The Housewife Assassin's Ghost Protocol by Josie Brown

around my waist.
    I turn my head to I see my savior: Jack.
    My angel.
    We suddenly sail through the water toward the steps. We’re moving at lightning speed.
    I look down to see that Jack has a nylon rope around his waist.  
    Jean-Pierre is pulling us toward the steps. I knew those broad shoulders were more than just man candy.  
    Jean-Pierre’s brow, furled in fear, relaxes when he sees me with Jack. His arms work even more furiously to pull us all the way up the stairs to the next deck.
    By the time we reach him, I’m choking on all the salt water I’ve swallowed.   Still, it doesn’t stop me from slobbering them both with kisses.
    “Run now, kiss later,” Jack commands me. “Let me give you a hand.”
    Instead, I hand him a finger—Salem’s.
    When he realizes what he’s holding, he laughs. “I think Ryan was expecting a full extraction.”
    “My bad. This will have to do.”
    He knows better than to argue. Holding my hand, he leads the way.

    Most of the second deck is still above the water line. “The hotel’s tender is starboard,” Jean-Pierre explains. “Unfortunately, Madame, you’ll have to jump back into the water and swim to it.”
    “And the sooner the better,” Jack warns. “The way this luxury coffin is taking on water, it’s going to capsize in no time—if it doesn’t blow first.”
    I nod. “Lead the way.”  
    Jean-Pierre jumps first. He treads water while Jack and I follow suit.
    Our boat is a good twenty yards away, but I swim it joyfully, knowing full well the disaster we just escaped.  
    After we clamber onboard, Jean-Pierre takes the wheel while Jack wraps me in one of the hotel’s robes.  
    I kiss his cheek. “Thank goodness you found me when you did.”  
    “Frankly, you should thank Jean-Pierre and Emma for that. With Emma’s instructions, Jean-Pierre was able to hack the ship’s security cameras. Even after Acme lost audio on you—and you with them—Emma could track you from the elevator to Salem’s torture chamber. Emma turned off the lights in the hope that you could dodge Salem long enough that I’d have time to get there.” He moves a damp tendril of my hair behind my ear. “As always, you were able to take care of yourself.”
    “That may be the case, but I hope you never stop trying. Next time, I may not be so lucky.”
    “Until I take my dying breath.” Jack’s voice cracks as he makes this vow.  
    “Why did the yacht take on water?”
    “When Arnie hacked the yacht’s navigational system software, he thought he’d make it easier for Interpol to board it by bringing it to shore. Unfortunately, he’s not that great a SIM pilot—especially when he’s input a speed that is twice as fast as it should be in a crowded bay. He turned to avoid sideswiping another super yacht and instead got rammed head-on by a joyriding speedboat.”
    “I presume that you couldn’t find Pinky Ring in the melee.”
    Jack scowls. “Sadly, no. The evacuation was a madhouse. The other yachts were gracious in making room for Salem’s waterlogged guests. I didn’t see which one of the rescue boats took him.”  
    “Well, I had a run-in with him.” I shudder at the memory. “He wanted me for a little fun and games of his own, but Salem insisted he take Gigi instead.”
    “So, she’s alive!”
    “Yes—but barely. Jack, the hull also held a room full of captives—both women and men—in cages.”
    “Sex slaves?”
    “Yes, some of them were going to be sold to the highest bidders tonight. But Salem indicated that some were facing a worse fate—some sort of experiment on a very large scale. The Quorum is seeking financial partners for it.” I shake my head in wonder. “And another thing: he didn’t recognize me! Even without the mask and the wig, he didn’t realize who I was.”
    “Keep in mind: his last run-in with you almost killed him. Maybe it was traumatic enough to give him amnesia.” He smiles. “I have the opposite experience. When I’m with