My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 232

Chapter 232: The Proxy War

[Jake’s POV]

The Pearl River delta was choked with fog.

It was the kind of fog that didn’t lift. It sat on the water like a wet blanket. Gray and thick. Visibility was maybe forty feet. Past that, everything was just dark.

The water was choppy. Black waves slapped against the rusted hull of the small, unlit trawler we were on. Each hit made the whole boat shudder. The smell was bad. Diesel, rot, and the sour tang of polluted river water.

Ethan and I crouched in the cramped wheelhouse.

We were dressed in black neoprene tactical suits. The material was tight and cold against my skin. It smelled like rubber. We wore low-profile rebreathers. The masks made my breathing sound loud. In. Out. In. Out.

We both carried suppressed, waterproofed submachine guns. The metal was cold. Condensation beaded on it.

"Target is approaching," Nia’s voice crackled in my earpiece. It cut through the sound of the idling diesel engine. "It’s a mid-sized cargo barge, running without an AIS transponder. It matches the profile of Lin’s weekly weapons shipment from the mainland."

The engine under us vibrated through the floor into my boots.

"Speed and heading?" I asked. My voice sounded muffled through the mask. I checked the seal on my rebreather with one glove. Rubber on rubber.

"Eight knots, heading due south toward the Iron Fists’ private docks," Nia reported. "You have a three-minute intercept window before they clear the fog bank and enter the harbor’s visual range."

"Copy that," I said.

I looked at Ethan. Water dripped from the ceiling onto his mask. He nodded once and pulled his mask up over his face. His eyes were the only thing visible. He gave me a thumbs-up.

I pushed the throttle forward.

The small trawler surged. The bow cut through the dark water and threw up spray. It was cold. It hit my face and ran down my neck under the suit. We didn’t use radar. No running lights. Just darkness and the GPS coordinates Nia was feeding directly into a waterproof tablet mounted on the console. The screen glowed blue in the dark.

The massive, dark silhouette of the cargo barge loomed out of the fog a minute later.

It was huge. A wall of rusted steel. It was moving slowly. The deck was illuminated by a few harsh yellow floodlights. The light didn’t cut through the fog. It just made a halo around the ship.

I could see three armed guards patrolling the catwalks. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders. They looked bored. One of them was smoking. The tip of his cigarette glowed orange.

I cut the engine.

Silence. Except for the water.

We let our trawler drift. The current pulled us silently alongside the massive steel hull of the barge. The sound of the barge’s engine was low and constant. Like a growl.

"Go," I whispered.

Ethan and I slipped over the side of the trawler.

The water was freezing. It hit like a punch. It went straight through the neoprene and into my bones. The river was dirty. I could taste metal on my tongue. The rebreathers scrubbed our exhalations. No bubbles. Nothing to betray us.

We swam the short distance to the barge. My arms burned. The hull was slick with algae and rust. We grabbed the rungs of a maintenance ladder welded to the side. The metal was ice cold and rough.

We climbed. Slow. Deliberate. Water ran off us and disappeared into the dark.

We crested the railing and slipped onto the lower deck.

The steel was wet under my knees. It smelled like oil. We melted into the shadows behind a stack of shipping containers. The containers were huge. They smelled like old wood and salt.

"Two hostiles approaching your position from the port side," Claire warned over the comms. Her voice was barely a whisper.

I drew my suppressed pistol. The grip was textured. Ethan signaled left flank.

We waited.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the steel deck. Closer. Closer.

As the first guard stepped past the shipping container, I moved.

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