Free Perfectly Exposed (Command Unit Book 1) by Gail Faulkner Page A

above them, but nothing moved.
    Grapples with coated hooks to reduce sound snaked up the hull. Black-clad figures slithered up and over deck rails of the commercial vessel without an alarm sounding. The bitch was too huge to search cold so the plan was to start on the bridge, take out the radio room, and seize control of the engine room. Then they’d see if anyone wanted to live by giving up information.
    There were only two crew members on the bridge, and they wanted to live. Jack wasn’t willing to guarantee that because the fucking bastards knew exactly why they were there as soon as they entered. The rats gave up the rest of the crew as fast as they could, which meant every soul on board knew about the party planed in the crew mess. The number of survivors now depended on what they found at the “party”.
    Rico remained on the bridge to cover the ship with his sniper rifle in case the unfriendlies had friends.
    Down on the upper deck, doors to the crew mess were open. It was easy to hear the bidding as men bought a position in line. The two naked women tied to tables were the obvious objects the men were bidding on. Neither woman moved, both were obviously beaten, faces swollen, contusions visible across their bodies.
    Brad and Mike were on point after the flash bang went off, swiftly incapacitating the crewmembers closest to the door. Jack and Sam took down whomever was between them and the two women. The fourteen commercial seamen were not a challenge to the highly skilled operators.
    Ruthlessly keeping his focus narrowed to the next step in getting her safe, Jack checked Hailey’s pulse. It was strong. He went about the business of freeing her unconscious body from the damn table and checking for broken bones. Bones felt good. Dean was at his back as he completed checking and freeing her. Jack lifted her to his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and moved out for the deck.
    Sam was lifting his unconscious girl off her table when Jack glanced back at the room. Trace guarded Sam’s back as he got his girl out and followed Jack and Dean.
    The crew was in restraints. Brad was on his sat phone. Moving a prone and restrained sailor out of his way via boot to gut, Brad made his way across the room to where Jack and Sam were exiting the area.
    “Coast Guard ETA three minutes,” he relayed. “We’ll get this.”
    Jack tamped down the burn. Hailey was his first responsibly and he wasn’t going to leave her to someone else’s care. She was still unconscious and uniquely vulnerable. The security of being in his arms if she woke was what he had to give her. In light of every damn thing he was refusing to think about what could have already happened to her, it was all he had to offer. He hoped like hell she had been kept out the entire time, but that was a fucking best-case wish. His next pressing concern was that these bastards never saw the inside of a cushy U.S. prison.
    “Guard out of Gitmo?” Jack asked. Having the prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay instead of a stateside base would be his preference. Made the questioning process less gentle and shit.
    “Yep. This boat is full of Al Qaeda tangos,” Brad confirmed.
    Across the room one of the captives started protesting loudly, demanding rights and spewing information that marked him as the probable captain. None of the sailors had identifiable officer indicators on their clothes. Mike deployed the boot method of shutting him up then explained the obvious.
    “You are in U.S. waters, shithead. You were bidding the order of rape for that man’s woman.” Mike nodded at Jack. “You are already a kidnapper, slave trader and I believe we will find significant weight in drugs on board. He would rather shoot you than transport your ass to any damn place. I feel the same. Gonna give us a reason to satisfy that urge? Because I gotta confess, that bitch is riding me hard.” Mike smiled in a way that displayed teeth and deadly desires.
    The man on the floor shrank into himself