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“We’re on,” he reported.

“What are we up against?” asked Ernie.

“A contracted thirty-foot cruiser. Zero hostiles.” He gestured out to sea. “There she is.”

“Even looks like a narco boat,” observed Ernie.

Their target vessel was a white cabin cruiser with a flying bridge. A pirate flag fluttered from its rear mast above a stern swimming platform. A second craft, a grey Navy RHIB, was following; their safety boat.

“OK, let’s see if we can get onto the rear platform first,” said TJ.

All four men pushed off the beach and climbed onto the boards. TJ set a course to intercept the target as it cruised parallel to the beach about three hundred yards from the shore.

“Mike, you want first crack?” he asked over the radio.

Mike keyed his handset. “Aye, watch and learn, boys.” He gunned the throttle, surging forward past the others. Jumping the cruiser’s wake, he came in directly behind the craft and accelerated into the churn from the engines. Losing power in the aerated water, he was forced to cut out over the wake back into blue water.

“Water jet doesn’t work well in whitewash,” he reported. “Need to come in from the side.” He carved alongside the stern of the boat and gunned the motor till the board was nudging the hull. Slipping his feet from the bindings, he took a deep breath before leaping onto the side of the boat. “I’m on.”

“Coming in from starboard,” reported Rick.

Mike moved to that side of the boat as the SEAL carved in and banged into the hull. He reached over and grabbed his rig, steadying him. Rick reached up, grabbed the rail, and, with Mike’s help, hauled himself onto the craft with the jet board still attached to his feet. “That’s one way of doing it,” grunted Mike.

“Coming in hot,” transmitted Ernie.

Mike turned to the stern and saw Ernie carving into the boat’s wake. Working the board with his knees, the Latino managed to bounce his nose up onto the swim platform. Then, as he tried to step out of the foot loops, he wobbled and fell backward into the boat’s wash. A split second later, he appeared in the wake, wearing an angry expression. TJ blasted past him, making his own approach.

Learning from Ernie’s mistake, he took the same approach as Rick. Coming alongside the boat, he matched speed and grabbed the railing. From there, he was able to clamber onboard, leaving his board in the wake.

“Three out of four isn’t bad,” said Rick.

“Ernie’s making another run,” added Mike.

The four of them watched as Ernie ran his board up and over the wake and came in fast. Then, like the others, he cut in and grabbed the rail. Mike and Rick reached over and hauled him onto the deck. He landed with a wet slap, the board still attached to his boots.

“Welcome aboard,” said Rick.

The crew of the cruiser throttled back and slowed the boat as Ernie detached himself from the board and clambered to his feet. “That was sick. Really thought I was going to be able to land it on the swim deck.”

“You’re not that good,” said Rick.

“You’re no Kelly Slater either, esse. I saw Mike dragging your ass in like a tuna,” Ernie snapped back.

“Catch of the day, brother.”

“This is going to take some practice,” added TJ.

“Dealing with those two doesn’t get any easier,” joked Mike.

“Tell me about it.” TJ paused. “Rick, I think these boards might have some tactical value, but I think we need to think about boarding hooks and quick-release bindings.”

The trill of Rick’s mobile sounded. He took the dry bag from his rig, removed the phone, and lifted it to his ear. A moment later, he passed it to Mike. “Bro, it’s your wife.”

Mike frowned as he took it. “Hey babe, is everything OK?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I just wanted to let you know the good news.”

“Wait.” He stepped away from the others. “Do you know what we’re having?”