Page 91 of Storm and Tempest
Bear said, “Someone get these ladies pistols.”
One of his guys jogged over to a crate. They’d set up plenty of pallets and stacked them high so they’d have defensible positions. Preston walked away with Mr. Jonas beside him, limping on his cane, and Jax’s father following them.
“I don’t like this.” Zeyla glanced around. “Who are these guys?”
“I’m sure they’re asking the same about you,” Jax pointed out. “Bottom line? They’ve helped Kenna and I before on more than one occasion, and they’re here to help us face off against this team. They’re pros, mostly ex-military. The kind of people who show up when you call, no questions asked.”
“Fine.” She looked up at the windows, high at the top of the wall just before the ceiling peaked under the eaves of the roof. Rain hammered on the glass and in a few places ran down the wall on the inside. “Washington sucks.”
“You prefer the heat?”
“I don’t like being cold.” She hugged herself with one arm.
Jax said, “That’s one thing that you and Kenna don’t agree on.”
An alarm went off across the room, not loudly, but loud enough to pause the conversation. One of the MSI guys said, “Someone tripped the perimeter.”
Bear handed Zeyla a gun and said to Jax, “You take position over there.”
Jax crouched behind the pallets, unsure where to focus his attention. There were a couple of doors around the room, front and back. Probably entrances on the sides. The windows above were vulnerable points. Hopefully, someone on the team had been assigned to protect his father and the other two older men, even if they were capable of defending themselves. There was a reason they weren’t out here helping with the fight.
With this team and the resources MSI brought to the table, they had a much better chance at finding Kenna. As soon as theygot rid of this squad that had been chasing them up the freeway incessantly for days, they could get to the shipyard his dad had recognized in that video.
Kenna seemed to be closer than ever—but still too far away to grasp. His heart echoed the hammering of the rain on the window, fat droplets that hit the glass and dampened everything. The slow creep of hope faded, trickling away out of reach. Leaving him with an empty ache, tempting him to give up the search. To surrender his wife to their enemy because it looked far too impossible to get her back, and at least they were keeping her alive.
They still had an idea where she’d been, but no idea where she was now.
The slim lead of one word,offshore, and a shipyard in Washington State weren’t good. If she’d been put on a boat from here, she could be anywhere in the world now.
“Pizza delivery!”
Jax flinched, but he recognized the voice. Reminiscent of the way his father had shown up at his house—something Bruce hadn’t been present for—it was a decent way to announce himself in a situation like this. Anyone with their finger close to a trigger would hesitate, suddenly thinking about melted cheese and the scent of hot pepperoni.
“It’s Bruce!” Maizie yelled loudly. “Nobody shoot!”
“And Amara!” the pizza guy called back. “We’re coming in, so don’t blow our heads off.”
Zeyla came out from behind cover. “Mom!”
Jax heard Ramon say, “Stay put” and agreed with him. He wanted Maizie to remain where she was. Zeyla crossed the warehouse floor and went out of sight for a second when she passed a stack of pallets.
As she stepped into view, a gunshot rang out from high in the rafters.
Zeyla hit the floor and rolled out of sight. He didn’t think she’d been shot but couldn’t be certain without looking for himself.
Jax spun and saw a guy climb through the window. He aimed at the shock of nearly white-blond hair at the same time several other people fired their weapons. The guy’s body jerked, and he tumbled over the railing to the floor not so far away from Jax. He hit with a sickening thud, and Maizie yelped.
“Keep your eyes open!” Bear turned, assessing all corners of the room. “They’re here.”
Amara yelled, “Bruce, this way! Help me!”
The two of them moved with Zeyla to the side of the room out of sight. Jax kept an eye on the windows he could see, covering that entrance just in case. Making sure no one from the team got the upper hand on them.
He saw movement behind the glass, and the window began to tilt. In a second, whoever it was would step inside.
Jax would’ve preferred a rifle, given the distance, but braced his elbows on the edge of one pallet and squeezed off two shots. The window shattered, and the person never stepped inside. If someone had been out there, they weren’t anymore.
“I have two coming in the front,” one of the MSI guys said between the sound of gunshots. “Another at the back.”
