Rising Storm: The Last Sanctuary: Book One

by Kyla Stone

  On the starboard side, the sun was a white ball in the blue sky. Gabriel wasn't afraid of heights, but it was still a strangely disconcerting feeling to see the ocean glittering far beneath his feet. He avoided looking down. Instead, he checked the CCTV feeds on his tablet. Everything under control. Everything normal. For now.

  “Enjoying your day?” Kane flexed his bulging arms. Though they were on the same side, Gabriel had taken an instant dislike to Kane the moment he'd met him two years ago. He was one of those men who oozed violence, who took pleasure in causing pain and made no pretense of hiding it. But Simeon trusted Kane, which meant Gabriel had to endure him.

  “Kane,” Gabriel said, as cordially as he could manage.

  Simeon waved them to silence and brought the satphone to his ear. “What changes?” A long pause. His face darkened. “Yes, I understand. I'll contact the affiliate and arrange the rendezvous point.” By the time he clicked off the phone and turned toward Gabriel and Kane, his expression was a blaze of fury.

  “What's wrong?” Gabriel asked.

  “After you deal with monkey island and disable communications and the ShipLoc, I have another task for you. Get Declan Black’s girl to a secure location until I contact you.”

  “Why? I want to be here, serving the cause.”

  “I’ll do it.” Kane sneered. “I'll give that girl more than she can handle.”

  “No!” Gabriel felt nothing for Amelia Black. Nothing. She was a mark, part of his mission and no more. Still, the thought of someone like Kane touching her set his blood boiling. “Stay away from her.”

  Simeon shot Kane a warning look. “Absolutely not. That's not what we're here for.”

  Kane laughed, a rumble deep in his chest. “We here for romance then? What the hell is this, Simeon?”

  “Of course not!” Gabriel swallowed back the words he wanted to say, but only for Simeon's sake. For the sake of the cause. He forced his voice to stay calm. “We're after her father, not her.”

  Kane leered at him. “You think just 'cause you got a pretty face, a girl like that's gonna let you in her—”

  “Don't be crude,” Simeon snapped.

  Kane's mouth pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “Why do we need this little punk again?”

  “What's your problem?” Gabriel asked.

  “I don't have a problem. You seem to have plenty.”

  “Settle yourselves down before you attract attention.” Simeon held up his hand. “Gabriel's role is important to the cause. There's no reason for you to risk harm when we've hired grunts for that purpose, Gabriel. But your fervor and patriotism are noted.”

  “Understood, sir.” Gabriel tried to keep the resentment out of his voice. He was as much a fighter as Simeon and Kane. He'd been training for years. He was strong. He was ready.

  “And the girl?” Kane's upper lip curled. “I could give her a grand time in the good ole captain's quarters. You sure you don't want me to—”

  “Can't you ever shut up?” Gabriel clenched his jaw, fighting to contain his anger and disgust. He was startled by the intensity of his own reaction. He felt mild pity for the girl, which was a shock in and of itself. Before her, he never imagined he might feel anything but loathing for an elite.

  Simeon put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Our mission has changed. It is now essential we take Black alive. He has critical information—information he may be unwilling to give us.”

  Originally, they planned to take the ship hostage, demand billions in ransom to support the coming war, then take out a few of the most callous and corrupt of the Unity Coalition CEOs and politicians—Declan Black first and foremost. It was a warning against those who would steal their rights, and a first shot across the bow, a statement the whole world would hear loud and clear: the second American Revolution had begun.

  “What do you mean? What’s changed?”

  “All in good time, my faithful friend. For now, obedience is what I need from you. This is it. This is our time. The world changes tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow? I thought it was planned for—”

  “The schedule has changed. The Grand Voyager will be heading back to the U.S. by this weekend, guaranteed.”

  “Why?” Kane spat over the railing.

  “The flu that's not a flu. The underground's full of chatter. They're calling it the Hydra Virus. It keeps popping up everywhere. The virus is infectious, virulent, and lethal. More people are dying than the media are reporting. By the hundreds of thousands, if you believe some vloggers. My source just confirmed. She believes an announcement should come tomorrow night from the White House. Americans will be banned from all domestic and international travel. Every international port will be turning us away by Saturday, if not sooner.”

  Gabriel leaned against the glass railing, taking it in. He’d heard rumors, but he’d been so focused on the mission, he’d blocked most of it out. “What about—?”

  “Our fellow Patriots are safe. For now. According to rumors, the president himself may be ill. This information has not been released to the public. The average Joe believes he's on another golf vacation.”

  Kane whistled.

  Gabriel wondered, not for the first time, how Simeon could possibly know so much. There were New Patriots entrenched in the government, even more who were sympathetic to their cause, fellow believers in a new order, a new government that would actually serve the people. But he didn't know how many there were or how high their power reached. He only knew the members of Simeon's local chapter.

  “As for us,” Simeon continued, “we need to act before the captain realizes the severity of the Grand Voyager's situation and changes course. We must reach our rendezvous point off the coast of Puerto Cortés. One other thing. Tropical storm Wyatt is headed directly toward our path. Normally, the captain would skirt the storm. But we must meet our deadlines, including our final extraction point. Everything is too finely calibrated to adjust now.”

  “We're heading straight into a hurricane?” Kane asked.

  “It’s just a storm. We'll be fine. The others are already in position. We’re ready to neutralize the secret service and private security agents. Everything has gone according to plan. There was a slight snag with a crew member in the laundry, but it’s been dealt with.”

  Gabriel took a breath. He hadn’t told Simeon about Micah finding the drugs. It didn’t matter, anyway. The drugs were only a cover. Micah had no idea what was happening, and he’d never turn Gabriel in. The mission was safe.

  Simeon turned to Gabriel. “And the Coalition chairman’s bodyguard?”

  “Jericho is always with Black except for the dinners at the captain’s table. Black doesn’t seem to want him around for those. Jericho works out at the gym or spends time with the son, Silas.”

  “Excellent. Will you be ready?”

  Gabriel straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

  Simeon held his fist over his heart. Gabriel and Kane followed suit. “For the honor of true patriots and the love of country.”

  “For the honor of true patriots and the love of country,” Gabriel and the others repeated. A thrill drummed through his veins at the words. He strode the length of the glass catwalk, checking and rechecking the surveillance feeds. He'd copied several loops of undisturbed video last night. They were ready to be hacked into the feeds.

  Tomorrow, everything would change.

  10

  Amelia

  “We’re now officially halfway through the cruise,” Declan Black said to the crowd. “I hope you’ve been enjoying our sixth annual Prosperity Summit.” He raised his glass. “To BioGen, to the Unity Coalition, to the health and security of this country, and to our illustrious future!”

  Everyone applauded.

  Amelia stood next to her mother at the front of the exclusive crowd, all invitees to her father’s Prosperity Summit celebration in the Grand Ballroom located above the bridge, over thirteen stories above the waterline. The ballroom rotated slowly, off
ering spectacular 360-degree views. On every side, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed endlessly blue water, the immense ocean like the sky turned upside down.

  But even in the midst of so much loveliness, there was an undercurrent of tension in the room. She felt it like a low electric buzz. Some in the crowd spoke in hushed whispers, their expressions taut. Others glanced between Declan and their SmartFlexes. Rumors that the universal vaccine was failing swirled beneath the surface. And Senator López was conspicuously absent.

  She felt brittle, hollowed out. Like it was all her fault, somehow. All around her, champagne flowed along with laughter, conversation, and dancing. The Grand Ballroom was exquisitely decorated in old-world charm and historic elegance. Crystal chandeliers reflected light off the gleaming wood floors. White-jacketed waiters flitted through the exclusive crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres and bubbling champagne.

  But she couldn’t enjoy any of it. Shame gnawed at her. She’d failed with Senator López. And yesterday, she and Silas had gotten into another fight. She cringed, remembering the harsh words he’d hurled at her.

  She'd done her best and still screwed up. With her father. With Silas. She still wasn't sure how it had all gone so wrong, so quickly. And she didn’t know how or what she could do to fix it. Every passing day tightened the knot of anxiety in her belly.

  She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and paused to refill her drink, scanning the room. Jericho stood next to a few other security officers, his usual frown etched on his face. A few yards away, Gabriel Rivera chatted with another security officer. His dark, curly hair brushed the collar of his uniform. He met her gaze for a moment and smiled.

  She looked away, heat creeping up her cheeks. She’d seen him several times over the last week. Each time, he sauntered over to chat, so handsome and charismatic, his gaze intense and slightly disconcerting. She kept thinking about that lopsided grin, that dimple in his left cheek.

  The back of her neck prickled. She sensed someone watching her. And it wasn’t Gabriel Rivera. She swung around, scrutinizing the dancing couples, the clusters of people talking and laughing, the circulating wait staff.

  A burly ship’s officer leaned against the wall. She’d seen him before, watching her from the back of the jazz lounge where she practiced the violin. He had a smug, oily face and reptilian eyes. His gaze slithered up and down her body.

  He caught her eye and smiled, slow and lecherous, his mouth bristling with teeth. She was accustomed to a certain amount of looking. But this was different. She was used to being scrutinized. Even leered at. But this felt like a cold blade sliding between her ribs, like he was invading her, opening her up, turning her inside out. Her stomach lurched. This guy didn't want her; he wanted to hurt her.

  Amelia’s mother was across the room, leaning against a linen-covered table featuring the pastry chef's specialty: two sugar-spun swans facing each other, their edible necks intertwined. She was chatting up Bradley Marx, the international banking guru, laughing at one of his terrible jokes.

  Amelia longed for Silas. He would know what to do. But after their fight on beach in Ocho Rios yesterday, he wasn’t speaking to her. She was alone.

  She forced herself to glance back. The man was still staring at her with those glossy, almost lidless black eyes.

  A sickening, sinking sensation gripped her. She smoothed her cream chiffon gown with trembling fingers. It shimmered with a subtle glow, the microwire filaments barely visible. She was surrounded by people. There was plenty of security—Jericho and that handsome ship’s officer, Gabriel Rivera. She had no reason to be afraid.

  The sun sank toward the horizon, infusing the revolving room in soft gold light. Outside, the sky was on fire, the water burnished copper red.

  Amelia forced herself to return to her duties. She drifted around the room, extolling the virtues of her father's leadership and singing the praises of CEOs, financial bigwigs, corporate sponsors, and senators, giggling enthusiastically at jokes, pausing to bestow compliments and accept them with fluttering lashes and flushed cheeks.

  She knew how to act. She was her father’s daughter. She’d been playing his games for years. She’d hated them for just as long. But she couldn’t say no. She could never say no.

  She scanned the ballroom for the man again but didn't see him. He must have slipped out. The thought of his malevolent gaze made her skin crawl. She shivered again. She was safe, wasn’t she? Then why did she still feel afraid?

  Declan Black strode across the room and took her arm. His expression was flat, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Come with me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He squeezed her elbow as he escorted her out into the foyer, away from the party. “I planned to announce the support of Senator López tonight. Did I not ask you to put him in a favorable mood?”

  Her mouth went dry. The flute of champagne grew heavy in her hand. The lights reflecting off the crystal chandeliers made her eyes hurt. “I tried. You heard him. He doesn’t—”

  “You tried? It was a simple request, Amelia. Did you really try?”

  She went rigid, her arms stilled at her sides. “I’m sorry, I tried to—”

  His brow furrowed, his steely gaze boring into her. “Do you enjoy making me look like a fool, Amelia?”

  Her heart thudded in her ears. She could barely hear herself think. She could barely think at all. “No! Of course not.”

  “You’re simply careless and irresponsible, then?”

  “I tried to talk—”

  “You tried.” His lip curled in derision.

  “He had his mind made up, how could I—?”

  “You thought you would play me for a fool, is that it?”

  Her breath left her lungs. “Dad—”

  “Instead of charming Senator López, you turn him against me?” He towered over her, his nostrils flaring, contempt etched across his face. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

  She shrank back against the wall, wilting before his scorn, fear making her small and stupid. “I would never—”

  His gaze darkened. “You’ve always been such a disappointment to me. You and your brother both. Spoiled, ungrateful little—”

  “Excuse me, sir.” Gabriel Rivera stood in the doorway. “Your head of security, Ed Jericho, is asking for you.”

  The mask slid into place, the disdain melting from Declan Black’s face. His expression shifted to polite reserve as he straightened his cufflinks. “Thank you for informing me.” He strode back into the ballroom without even a backward glance at Amelia.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriel said.

  She was still shaking. “Sorry, ah—he’s under a lot of stress. And I messed up—”

  “I didn’t eavesdrop on your conversation. Just—you look miserable.”

  She blushed and rubbed her charm bracelet fiercely. “It’s been a long day.”

  He shot her a questioning look. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back in there.”

  “I have to.”

  “But do you want to?”

  She stared at him, unable to answer.

  “What’s the point of all this if you’re miserable?” He gestured at the marble floors, the crystal chandeliers. “I don’t get it.”

  She shrugged helplessly. Because how could she even begin to explain it? If only she were smarter, more talented. If only she were beautiful and charming and perfect enough, he’d change his mind. Her father would decide she was worthy of his love.

  A deep, ugly shame filled her. She wanted to run away, disappear, sink straight down into the floor. But what she wanted didn’t matter, had never mattered.

  Gabriel cocked his head and squinted, studying her. Then he grinned, his right cheek dimpling. “Are you hungry? I’ll take you down to the officer mess. You can see how the rest of us eat. They actually have some great mac and cheese. I mean, if you like that sort of thing.”

  Her stomach tightened. “I can’t.”

  “Not fancy enough for you?”


  “No, it’s—I’m sorry.” She blinked back the wetness burning her eyelids. She straightened her shoulders. “I have to go.”

  Amelia’s mouth formed a smile. But it was a smile about to shatter, a smile cracking her open from the inside.

  11

  Gabriel

  The thrill of anticipation hummed through every cell of Gabriel’s body. The country was finally about to change for the better. It started today. It started with them, with him.

  He’d spent the early part of the afternoon of the eighth day crouched on monkey island, located on the roof above the bridge and the Grand Ballroom, where the radar and radio antennae and the satellites were located. He cut power to the VHF and HF radio phones and dismantled the satellite wireless and communication systems.

  He deactivated the GMDSS, the Global Maritime Distress and Safety Systems, which would send long-range distress signals to a series of orbiting satellites if activated. The ShipLoc satellite tracking device was supposed to be in a hidden location, but in their arrogance, Voyager Enterprises just stuck the thing on monkey island with everything else.

  He left the orange buoys with the Emergency Position Indicator Radio Beacon on the bridge wings. To move them now, in full view of the bridge, would only invite suspicion. If they hit the water, they'd automatically activate their satellite-relayed hourly position to NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration headquarters in Washington, D.C. But there was plenty of time to get those later.

  He radioed Simeon when the job was done.

  “Well done.” Simeon's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. “Meet me on Deck Twelve in fifteen minutes. It's time.”

  He hurried to meet Simeon, who was standing with Kane and another New Patriot named Vera Hollis, a thin, middle-aged white woman with a sharp, angled face and auburn hair pulled into a tight bun. Two other men dressed in crew uniforms directed a laundry hover cart into the alcove of the crew hallway.