Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bozeman, Montana

X avier turned the key and pushed open the door to Jazz’s apartment. He felt like an intruder, and though he knew he wouldn’t likely find any clues to what had happened to her, he had to make sure.

Having all agreed that Jazz was no longer in Seattle, the team had returned to headquarters. The two men who’d abducted Jazz were dead, which meant someone else had been responsible. Getting rid of the hirelings and then getting her out of town made sense. Without any clear leads, they were going on the assumption that the man or men responsible had seen her in the video from the restaurant, hired local thugs to help with the kidnapping, and then killed the men to keep them quiet.

While Serena was digging into every known associate of the two thugs and tracking their actions over the last few months, Eve and Gideon were investigating those leads along with putting out fires in other ongoing cases.

Ash had gone to North Carolina for a face-to-face with Kate. After hanging up on him when he’d called her about Jazz’s abduction, she had called back half an hour later and requested a meeting. It was obvious she had some intel, but why wouldn’t she blurt it out if it would help find Jazz?

Kate Walker keeping secrets from OZ was bizarre on its own merits. She had been their biggest supporter from the beginning. They wouldn’t have accomplished nearly what they had been able to do without her assistance. So why the hell would she be reluctant to share what she could to help find Jazz? It made no sense.

So everyone had an assignment, and this was his. He hated invading her space. This was Jazz’s sanctuary—where she lived her real life, away from the role she played as an OZ operative. As much as Jazz loved her OZ family, when it came to her personal life, she could be very private. He got that. Independence and self-sufficiency were of utmost importance to her. And he felt like the biggest slug alive for invading her privacy. But he was desperate. She had disappeared eight days ago, and they still had no inkling who had taken her or why.

Jazz lived simply and was a minimalist almost to the point of deprivation. There wasn’t a lot of color in her décor, which suited her personality. The living room held a comfortable-looking faux suede sofa with numerous colorful throw pillows and an old rocking chair by the window where he imagined she liked to sit and look at the mountains in the distance. A television hung on the wall, and an old forty-five record player sat in the corner. He remembered that Jazz had told him about that purchase—she had been excited to find something rare and old that still worked.

There were a few framed photographs on the walls, not of people but of landscapes. They were black-and-white and, though stark, seemed to fit the overall theme of simplicity.

The kitchen was utilitarian with just a coffeemaker and toaster on the counter. He spotted a mug beside the sink and smiled at the picture of a large orange cat with the name Scaredy beneath the photo. He knew Jazz was an animal lover, but she had always claimed she couldn’t get a pet because of her work schedule. While he agreed they were out of town a lot, he wasn’t sure that was the biggest reason. She had lost so much in her life. Sometimes, it was easier to go without than to take a chance on losing it. He understood that philosophy all too well.

Shaking himself out of his psychoanalyzing mode, he quickly went through her cabinets. He didn’t expect to find any insightful information, but he was too thorough to not look. Other than an inordinate supply of Jiffy peanut butter and several cans of SpaghettiOs, her shelves were almost bare.

The fridge held even less—a gallon of milk, butter, eggs, yogurt, and cheese.

He went to her bedroom and felt his heart lift at the scent that hit his nose. Jazz had a preference for jasmine. She’d told him since it was her name, how could it not be her signature fragrance?

Her bedroom was no more elaborate than the rest of her apartment. A regular-sized bed with a simple white coverlet, a nightstand holding a candle, flashlight, and a worn-looking paperback of Little Women . The surface of the eight-drawered dresser across from the bed was empty. Grinding his teeth and feeling like a voyeur, Xavier opened each drawer and searched through her things. Jeans, T-shirts, and underwear were stacked neatly in each one.

He was about to close the last one, her sock drawer, when his fingertip happened to tap the bottom. A hollow sound caught his attention. Removing the socks, he tapped harder and realized it was a false bottom. Taking his knife from his pocket, he pried open the cover and found a small wooden box. The guilt in his gut didn’t prevent him from opening and rifling through the contents. He’d apologize after he found her.

All he found was an envelope addressed to Brody McAlister in Indianapolis. He opened it and felt a lump develop in his throat as he read the simple, heart-wrenching note from a heartbroken little girl.

Dear Brody, you left to buy groceries, but you never came home.

Jazz had actually told him about the letter. When she’d first explained about her background and how her brother had disappeared, she’d told him how she had written and mailed him a letter. She’d said she had remembered her mother filling out a change-of-address form when they’d moved to Atlanta with her new stepfather and stepbrother. Her mother had told her that if anyone wanted to get in touch with them, the mail would be forwarded from their old address to their new one. She had thought that perhaps Brody had left her and might have a new address.

She had given a small, self-deprecating laugh as she described how the innocent little girl who’d had no idea what to do to find her brother had done the only thing she knew to do. Xavier thought that might have been the beginning of his hatred for Brody McAlister.

Being a nosy asshole was anathema for him, but as he read the letter, his anger against her brother grew with each line he read. Desperation and loneliness filled the short note. Xavier folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. He really hoped he got the chance to put his fist in Brody McAlister’s face one day.

He returned the box to its hiding place and closed the drawer. He would have to tell her he’d read it. He just hoped he got the chance to do that.

Not seeing anything that would lead him to finding Jazz, he left the bedroom and did a cursory search of the bathroom. Feeling even more helpless than he had when he’d entered the apartment, he quickly headed to the front door. His phone buzzed just before he put his hand on the doorknob.

He saw a number on the screen that he didn’t recognize, and his heart leaped. He prayed that Jazz had somehow found a way to call him. He quickly answered, “Jazz?”

“Z, that you?”

Xavier held his breath to keep from letting out a huge sigh of disappointment. There was only one person who called him Z.

“Cotton? How are you, man? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?”

He’d gone through basic training with Clayton Cotton, and their friendship, such as it was, had lasted for over a decade. He only heard from him every few years now, but he always tried to be available when the man called. Some people just needed an extra shoulder to lean on during tough times, and Cotton was one of those people.

The first time Xavier had seen the man, he had been lying on the ground. Blood had covered his face, and the asshole beating him hadn’t been stopping. Xavier hadn’t cared what had started the fight, but watching a kid who obviously had no fighting skills get beaten to a pulp pissed him off mightily. He’d jerked the guy off Cotton and kicked the bully’s ass. That day, he’d made a friend. Xavier had long forgotten the bully’s name, but Cotton had stayed in touch with him.

Last time he’d heard, the man was tending bar somewhere up north. He’d left the military a few years after Xavier, and though they’d never served together in the same places, they’d somehow stayed in touch.

When Cotton didn’t immediately answer, Xavier knew something was up. “What’s wrong, Cotton? You in trouble?”

“Sort of. I just…I need to tell you something.”

Xavier settled his back against Jazz’s door. Cotton didn’t have family or many friends he could go to in times of trouble. Xavier always tried to be there for him. Even though his mind was screaming at him to go out and find Jazz, he forced himself to give his friend his attention. “Okay. What is it?”

“Remember last year when Alfredo Lopez was almost killed in that restaurant blast in Puerto Rico?”

Xavier straightened his shoulders, now completely focused on Cotton’s words. “How did you know about that?”

“It was me. I set the charge.”

“What? What the hell, Cotton?”

“I’m sorry, Z. I took the job but didn’t know you’d be there…that you were working an op. When I saw you in the kitchen that day, I knew if I pulled out of the job, they’d find someone else. So I protected you. I made it a small blast. The old geezer was about a thousand years old. I figured he’d die from fright even if the explosion didn’t kill him.”

He and Jazz had been working undercover in the restaurant, keeping eyes on Lopez, a cartel leader who was there to meet someone. If the plan had been to kill Lopez, they’d always wondered why there had been only one charge.

Afterward, he and Jazz had stayed in Puerto Rico for several days, trying to get answers. Even though they’d gotten answers, who’d actually set the charge had remained a mystery.

“Why were you trying to kill a cartel leader?”

“It was my job. I’m a gun for hire.”

Xavier closed his eyes. Cotton didn’t always make good decisions. A shitty childhood had messed with him in a big way. But now he was a paid assassin?

“How…why…”

“Listen, I can’t really explain other than I kind of got lost after I left the service. Didn’t know what direction to take. I needed money, and some of the things I’m trained for… Well, there’s not much call for them in the regular world. You know?”

Yeah, he couldn’t argue with that. When you’d been trained to do certain things and you were in a normal world, things weren’t always black and white. If not for Option Zero, the same thing might’ve been his fate.

“Anyway, I needed the money, so I took the job. Guess you know it was his nephew who hired the hit.”

“Yeah.” Cartels were often good at solving their own crimes. Alfredo’s nephew had gotten tired of waiting for his uncle to die so he could take over. Thought he’d help things along. Instead, his uncle hadn’t died, and the nephew had paid for his betrayal with his life. Justice, especially in the criminal world, could be quick and brutal.

“So anyway, my reputation took a major hit when I didn’t make the kill. I decided that life wasn’t for me.”

“That’s good, Cotton. You made the right decision.”

“Yeah, I know. But the other day, I caught wind of another hit. And I… Well…”

His heart dropped. “Cotton?”

“I got a text from a friend. Said a man out of Chicago was looking for some local talent. My friend knew I stay around that area, so he went ahead and sent me the name and photo. It was a different name, but when I saw the photo, I knew I had to do something. The photo was of you, Z.”

Closing his eyes, Xavier breathed out gruffly, “You were the shooter in Seattle.”

“Yeah. But you gotta know I missed on purpose. I’m a good shot, Z. You know that for a fact.”

Yes, he did know that. And Eve had been right when she’d suggested that the shooter had been trying to miss.

“Why, Cotton?”

“Client wanted it done ASAP. I knew if I didn’t take the contract, someone else would. Thought I’d give you a few warning shots, you’d get out of town, and that would be that. Since they didn’t have your real name, I thought you’d be safe.” He swallowed hard and said hoarsely, “I didn’t mean for the guy with you to get hurt.”

Xavier closed his eyes again, seeing Hawke’s lifeless body, blood pouring from his neck. That was an image he’d never get out of his head. To know this man—his friend—had caused it was both infuriating and gut-wrenching.

“Z?”

Pulling in the anger, Xavier said, “I know you didn’t, Cotton.” Out of all the thoughts whirling in his brain, that was one thing he knew for a fact. Cotton didn’t have a killer instinct. The man wasn’t evil—he was just lost.

“Who’s the client? Who put out the hit?”

“Don’t know. Just some guy out of Chicago. Funds were transferred from a bank in Barbados.”

Thinking Serena could trace the money, he said, “Can you text me the bank info and tracking number?”

“Sure thing, Z. Anything I can do to help.”

“How much for the job?”

“Twenty thousand. Ten up front. Ten when the job was done.”

As hits went, that wasn’t a lot. It made him wonder how motivated these people were to get rid of him.

“And I was the only target?”

“Yes. The photo showed you at some fancy restaurant. Looked like you were with someone, but your face was the only one shown.”

That was one bit of good news—maybe. At least there hadn’t been a hit out on Jazz, too. At least as far as he knew. But her abduction and this contract on his life had to be related. Had some creep seen them together at the restaurant, decided he wanted Jazz for himself, and thought getting rid of Xavier would cut out his competition? That was an insane premise, but crazy things happened every damn day.

Rubbing his forehead where a headache was setting up camp, Xavier tried to see past the confusion and figure out what the hell was going on. Who was this person, and what did he want with Jazz? There was still so much they didn’t know.

Chicago, though. That was something they could work with. Without ending his call with Cotton, Xavier texted Rose. Get me on a flight to Chicago. ASAP.

“Z, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Just trying to get my head wrapped around this.”

“Is he… Is that guy… He going to be okay?”

“Yes. He lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t mean… Shit. I’m just real sorry, Z.”

“I know you are, Cotton. So what now? Where do you go from here?”

“I gotta get out of the country. I took half the money, so I figure they’re going to be looking for me to get it back.”

Reminding himself that OZ hadn’t been created only to bring the wicked to justice but to give second chances to those who’d lost their way, Xavier said, “Listen, I can help. A woman named Rose is going to call you and give you what you need. She’ll get you a new name, new everything. You can start all over again.”

“You don’t have to do that, Z. I can take care of myself. I just wanted you to know.”

“Listen, Cotton. They’ll probably be looking for you. Ten thousand is nothing to sneeze at. This is a chance to start over. Find yourself. Take the chance, man. Get a clean start.”

“You’re a good friend, Z. The best.”

“Just take care of yourself. Get a place to live, a regular job. Find a girlfriend. Have a good life. You deserve it. Okay?”

“Yeah… Thanks again, Z. Take care.”

The instant the call ended, he punched in Ash’s number.

“Xavier?”

“Yeah, I got a lead.”

“Me, too,” Ash said.

They spoke simultaneously. “Chicago.”

His heart rate kicked into high gear. “Kate told you something?”

“She did. Not everything, though.”

“She’s still holding back on you? Why would she do that?”

The thought that Kate Walker would hold on to information that could help them find Jazz was bizarre.

“I don’t know. She swears the things she’s keeping to herself aren’t related to this. Says there are bigger things afoot.”

“Bigger than saving Jazz’s life?”

“That’s the thing. She said she doesn’t believe Jazz’s life is in jeopardy.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Hell if I know. It was like I was trying to solve a puzzle while the pieces were in the mouth of a tiger. She promised me that she doesn’t know who took Jazz but said to look into the Byrne family out of Chicago.”

“Byrne? Who are they?”

“Not sure yet. I’ve got Serena running intel as we speak.”

“What are you going to do about Kate?”

“I’ll have to face that when this is over. We can’t work this way. People holding back intel won’t work. But for now, my focus is on finding Jazz.”

“I’ve asked Rose to get me on the next flight out,” Xavier said.

“Good. I’m headed there, too. Eve and Gideon are still a few hours away from home. Once they get there, they’ll grab Serena and take the chopper to Chicago. Everyone will be just a few hours behind you.”

“Sounds good. See you there.”

Xavier pocketed his phone and took one last glance around Jazz’s apartment. They had leads—a name and a city. It was significant. He would keep digging, do whatever he had to do to find her. And once he did? Yeah, he already knew the answer to that, too—he was never letting her go again.