Page 38 of Storm and Tempest (Brand of Justice #13)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I ’ve made up my mind. Jax’s voice came through the computer speakers. Roberts typed on the keyboard. I won’t be standing against Dominatus anymore. The fight is over. The computer program looked like Jax and sounded like Jax.

Jax sniffed, his entire body taut like a livewire.

He’d listened to the whole conversation between Roberts—using their software so he could pretend to be Jax—and the director of the FBI.

Jax hadn’t even known the guy was a member of the taskforce the president had put together to fight against Dominatus .

Jax had been connected all the way to the top after meeting with the president in London.

It seemed his enemy had been one step ahead this entire time…and then some.

They were so far ahead it wasn’t even a contest. His head was still spinning with the ramifications of how much they knew, how connected they seemed to be to any attempt to come against them.

No wonder they’d so efficiently taken Kenna after infiltrating the FBI with fake badges.

He figured it wasn’t outside of possibility that they had assets in multiple government agencies.

And no one had any idea.

Roberts typed and the Jax-like voice continued, It’s the only way I’ll get my wife back. I’m sure you understand why I have to give it all up. For her.

At least they got the sentiment right, because he was feeling the need to burn it all down to save Kenna. But not to join Dominatus. Not even if he had a gun to the back of his head, which was effectively where he was at right now. He couldn’t take more than a step or two without being gunned down.

Then the fight really would be over.

Right now, he had to watch this man, this agent of his enemy, destroy everything Jax had worked toward for years. In the space of a few minutes, he was tearing it all down and making sure Jax had absolutely nothing to lose. Which was absolutely going to backfire.

First his job, then his career when he walked away from the FBI just days ago. They’d taken his friends from him, too. Now they were going to destroy his reputation and any chance he might have to get his standing as an agent back. After this, they’d believe it had been him in the video call.

His boss, the director of the FBI, sighed over the connection. “I’m sorry to hear that, Special Agent Jaxton. You understand what this means.”

He wanted a way to tell the director that it wasn’t him. Some kind of code word that would indicate he was under duress, let alone that it wasn’t even him. They’d told him there was no point yelling. The mic wasn’t going to pick up anything, so the director would never hear it.

I made my choice. Roberts hit a button, then closed the laptop lid.

Jax said, “Where is Kenna?”

He heard a breathy laugh behind him. Jax wanted to punch whoever it was in the face, but it wasn’t going to solve his problems right now.

He lifted his chin. “I am getting her back.”

“Why not let’s go see her for yourself?” Roberts stood. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Jax had to assimilate that question and what he meant. “You’re taking me to her?”

“We leave with the next shipment. Wasn’t that the deal?”

Whatever that meant, it was definitely a trap.

“Where? Where is she?” Jax nearly jumped out of the chair.

Months. It had been months , and he hadn’t been able to find her.

Now he was going to be able to hold her.

He’d get to see how much she’d changed with this pregnancy, things she’d experienced all alone.

She could tell him everything that had happened to her, while he could share what had gone on in the outside world.

Roberts said, “Guess you’ll find out” and walked to the tent flap.

Someone shoved it open and pushed him back.

Ramon entered first with a rifle in his hands. He squeezed off two shots, and Roberts fell back. Another of the men dove out of the way, or was shot, Jax wasn’t sure. Bruce barreled in with a gun as well.

Someone fired into the tent from outside.

Jax tipped the chair to the side and landed on his good shoulder, clenching his abs to sit. He pulled his knees in and kicked at the man closest to him. Aiming to shoot at one of his friends.

Jax slammed his boots into the back of the man’s knees, and his legs buckled.

He pulled his knees in again fast and kicked the man’s shoulder and the back of his head right before he hit the ground, the motion shoving the guy forward.

Jax rolled over and stood up, which made him a target for any gunman. Not good. He ran to the table and kicked it over, sending the laptop flying. It wasn’t going to provide much cover, but it would be better than nothing.

Ramon kept going, unfazed. A gunman over on the side of the room lifted up and fired across a table. Ramon fired at the same time, his aim arcing up as he fell back, blasting bullet holes in the ceiling. Crying out in a way that sounded more like anger than pain. He’d been shot.

Bruce fired at the shooter.

Several other men ran into the tent. One of the men slammed into Bruce and tackled him to the floor.

Amara came in after them. “Tie them all up,” she ordered.

For a second, Jax thought she was ordering him and Bruce to tie up the men, but he quickly realized the opposite was true—she was telling these guys to tie up him and his friends. But Jax still had his hands secured behind his back.

He rushed over to Ramon but couldn’t even put pressure on the wound.

Amara walked over to them, all high and mighty. An expression on her face like she didn’t care one bit about any of them. They might as well have been dirt on the bottom of her shoe. “What was the point in that show? You had to know it would be over quickly.”

Ramon had a bullet hole high on his chest, just under his collar bone. It was probably the best place it could’ve hit.

Thank You, Lord.

The Hispanic man breathed hard, clutching his chest with his teeth gritted. “Ow! That hurts.”

“We’ll get you help,” Jax told him. “Sorry, but I can’t put pressure on it.”

Ramon shook his head, as much concession as Jax was going to get.

Amara said, “I should kill you now. Just put a bullet in your head and put the world out of its misery having to deal with your sorry self still existing.”

Fire flashed in Ramon’s eyes.

Despite the plan, and Amara making it look good with her overacting, he could see the words hit home for the guy. Jax wanted to chide her, but the men here had to believe she was on their side.

“Enough.” Roberts clambered to his feet, fury in his eyes and two silver bullets embedded in the vest he had on.

The look on his face wasn’t an expression Jax wanted to see late at night—or ever.

“No one shoots anyone else.” He looked at one of his men.

“Take the wounded to the medical tent to be shipped back to the mainland, and the rest go on the transport.”

That meant Bruce was going with Jax, while Ramon went to get treatment.

Jax could deal with that.

Amara swung around to him. “What kind of farce is?—”

Roberts swung around and punched her in the face. Amara dropped to the floor, crying out with her hand to her cheek.

Jax’s stomach clenched. “Enough!”

He couldn’t let on that she might be on his side, though. It had to be purely because this guy had hit a woman.

“Yeah?” Roberts pointed his gun at Bruce, talking to Jax when he said, “Turns out the only one I need is you , and even that is debatable. Means I don’t need this guy.”

“We all have orders to follow.” Jax shifted and stood, leaving Ramon clutching his gunshot wound. “But that doesn’t mean anyone needs to die. Everyone has their uses, don’t they?”

His friend was out of this fight. Ramon needed help, and Jax needed to not have to tell Kenna he had been killed. Okay, fine—he didn’t want to lose the guy. He needed to make a good case.

“Killing too many people will draw attention to you,” Jax continued.

Roberts’ lips curled up. “But it’s fun.”

Someone slammed into Jax from behind, shoving him forward so that he hit the ground. Before he could get back up, the guy stepped on the back of his shoulder and with a hand grabbed Jax’s elbow.

Someone cried out.

Maybe it was him. Or one of the others.

The fire that erupted in his shoulder told him that all the healing he had done so far was being undone.

Eventually he passed out.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up. Face smashed against cold metal, the smell of rust and dirt all around him. The temperature in here far colder than it had been before.

He shivered and found his hands now secured in front of him. His feet had been tied together as well, which meant moving wasn’t going to be easy. As soon as he was… Soon as he could process through the situation… He’d take stock of what weapons he still had on him. Come on, think.

He’d gone full Kenna, hiding weapons all over him, hoping that if they found a few, they would stop before they discovered the rest.

Jax used his left elbow to shove himself up. His right shoulder was almost twice the size on the front side, and he had to fight to push his awareness of the pain to the back of his mind.

Nausea snaked up his throat.

Yeah, he couldn’t ignore this pain.

Jax leaned over and deposited the last thing he’d eaten on the floor beside him. He leaned back against the wall, and when he looked around, he discovered he was in a shipping container.

“Did you just barf?”

“Bruce?” Jax looked around and found the guy in a heap on the far side. “You okay?” He wasn’t going to admit he’d just thrown up.

The older man groaned and moved his legs, but didn’t sit. “I’d get up, but it sounds like effort.”

“What did they do?”

“What didn’t they do? Apparently, Samuel Chistane was a friend of theirs…and that asset sent to take him out. Real close neighborly type friendship between the two of them and these guys up here. Guess I was due for some payback.”

“A friend?”

“Or the kind of boss they worshiped like he was a cult leader.” Bruce coughed, and it turned into groaning. “That’s who these people are. Blindly following their superiors because that’s what they’ve been conditioned to do. I’d rather think for myself.”

Jax waited until he was done with his whole rant, then said, “How long was I out?”

“Hours, days—who cares.”

“Bruce.”

“Fine.” The older man sighed. “I’ll quit feeling sorry for myself.”

“That would be helpful, thanks.” Jax had enough of that going on in his own head, so Bruce adding to it would be a real drag. Okay, fine. Instead of Jax feeling sorry for himself, he was projecting onto Bruce. “Sorry.”

The guy probably didn’t even know what Jax was apologizing for.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce said. “You just wanna get your girl back.”

Jax couldn’t keep using it as an excuse to be a jerk.

The plan had gone haywire. Not that most plans really went…

well, as planned. He still had his watch on.

It lit up with the display that showed the time when he lifted his wrist, but was it transmitting?

Maybe this shipping container blocked the signal.

Or a million other things that meant this all had gone wrong.

Jax shook his head like it actually dislodged the thoughts. “What about Ramon and Amara? Assuming these guys aren’t listening to us talk.”

“I doubt it. That’s why they shut us in here.” Bruce managed to sit up. “They carried Ramon off, supposedly to the medical tent. Which probably means they’ll shoot him and leave him in the woods. Amara is hopefully sticking to the plan.”

Jax lifted his gaze from his shoes. “You have doubts?”

“Wish I didn’t, but it’s hard to tell in our line of work. You rarely tell the truth, and it gets to be a lifestyle.”

“Bruce, are you an agent for Dominatus ?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head. “They wanted me in the fold, then they came to kill me. Guess we had a truce for a while there, but I’m also guessing I’ll find myself in their crosshairs again pretty soon.” He sighed, as if that wasn’t surprising at all but a regular part of their lives.

Jax felt moisture burn in his eyes. “I just want Kenna back.”

“That’s all any of us want. But if you’re gonna be safe after that, means we’ve gotta take them down.” Ire rang in his tone. “For good.”

“It’s impossible.”

“Isn’t that why you believe in God and all that stuff? Because He pitches in when things are impossible.”

Jax groaned, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

“What? I was paying attention,” Bruce said. “And I listened to some videos and stuff online. I like the idea of having God Almighty on our side.”

“Doesn’t mean we win. It means He wins.”

“Okay, but that could come out good for us, right?”

Jax swallowed, still tasting the sick in his mouth. “Not if I’m supposed to learn to trust Him through losing her.”

“Does God do that kind of thing?” Bruce asked. “Make you lose people just to teach you a lesson?”

“Not in the bad way, like I deserve it. But in a way where I have to grow through that to do the things He wants me to do. To be the person He’s making me into. Someone more like Him.”

Jax had to face what he’d been avoiding since he first realized she was gone.

That he might have to walk the road where he didn’t get her back. That he was being called to trust God despite not getting what he wanted most.

He’d have to become who Kenna used to be.