Stranded (A Samantha Starr Thriller, Book 4)

by S. L. Menear

  He scanned the water. “RHIBs! Must’ve launched from that damn barge.”

  An armada of rigid-hull inflatable boats with silent electric motors closed in and opened fire with .50-caliber deck-mounted weapons.

  Rowlin shot one of the last airborne commandos and then grabbed the mike in the bridge. “RHIBs attacking! Fire the deck cannons!”

  Powerful cannons raked the water around the ship in an artificial thunderstorm of bright flashes and loud explosions, creating a strobe-light effect on the dark sea. The inflatable boats’ attacks inflicted superficial damage, causing several casualties, but they were no match for Leviathan’s powerful cannons.

  Rowlin shouted, “XO, keep your head down. Those .50-cals are nasty.”

  “No shit! How’s your shoulder?”

  Blood ran down Rowlin’s left arm. “Huh, didn’t notice that one. Just a graze.”

  After a few minutes of booming weapons blasting into the enemy armada, Rowlin ordered a cease-fire while he assessed the battlefield.

  “XO, check the starboard side.” Rowlin scanned the sea on the port side.

  Debris littered the water with destroyed attack boats. Smoke and the scent of gunpowder hung in the air.

  “Looks like our deck cannons decimated the enemy,” Lowes said.

  Rowlin spotted four survivors clustered together, clinging to floating debris. Water foamed around them as their loud screams carried across the sea. An enormous tentacle rose up and crashed down on them. Then they were gone, debris and all.

  “The kraken’s feasting on leftovers.” Rowlin scanned the water and pointed fifty yards south a second before more survivors were pulled under by the beast.

  Lowes shook his head. “Why the hell didn’t it attack them five minutes ago?”

  “Maybe it didn’t like the noise from the deck cannons.”

  Commander Bern called Rowlin on the radio. “Captain, the ship is secure. We have two RHIBs ready to pick up survivors.”

  “Negative! No RHIBs. The kraken is out there. Use ballistic floats. Acknowledge.”

  “Aye, Captain, we’ll use floats.”

  Rowlin called CIC. “Give me a sitrep. Casualties? Damage?”

  “No deaths on our side, Captain, but we have twenty wounded, some critical, and superficial damage to the ship. No aircraft on radar.”

  “Call Guantanamo and Key West for medevacs. Have them fly out everyone who needs surgery. And maintain readiness for a secondary attack.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Rowlin called Bern, “Order the SEALs to search the ship for enemy combatants.”

  He scanned the dark water and his ship with night-vision binoculars as blood soaked his left sleeve.

  A few more screams carried across the water, followed by silence.

  Palm Beach

  Tim sequestered Rosa, Romeo, and me in my bedroom after fitting us with bullet-proof vests.

  “Rosa, I know you’re not good with guns, so if bad guys break in, get under my bed.”

  “¡Dios mío! You hide with me, hija.” Rosa’s widened eyes radiated terror.

  “Romeo and I are trained for this. We’ll protect you.” I hugged her trembling body and felt guilty for putting her in harm’s way.

  Romeo had met Tim’s team, including their security dogs. I was pretty sure he understood they were on our side, and his job was to protect the household, like always.

  I racked the slide on Mom’s Glock 19 and peeked out the window beside the balcony.

  Rosa sat on my bed and wrung her hands. “Sam, are the bad men out there?”

  “I can’t see anyone. Too dark. Wish I had night-vision goggles like Tim’s team. He probably doesn’t want me to see the assault and maybe shoot at the wrong guys. SEALs don’t trust civilians with stuff like that.”

  Rosa crossed herself and bit her lip.

  “Don’t worry, the security team will protect us. Try to relax, Rosa.”

  My DOXA dive watch gave off a faint glow in the darkness. We’d decided to keep the room lights off so our eyes would be adjusted to the night.

  Tim had darkened the rest of the house so his team could use their NV goggles inside and out on the grounds.

  I sat in a wingback chair near the French doors to my balcony and glanced at my watch. Romeo was beside me. I couldn’t hear a sound, but it seemed he did. He nudged me with his nose and stared at the glass doors.

  Uh oh.

  It was after midnight, and Mom’s silent mansion was suddenly alive with gunfire, loud thuds, and breaking glass.

  “Rosa, get under the bed and keep quiet!”

  She gasped and dived under my four-poster queen-size bed.

  I peeked through the doors. Nothing. Too dark.

  I grabbed Romeo’s collar, and we hid behind the sofa that was along the wall near the balcony. Listening for intruders amongst the gunfire and explosions, I concentrated on slowing my breathing.

  Please don’t come in here.

  Romeo crouched beside me, whined once, and stared at the glass French doors.

  Not a good sign.

  I released his collar, aimed my Glock, and waited. I knew Tim’s men wouldn’t enter through my third-floor balcony.

  Seconds later, a man crashed through the glass doors and released his parachute. He aimed his green laser sight at my bed. He was only three feet from my hiding place. I jumped up and took him out with a red-lasered head shot as Romeo lunged at him. He sniffed the dead man and backed away.

  Two more paratroopers crashed through the glass doors and landed on their comrade’s body. They released their chutes and swept the room with their green laser sights. When one sighted on my fur missile, I jumped up, put my red laser sight on his forehead, and squeezed the trigger.

  His buddy turned and aimed at me. Romeo launched himself at him and grabbed the guy’s gun arm, making the shot go wide as the intruder fell backward. Fierce growling matched the high-pitched screams of my dog’s wounded target.

  My four-legged protector was moving back and forth too much for me to shoot the bad guy. When I saw the creep pull a knife, I pounced on him and clubbed his knife arm with my pistol.

  Tim’s men burst through the bedroom door in the middle of our battle on the floor. Romeo had bitten our attacker hard enough to make him drop his handgun, and I’d broken his other arm when I’d smashed my pistol butt into it.

  Tim and another guy flanked us.

  “Call your dog off,” Tim said. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “Romeo, stand down—good boy!” I grabbed his collar as he backed away, still snarling at the bleeding commando.

  Tim had the guy in cuffs seconds later, despite the broken wrist. I didn’t feel sorry for the intruder.

  Sirens pierced the night. SWAT had been called. Good thing Tim’s team had registered with the police and informed them of their security detail before they had begun their vigil. The SWAT commander would be aware of their presence.

  “Rosa, you can come out now.” I sat on the edge of the bed and held Romeo’s collar.

  Rosa crawled out from under the bed, and our beloved protector licked her face.

  Tim flicked on the lights. I avoided looking at the dead guys. Didn’t want those images in my head.

  “Uh, Sam, you’d better put your Glock on the floor before SWAT gets here.” Tim set his weapon on the floor in front of him and stood with his hands on his head and his foot on the back of his prisoner. His men did the same with their weapons and hands.

  SWAT swept in with weapons pointed at us, yelled commands, and herded us into one corner. Scary guys. I kept a tight grip on Romeo. No way in hell they’d shoot my fur buddy.

  The Palm Beach police captain rushed in and separated the good guys and civilians from the live bad guy. Photos were taken of the crime scene, and soon the Medical Examiner would arrive and deal with the bodies on the grounds and in the house.

  Tim put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Sam?”

  “Yeah, but the night’
s not over. Think China will send more men?” I petted Romeo. “They were Chinese, right?”

  “Definitely Chinese. The police will have to keep all the weapons that were fired during the assault, including your Glock, until they close this case.”

  “That’s not good. What if another assault team attacks us after the cops leave?”

  “We have extra weapons in lock boxes inside our SUVs. We’ll stay and protect you until you leave for work in the morning, and the police will station a few officers around the house and grounds. Why don’t you go to another bedroom and get some sleep? We’ve got you covered.” Tim smiled and squeezed my shoulder.

  “Sleep? Not tonight.” I glanced at Rosa, who looked shell-shocked. The fact that I wasn’t meant I’d been in this kind of situation way too many times.

  “Try to relax. I saw a guest room on the second floor with two beds. You’ll be insulated from an aerial assault. Let’s go.” Tim took my arm.

  “Not so fast,” the police captain said. “We need her statement first.” He handed me a clipboard and a pen.

  I kept it short and simple. I wrote: Armed bad guys broke in. I shot two, and my dog helped me disable a third one. I handed back the clipboard.

  “Thank you, Ms. Starr,” the police captain said. “Some of my men will stick around and assist your security team.”

  “Thank you, Captain. We appreciate your help.” I smiled, hooked arms with Rosa, and followed Tim to the stairway and down to another bedroom.

  Rosa and I settled in our beds, wide awake, and Romeo sat on the floor between us. We were too tense to sleep, and I worried over every sound.

  Romeo remained on guard duty.

  Good doggie.

  The remainder of the night passed without incident. In the morning, I donned my uniform and hugged everyone goodbye, including Tim and his intrepid team.

  God bless Navy SEALs.

  I pulled my cell out of my shoulder bag to call Ross, but it rang before I tapped his number. He was calling me.

  “Good morning, lass. Any action last night?”

  “Yes, but not the good kind.” I filled him in. “I’m leaving now for the charter to Rio.”

  “Hard to believe China would risk an assault like that on U.S. soil. The heat they’ll get from this should keep you safe for a while, but stay sharp.”

  “Alrighty. I love you, darling. Be careful out there,” I said, sliding inside my car.

  Thirteen

  Earlier on USS LEVIATHAN

  Rowlin had planned to interrogate survivors of the assault, but there weren’t any. The SEALs and his crew had killed the commandos who’d landed on the ship, and the kraken had taken the ones in the water. He sent pictures of enemy casualties to the Defense Intelligence Agency and Navy Intelligence.

  “Looked like North Koreans to me. What do you think?” The XO pulled a sliver of glass out of his forearm as the faint light of dawn filtered through the bridge’s broken windows.

  “They were using Chinese weapons, but that’s not unusual. North Korea gets most of their goods from China.” Rowlin adjusted the bandage on his left shoulder. “I just hope the assault on our ship doesn’t start a war.”

  “I’m sure the Secretary of State and a bunch of diplomats are working overtime to prevent that. Good thing the news media doesn’t know about this.”

  “Sooner or later, someone will ask questions about the wounded crewmembers sent to the mainland for emergency surgery,” Rowlin said. “Then the media will circle like sharks smelling blood in the water.”

  “What do you think SECNAV will do?” the XO asked.

  “The Secretary of the Navy is meeting with the President and Joint Chiefs.” Rowlin moved aside while a crewman swept up the broken glass on the bridge floor. “As soon as they make a decision, he’ll contact me about whether we sail to Jacksonville as planned or receive new orders.”

  “And what are we supposed to do with all the bodies?” Lowes glanced at a sailor washing blood off a console in the bridge.

  “Seahawks are en route to load up the dead and take them to Key West.” Rowlin took a cup of coffee from a tray held by a sailor. “Not sure what they’ll do with them after that.”

  “Probably put them in cold storage because they’re evidence North Korea attacked our ship.”

  An ensign entered the bridge and handed Rowlin a printout. “From SECNAV, sir.”

  Rowlin scanned it. “We’re ordered to stop in Key West for provisions and temporary repairs. Then cruise to Jacksonville with air cover, a destroyer, and Texas guarding our six. I doubt the North Koreans will attack us on the way, but you never know with a crazy leader like theirs.”

  “Do the Brits know what happened last night?”

  “I had CIC keep them informed. Audacious is guarding the black pyramid, and one of our inbound destroyers will guard them.” Rowlin scanned the dawn horizon and pointed. “Looks like the ships are almost here.”

  “Can’t say I’ll be sorry to leave this place.” Lowes drained his cup.

  “Too bad we have to come back after we drop off the vaults.” Rowlin looked down at the deceptively placid sea. “I’m keeping that platoon of SEALs.”

  “Good.” Lowes nodded. “It’s a long way to Jacksonville and back. A lot can happen.”

  “And with us, it usually does.”

  PBI Airport

  I drove over the Southern Boulevard bridge to Palm Beach International Airport, walked into LIA Flight Operations in Terminal A, and found Lance waiting for me with the paperwork.

  “Sam, you aren’t going to believe who we’re taking to Rio,” he said. “Carlene Jensen and her new billionaire boyfriend. He’s taking her to a big film festival there.”

  “No kidding? How many people are going with them?”

  “Just a British singer-musician. Carlene’s entourage went ahead on an American Airlines flight yesterday.” Lance grinned. “I think he wants her all to himself.”

  “Well, that means you can breathe easy for a change.” I laughed. “Or maybe not, since you’re the only man on an all-female crew.”

  “Hey, as long as it’s not Carlene. My back still has faint scars from that woman.” He shook his head. “She’s a real maneater.”

  “Oh, please.” I raised a brow. “You make it sound like you were helpless.”

  “She doesn’t respond well to rejection, and I remembered her saying she shot her ex-husband.”

  “In his butt!” I crossed my arms. “Geez, Lance, she wasn’t even armed when she nailed you.”

  “Her fingernails should be registered as deadly weapons.” He handed me the flight plan.

  “I can’t believe my big, strong copilot is afraid of a five-foot-nothing actress.” I studied the flight plan and signed it. “Anyway, sounds like her new boyfriend plans to keep her busy. What’s his name?”

  “Renaldo Murciato, the Brazilian casino king. He has vast real estate holdings in South America—and maybe an illegal drug empire.” Lance paused. “He’s quite the player—super yachts, exotic sports cars, private jets, the whole package.”

  “Then why didn’t he take Carlene to Brazil in one of his own jets?”

  “Carlene has flown in plenty of private jets. No big deal to her. But a huge 767 with professional flight attendants catering to them? Now that’s impressive.”

  “She and I dedicated an aviation museum in England two weeks ago, and she never mentioned a Brazilian boyfriend. This relationship must be brand new.”

  “Well, you know Carlene.” He grinned. “She moves fast.”

  I gathered up the paperwork. “Alrighty, let’s go face the music.”

  We grabbed our bags and walked up the jetway to the airplane. I greeted the two flight attendants assigned to take care of our three passengers. Tiesha, a mocha-skinned Halle Berry lookalike, and Barbi, a statuesque blond from the Midwest, were both consummate professionals in their mid-twenties.

  “Don’t be surprised if our passengers decide to spend a lot of time alone t
ogether,” I said. “I think the guy booked this flight with romance in mind, and Carlene’s not shy about intimacy in unusual settings.”

  “It won’t be anything we haven’t seen before.” Tiesha smirked.

  “Don’t be too sure about that,” Lance said. “Carlene Jensen’s a force of nature.”

  “You’d know that better than we would,” Barbi said.

  We snickered, enjoying teasing him.

  “Yeah, well, good luck. I’m staying in the cockpit the whole flight.” He turned and walked forward, and I followed.

  We settled in our seats and ran through the checklists. We’d no sooner finished all our preflight duties when hurricane Carlene blew in with her Latin lover.

  “Sam!” She breezed through the open door. “I was hopin’ we’d get you.” She glanced to her right and spotted Lance. “Ooh, we really hit the jackpot. This’ll be a fun trip.” She pulled her man forward. “I’d like you to meet my sugar pie, Renaldo Murciato. Isn’t he a hottie?”

  I grinned, stepped behind the seat to greet them, and offered my hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Captain Samantha Starr.”

  About five-ten, he bore a strong resemblance to actor Andy Garcia in his thirties. He kissed my hand with a flourish and gazed into my eyes like I was the only woman on Earth. “It is my honor to be flown to Brazil by such a beautiful lady.”

  Geez, what a player!

  Lance shook Renaldo’s hand and welcomed him aboard, then said, “Good to see you, Carlene.”

  “Have you met the British singer I booked to entertain us inflight?” Renaldo asked.

  “Not yet. Is she on board?” I glanced behind him as a beautiful redhead peeked through the cockpit door.

  Renaldo turned. “Ah, there she is. Lisa, come and meet our pilots.”

  A slender, green-eyed woman of medium height entered the cockpit. Dressed in a red satin formal, she appeared to be in her late twenties.

  “Captain, allow me to introduce world-renowned musician Lisa Atwater.” Renaldo bowed toward the singer.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Atwater. I hope I’ll get a chance to enjoy a little of your music during our long flight.”