Page 37 of Storm and Tempest (Brand of Justice #13)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

C old sea spray arced across the bow of the little boat they’d rented, thanks to the MSI expense account.

In fact, Jax owed them a whole lot right now.

There was so much riding on this that he felt like he was being tugged in a hundred different directions, and he needed everyone to do their part or it would go sideways far too quickly.

“She’s gonna tie herself in knots making it up to you and Kenna.”

He didn’t look at Ramon, not really wanting to yell in reply to his friend over the sound of the boat motor and the water cutting under them. Not wanting to talk about Maizie, not even with Ramon.

The sun hung low, almost to the horizon, because it was after midnight in this part of the world where day and night seemed to be off-kilter most of the time.

“You can’t let her do that,” Ramon added.

Jax gripped the wheel, steering the boat to a dock he spotted on the west side of the island. One in a chain of islands that dotted this stretch of southern Alaska coastline. “I know.”

“You and Kenna, you’re better at forgiveness than most people.”

Jax glanced over, wondering if Ramon was ready to hear why that was. He figured the guy already knew, because Kenna had told him about her faith. In the quiet moments between cases, she had been steadily approaching the subject with him.

Ramon continued, “She needs to get that from you guys. Learn it. Live it.”

“You sound like a motivational poster.”

Ramon almost grinned but didn’t. “But if Maizie forgives the wrong person, it’ll be on you.”

“I got it.” Jax didn’t need his friend to tell him how much was riding on him and all of this.

Right now, Jax wasn’t exactly focused on what Maizie needed to learn as she matured.

He was really only worried about her physical safety—which he’d entrusted to Zeyla.

Jax had figured Zeyla was inclined to stay behind rather than face her nightmares for a woman she didn’t really know but wanted to.

Zeyla knew how they all felt about Maizie, and if anyone might be able to stop her mother, then it was her.

“I’m sure you do, once you’ve found Kenna. Only then, you’ll be focused on your wife and her pregnancy, right?” The implication being that until he found her, Jax only cared about one thing. And the “I got it” was a maybe at best, and didn’t include Maizie.

He wasn’t sure he agreed with Ramon’s assessment of that.

Jax slowed the boat and came alongside the dock slowly, saying, “How about I explain it to you? You learn what forgiveness truly means. What surrendering your life to God simply out of gratitude for everything He saved you from really means. And then you don’t need to worry that you can’t teach her.

You don’t have to worry that I’ll miss something because I’m focused elsewhere. ”

“I’m not her parent.”

“You’re the closest thing to a brother she’ll ever have.”

“I’m an adult male who isn’t a blood relative.”

“The fact you pointed that out is exactly why Kenna and I have no problem with you and Maizie being close friends and acting like siblings. Because you aren’t going to do anything to hurt her.”

Ramon scanned the shore. “If someone does hurt her, I’ll string them up by their?—”

“Got it,” Jax said. “Bruce will probably help you. That way I’ll have plausible deniability when the cops come and knock on my front door, asking questions.”

“Just make sure you tell them Kenna was with you the whole time.”

Jax managed to laugh at that. “Let’s go find her.”

He was echoing Ramon’s sentiment when they’d left the MSI office hours ago, making their way north first by plane and now by boat.

He grabbed a shotgun out of the hold, a pistol in his belt holster, and extra clips in the pouches on his vest. Among other things they’d pre-planned.

No point giving away all the tricks they had up their sleeves.

Ramon tied up the boat, and they headed down the dock. “This is weird in broad daylight.”

“Waiting for dark in Alaska this time of year isn’t worth it. Keep your eyes open.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘head on a swivel,’ aren’t you?”

“I thought it was ‘stay frosty.’” And all those other sentiments tough guys shared with each other. Did it actually help?

Ramon chuckled under his breath. “I thought you were a real stiff. Turns out you’re okay.”

“Thanks, I think.” Jax figured that was the ultimate sign of respect coming from this guy. He nearly rolled his eyes, but doing that was ridiculous and reminded him too much of his sister in high school. What-ever. Talk to the hand. As if his middle school years hadn’t been traumatizing enough.

Ramon stepped off the deck onto sandy grass, followed by Jax. Another boat pulled up to the dock behind them. Amara and Bruce.

The chilly night breeze—Jax wasn’t going to call after midnight “evening”—cut through his shirt and cooled the sea spray on his face. His whole body ached. The cut on his forearm stung, his shoulder throbbed, and the ibuprofen-acetaminophen mix he’d taken had worn off hours ago.

Ramon scanned the shore. “Something is up.”

Jax had the same vibe, a kind of hum in the air, making all his senses fire. “This is going to go south any second.”

Armed men stepped out of the trees, all of them dressed in black fatigues. Comms earbuds in, sunglasses up on the top of their heads. At least six of them. Hardened warriors who didn’t look like they were in a mood that was open to visitors they hadn’t been expecting.

“They didn’t bring me a drink to welcome me to the island?” Ramon huffed. “I’m hurt.”

“Weapons down!” the lead guy yelled.

They spread out, each of the armed men fanning to the sides so they could eventually circle around Ramon and Jax and cut off their retreat. Jax held one hand up.

He muttered, “I don’t like this,” under his breath. Even though it wasn’t exactly surprising, and they’d been expecting something to happen as soon as they showed up. Had planned for it, in fact. Because there was no way they’d have been able to sneak into a Dominatus facility.

Jax lowered to a crouch and set his shotgun on the dirt.

When he stood, one of the men closed in and slid the pistol from Jax’s holster. He clenched his stomach and kept from reacting to being disarmed that way. He whipped his head around to look at Ramon and said, “Don’t.”

The last thing he needed was for his friend to run his mouth or start a fight just to make the point that he could defend himself. The odds were stacked against them.

A tendon flexed in Ramon’s jaw, a fiery look of defiance in his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Right.” Jax looked at the leader. “You’re in charge? How about you take us to whoever gives you orders.” The guy sent to scoop up trespassers wasn’t the boss.

The guy chuckled under his breath. “Don’t worry, you will be coming with us.”

He didn’t like the dark tone of voice this guy had. Or the dead look in his eyes. If he said they were all hired mercenaries, the kind of guys who would do anything for money, Jax would’ve believed it.

He spotted Amara emerging from the tree line, Bruce following her.

The older man had his hands secured behind his back, and another armed man in black fatigues followed Bruce.

Holding a gun on him, presumably to keep him from escaping.

Amara didn’t have any fear that she would be shot in the back.

In fact, she walked as if she had a position of power here.

There it is.

Ramon twisted around to Jax. “Take me to your leader? Really? We were supposed to sneak in here to steal all their secrets and that’s all you say?”

Jax shot him a look right back, just as planned. “You’re the one who said we steal a boat from those meatheads. Figures your plan is what gets us caught.”

“That’s enough.” The gunman closest to Jax dragged his shoulder, turning him around. “Hands behind your back.”

Both Jax and Ramon had their hands secured behind their backs. Jax’s shoulder burned with his arms pulled back like that. “I have a shoulder injury, if you don’t mind.” It was dangerous, but just in case the guy would ease up…

The gunman chuckled. “Guess it isn’t your lucky day, then.” He dragged Jax by the elbow.

His foot caught on a rock, but he caught himself and stumbled instead of falling to his knees in front of these guys. Tumbling on a rocky beach wasn’t going to feel good. He didn’t need a smashed knee on top of everything else.

Teeth gritted against the pain blossoming in his shoulder, the heat there growing into a furnace until he had to bite his lip, Jax forged ahead.

The trail stretched about a mile, winding between the trees.

A deer trail, or some other wild animal, and these guys had tramped back and forth until it was worn into a full-fledged path.

He ignored Amara and Bruce, tied up like they were, accompanying them.

And the incessant comments from Ramon, directed at him.

All he could focus on was whether Kenna had been brought here.

Was he about to find her?

I don’t have any right to ask. I’ve lost my grip on who I am. Don’t let me lose what I have.

At the center of the island in a clearing about half a mile wide, someone had built a structure many years ago.

The windows were yellowed now and shattered, the roof missing in spots and secured with tarps to keep the weather out.

A worn-down and weather-beaten former homestead that had hopefully been abandoned decades ago.

On either side, someone had erected huge military-style tents that flapped in the evening breeze coming off the ocean, racing over the trees and dipping down into the clearing.

People in heavy sweaters, beanies, and what looked like insulated jeans walked back and forth, their heads down. Carrying heavy bales of hay, big bags of rice or flour, and boxes with canned goods logos on the side. Unloading—or loading.

“Keep walking.” The gunman jabbed him in the back, between his shoulders.

Jax set off again and was steered toward the tent on the left side whether he wanted to go there or not. All the images they’d been sent of Kenna, she’d looked to have been in medical facilities or the like. Okay, so he hadn’t been sent any.

A fact that Jax was trying not to think about because he didn’t want to contend with the fact everyone else seemed like they’d been sent videos or pictures, and Kenna had been threatened if they didn’t act. But did he get any pictures of his wife?

No.

Whether they thought they could manipulate him…use him…or not didn’t matter. They weren’t using him.

“This way.” The voice behind him wasn’t the one who’d ordered Jax left.

He twisted to look over his shoulder, which didn’t feel good at all. Ramon was being walked in the other direction, along with Bruce. Amara followed the two men with Jax.

“Keep going.”

Jax was shoved, so he breached the front of the tent mid stumble and this time landed his knee on the tarp under his feet.

Amara strode past him to a folding table and metal folding chair, where she sat and opened a file on the table. “What’s the timing on the next delivery?” When she got no answer, she said, “You think I don’t know this is a holding point? When is your next trip to the facility?”

The team lead for the gunmen strode over and closed the file before she could read much. “We have a few hours. Let’s get this done.” But he didn’t turn to Jax. He stayed where he was, both fists planted on the table. Entirely focused on Amara. “Wanna tell me why you brought three of them?”

“They do all this together. Like a team.” She made a face like she thought their efforts were little better than children playacting and chuckled. “They thought they were going to simply walk in your front door. Of course, you want all of them, Roberts.”

Why she chose to use his name then, Jax wasn’t sure. Did she want him to have their designations?

Roberts huffed. “Back to make a habit of ordering people around, I see. That’ll be a nice change.”

Someone behind Jax snickered.

He started to get up off the floor, but the man behind him slammed a hand—and all his weight—on Jax’s shoulder and pushed him back down to his one-knee stance on the floor.

Amara sat back in the chair. “I delivered the goods as promised. I get to escort them to the facility. After all, I wouldn’t want you taking all the credit because I wasn’t there.”

Roberts said, “Good thing you’re nice and early.”

“What is there to do? Wouldn’t hurt to be early.”

Roberts shook his head, pushing off the table and setting his rifle aside. “Stick to the timing. We do not deviate from schedule. So sit tight, shut your mouth, and let us do our jobs.” He glanced at one of his guys and lifted his chin, then went to sit behind another table.

Amara rolled her eyes and left the tent in a huff.

Jax lifted his chin. “Is this when the interrogation starts?”

“Wrong tent.” Roberts lit a cigarette and blew the smoke to his left. “That one has a plastic sheet on the floor.”

One of his men wandered into the tent with a laptop and a webcam. He hooked them up so they pointed toward Jax, then got the chair Amara had been using and set it in front of the table facing the laptop.

Jax wanted to ask if this was a meeting he hadn’t prepped for. But the fact they might be about to put him in contact with Kenna drew him with a promise he hadn’t felt in months. Seeing her again—alive.

He could practically taste the anticipation on his tongue, coppery with blood.

The man behind him dragged Jax to his feet and shoved him into the chair. The laptop screen showed his face, and a green line ran across the screen moving from top to bottom. As if it was scanning his face.

Scan complete.

“What’s going on?” He looked at Roberts. “What is this?”

“Business.” Roberts turned the laptop and clicked the mousepad. Typed on the keyboard. “Okay, capture complete. Not bad, actually. Pretty impressive tech.”

A deep fake.

They’d seen it before with Dominatus assets.

“What are you going to do with my face?” Jax asked.

“You’re about to tell that taskforce of yours that you’ve switched sides. Become a true believer.”

“No one will believe it.” Jax shook his head. “I would never join Dominatus. ”

“No?” Roberts tipped his head to the side, studying Jax.

“First, you walked away from your cases, then your job entirely, and now you’ve come here.

You walked right in the front door. You’re one of us now, and everyone will know your allegiance now lies with us.

After all, it’s the only way to get your wife back. ”