Page 25 of Hostile Extraction

Chris glanced over his shoulder; his shades aimed at Dusty as they bounced along on the waves. “Is that right? Why’s that?”

“There are rumors. With an estate that size, there are always local workers needed. They see things and they talk. It seems Mr. Amorosi is known to have different girls there all the time, every month, like a revolving door. But they all claim to be his fiancée. The man has apparently been engaged to be married more times than any man I’ve ever heard of.”

“We’ve also heard things about what goes on there. We’re actually looking for a girl who might be there.”

“We are coming up on it now. It’s just around this bend. You can’t miss it.” The boat slowed as they came around a jutty of land, and there before them was a huge estate up on a hill, its pink stone glimmering in the late afternoon sun.

Grady ducked below deck and picked up a camera with a telephoto lens. He searched the estate.

“You see anything, Grady?” Chris asked.

“Nope. No one at the pool or any of the balconies. I can’t see any movement at all.”

Chris aimed his shades at John. “We understand he also has a yacht where women may be kept. Have you heard that as well?”

“I have. It’s usually moored here. The shoreline is too shallow for a dock in this area, so it must be kept at anchor in deeper water. Sometimes he moves it farther out, and sometimes he moors down near Honeymoon Beach. Let’s try there.” John spun the bow around and aimed it westward. They cruised down the coast for a few minutes until he nodded in the distance. “That’s it there. The Virtuosity.”

The sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the sky in orange and pink streaks.

“Look alive boys,” Chris said, and they all got busy giving the appearance they were fishing and partying as they passed.

Dusty worked his rod and reel, surreptitiously glancing toward the yacht, his dark shades hiding his eyes. A brunette with hair down her back stood at the rail. She wore a wide-brimmed hat, and her eyes were covered with sunglasses. The last time he’d seen Asia, her hair wasn’t nearly that long, but that had been a while, and the distance was too great for him to be certain one way or another.

He heard Grady clicking off some shots. Hopefully, he’d be able to get some that would give him a better look.

“I think it’s her,” Grady said.

It was confirmed before his eyes when she turned from the rail, grabbed a cane, and limped away.

“That’s gotta be her. She’s favoring her ankle,” Stan stated.

Dusty moved below deck to check the shots Grady had taken.

There was a closeup of the woman’s face in profile as she stared into the sunset. The glasses covered much of her face, but Dusty would know her anywhere, even before he spotted the small birthmark on her neck.

“That’s Asia,” he bit out, coming back above deck.

“Study the boat, gentleman. We’ll board it after dark tonight. Amorosi is in the Bahamas tonight. Mark Zeller told me earlier he appears to be having guests fly in. Perhaps there’s another auction going on.”

“Who knows what that asshole is up to?” Dusty snapped. “All I care about is getting Asia off that boat before he returns.”

“Mark has men watching his plane. He’ll give me a heads up if Amorosi departs. It’s a little over a two-hour flight to St Thomas by private jet. Then he’s got to helicopter over here.”

“With a two-hour heads up, we should be good,” Stan muttered.

“I agree. We move tonight, boys,” Chris advised. “Dusty, Stan, and Grady, you boys will dive and board the boat silently. Big Al and I will wait aboard the fast boat out of sight in the darkness. I’m thinking tranquilizer darts for the crew. You’re in and out like we did it in Columbia. Shouldn’t take more than five minutes aboard.”

The team all nodded.

Chris lifted his chin. “Get us back to harbor, John. We’ve got some preparations to make, and we’re losing daylight quickly.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dusty sat on the edge of the rubber-sided fast-boat dressed in his wetsuit, dive fins, and mask. It was full dark with no moon, but a ton of stars.

Big Al cut the engine, and they drifted in the direction of the yacht.

“This is as close as we dare get,” Chris whispered in the quiet night air.

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