Chapter Eight
I see a bad moon arisin'
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and
I see bad times today
Creedence Clearwater Revival
After nearly four months together, they had a routine in place. If Jax was in town, he brought lunch with him. If he was gone, he sent her a single rose a day, at work. Her colleagues liked to tease her about it, but they knew she was happy.
Kehau regularly made him baked goods of some kind. She’d done brownies, cupcakes, or chocolate chip cookies at least once a week for him. Jax always accepted them graciously and seemed to eat everything, yet never gained any weight. Kehau didn't know how he did it, traveling all the time like he did.
Today was a lunch day, and Kehau desperately needed it. Hell, she needed any good news, this week had been rough. Fortunately, Jax was waiting in the office for her, and she could smell what he’d brought.
“Please tell me those are cinnamon rolls. And hold the sarcasm. I do not need it.”
Jax smiled as he pulled her chair out for her. “Yes they are, and who needs to die?”
“Nobody yet, but I could use a break.”
“In that case, I have good news.”
Kehau cocked an eyebrow as she looked up from a massive caramel and pecan covered cinnamon roll. “Oh?”
“So I have this event to attend and I need a date. Don’t suppose you know where I could find a woman interested in an evening of dinner, dancing, and dressing up in something slinky do you?”
Her gaze would’ve reduced a lesser man to ashes. “If you go with anybody else, I will take you shark cage diving. Without the cage. When is it?”
“Two weeks from now, on Saturday. Four-day weekend.”
“Just how big is this ‘event’?”
“About a thousand people in attendance.”
“One thousand people? And I’m supposed to find a dress and hair style I like in two weeks?” she shrieked.
Jax looked around sheepishly. “Ummm…yeah.”
“You’re nuts! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Work. Didn't know if I was going to be able to attend or not.”
“Argh!” she threw her hands up in the air. “It’s always work isn’t it? I still don’t even know what you do for a living!”
“I’m a consultant,” he deadpanned.
“Consultant for what?”
When he refused to answer, she pressed on. “Why don’t you trust me?”
“Why haven’t I met your parents yet?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you embarrassed about me? Got some hippie parents you’re afraid for the big bad Marine to meet?”
“No but—“
“You want me to share. Then it’s time you start doing the same.”
“No!” She shook her head in defiance. “Absolutely not.”
“What I do for a living is my business and my employees’ business.”
“Not good enough."
“What we have here is a failure to communicate.”
“Yeah you're being a stubborn asshole,” Kehau snarled.
“And you're not doing the same?”
“We are not discussing my parents.”
“Well then, I guess we’re done talking.” Jax abruptly stood and walked out the door. No words, no one-liner thrown over his shoulder at her. Just gone. "Fine, be that way!” she shouted. “See if I care!”
She was trying to take another bite of her food when she heard the sound of rubber squealing and burning in the parking lot. It faded into the distance with a roar.
Kehau found she’d lost her appetite quite suddenly. And she wondered if she hadn’t just made the worst mistake of her life. Rain began to patter against the windows of the office and she threw her food down in disgust.
*****
Jax was pissed. Livid, irate, you name it, he was it. Why in the hell did she keep pushing when he’d made it obvious he didn’t want to talk about something? Damn the woman! Was it too much to ask for privacy? He drove on automatic, hardly noticing the scenery around him. Nor the rain as it began to fall, harder and harder.
Which also meant he didn’t notice the car following him as he took the off-ramp to his apartment in the Salt Lake area. Only another week or two and my new house will be fully built, ready to move into. I hate living in an apartment. He sighed. I’ll talk to Kehau later about all of this.
*****
“Good afternoon, keikis!” Kehau smiled brightly.
“Hello, Miss Makoa,” the children chorused together.
This was quite possibly her most favorite class to teach—Children’s Hula. Kehau loved much about modern dance, but teaching traditional Polynesian dance and culture three times a week to the youngsters brought her the most satisfaction. It was a new program here at the campus, and if it did well in the coming months, Kehau foresaw it expanding. Unlike my relationship with Jax. That looked like it was dead in the water and sinking fast. Enough of that, another voice chided her. Concentrate on the kids and give them your best.
Lightning cracked through the sky, shocking everybody and making the lights flicker.
“Nothing to worry about, kids, it’ll pass in a moment,” Kehau assured them.
The door flew open with a bang. Sione. Followed by two more men holding Machetes. Sione himself held a gun.
“Up against the wall!” he bellowed.
Kehau and the children were quick to obey, even as Sione stalked toward her. “Told you I’d come back for you.” His breath reeked of alcohol and his eyes were bloodshot.
She said nothing.
“I’m gonna get your boyfriend too. Make him beg for his life.” He backhanded her across the mouth and she stumbled backwards. “And once he’s begged long enough, I’m gonna kill him in front of you. Then you'll be mine again, all mine.”
There was murder in his eyes, and for once in her life, Kehau knew the meaning of total helplessness.
*****
Jax didn’t notice the white Civic pull up behind him as he approached the door of his house. An all-consuming rage had filled him. I’m gonna need at least an hour of bag work before I feel any better. Goddamn that woman! She’s just like all the rest!
He stuck the key in the lock and turned it just as the first pop reached his ears, giving him a milo of a second to realize someone was shooting at him. "Son-of-a-bitch," being yelled was followed by BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM as five shots impacted in the doorframe beside him. In an instant he was diving through the door and scooting behind the cheap couch.
More shots followed as the shooter ripped through their magazine, blasting holes in the drywall, the window, rounds hammering into the partially open door. Adrenaline surged through Jax’s veins, combining with the anger in his heart. Shots pounded against the far wall as he collected himself. Near ambush, AK-fire directly at my six o’clock. Considering they missed, could only mean they’re either bad shots, or they hadn’t stopped moving.
Reaching down to his right hip, Jax pulled the gun he had waiting there. Two and a half pounds of stainless steel slid into his hand as easy as breathing. The silent weapon seemed to wink at him, as if to say ‘hello, old friend, it’s been a while since we were in this place.’ He checked the breech, then stood.
Lock and load, baby.
The Civic was empty, but he thought he heard footsteps coming up the sidewalk toward the front door. No idea the number of shooters. Damn. Oh well.
Stepping in front of the door, Jax let fly a hammer pair, dropping the first man he saw. Behind him was a second, thinner man, holding a pistol. Need at least one for intel. His aim shifted and he shot the man in his left leg.
Pistolero fell to the ground, handgun forgotten as he grabbed for his bleeding leg. If he didn’t get a doctor soon though, he’d be in real trouble.
“You looking for me?”
Eyes widened but the man said nothing. Jax looked over them closely, noting the tattoos they wore.
“Nanakuli boys. Not real surprising. Who sent you?”
Silence.
Very well.
Without preamble, Jax shot Pistolero in the shoulder. He screamed and Jax smelled shit as the injured man voided his bowels.
“That was a grazing shot. It’ll bleed but it won’t kill. The next shot goes through a knee. Who sent you?”
“Sione Akamaka! And he’s gunning for your girl too!”
“Sione’s in jail.”
“Not after the riot this morning. We were supposed to take you to him.”
Jax’s blood turned to ice. “Very well,” he proclaimed. Pulling out his cell phone, he made a call.
“Sam, it’s Jax. I’ve got two guys on my doorstep, one dead the other’s bleeding. Couple of Nanakuli boys doing a wet job for Sione. Guess he busted out this morning during the riot.”
Sam’s voice took on an odd, strangled sound. Jax had no doubt the veteran officer would be cussing up a blue streak after he hung up the phone.
“So that little son-of-a-bitch came after you?”
“Came and failed. Sam, he’s headed after Kehau too.”
“Goddammit. I’ll roll SWAT over to HPU, but we’re still dealing with the riot aftermath and trying to get responders in place.”
“Roger that." An idea struck Jax then. "Tell the SWAT I’m en route with a team. We can be onsite and make entry while they follow up and secure the perimeter.”
"I thought your teams were all on vacation for the holidays?" Sam asked.
"Squad leaders are still in town until tomorrow night."
"Just the five of you?"
“Against street thugs? Please. That’s wheat before the scythe and you know it.”
Sam hesitated. “If you say so. But that’s a helluva gamble.”
"I know. Make sure anybody patrolling the freeway hears we're coming. Doesn't look good if my guys are getting chased down H2 and up the Like."
"Consider it done. Go get those bastards before they hurt anybody else."
Duct tape did for restraints on Pistolero. His friend didn’t need any. The dead never do. “When HPD gets here, I suggest you sing like a rooster. Because that’ll be the only thing that saves you from a hanging.”
Walking around to the garage, Jax climbed inside his truck and pulled a cellphone out of a hard case just below the stereo system. It was his business phone. Bringing up the program his IT whiz had created, he dialed four numbers at once on a conference call. "This is Johnny Rocket, authenticate Charlie-Alpha-niner-tree-fife-tree-fife. How copy?"
"This is Pop Eye. Uniform Tango eight-four-tree-two-one. Secure."
"Rodeo." Without even being there to see it, he knew they were already moving toward the arms room at a run as they secured their vests. Quick Response Force standard required the duty team be out the door and moving less than three minutes after a call came in. Veterans know their business and what they are about.
"We have a Breslin in progress," Jax continued on. "Bluebird needs us to make entry and neutralize all targets. Dress to kill with cans. Rendezvous at HPU K-Bay. Call for hard location at echo minus tree mikes. Questions?"
The conversation had been entirely in the shorthand slang and brevity codes that military men use daily out of habit. But with it Jax had been able to tell the men exactly what the situation was, it’s location, gear they'd need, and what to do along the way. Now all that remained was to go hunt.
"What is our rate of travel?" Marius asked.
"Full cyclic. Bluebird knows you're coming and has authorized you to stroll past."
Donny whooped. "Hell yeah!"
Jax allowed himself a grim smile. Knowing the Rockstar, he’d be on that new Hayabusa of his and thundering down the road daring anybody to keep up with him.
"ETA fifteen mikes," Marius announced firmly.
As they had been talking, Jax was navigating his way to the H-2 Freeway. The on-ramp came into sight and his foot smashed the accelerator into the floorboards. Five hundred horses worth of thunder and fury launched the Chevrolet forward as the tachometer needle soared. Today was a very good day to die.
Chapter Nine
Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard.
'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the Devil deals it hard.
And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold,
But if you lose the devil gets your soul.
Charlie Daniels
The chaos surrounding the school was incredible. Jax looked at it, biting back at the anger rising inside him as he parked his truck near Kehau's building. At least three injured nearby, and by the uniform, a campus cop who looked as if he'd been hacked apart. Machetes. Oh, damn. I’ll bet anything they're on some hard drugs.
Stepping out and swinging up into the bed, he opened the lockbox residing there. Blades sat in their sheaths, hooked on to a web belt. “Damn it,” Jax cursed as he realized what was wrong.
Normally, he kept a rifle in the lockbox. That rifle was currently sitting in Xavier’s armory, disassembled. Somehow he’d forgotten that tiny little detail.
At least I’ve got my pistol and my kukri. Note to self, fix this later. And he went back to dressing.
People glanced at him as they ran past, moving down the hill as quickly as they could. Jax paid no heed at all, he was back in that familiar place. Where there was no need to rush, no need to hurry. He was not a well-rounded man who understood all things. But he’d had a first-rate education at the school of the rifle, pistol, and blade. He knew how to protect the things he loved the most.
Jax belted it all on, loosening retaining straps on his knives and axe as he looked up toward the building grimly, rolling back the cuffs of his sleeves to the elbows. It was a reflex habit from his time deployed. Heavy metal gauntlets slid over his hands, as he recited the creed taught at the School of Infantry.
Locate, close with, and destroy the enemy, by fire and maneuver, or repel the enemy assault by fire and close combat.
The sound of motorcycle engines filled the air. Four men in Jaëger’s trademark outfit: camouflage pattern German-style greatcoats and a variety of helmets, rolled up to the curb beside his truck.
They parked, dismounted, and began to disrobe; beneath were tac-vests loaded down with weapons, knives, and magazines of ammunition. Wearing greatcoats allowed the men to easily conceal their gear while in transit to a job site.
"How many?" Marius asked.
"No clue. Can't be more than two dozen. They've got Machetes though. Probably jumped up on Angel dust or heroin."
"Not good."
"Nope. Dance studio is on the third floor at a dead end. We make entry here, secure both stairwells, and move up. Rendezvous in the parallel hallway."
Marius rubbed his jaw. "Gonna have to run uneven teams. Who do you want for the duo?"
"Myself and Joachim. I know the layout and so does Donny, so we'll go up the back. Meet near the studio."
"Simple enough. Just don't let Old Man Murphy hear about it."
"Or Emperor Mong."
“Hey, Joachim, you're still a virgin right? We need to make a sacrifice to appease the Elder gods!”
Joachim didn't look back but the upraised middle finger on his left hand gave the team a reason to laugh.
"Are you the police?" a voice called out to them. The Japanese man in the suit looked visibly shaken at the sight of the dead and wounded.
“And you are?”
“Ken Ahuna, Dean of the School.”
"We’re with the police," Jax answered. "Get everybody away from the building. Now."
Spying a man in a maintenance uniform, Jax approached him. "I need you to shut down the power."
"Gimme a minute to get around back."
"Hustle. Soon as the power goes out, we're headed in there to kill some bastards."
As the maintenance man shuffled off, the Jaëger men stacked up beside the door, just out of sight. Jax dialed Sam’s number again.
“You're a
t HPU already?”
“You pay me for results remember?”
“Fair enough. What’ve you got?”
“Looks like multiple assailants, Machetes, no guns so far.”
“How soon will you make entry?”
“Next thirty seconds or thereabouts.”
“Smart man.” A pause. “SWAT team commander’s been notified you’re on site. It’s Balanay.” He paused. ”I wish I was there with you,” Sam declared in a wistful voice.
“I know,” Jax replied. Suddenly the lights went out in the building. “Gotta run, making entry now.”
Jax moved silently through the halls as Joachim covered his rear. Near the corner, he heard heavy breathing and the sound of somebody drinking loudly from a fountain. His left fist went up as he paused for a peek. One finger went up, then a knife hand.
One man with a knife.
Joachim flashed it back to him and Jax stepped around the corner. The man was still turned away from him.
Target acquired.
The kukri on his left hip silently slid out of its sheath. Jax stepped forward and pivoted as he brought the kukri down in fast slash. Machete man never knew what hit him and died instantly. It was a company rule ever since a job in Congo went bad that people with any kind of knife died first in close quarters. Jax had no pity for him.
Chose to be violent against innocent people, now you'll learn the price for your actions.
Joachim caught one roving, and from the sounds of it, the others had similar numbers. Experienced sentries would've known to keep within eyesight and hearing of each other. These had no experience, and they paid for the lack of it with their lives.
“Tough shit,” the veterans would later say amongst each other. That was the price of being in the business.
Hollywood always made it look like the heroes would take the bad guys with their Kung fu-Matrix-ninja-martial arts skills and just handcuff them all. Maybe if the situation were better, they could've chanced it. But with so many hostages, the only option was to move as hard and fast as possible.
The duo rendezvoused with the rest of the team one hallway over from the studio. Hand-signs flashed as the team rolled into a single file line moving down the hall on cat feet. Jax thought he could hear somebody yelling and ranting away. Xavier, their point man, dropped to a knee as he checked around the corner. Six fingers. A knife hand, followed by his hand held in an "O" shape and his fist opening and closing. Six targets with knives, no booby traps in sight.
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