The Caribbean Job: (A Case Lee Novel Book 3) by Vince Milam

Author:Vince Milam [Milam, Vince]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-16T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

We entered the dock area and flew past wet, fleeing passengers. Wild-eyed and frantic—people who'd jumped ship and swam to safety. They ran away from the dock area and disappeared into darkness. The cruise ship was lit as a beacon. Bright deck lights, cabin windows glowed, reflections off calm bay waters. But my gut said the interior resembled a charnel house.

JJ slammed the brakes, killed the engine, and we went into a controlled sideways slide. Momentum slowed, we both jumped off, and the scooter slid another ten feet. It bounced off the rear bumper of a parked vehicle. The scooter's slide brought unwanted attention. Sparks flew as the scooter met concrete, and the rear bumper collision ensured our position known. Couldn't blame JJ—I’d have done the same thing. But bullets whined past our heads and skipped off concrete at our feet. And explained why passengers hadn't departed via the gangway.

We dashed behind a group of parked vehicles and caught sight of a dead body sprawled at the foot of the gangway. Beyond the gangway shooter, echoed explosive reports from an onboard firefight. The Delta operator, engaged with the enemy.

"What's the plan?" JJ asked, pistol drawn and peering over the vehicle’s hood. Her voice was tight, committed.

"You stay here. Herd escapees away from the ship. Engage shooters if they come your way."

The shots toward us stopped once we'd left the area of the downed scooter. The terrorist lost his target in the night and now sought our position.

JJ slapped a hand across my forearm, gripping hard. "What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice a tight explosive whisper.

"Run toward the sound of battle. Attack."

It was what Delta did. I ejected the assault rifle's half-empty magazine and slammed a fresh one home. Muffled screams and cries poured from the ship's interior. JJ wouldn't release her grip. Sufficient moonlight provided a view of her face.

"No." Puffed cheeks, an emphatic exhale, and tight head shake. "No. I'm going in. With you."

No time. No time for arguments or discussions. Gotta move, gotta go. Inside, every second, passengers were slaughtered.

"Look. I need your help for this maneuver. You got an extra pistol magazine?"

She nodded.

"Use it. Now."

While she exchanged her used ammo mag for a fresh one, I said, "Give me seven seconds. Count them off. Then rise up and pop a few shots toward the shooter’s position. Draw his fire. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Then what?"

"I head up the gangway to take the shooter. So draw his fire and stay here, do what I asked." I shot a quick fist bump against her thigh. "Stay low, be safe, shoot to kill."

I made a quick dash past several parked vehicles and crouched at a front bumper. JJ fired several rounds, the pistol's blasts, huge and sharp, rolled across the nearby bay. The shooter keyed on her shots and ripped bullets toward her position. I took off, hitting the bottom of the gangway at a sprint, seeking the shooter. He hid behind a life-boat and fired through a seam in the boat's rigging.

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