Page 33 of Captivating Nash

Nash couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head. Then, with a nod, they slipped through the door, the cold metal walls of the ship seemed to close in around Nash as he and Deanna crouched in the narrow passageway, listening to the footsteps of Admiral Broadmore’s men echoing in the distance. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was sharp—focused. There was no room for error now. They were trapped in enemy territory, but they had managed to engineer something more valuable than their own escape—the intel.

It had taken everything to get this far, but Nash knew their mission wasn’t over. Not until the files were in Fitzwallace’s hands, and Broadmore’s operation was exposed. Getting out alive was important, but not as important as stopping Broadmore from unleashing his weaponized drones on the world.

Deanna crouched beside him, her breathing steady despite the chaos surrounding them. She had proven herself again and again—resourceful, brave, and sharper than anyone Broadmore had accounted for. And now, with their lives hanging in the balance, Nash couldn’t help but feel a deep surge of admiration for her. He hadn’t had to rely on anyone else for a long time, but Deanna had shown him that he didn’t have to do this alone.

“We need to get the intel out, Nash,” Deanna whispered, her eyes locked on his. “Everything else can wait.”

Nash nodded, his voice low and steady. “Agreed. But we’re running out of time. Broadmore’s men are all over this place. If we don’t move now…”

“I’ve got a plan,” Deanna said, her voice calm, though the fire in her eyes showed she was ready for the challenge. “The ship’s communication system is old, but I can override it if I can get to the main console. We send the files directly to Fitzwallace. Once he has them, we make our move to get out of here.”

Nash thought for a moment, scanning the hallways for any signs of movement. He trusted Deanna’s judgment—she had already proven herself more than capable of outsmarting their enemies. He nodded, meeting her gaze. “Let’s do it.”

With that, they moved. Silently, they crept through the ship, avoiding the main corridors and sticking to the shadows, slipping past guards and navigating the labyrinthine layout of the vessel. Every second felt like an hour, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. But they were a team now—moving in sync, anticipating each other’s moves as they made their way toward the ship’s communications room.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the room. Nash pressed his back against the wall, his pulse racing as he listened for any nearby patrols. The hallway was empty. For now. He glanced at Deanna, giving her a quick nod. She moved to the door, using the screwdriver she had kept hidden to jimmy the lock. The door creaked open, revealing a small, cluttered room filled with outdated equipment.

“This should work,” Deanna whispered as she moved toward the console. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dark room. Nash stood guard by the door, his senses on high alert.

“How long do you need?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just a few minutes,” she replied, inserting the flash drive, her eyes never leaving the screen. “I’m sending everything—Hartley’s involvement, Broadmore’s plans, the drone schematics. Once Fitz has this, the authorities will be able to move in.”

Nash nodded, glancing down the hallway. His instincts told him they didn’t have much time, but he trusted her. He had to.

Minutes ticked by, and then Deanna straightened, a look of satisfaction on her face. “It’s done. Fitzwallace has everything.”

Relief flooded Nash, but there was no time to celebrate. “We need to move. Broadmore’s men won’t stay distracted for long.”

They slipped back into the hallway, retracing their steps toward the lower decks where the powerboats were docked. The ship was massive, and the threat of being discovered was constant, but Nash’s military training kicked in. He led them through the maze of corridors, Deanna close behind him, both of them moving with purpose.

As they reached the docking area, Nash’s heart skipped a beat. Two powerboats were moored below, and the guards stationed nearby were heavily armed. He pulled Deanna into a small alcove, his mind racing.

“There’s no way we’re getting past them unnoticed,” Deanna whispered, her brow furrowed. “What do we do?”

Nash’s lips curled into a small, grim smile. “We don’t have to. I’ll create a diversion.”

Before she could protest, Nash moved swiftly, darting around the corner and grabbing a discarded metal pipe from the ground. He hurled it across the dock, the loud clang echoing through the space. The guards snapped to attention, their weapons raised as they moved to investigate the sound.

It was all the opening Nash needed.

“Now,” he hissed, grabbing Deanna’s hand and pulling her toward the boats. They slipped past the distracted guards, moving quickly and quietly toward the closest powerboat.

Once aboard, Nash untied the boat, the engine rumbling to life beneath them. One of the guards turned, his eyes widening in alarm, but it was too late. Nash pushed the throttle forward, and the boat shot out of the dock, cutting through the water like a missile.

“Where’s the extraction point?” Nash asked, his voice tight as the boat sped away from the ship.

Deanna pulled out the small GPS device, her fingers shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Fitz sent new coordinates. It’s a private marina about ten miles up the coast. If we can make it there, Cerberus operatives will be waiting for us.”

Nash nodded, steering the boat toward the coordinates. The water was dark, but the boat was fast, cutting through the waves with ease. Nash’s mind was racing, his body tense as he kept an eye on the horizon. There was no telling if Broadmore’s men would pursue them, but right now, all that mattered was reaching the extraction point.

Deanna leaned against him, her body pressed close as the wind whipped around them. They had made it this far, but the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

As they neared the marina, Nash spotted a group of figures waiting at the docks. They raised a lantern and signaled they were Cerberus operatives. Relief surged through him, but he kept his guard up, steering the boat into the dock and cutting the engine. The operatives moved swiftly, securing the boat and pulling them aboard a larger, more discreet vessel.

One of the men, tall and imposing, stepped forward, his face hard but professional. “Maddox. Dr. Fowler. I’m Liam O’Shea. Fitzwallace sent us. You’re safe now.”

Nash nodded, his breath finally slowing as the weight of the past few hours settled over him. He glanced at Deanna, who gave him a tired but relieved smile. They had done it. They had gotten the intel out. Broadmore’s operation was exposed, and soon, the authorities would move in.

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