Page 18 of Captivating Nash

But there wasn’t time to dwell on that. Nash counted silently in his head, listening for any more signs of movement. The jungle was eerily quiet again, as if the whole island was holding its breath.

“Now,” he whispered, gripping Deanna’s hand as they bolted for the beach.

They broke through the tree line, the bright expanse of sand and water stretching out before them. The sight ofThe Reverieanchored in the cove sent a jolt of relief through Nash’s body, but he didn’t let himself slow down. They sprinted toward the boat, their footsteps kicking up sand as they raced across the beach. The sound of the jungle seemed to fade behind them, but Nash knew better than to assume they were safe.

“Go!” he urged, pushing Deanna ahead of him as they reached the shallow water.

She didn’t hesitate, splashing through the surf as they reachedThe Reverie.She disengaged the alarm and scrambled onto the deck. Nash was right behind her, his senses still on high alert as he quickly untied the moorings and readied the boat to set sail. His hands moved swiftly, years of experience guiding him even as his mind raced.

As he powered up the engine and steeredThe Reverieout of the cove, Nash couldn’t shake the feeling that they had barely escaped. Whoever had scuttled that ship, whoever had left those weapons behind, wouldn’t just let them sail away unchallenged.

The danger wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And as the island faded into the distance, Nash’s gut told him that whatever they had stumbled into was far bigger—and far deadlier—than either of them could have imagined.

Nash felt the tension drain from his shoulders asThe Reveriepowered up beneath him, the engine vibrating softly through the hull as they began to pull away from the beach. His hands moved with precision, every instinct screaming at him to get as far away from the island as possible. But the gnawing sense of danger still clung to him, coiling in his gut like a warning that they weren’t safe yet.

Deanna was next to him, breathing fast, her wide eyes searching his face for answers. She had been following his lead without question, but he knew she deserved an explanation. She wasn’t the type to take orders blindly, and she’d seen too much today—too much for him to stay silent any longer.

He steered the boat into open water, the shoreline shrinking behind them, but his focus wasn’t on the horizon. It was on the threat still lingering in the air, like a storm building just beyond sight.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Nash said quietly, his voice low and tight.

Deanna turned to him, her eyes sharp with curiosity and concern. “What are we up against, Nash? I need to know.”

He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to drag her into this any deeper than she already was. But she had been with him every step of the way—through the storm, through the wreckage, through the discovery of those weapons. She deserved the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Nash looked out at the water for a moment before turning back to her. His jaw tightened as he spoke, the words coming out harder than he’d intended. “Those weapons we found back there? They’re not just any military-grade gear. They’re classified. Experimental tech that shouldn’t exist outside the highest-level research facilities. We’re talking about things designed for covert ops, black-ops missions. Things no one’s supposed to know about.”

Deanna frowned, processing his words. “But how do you know all this?”

Nash hesitated. He had spent years keeping his past buried, but now there was no point in hiding it. She needed to understand the danger they were in. “I’ve heard about those kinds of weapons before. My last assignment as a SEAL was extracting a covert operative with classified tech. He’d been kidnapped and was being held hostage by people who were willing to sell it and him to the highest bidder.”

“Did you save him?”

“No. By the time we got there, he’d been executed. We were under fire so there was no way to know if his kidnappers had done it or someone else. We had bad intel… really bad; the kind that cost some of the men on my team their lives.”

Deanna’s eyes showed sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do you think that’s what’s happening here—that somebody is trying to sell these weapons?”

“That would be the most logical conclusion.”

“Any idea who?”

Nash nodded grimly. “I don’t know for sure, but my best guess is Fatima Al-Fayed.”

Deanna’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who is she?”

Nash clenched his jaw. “Fatima Al-Fayed is the daughter of one of the world’s most dangerous arms dealers. Her father, Khalid Al-Fayed, built an empire selling weapons to warlords, militias, terrorists and corrupt governments. He was ruthless, made a fortune in blood money. But he was murdered a couple of years ago by one of his rivals. Since then, Fatima’s been trying to step into his shoes—only she’s got bigger ambitions.”

Deanna’s face paled as realization sank in. “You think she’s behind this?”

“Yeah.” Nash’s voice was tight, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. “I’ve heard rumors about her—about how she’s been trying to corner the market on hard-to-get, deadly tech. She wants to make a name for herself, avenge her father’s death, and take control of the black-market arms trade. She’s been building a network, gathering resources, and getting her hands on weapons like the ones we found. If she’s involved, we’re in a hell of a lot more danger than I thought.”

Deanna’s hand went to her mouth, her expression filled with shock. “So what do we do?”

“We get the hell out of here,” Nash said firmly, turning his attention back to the water. “Once we’re far enough away, we’ll figure out our next move. But right now, all that matters is putting distance between us and?—”

Before he could finish the sentence, something caught his eye—a dark silhouette approaching fast from the north, cutting through the water like a predator on the hunt.

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