Page 39 of Storm and Tempest (Brand of Justice #13)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I t started as a dark spot on the horizon. The water reflected the morning sun, which he’d watched rise after it made its lazy descent down and started to ease back up almost immediately, not even really setting. Lightening the sky with a promise Jax didn’t feel.

Rain and gloom would have matched his mood far better than this. Not just the spray of the ocean as they raced across the surface of the water to the platform out in the stretch of ocean between Alaska and Russia, down to the south. Out of the main shipping lanes, and areas fishermen frequented.

Bruce lay in the back of the boat, the daylight giving Jax a full view of the bruises on the man’s face and neck. He’d understated what they did to him.

Jax’s head swam, his body a mass of pain and his arm limp by his side. The plastic ties securing it to the other hand put his shoulder at an angle that made him want to throw up again, but there was nothing in his stomach.

Three speedboats in a V formation, the one they were in at the lead.

Roberts piloted theirs, a coat on now instead of the vest over his shirt—with those two bullets embedded in it. They were all dressed for the weather out here, except Jax and Bruce. But if they were only bringing them out here to be killed, they’d surely have done it already.

Water ran down Jax’s face, and he didn’t know if it was sweat or sea spray.

The boat eased to a stop at a dock at the bottom of the platform, thirty or maybe fifty feet below the main level. Far above the swell of the icy waves, so cold the temperature numbed a person before they even realized they’d fallen in. His head swam trying to gauge the distance.

Right now, that sounded good. His shoulder would certainly stop hurting.

But this close to Kenna? There was no way he was going to do anything to jeopardize what happened next. He had to get her back.

I trust You.

The balance was there, his flesh versus his spirit. A husband’s need to find his wife coming up against the desire God had placed in Jax to surrender to His will no matter what happened next.

He had to balance the two, admit what he wanted whether it was right or not, and decide to trust God for the outcome. Faith would come in the mix. Soon enough he would have his answer, and no matter what, he would do his best to give glory to God.

Your will be done.

He knew what he wanted, but that was going to be given to God as well.

Surrender.

Two men lifted Jax by his arms. The world swam around him, and he dropped to his knees.

“Geez, you guys really messed him up.”

Jax got his orientation settled without falling into the water and followed Bruce down the dock, then to a walkway that led to a set of stairs. The stretches of steel steps doubled back on each other again and again until they were at the top.

“This way.” Roberts led them down a walkway, the building on one side looking a whole lot like a warehouse and on the other side a railing and nothing before a person hit the frozen water below. The impact would feel like jumping from a thirty-story building onto concrete.

Roberts slid a key through a card reader, and the display turned green.

He pushed through a set of double doors into a white corridor lit with overhead lights so bright it was like San Diego in July.

Jax winced against the intense glow and trudged after Bruce, keeping his focus on the man’s back with every step.

One foot in front of the other, over and over.

Each step one closer to Kenna.

Another set of doors led them to a lab. A man turned from his work, rows of test tubes in racks in front of him. To the side, he had microscopes. Jax even spotted a mass spectrometer. He was a man that Kenna had killed months ago.

“Last time I saw you,” Jax said, “you were a stiff at the morgue. A bullet in your chest. Lights out.”

“I’m aware.” Marcus Buzard removed his glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his lab coat. “After all, I’ve seen him for myself.”

“Right. You guys steal bodies a lot?” Jax looked around.

“She isn’t here.”

“Where is she?”

Buzard waved his hand. “All in due time.”

“No.” Jax stepped forward. “Now.”

Buzard seemed to find that amusing, while no one else said anything. “Have a seat, I’ll take a look at that shoulder.”

“No, thanks.” He glanced at his friend. “Bruce, how about you?”

“I’m the picture of health.”

Jax looked back at Buzard. “We’re good.”

“Seems difficult patients is my lot right now. And our dear Zeyla isn’t even here.” He scanned Jax’s face. “She was a firecracker, that one.”

“We’re not talking about the sick things you’ve all done to my sister-in-law. You’re going to tell me where my pregnant wife is, and then I’m leaving with her.”

“You really should let me look at that shoulder before you go. There isn’t any good healthcare for hundreds of miles.”

Jax yelled, “WHERE IS SHE?”

Buzard flinched. “We’re currently running another test. I’ve been so pleased with the results thus far. I’m sure they’ll come through this one hale and hearty, as they say.”

“As who says?” Jax might have read that in a book somewhere, but not one from this century. “Because I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

“If you’d gone to a Dominatus school as we advised your father, you would have received an adequate education. But we got here in the end, didn’t we? Your baby in the womb of one of our children. It’s almost poetic the way things worked out.”

Jax sucked in a breath. “Excuse me?”

“It’s the way things were always supposed to be.

There’s really no point arguing with it.

” Buzard sank onto a rolling stool with no back.

“We try and things don’t always go the way we plan.

We try again in a new location, with a new version of us.

Sometimes it works out and other times it doesn’t. Life goes on. We make new plans.”

“Is this going to make sense at any point?” Bruce asked.

“Escort our friend here to be assessed.” Buzard motioned. “I’m sure there are some worthwhile parts in there we can use.”

Two men came over and grabbed Bruce by the arms. He yelled as they dragged him away. Jax started to go after them, but Buzard grabbed his shoulder.

Jax cried out, and one knee hit the floor.

“Like I said, let’s get that shoulder looked at.”

A sharp burn touched the side of his neck. Jax cried out, knowing exactly what had just happened. They wanted him to pass out. Unconscious so they could do anything to him, and he’d have no way to fight back.

He launched up, refusing to go down like this. Determined not to pass out.

Warmth spread through him. “No, no, no.”

“Just something to make you feel better,” Buzard said. “My own recipe.”

“You gave me pain meds.”

“Even better, you’ll need another dose within an hour, and if you don’t get it?” He whistled. “You think it was rough getting off the meds last time.”

Jax stared at him. “Your own recipe?”

“You’re welcome.”

“The other you said that to Kenna. Seems like it runs in the family.”

Buzard stared at him, his assessing gaze entirely too clinical.

Sure, he was a doctor, but he also came across like some of the serial killers Jax had met over the years as an FBI agent.

This guy just had that look about him. Above the law, to the point he considered the law irrelevant.

It definitely didn’t apply to him, so much so that he rarely even thought about considering it a boundary for living an upright life.

Then Buzard laughed, and it sounded hollow. “The other me. He was a nut job, wasn’t he?” He glanced down the long room, with rows of hospital beds.

Jax said, “She told you about how she killed him, right?”

He needed to goad the guy rather than contemplate the feeling that seemed to be spreading through him, reaching the tips of his fingers and his toes.

Whatever Buzard had given him sent the pain packing somewhere else.

Not that he was going to thank the guy, since he’d implied it was even more addictive than narcotics.

“He was working to release a deadly contagion that would wipe out most of the world’s population,” Jax continued, looking around as if interested. “Is that what you’re doing here?”

Buzard sat stiffly, so pale he might as well be dead. “A pandemic.” He shook a little, as though laughing. “A little on the nose, isn’t it? Release a disease and show up with the cure so you can be the savior of the world.”

“That position has been filled.” Jax wanted to roll his shoulders. It was like an itch, but he knew it would be excruciating if he tried.

“Let’s get him on the scanner. We need to find out what’s going on with that shoulder.” Buzard lifted his chin.

Jax spun to whoever was coming up behind him, spotted Amara at the door watching everything, and was too late to stop them from grabbing him. His head spun. His reflexes seemed like they were under water.

Then his back hit a hospital bed, and he realized they’d lifted him and dumped him there. Pain echoed in his shoulder, but he couldn’t quite feel it.

Leaning over him, Buzard palpated Jax’s shoulder joint, sending white-hot shards racing through him on the inside. But without the pain receptors functioning, he could barely feel it. “Not good. He may need surgery.”

The bed moved, and lights flashed overhead.

This was what God wanted him to submit to? He could fight tooth and nail, but what would that achieve? Right now, he could barely lift his head, let alone swing a punch with his off arm.

The world rotated around him.

More lights overhead, him being pushed along on the bed underneath them. Only able to lie here and stare at the ceiling as it passed.

This is what You’re asking?

Sure, Kenna had suffered for years with painful forearms, and the other Buzard had “fixed” her as if she’d asked him to alter her genetics. Whether he liked it or not, they had been drawn into this because Dominatus saw them as meeting some kind of quota.

Which his father had apparently neglected to tell him.

Not entirely surprising. Jax didn’t have the energy to be angry about it. Not when he was far more concerned with the IV being inserted in the inside of his elbow.

When he’d talked through it with Bruce, Jax hadn’t even been thinking about something like this. He’d wondered now if God really did want him to trust, even if it meant losing Kenna.

Would they both be at the mercy of their enemy for the rest of their lives?

He didn’t want to raise a child in this.

He wanted the RV, a shot at disappearing, and years of peace to be a family. Not the FBI career he’d thought he would always have, because it’s who he had become out of necessity—for his own survival.

Eventually, he’d lost the place where who he was ended, and he’d become who he needed to be.

Without that part of his life there to hold him together, he had to rely fully on the Lord for a shot at keeping it together.

He couldn’t rely on himself. That guy was far too human, too fallible.

Too much of an addict. Kenna needed the man God was making him into as the man with her, standing by her.

Supporting her. Saving her from their enemies.

Jax’s arm shifted, and someone took off his watch.

That was the last shard of awareness he had.

He didn’t drift to the surface. He clawed his way up, grasping for every ounce of consciousness he could get before he found himself blinking and opening his eyes. Trying to get the room around him to come into focus.

She sat beside his bed. Dark hair, and slender shoulders. Tall enough to fit just right.

“Kenna.”

She moved, coming over to stand beside the bed. “Sorry. It’s just me, Amara.”

He sighed out a heavy breath.

“Like I said. Sorry.” She shook her head. “I can’t find her. They only said she’s ‘out there’ somewhere and it’s an experiment, but I don’t know what. They won’t give me details, and it would be too suspicious for me to keep asking.

He managed to nod, understanding but not liking it. “What about?—”

“They saw the chopper on approach. They shot it down.” A tear ran from the corner of her eye. “Everyone on board is dead. It crashed into the ocean on fire.”

Jax squeezed his eyes shut.

“The doctor said the surgery went well.”

He didn’t open his eyes.

“They replaced your shoulder with some kind of cutting-edge technology with their proprietary material that’s supposed to mimic bone. And it interacts with your body and your bloodstream the way real bone would. It’s kind of amazing what they can do.”

Jax looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Yes, because it means that my grandchild might be born healthy.” She sounded tentative, unsure how he would react to the cold reality of the situation.

“She will be born into this nightmare. Raised not knowing any other way. A victim, like the rest of us.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I take what I can get. That’s all I’ve ever been able to do.” She reached for the hospital blanket over him but pulled her hand back. “You’ll be together again, at least.”

“Living here? For the rest of our lives?” He refused to believe it was over. No way was this fight finished. He would never quit and accept defeat.

Don’t take me to that edge, Lord.

And yet, that was exactly what might happen.

That same surrender might look a whole lot like submitting to Dominatus on the outside, while in his heart it was about yielding his life to what God wanted from him.

No questions, just surrender. Just faith that God had it all in His hands, and He’d work everything for good for those that love Him.

No matter what.