Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) (19 page)

“Don’t know, but I don’t hear any fire alarms going off and the power’s still on.” She started stripping off her pajamas, casting a glance out the large glass door that led to their balcony. They were already a long ways off shore. If they had to abandon ship they’d have a long wait in the water, and the thought of being in the rolling Pacific in the middle of the night was terrifying.

Her mother’s forehead was creased with worry as she pulled off her dress and shoes and tugged on jeans and a sweater. Carmela slid into a bra and panties, pulled on yoga pants, warm socks and a sweatshirt before putting on her jacket. She handed her mom a lifejacket, was just reaching for her own when another alarm sounded over the ship’s speaker system.

“Attention all passengers. Once you have changed into warm clothing, gather your life jacket and ship’s ID and report to your muster stations immediately. Please refrain from using the elevators at this time, and use the stairwells instead. Follow crewmembers’ instructions carefully. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”

Oh, shit.
Had to be a fire, or they’d hit something. A rock or something. Visions of the Titanic disaster flashed through her mind, all those people in the freezing water in the middle of the night.

Calm down. They’ve got enough lifeboats on this one
. But then there’d been that cruise ship that had hit the rocks a few years ago and partially capsized, and people trapped in a compartment below the water line had drowned...

She shuddered, grabbed her ID and phone and shoved them into her jacket pocket. She put on running shoes, donned the lifejacket, snapped it up and turned to look at her mother. They stared at each other for a moment in disbelief, the moment surreal.

People began moving around in the hallway outside their door. Carmela reached for her mother’s hand. Her mom grabbed hold and squeezed tight. “It’s probably nothing serious. They’re just erring on the side of caution,” Carmela said with a smile.

Her mom nodded, that frown still in place. “Yes. Let’s hope so, anyway.”

Holding tight to her mother’s hand, Carmela opened their cabin door. Passengers already filled the narrow hallway, all in various states of dress except for their matching lifejackets. Everyone was quiet, their expressions serious.

Couples stayed close together and parents carried sleeping little ones as they filed toward the emergency exits at the ends of the hall. Carmela pulled her mother after her and turned left, heading for the closest exit.

Dwi was already at the end of the hall, wearing his own lifejacket, directing passengers toward the starboard side staircase. He smiled when he saw her and gave her a nod. “Everything’s going to be fine, ladies and gentlemen, nothing to worry about. I’m sure you’ll all be back in your staterooms and tucked into bed shortly. Everyone stay calm, no need to push. Please, no running.”

“Dwi, do you know what’s going on?” she called out.

He shook his head and gave her another smile that was warm, but far from reassuring under the circumstances. A big cruise liner like this didn’t send its passengers to the lifeboats just for kicks. “I’m sure they’ll inform us in due time.” He switched his focus to an elderly couple near him, gave them that trademark bright smile. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Zawitsky. Can I see your ID cards? Yes, muster station thirteen, right this way, just as you rehearsed on the first day with us. Staff will help direct you to the lower promenade deck.”

Carmela filed past him out into another hallway and into the stairwell, which was jammed with more people. The pace suddenly slowed to a crawl, all of them jammed together in the enclosed space. A low murmur of voices grew louder and louder and people up front began to stand on tiptoe to see whatever was happening down below.

It seemed to take forever to make it down five decks to the lower promenade deck, the constant repeat of the ship’s alarm adding to the building tension. A blast of cold, salt-tinged air hit them from the open doorways that led out onto the wooden promenade deck. The ship’s movement seemed more pronounced to her now, the rolling and pitching more evident. God, she did not want to be out on that water in the dark.

From her position she could see people grouped together at the muster stations, but everyone seemed to be milling around out there in confusion. Now that she thought about it, aside from Dwi and a couple other cabin stewards they’d passed, there’d been a distinct lack of crewmembers on hand to help direct the crowd. Where was everyone?

They were almost to the doors when some sort of commotion broke out on the outside deck, out of view. Carmela stopped walking as the voices coming from outside grew frantic. People started shouting and then a female scream ripped through the air.

Panic rippled through the crowd like a live wire, spreading like an electrical current.

All around her people began pushing and shoving to get back into the stairwell, a writhing, moving knot of humanity. Fear shot up Carmela’s spine and she instinctively turned and began pushing her mother back the way they’d come.

“What are you doing?” her mother demanded, pushed along by Carmela’s hands on her shoulders.

“Getting back up those stairs. Something’s wrong out there.” A fire maybe, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out.

The words had barely left her mouth when a man stumbled through the doorway, his face a pale mask of fear, eyes wide. “They’ve got guns!” he shouted.

Everyone froze for a moment in disbelief.

Pop, pop, pop.
The distinctive sounds of gunshots came from out on the deck.

Pandemonium erupted.

Carmela cried out and stumbled to her knees as the crowd surged around her, a mad scramble of limbs as people clambered to get back to the stairs. She shoved to her feet, grabbed her mother and pressed her back against the wall to avoid being trampled.

Ahead of her an elderly woman tripped and fell on the stairs. The crowd went right over top of her. She flailed but couldn’t get up, then went still. Carmela cringed but didn’t dare move from her spot.

More gunshots sounded outside, closer this time. People began screaming and the chaos turned into a stampede. Men and women slammed into her, knocking her around like clothes in a washing machine.

She threw her elbow at a man’s chest, managed to knock him back enough to clear a space for her to push through. Carmela reached back blindly for her mother, managing to snag the front of her lifejacket, then yanked her into the corner formed by the stairwell wall and glued them to it.

Her mother clung to her while the frightened passengers buffeted past, pinning them in place until Carmela couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to. Out of the corner of her eye she saw men dressed in ship’s uniforms rush through the open doors, their faces covered with black masks.

People cried out and scattered away from them and then she saw the rifles they held. They turned toward the people crowded into the stairwell, weapons aimed on them. A scream trapped in her throat. She shrank up against the wall, trying to make as small a target as possible, her eyes locked on the muzzles of those rifles.

A group of men standing close by tried to rush the attackers. The crewmembers pulled out pistols and opened fire before they’d made it five steps, dropping the men where they stood. Everyone dove to the floor and covered their heads.

Carmela stared in horror at the men lying on the carpeted floor, twitching and gasping, blood pooling around them in shiny red puddles. In the deathly stillness that followed only frightened whimpers and sobs broke the silence.

“No one fucking
move,
or we’ll kill all of you!” one of the armed men roared. “We are in control of the ship! Anyone who tries to defy us will die.”

A mutiny.

As the unbelievable thought registered, Carmela risked a glance around. She and her fellow passengers at the foot of the stairwell were trapped now, maybe sixty or seventy people gathered into a tight knot. No one else was on the stairs behind her. The attackers must have already herded the majority of the other passengers onto the lifeboats, or trapped them in groups like this one elsewhere aboard the ship.

Cold invaded her body, her heart racing at a sickening pace. It didn’t matter what the attackers wanted, she knew that the longer they held the ship, the smaller the chances were that she and the others would survive.

Crouched in the corner, she kept her mother behind her and fumbled in her jacket. She pulled out her phone as discreetly as she could, her fingers trembling as she sent off a desperate message to Sawyer. She didn’t know if they were still within range of a cell tower, but she had to try. He was the only one who could help them now, aside from Ethan.

Three more armed men burst in from the outer deck. Carmela quickly shoved the phone beneath her sweatshirt and slid it under the stretchy side band of her bra.

“Everyone put your hands on your heads,” the man commanded in a loud voice, he and the other two training black rifles on them.

Heart pounding a bruising rhythm against her chest wall, Carmela did as he said.

“Get up. Stand in single file line, now.” He made an abrupt motion with the muzzle of his rifle. People cringed but did as he said.

Ahead of Carmela a little girl around five or so clung to her father, face buried in his neck, her frightened sobs slicing at Carmela’s heart. Poor baby, she should never be caught up in something like this.

“Carmela,” her mother whispered uncertainly, fingers digging into her waist like claws.

“Shh,
Mami
,” she whispered back sharply, and moved to stand behind the man trying to comfort his terrified daughter. Her mind raced frantically. They needed to do everything possible not to draw attention to themselves now.

They had to somehow become invisible, recede into this group until the attackers didn’t even notice them. It was their only chance of surviving whatever was coming next.

With barked orders and curt gestures the three gunmen rounded them all up and began herding them toward the stern of the ship where the theater was.

Her legs felt stiff, her body wooden as she followed, afraid one of the men would open fire on them at any moment. She kept waiting for it but there was no answering vibration from the cell tucked against her ribs. Had her message even been delivered? She sent up a silent prayer that her text reached Sawyer in time to save them.

––––––––

S
awyer’s entire body was rigid as he listened to Rycroft, Celida and DeLuca detail what little more intel they had on the cruise ship threat. Then Rycroft’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen then left the room as he answered.

The dread inside him morphed into a heavy sense of foreboding.
Don’t let it be Carm’s ship. Don’t let it be Carm’s ship
.

A minute later Rycroft reappeared, his body language tense. “Coast Guard just received an emergency transmission about a hostile takeover on the Ocean Freedom.”

Fuck!

Ethan was out of his chair like someone had just hit him with a cattle prod. He dragged his hands through his hair and started pacing, his expression tormented.

“Cruzie.”

Ethan stopped and looked back at DeLuca.

“You and Vance step outside with me.” He motioned toward the door. “Come on.”

Sawyer got up and followed Ethan and DeLuca out into the hallway. Ethan walked a few steps past their commander then stopped and slammed the side of his fist against the wall with a resounding thud. “God
dammit
,” he snarled.

Sawyer folded his arms across his chest and fought a silent battle to keep the rage and fear tearing through him at bay. It wasn’t easy. Not with Carmela and her mother being held hostage on a cruise ship hundreds of miles away.

“If Gold Team can’t get here in time and direct action is authorized, your team will be part of the assault. Tell me straight right now, both of you,” DeLuca said, facing them with hands on hips. “Are you both good to go if we get the green light on this one?”

“Yes,” they both responded automatically.

DeLuca divided a hard look between them. “You guys both know the drill. If I think your judgment is compromised, I’ll pull you, no hesitation.”

Ethan nodded and Sawyer inclined his head. “Understood.” He would hold his shit together, no matter what. It’s what he and Ethan had been trained to do. They would both keep their emotional turmoil hidden from view so they could go on this op. It would kill both of them to be pulled out at a time like this.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He whipped it out, grief splintering inside him when he saw the message. “It’s Carm,” he rasped out, emotion slamming into him. The garbled message told him just how scared and frantic she must have been when she typed it.

Ethan and DeLuca whipped around to look at him. “What’d she say?” Ethan demanded.

Sawyer was busy typing back a response, praying she’d get it.
Stay safe baby. Stay down.

He wanted to say something like “we’re on it” or “we’re coming” but resisted the urge. If one of the hostage takers found the phone and read that, it would leave her open to being interrogated for what it meant. They’d likely search any or all passengers under their power.

He hit send on the pathetic, abbreviated response, then translated her garbled message. “Gunmen on ship. Hostages. Help.” He swallowed, trying and failing not to imagine how afraid she must be right now. The violence she must have witnessed. She’d reached out for him and he couldn’t get to her.

A picture popped up on screen a second later. Fuzzy, the lighting poor, but it clearly showed five men wearing black balaclavas and holding what looked like AR-17s. A few men wearing lifejackets lay on the floor at their feet, appearing to be dead or dying. Fear shot through him when he realized how close she must be to the gunmen to get the image.

“She got a picture,” he said, pushing the words out of his throat made tight by fear and admiration. His girl had the brains and the balls to not only get word out during what had to have been a terrifying situation, she’d also taken a picture, probably hoping they’d be able to ID the gunmen.