Page 88 of Storm and Tempest
Dad gasped. “I recognize that place, Son. I know where it is.”
Jax looked up at his father, wanting to find words, but there was nothing.
Zeyla said, “My mother didn’t recognize it. How would you?”
“Because I visited that shipyard twice a month for years.” His dad lifted his chin. “I owned it.”
“Where is it?” Maizie asked.
His dad looked at her. “Canon Marine Shipyard. It’s on the northwest coast of Washington State.”
Maizie’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Found it. Give me the video, Jax. I’ll match it to the location if I can.”
Jax handed the phone back to Zeyla. “Send it to Maizie, please.”
She dipped her head to the phone and tapped away. “Just as long as we realize that there’s no way they’d send us video if there was any chance we’d be able to use it to find her.”
“And if we do,” Ramon said, “then it’s for sure a trap.”
Jax didn’t want to admit they were likely right. He wanted to find his wife. After all this time, he needed her back in his arms so he could protect both her and the baby.
His dad said, “The timing is a little coincidental.”
“Considering your arrival, I’d say so.” Ramon folded his arms.
“What is that supposed to mean, Son?”
“I’m not your son.” Ramon lifted his chin, motioning toward Jax. “He is. I’m the one watching his back while he does everything he can to find his wife. And what are you doing? Seems more like trying to save your own skin.”
“I’ve done what I’ve done to protect my family.”
“And save yourself,” Ramon shot back.
“Why wouldn’t I ensure we all survive? I don’t have to surrender myself to keep the people I love safe. This isn’t some contest of nobility where the one who is determined to die heroically is the winner.”
Jax turned around and started the RV engine, then pulled out of the gas station whether everyone was ready or not. They still had three quarters of a tank worth of gas remaining. “Buckle up. Washington is a long way.”
Zeyla clicked in her seatbelt. “What if my mother and Bruce want to come?”
“They can meet us.” Jax dug out his phone and called a number he hadn’t used in a long time. When it went to voicemail, he said, “I have updates. I’ve been expecting a callback for weeks, but no one has contacted me. So I’m making alternate arrangements.”
It wasn’t going to go down well, but he had priorities, and those of the group didn’t align right now.
He might apologize later, but he wasn’t going to mean it. The taskforce the president had set up wasn’t working. They weren’t achieving anything, or they’d cut out Jax. Instead, he needed good-quality, professional help. The kind that didn’t come cheap.
Jax hung up and called another number.
“Lightwood.”
“Preston, it’s Jax.”
“Wow.” The guy paused. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you.”
“I figured you might be in a position to help me out.”
Preston had spent time in prison for a murder he didn’t commit and found Jesus through a ministry that served inmates. He’d known Kenna’s father as a friend and considered Kenna the same. They’d helped each other out, and Jax had been involved for some of it.
But when Preston aligned himself with Miami Security International in keeping secrets about Kenna’s history from her, it had driven a wedge between them. Not that it stopped her from rescuing him and two MSI operatives fromDominatuscaptivity in France. Something that was only months ago but felt like years now.
