Page 78 of Storm and Tempest
Elliot swallowed. “I just…” He looked at the woman beside him, then back at Jax. He twisted to her. “Just tell me where to meet you.”
“It’s over, Elliot. Sandra is dead, and you aren’t an FBI agent anymore as far as I can see. So what use do I have for you?” She had no emotion in her tone. Even her expression gave away nothing.
As if she had no feeling at all.
But the voice… Oh, the voice was almost an exact match for Kenna’s. Enough it made him wonder if she’d had corrective surgery to make her sound like his wife. The sound of it caused that squeeze in his chest again, the persistent pang of heartache.
Elliot blurted, “Kenna?—”
Jax flinched. Maizie was the one who said, “That isn’t Kenna.”
Elliot frowned. “Of course, it’s Kenna.” He swallowed. “It’s good you guys found her. I know you were pretty worried.” He shifted in the seat.
Nervous? “Why are you here, Elliot?” Jax didn’t take his attention from the woman, but he watched Elliot as well. “Why did you come to this bank?”
The Kenna lookalike seemed bored more than anything. She had either not noticed Zeyla and Ramon standing guard, or she didn’t care one bit for this confrontation and what might happen.
“I need to know what to do.” He clutched his phone between his hands. “I need orders, and Kenna is the one who gives them to Sandra and I.”
“Since when?” Jax shook his head. Elliot seemed surprised his sister was an operative.
“Since you first brought her to the FBI. Everyone knows who she is. I got into my sister’s phone account and read through her messages. She’s been getting orders from Kenna for months.”Elliot motioned to the woman pretending to be Jax’s wife, who’d gone to that bar and “bought” a particular girl, and starred in a video that made it look like Kenna was having an affair with a dead man. Realization registered on his face. “In the messages, she said you knew.” He shifted in the seat, suddenly self-conscious. “She said you were part of all of it.”
“And when you were captured by Amara?” Jax asked, because Elliot had been in Amara’s “care” for weeks.
Elliot glanced at the Kenna lookalike. “I didn’t share anything Sandra knew with that woman. How could I when I had no idea?”
“That doesn’t change the situation,” she said.
Jax clenched his stomach, steeling himself against the voice. “You might not have told her, Elliot, but you’re going to tell me.”
A bank employee in a suit, his stomach distended between the sides of his jacket, wandered over. Slicked-back gray hair. “Ms. Banbury?” He glanced at the rest of them, then his client.
Jax stood at the same time she did, trusting that Ramon wouldn’t let Elliot leave. “This is my wife. I’m glad I made it here in time for the appointment.” Jax stuck his hand out to the guy, and they shook. “Oliver Jaxton. I work for the FBI.” He didn’t give either of them a chance to speak. “What are we meeting about?”
The manager seemed a little confused why Jax was there—or why Jax looked like he’d been in a fight. “I’m Brian Holder. It’s nice to meet you both. I saw in our system that you’ve been a client of ours for years, Ms. Banbury.”
She started to speak, but a gunshot exploded behind them.
Jax expected someone to drop to the ground, and his mind eclipsed with dread as to who it would be. But Elliot had his gun pointed at the ceiling.
“This is a robbery!” Elliot yelled. “Nobody?—”
Ramon launched himself at Elliot and tackled him to the floor.
The Kenna lookalike darted away, but Zeyla intercepted her, and they tumbled to the floor, screaming at each other. Bank security raced over, looking around as if they weren’t exactly sure where to begin.
Elliot’s gun skittered across the floor and a security guard swept it up. The manager looked around, panic in his expression. Jax checked on Maizie, but she had her head dipped to her iPad. “You good, Maze?”
“Mm-hmm. I accessed her phone through the Bluetooth. I’m cloning it.”
“You want to let her go?”
She looked up at him. “Should we?”
Jax realized the manager had backed up. Beyond where they stood, Zeyla caught an elbow to the face but rallied and slammed the other woman’s head on the floor. She slumped on the tile, out cold. Zeyla stilled, breathing hard. “Ramon!”
“I’m good. You?”
