Chapter 8 - The Passenger in the Rain
The rain hissed against the asphalt as Jax stared at Katherine through the rain-streaked window of the black sedan. The red tip of her cigar glowed like a malevolent eye in the dim cabin.
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m leaving my daughter anywhere near you,” Jax said, his voice hard as steel. He tightened his grip on Lily, who whimpered softly, sensing the dangerous shift in the air.
“I didn't ask you to bring her, did I?” Katherine retorted sharply, blowing a thin stream of smoke toward the open window. “David doesn't want the child involved; he wants you. But if you stand out here arguing with me much longer, the men tracking this vehicle will turn us both into statistics before we reach the bridge.”
Jax’s instincts screamed that it was a trap, but the mention of David changed the calculus. He couldn't chase ghosts blindly through the city, and the police were moving too slowly to intercept an extraction team. He looked back toward the lit entrance of the precinct. Two officers were stepping out onto the steps, scanning the parking lot for him.
Making a split-second decision, Jax turned to the social worker who had followed him outside with Lily’s diaper bag.
“Ms. Gable, please take her inside immediately,” Jax instructed, handing the bag and the sleeping child over with gentle urgency. “Tell the lieutenant I went to secure the perimeter. Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Mr. Vance, wait—!” the social worker started, but Jax had already turned away.
He pulled the rear door of the sedan open and slid onto the leather seat beside Katherine, slamming the door shut just as the sedan surged forward into the rainy traffic, tires spraying sheets of water across the pavement.
“Drive,” Katherine commanded the driver, a thick-necked man in a black tactical turtleneck whose eyes flicked nervously in the rearview mirror.
“You smell like smoke and desperation, Katherine,” Jax said, wiping the rain from his forehead as he adjusted his suit jacket. “Where is Marcus?”
“In the trunk of a car heading toward the old shipyard district,” Katherine said, her composure slipping slightly as she tapped the ash of her cigar into a crystal tray. “David is tying up loose ends. He never intended to share the company with Eleanor or me. We were just disposable pawns in his grand return.”
“Why come back now?” Jax asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why fake your death twelve years ago, only to crawl out of the woodwork when the shipping conglomerate is at its peak?”
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“Because the company isn't just shipping cargo, Jax,” Katherine turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the neon signs flashing past the window. “Your grandfather didn't build this empire on legitimate trade. The shipping lanes were built to move something far more valuable—and far more illegal—right under the nose of federal customs.”
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