The incoming vessel was directly in line with the cruise ship, which was now nothing more than a white dot on the horizon to their east. Spencer’s instinct was to glass the boat with his binoculars, but he went to the radar display screen instead and turned up the gain control knob. The consistent alarm sounding with each full rotation of the antenna as it picked up the fading cruise ship was too much to bear, along with the guilt over what he’d done. Spencer wasn’t familiar with the radar and its multitude of knobs, switches, and buttons, but he did figure out how to lower the unit’s sensitivity after passing the cruise ship. And he did exactly that in an attempt to get a little peace of mind, although it failed to help.

  “How far out are they? Are they coming this way?” Rob asked.

  “Hang on.” Spencer watched with bated breath as the antenna reported its findings and the green bar swept around the screen once more.

  Just one mark showed up, and it was the cruise ship. This was an older radar unit, but it still had a range scale of twenty-four miles. Although they could barely make out the big white ship, it was the only one showing up on the display. Spencer fumbled with the controls, adjusting gain and reducing the range scale, hoping to pick up the small boat, but he had no luck. He wasn’t even sure if he was operating the system correctly. Probably not. He was a gunner’s mate, after all, not a boatswain.

  He watched in frustration as the screen cycled through another rotation, failing to pick up the new vessel on the display.

  “Well?” Rob was back to looking through his binoculars and growing impatient with Spencer’s silence.

  “Nothing but the cruise ship’s showing. That can only mean one thing. The other boat must be made out of rubber, like a zodiac, or I guess it could be fiberglass and just lacks enough metal to register.” Spencer was hoping to get a fix on the recently discovered vessel and track its heading to see if the small craft was in fact coming their way. But he really didn’t need a radar system to tell him what he already knew.

  He brought the Black Bird back around to their original heading, toward Saint Lucie Inlet, and engaged the autopilot before heading out onto the balcony with Rob. He took his good binoculars with him, choosing to switch on the gyroscopic feature, partly to counter the increasing swell size but mostly because he considered sizing up the approaching craft to be worth a little battery life.

  “It’s from the cruise ship, isn’t it?” Rob asked.

  Spencer waited to answer until he had the orange and white craft in sight, but he already knew what it was. They were too far from shore for a boat this size to be out here alone. Given the current conditions on land, though, anything was possible.

  The boat looked like a tender from the Opulence, and it was. “Yep, that’s exactly what it is, and they’re headed this way.”

  “They? How many of them?” Rob put his binoculars down and hung on as a larger swell rolled the trawler to the port side, tipping them toward the water. Not only had the swell risen in the last hour or so, but the seas had changed direction and were now running south against the current. These weren’t the ideal conditions Spencer was hoping would expedite the trip, but there were bigger things to worry about now.

  “I count five. Could be more. The tender has a small cabin, but…” Spencer paused.

  “But what?” Rob pushed him to finish.

  “You should go make sure Maya and Nat stay below deck until we tell them otherwise. Just in case. I see weapons.” Spencer lowered his binoculars with a disappointed sigh.

  The decision to leave the passengers and crew of the cruise ship to fend for themselves would cost them more than a heavy conscience after all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  While Rob was below deck, relaying the bad news to his wife and daughter, Spencer prepared for the worst. He’d added his 12-gauge Benelli Supernova and AR-15 to the weapons rack on the bridge and chose his carbine for the inevitable encounter with the cruise ship’s tender. He couldn’t imagine the crew aboard the tender being much in the mood to negotiate. The discourse between them might start out innocent enough, but Spencer was under no illusion that this was anything other than a life-and-death situation from the approaching cruiser’s perspective.

  The tender and her crew had undoubtedly been sent to gain access to the trawler and circle back to the cruise ship to rescue the others. The mission was flawed from the start, though, and would only serve to ruin the chances of survival for all of them. If the people on board the tender somehow managed to seize control of the Black Bird, they would suffer the same fate as Spencer and the others would have if they’d responded to the flares with a rescue attempt of their own.

  But Spencer was determined not to let that happen. He couldn’t, if he expected to ever see Kate again. He lifted the seat that Finn had claimed as his own to access the storage underneath. He grabbed a few loaded magazines for his rifle and stuffed one in each back pocket of his shorts, using the third to arm the carbine.

  Spencer heard Rob’s ascent to the bridge long before the man appeared, his heavy footsteps ringing each metal stair tread like an ancient gong.

  “They’ll stay below. Finn too. I figured you’d want him out of the way as well. Nat’s not too happy about it, but she promised.” Rob stopped, his face revealing his surprise about the rifle in Spencer’s hands. “You’re not expecting this to go very well, I take it?”

  “Are you?” Spencer answered his question with one of his own.

  “No. Not really.” Rob swung his head from side to side.

  Spencer yanked the modified AK-47 with the cumbersome drum magazine from the rack and pushed it into Rob’s arms. He’d reloaded the salt-tarnished metal drum last night in his infinite boredom and was glad now that he had. The weapon wasn’t very accurate—he knew that from experience—but what it lacked in precision, the snubbed machine gun made up for in volume and intimidation. And that was exactly what they were going to need if they intended to discourage a boatload of frantic, armed people who saw the trawler as their only chance at survival.

  Failure to capture the Black Bird meant sure death in their minds, a notion that might very well prove true if they were left to their fates aboard the crippled cruise ship. Spencer didn’t think their situation necessarily had to turn out so grim, but that would have required cooperation and civility among the trapped passengers aboard the Opulence. And those were attributes that he failed to see as he passed by the ship.

  Rob eyed the weapon as if he were a chef with a prized recipe in hand, eager to experiment with its potential. “Is this the one you used yesterday?”

  “Yeah. Same as the one you had, except you’ve got fifty rounds to get the point across. The sight works but puts you high and to the left, so you know,” Spencer explained.

  “Got it.” Rob’s gaze remained fixed on the weapon in his hands, a slight grin creasing the left corner of his mouth.

  “Ready to find out what these guys want? Although I’m sure I already know.” Spencer stepped out onto the rear weather deck and made his way to the aft rail overlooking the Black Bird’s stern.

  He positioned himself behind a solid section of the railing dead center of the weather deck and watched as the cruise tender approached. Rob joined him, with his weapon in hand and ready but held low across his midsection. Spencer opted to let his carbine hang freely from the tactical single-point sling for now, keeping one hand free to take action if need be. The last thing he wanted to do was needlessly escalate the situation. He was sure that would happen organically on its own.

  “They won’t take no for an answer. You know that, right?” Rob stated.

  Spencer knew Rob was right but didn’t answer his new friend right away.

  “They’ve got nothing to lose,” Rob added as he watched the small boat draw closer through the Black Bird’s wake.

  The tender was still several hundred yards away, but with each passing second, the crew and their intentions became clearer. A bustle of activity appeared on the small boat’s deck as people moved about and readied themselves for the encounter. If Spencer had to guess, he’d wager they were preparing to board, but he and Rob couldn’t let that happen.

  He initially thought there were only about five people on board the tender but could now clearly count at least seven, all armed from what he could see. Some had pistols tucked into their belts, and a few had AR-15-style rifles. A vessel the size of the Opulence would have the means to protect itself in case of an emergency—or at least the means to hold trouble at bay until the proper authorities arrived. Most people probably didn’t realize that almost all cruise ships had some sort of armory and holding facility on board to deal with unruly passengers or, in some cases, criminals. And these people coming toward the Black Bird weren’t just random cruisers who’d taken matters into their own hands.

  Some of them were wearing crew uniforms, so this was a sanctioned attempt to commandeer the trawler for the cruiser’s needs. Spencer knew for a fact that some of the security personnel on these cruise ships were highly trained individuals well-versed in dealing with pirates and proficient in tactical measures. And he had to assume the other members of the group in civilian clothes had probably been chosen for this boarding party for a reason as well. He and Rob needed to stay on their toes and be ready for anything.

  “So what’s our move here?” Rob adjusted his stance against the rocking boat, with one hand on his weapon and the other clinging to the railing.

  “We’ve got to maintain the upper hand. Under no circumstances can we let them board. I feel bad about all of this, but it won’t help anything to let them aboard. You saw those people on the ship when we passed. The mob mentality has taken over.”

  “I’m with you, no matter what,” Rob assured him.

  Spencer instinctually slid his hand down onto the pistol grip of his rifle. His intentions had been to approach the situation from a neutral position, but when a boatful of armed people were approaching, that was a hard sentiment to maintain. He thought it better to show the tender and her crew that they meant business as well, and that meant using their weapons, if it came to that. Spencer still hoped against reason that this would remain a civil interaction, though.

  These were people, after all, fellow Americans who had fallen on hard luck. And there was no question they deserved help. It just so happened that Spencer wasn’t in a position to offer anything other than a promise to send help, and that’s what he intended on telling them when they were close enough. He’d already considered offering to tow the massive vessel but dismissed the idea almost as fast as it had come to him. The trawler lacked the power needed to move the cruise ship with any proficiency. It wasn’t even a matter of moving slowly; rather, he worried about their ability to break free of the Gulf Stream’s currents. And he wasn’t about to blow the Black Bird’s engine and leave them to the same fate as the cruise ship.

  The tender was closing in on them now, almost in shouting range. As tensions rose, Spencer found himself unable to resist holding his rifle with both hands at the high-ready position in spite of the rocking boat. He widened his stance to counter the building seas and braced himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant exchange of harsh truths. It wasn’t his intention to appear unreceptive right out of the gate, but a swift change of heart was the only logical response to the threatening manner in which the tender’s crew were conducting themselves.

  “Did you notice that? They’re not here to talk, Spencer.” Rob was having a hard time staying on his feet while maintaining a firm grip on his mutant 7.62mm Kalashnikov assault rifle. The gun had been shortened by snubbing the barrel, and the body lightened with aftermarket furniture, but the fifty-round drum magazine and remaining original steel and wooden parts made for a cumbersome platform compared to Spencer’s modern hardware.

  “Yeah, I see.” Spencer acknowledged Rob’s concern as the tender crew appeared to be preparing for more than just conversation. Those on board the bright orange craft with AR-15s were racking their weapons’ charging handles, and the crew members who brandished handguns followed their shipmates’ lead by pulling the weapons from their belts.

  The only thing Spencer needed to do to prepare for the encounter was flip his safety off and figure out what he was going to say once he thought they were close enough to hear him. He wished the boat had an external loudspeaker, but it didn’t have a ship-wide PA system from what he had seen. He would have preferred to give his warning from a greater distance, but that wasn’t an option.

  “You’re good to go, by the way. Just throw the safety off.” Spencer noticed Rob fumbling around with his weapon. He’d left all the weapons in the rack loaded and the safeties engaged. After yesterday, he didn’t want to be caught off guard or unprepared. Although he might have to rethink that strategy with Maya on board, it was something he could worry about later.

  If there was a later.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Spencer released his rifle for a moment, letting the weapon dangle from the single-point sling, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’ll send help when we make land.”

  He wasn’t sure if they could hear him over the earnest chug of the diesel and the churning water rising up from the transom, but he was anxious to get this over with. There was much to do today on board their new home, and the discovery of a cruise ship in their path had already taken up too much of their morning. But there was another reason Spencer wanted to hurry this encounter along.

  He’d noticed several large clusters of interference on the radar screen when he was adjusting the gain control earlier. He’d been trying to pinpoint the exact distance of the tender when Rob first spotted it and inadvertently managed to locate a sizable weather system to their north. Spencer wasn’t overly concerned about the distant storm, but if the building swell was any indication of things to come, he predicted they were due for some bad weather and even rougher seas in the near future.

  They’d taken the Black Bird in a hail of bullets and been forced to immediately give their attention to the sinking Hunter. In their fevered rush to extract everything of value from Restless and familiarize themselves with the trawler, there hadn’t been any time to make sure the Black Bird was ready for inclement weather or anything more challenging than the current swell they were riding. Spencer had made a quick sweep below deck when initially boarding but hadn’t paid attention to the boat’s seaworthiness at the time. Clearing the trawler of any immediate threats and locating fuel had been his top priorities.

  Spencer realized his call had gone unanswered and was about to shout the message once more, but Rob beat him to it.

  “We’ll send help. We can’t take you aboard.” Rob was almost twice Spencer’s size in girth alone and had a thunderous voice that matched his sturdy frame.

  His attempt at communication seemed more effective than Spencer’s. The resonant depth of his voice conveyed a seriousness that Spencer had aimed for in his call but, in his own opinion, had failed to achieve. The message should have been clear and unmistakable to those aboard the tender, or so Spencer imagined.

  He had his answer soon enough when one of the men holding an AR-15 shouted back, “We just want to talk. Permission to board?”

  The tender picked up speed before the man finished speaking and cut toward the Black Bird, taking a more direct line through the wake and aiming for their starboard side.

  “We can’t let you do that,” Rob shouted back, glancing at Spencer briefly as if to check for his approval of the message. “We’ll send help when we reach land.”

  “We’ve got a ship full of people. You have to help us,” the man pleaded as the tender continued its advance in spite of Rob’s answer.

  Spencer studied the boat; there was something off about the situation, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The RHIB (rigid hull inflatable boat) had a small weather-resistant pilothouse, but otherwise, the rubber-pontoon-sided tender was wide open, exposing suitcases, duffle bags, food items, several cases of water, and other miscellaneous personal belongings. The pile of gear and supplies seemed out of place for a boat that had supposedly come seeking help for the rest of the people on board the cruise ship. And they definitely weren’t bringing provisions to share. Spencer didn’t like it, and judging by Rob’s wrinkled brow and clenched jaw, neither did he.

  The tender slowed its speed and maneuvered directly behind the Black Bird as the crew talked among themselves, visibly deciding their next move after being denied access to the trawler. They were at a stalemate. The tender’s crew was obviously not ready to give up that easily, but with the construction of their boat, they were wise to tread lightly. Spencer and Rob could render the RHIB worthless in a matter of seconds with a few rounds to the inflatable pontoons keeping the boat on top of the water. The fiberglass hull underneath might or might not keep them afloat on its own, but Spencer surmised that it would not, especially with the added weight of the twin 150 Yamaha outboards hanging off the back.

  But what the tender lacked in durability, the RHIB almost made up for with its ability to outmaneuver the trawler. The craft had approached cautiously, but Spencer was certain the lightweight, twenty-plus-foot hybrid vessel could run circles around the trawler with that kind of horsepower. The Diligence, Spencer’s last duty station cutter, carried a similar RHIB on her port side. They used the deployable small boat to carry out tactical law enforcement operations and search-and-rescue missions.

  The Diligence was fresh out of dry dock, so after the initial sea trials at Norfolk, they steamed for Bermuda on their first official outing. It was a good chance to put the freshly refurbished cutter through her paces, and thanks to the storm they encountered, they did just that. But once they reached Bermuda in one piece, save for a few dents and some missing hull paint, the officers and anyone who hadn’t pulled watch duty took the opportunity to enjoy shore leave.

  As luck would have it, Spencer was stuck on board the first two days they were in port, but it wasn’t all bad. The newly delivered RHIB they’d picked up in Norfolk needed to have the engines broken in. Thanks to the rough seas and nasty weather, they hadn’t been able to run the small boat behind the cutter on the way there as planned. It was all about accumulating hours with the sporty little boat, and that’s exactly what Spencer and a few other deckhands did. He must have logged twenty hours behind the wheel of the nimble little boat that looked a lot like the one trailing them now, and he had a good appreciation for the tender’s capabilities.