“Mostly, for me. I’m on the surveillance and sidelines.”
“Does that mean you’ll be leaving your guns here?” She lifts her face, eyes locking with mine, silently begging me to say yes.
“It’s smart to always be prepared.”
“That answer doesn’t ease my nerves.”
“Don’t work yourself up. I’ve told you before, we’re good at our jobs.”
“What happened? Why are you going now?”
My blood starts to boil, remembering the sound of Mrs. DeSantis’ voice on the recording as she begged for the bastards to leave her kids alone. She was a mother, scared out of her mind, and agreed to anything they wanted. Then there was a shot, followed by several screams. Our contact started yelling, confirming what we assumed. They shot Mrs. DeSantis.
Through the chaos, we knew she was still alive but wounded. The Governor agreed to withdraw from the Senate race and also resign from the governorship. His timing would stall several state bills up for vote in the election. Gun laws, drug punishments, and funds for public service agencies would all suffer.
Little did the kidnappers know, but this gave us an angle to work and research. We now had a list of groups that would benefit from this, and our search for the kidnappers was narrowing down.
I explain this to Presley, and her face goes pale.
“Can’t someone else do all this? What about local authorities and trained professionals?”
“I’m trained. Usually, you’re right. Local authorities would handle this. However, this is a James Hayes mission, and I’m on his team.”
Her lips begin to tremble. “Promise me, swear to me, you’ll be careful. You won’t put yourself willingly in a dangerous situation.”
“I’ll be careful.”
She swings her legs so she’s straddling me and lays her head in the crook of my neck. “I love you, but more than that, I trust you.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold tight. My mind spins with unknowns, the usual thrill of a mission gone.
Stepping off the plane in Baton Rouge, we’re whisked into cars and driven to the Governor’s mansion. James is waiting for us in a room he has taken over as the ‘Control Room’. Introductions are made, and Robbie and I stand against a back wall, waiting on an updated briefing. James’ strong, authoritative voice booms through the room. “We have identities and motives, so now, we need a lock on their location. This was instigated by a state-wide gang that pulls in illegal drugs and weapons. DeSantis stands hard on increasing port patrol and supported cuts in many areas of the budget. This particular gang took the biggest hit in merchandise after a huge raid last year. Their reputation and finances never recovered. This is pure old-fashioned retaliation and strong-arming.
“So far, we’ve rallied and taken into custody a hundred family members of the highest ranked gang leaders around the state to gather information. It’s going slow. Because of this, our police resources are slim.”
A man wearing an FBI jacket speaks up. “Can you read in my team a little more? Why are we just hearing about this? And with all due respect, it seems like something for the state bureau. To be honest, taking down a gang with a beef about their product being seized shouldn’t require nearly this much man-power.” He circles his arm in the air, indicating the room of men and women.
James looks at the man beside him, jerking his head. The guy turns his wide-screen monitor toward the room, and from this distance, all I can make out is an outline of squares and arrows. “This is a scale of what we’ve discovered while researching this gang. The reason we have such a collection of law enforcement involved is we believe the threats to DeSantis are a test. If this type of threat succeeds, it will set precedence for political blackmail everywhere. That’s why I called it old-fashioned. It happened right under our noses. It’s completely old-school style. While we were focusing on digging for personal enemies, opponent smear tactics, and the bigger threats, these assholes snuck in. They kidnapped the family and used them for political extortion.
“I’ll admit, my team was looking for a deeper meaning… a smoking gun. But it rolls back to the basics. So the reason the FBI is involved is because I’ve had a few contacts wired in on this, and they decided this could be a form of domestic terrorism.”
“Shit.” The FBI agent gives a low whistle. “Simple motive, simple greed, and simple execution.”
“Exactly,” James agrees. “So now, we follow their lead and go back to our own basics. My team is here to lend support and expertise, but we’re going to focus on the weak links and the locations. We’ll feed our information to you. Number one goal is to get the family back safely. Your agencies can figure out the rest once that happens. Governor DeSantis will be holding a press conference in two hours. He’s going to stall his resignation but give snippets of backing off his stance on the issues. We hope this tactic will give us more time.”
“What now?” another man speaks up.
James looks at his watch and switches on a large panel of TVs. “The news has been leaked. We are asking for tips from the public. A full team of trained peo
ple is set up in a room down the hall to answer tip lines. The kidnappers have been quiet, but we think they want some publicity to strengthen their integrity in the underground community. Each of you have been briefed, but let me know if you have any questions.”
“I have a question.” A man in a local police uniform raises his hand. “What and why exactly are you in charge? Most of us don’t even know you.”
I drop my head and hear Robbie snicker. We’ve heard this question so many times it’s humorous. James never boasts, and he absolutely never diminishes the role of local authorities. However, he’s always the man in charge. It’s the way he works.
“I’m an old friend of the Governor whom he trusts. He called me in when he suspected something was wrong and didn’t want to alert anyone if it turned out to be nothing. I’m also the guy who goes undetected. I can walk into a situation, assess, command, and take down without blinking. I don’t report to anyone but myself, but I assure you, I follow the law. And when this is all done, the credit belongs to you, and I go back to my life without dealing with the politics. Any more questions?”
Low grumbles are heard around the room, but no one speaks up.