If The Seas Catch Fire by Witt L.A

Author:Witt, L.A. [Witt, L.A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2016-01-03T08:00:00+00:00

* * *

A couple of hours after they left the harbor, the boat was far enough into the open sea that the land was a fuzzy gray-green line on the horizon. Up ahead, a red and black cargo ship bobbed in the waves.

The boat stopped beside the ship. A meeting was going on—Sergei couldn’t hear the specifics from his current hidey hole—a small alcove behind the galley—especially not with crew members moving boxes into the living area nearby.

Then everything wrapped up, and the boat was on the move again, but as it neared the harbor, stopped at one of the bobbing orange buoys. A crab pot. Then another. And another. Each time, they came to a halt, and the boat rocked gently in the water while the Koreans switched out a crab pot. Sergei memorized how long it took them to swap out the crab pots, calculating how much time he’d have to get off the boat and grab his gear before the propellers started again.

He was ready.

And as the boat approached another buoy, Dom was in the galley. Alone.

Around a corner, watching Dom in the reflection of a semi-tinted window, Sergei gnawed his lip. He drew his gun from his belt and rested it against his thigh.

It wouldn’t take much. Open the door. Put a bullet through his brain. Climb down off the stern. Grab his gear, dive, and swim like hell so no one saw him beneath the surface and the bubbles off his regulator didn’t give him away.

All he had to do was shoot Dom.

Right through the back of his head, so he never knew what hit him.

Shoot him. Let him drop. Watch him die.

Sergei closed his eyes and slowly, silently pushed out a breath.

I’m losing my damned mind. He isn’t Dom. He’s a Maisano. He’s the mark.

Except he is Dom.

He’s a made man. He’s one of them. He’s…

Dom.

Shit.

On the other hand, Baltazar hadn’t specified the mark’s name. The boat was huge, and Sergei could easily lose track of everyone on board.

This kind of job was meant to send a specific message. It was much like when the assassins of old would leave a knife in a sleeping king’s pillow, inches from his head, so that when he awoke, he’d know just how easily they could have killed him. This job was meant to tell Felice Maisano how vulnerable he was. For reasons Sergei didn’t need to know, someone was putting the squeeze on the man, and they were sending a very loud warning.

One that would, in theory, be received whether the stabbed pillow was Dom or Privitera.

He gulped. It was an enormous risk. He was supposed to take the shot, not make the call. But they hadn’t given him a name. There was no guarantee he’d know Dom was aboard. He hadn’t seen the faces and didn’t know the names of the crewmen driving the boat, or the men who’d come over from the cargo ship. On a vessel this big, Dom could’ve slipped past his radar.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.