look. I follow the guy out, stopping briefly in front o' Mack.

"Is this landing on my doorstep?"

"I dinnae ken what yer talking about, Laird."

"Hmmm. We'll see. Tell Jane and the others to get the house ready for Tavish. All the candy and chips he can eat."

"Ye'll spoil him."

"He will need it and deserve it after surviving what he's going through. So, let me be clear, the name o' the assignment is Spoil Tavish."

"Aye, Laird."

I leave him standing with Cato and follow Ghost. It's fucking ironic that the guy helping me shares the same name as the members o' the Society.

When I catch up to Ghost, he's grumbling, but he turns it off when he realizes I'm next to him.

"Ye good?"

"Fine," he says and jogs off toward the boats.

Looking at them, I remember how loud the boat was that took Tavish away, so I ask, "How're we getting close to the yacht with these things?"

"Cato's going to create a distraction."

"What kind o' distraction?"

"A drone strike."

Getting information out o' any o' them is damn near impossible, and I cannae take much more o' it. I need plans. The plans need plans, and those plans need plans. This has to fucking work, because the alternative is Tavish being repeatedly raped and beaten, and I dinnae want that for anyone, and definitely not my boy.

Ghost gets in the boat and motions for me to do the same. I settle where he puts me, trying to follow how they all sit and stand. I hate that I'm nae able to do this on my own. Tavish is my boy. I should nae have to rely on a slew o' people to protect him.

"Relax, Helvig. This is our bread and butter. It's how we make bank," Ghost tells me.

I'm nae sure what he means by it, but I think I get the gist.

Soon, we're bouncing on the waves, headed away from land. The castle grows tinier as we go until it is nae longer in sight. The boats we're in are freaking fast, like tactical speedboats. Where they came from, I cannae tell ye, but I'm thankful for them because they're cutting the whittling between me and Tavish down quickly.

About twenty minutes in, one o' the guys reaches toward me, holding out something. "Your headset. In case you get separated…"

"He won't," Ghost declares.

"But just in case…"

"I said he won't."

Looking between them, I snap up what he's offering and follow his instructions on getting it set up. I look at Ghost, who's frowning at us and say, "On your hip, so Tavish and the rest o' us make it home."

"We'll see."

I sit back, waiting and listening with half an ear to what they're talking about. Most o' it is some lingo or other language. Not really, but it might as well be. Then they do break out another language. I'm tempted to ask what the fuck they're talking about, but let's be real, they're talking about me.

"Guiding Light this is North Star 1. How copy?"

"Lima Charlie, North Star. You are on course and on time. ETA for your birdie is five minutes."

I look at all o' them and the ones who looked like there were sleeping are now awake and have joined in on some weird choreographed routine that a stranger like me would never understand. Hell, I dinnae even understand what the hell they just said over the earpiece, and now they were confusing me even more.

My confusion must show on my face, because one o' them says, "Guiding Light is Cato. Never use real names over comms. You're Big Dipper. Tavish is Little Dipper."

"And them?"

"Most of us are from the spec ops community, so the lingo stuck. Every mission, the team receives a call sign, and numbers are assigned to each team member."

Ghost points out the patches on the guys' vests.

"Gotcha."

"You don't, and that's what worries me. You're not prepared."

"It worries me too, but Tavish is worth putting my neck on the line. I'll kill for him or die for him whatever I need to do."

My ear crackles, and Cato's voice fills my head. "Passing Shooting Star."

"What the hell is shooting star?"

"Code name for the drone strike."

My mind runs rampant at the term drone strike. I ken they said it earlier, but all I can picture are the videos o' strikes that take out freaking towns and buildings. Surely, that's nae what they're planning.

My panic at the idea they're going to bomb the boat must be evident, because Ghost chuckles, "We're not bombing the boat. Just causing a bit of a distraction. Cato's going to get the drone close enough to hack into their system so we can arrive undercover of whatever chaos he's doing to them."

The ship comes into sight, and all the lights are out and the music is so loud I can hear the lyrics even over the sound o' our boat.

"What's the game plan?" I ask.

"We're going for a coordinated attack. The other boat will take the bow, and we'll approach from the stern. They're going to be climbing, so we'll hang back until they give us the green light. Cato's drone will stay overhead to give us over watch. He'll keep us alerted to movements on the decks."

I nod, and almost immediately, Cato's voice comes across the headset.

"You are green to go."

The guy at the front attaches something to the side o' the ship, anchoring us to the vessel, and then tosses a line towards the swim deck. He pulls us close and has us all, and the rest o' us follow him onto the yacht. We slowly make our way up the stairs to the deck, staying low so no one can see us. Cato is in our heads, talking to the team at the bow.

The noise coming from inside is deafening. Music blares. It's mixed with the scream o' sirens and people. One would think with all the noise coming from inside, people would rush out onto the decks, but there's not a soul coming out o' the glass door we're headed toward.

Other than the sirens and music, everything is eerily quiet, almost as if there's no one on board. We know better as we've seen the photos that Cato has taken with his drones. Even with the lack o' human presence being felt, we continue forward. I keep my word, maintaining my spot right at Ghost's hip. We're just about to the door when the emergency lights flash on, and the ship goes silent, and all hell breaks loose.