Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
When Jaz finished his debrief with Wentz, the silence on the other end of the line lasted several beats too long.
“That’s solid information,” Wentz finally said. “Better than anything we’ve gotten in years, assuming any of it’s accurate. Where’d you get it?”
Jaz had been pacing in the tiny room between the door and the bathroom. He stopped and looked at Wright, seated at the table. Jaz wasn’t sure if he should tell Wentz that he was involved or not.
Kenzie sat on her bed, cross-legged, watching.
Gavin stood and held out his hand for the burner. “My name is Gavin Wright. Aylett and I gathered our information from a number of sources.”
Generous, giving Jaz any credit at all.
“Sir. This is Special Agent Wentz, DEA.” Wentz’s tone shifted from condescending to respectful. “How did you get involved?”
“My daughter was one of El Fantasma’s mules.”
“Oh…” The sound came slowly, as if he were fitting pieces into place. “Kenzie Wright is your daughter?”
“Correct. I assure you, everything Jaz told you is accurate.”
“Fair enough. Problem is, I don’t know anything about Henry and Francine Sebast except that they show up in Jaz’s reports as ‘also theres’ from time to time. I’ve never had any reason to track them.”
“Find them,” Wright snapped. “Surely somebody in your agency can handle that.”
“On it,” Wentz said.
“I just remembered…” Kenzie scooted to the edge of the bed. “At the party the other night, Francine mentioned the regatta. She said they planned to attend before they headed back to the States.”
“Right. That makes sense.” Jaz had seen them at regattas in the past. “They’re probably on St. Martin right now.”
“You hear that?” Wright said into the phone.
“It’s a big island,” Wentz said.
“He was at Magras’s resort during last year’s regatta.” Jaz stepped closer to Wright and the phone. “Start there.”
“I’ll look. I’ll let you know if—”
His voice cut off when Wright ended the call.
Jaz laughed. He’d endured the man’s condescension and veiled threats for years. Watching Kenzie’s father handle him was deeply satisfying.
“That guy’s useless. He’s not going to be any help.” Wright gave Jaz the phone back. “You think you can reach Henry?”
“I think so. Why? What are you thinking?”
“We need to connect him to the smuggling operation. But step one is to find him.”
Jaz had to download his contact list. Unlike Kenzie, he backed everything up on the cloud. When he’d started informing for the DEA, back when he still had hope he’d be able to solve the mystery he’d been tasked with, he’d made a habit of saving information on everyone he met.
Somewhere along the way, Jaz had given up hope. He’d been going through the motions, working for—and sometimes against—Magras, feeding information to Wentz, but never believing it would be truly over.
Yet here they were, with a name and a chance to bring the guy down, not because of Jaz’s brilliant investigative work but because he’d drawn a line in the sand.
He hadn’t been willing to let a woman be killed in the crossfire of two cartels.
He could’ve pretended he didn’t know she was in danger.
He could’ve looked the other way. The old him might have.
Instead, he’d put his life and identity on the line to protect Kenzie, and because of that…
Here he was.
He never would have learned El Fantasma’s name if not for the rash—some would say reckless—decision to save Kenzie. But he’d felt it was right. And unlike so many of Jaz’s reckless decisions in the past, this hadn’t been about him.
He’d known, deep in his heart, that it was the right thing to do, even though Laguerre and Martinez had tried to talk him out of it. Had that been…God? Leading him, guiding him, despite how Jaz had walked away?
Could that be true?
Noah had pegged Jaz as the one who leaves. But his brother didn’t understand. It wasn’t that Jaz had left Driftwood because he didn’t want to be there. He longed for home. He’d just lived with this…this fear that if he stayed, he’d do something to wreck his brother’s life.
When Charlotte came along, deep down, he’d always believed she’d be better off without him.
And yet, he’d rescued Kenzie. He’d done something good. It’d been scary and hard, and he certainly hadn’t done it perfectly, but he’d done it. Or maybe God had helped him do it. Maybe God had done it, and Jaz had just been the guy with the boat and the team.
He was staring at Kenzie’s phone, but his mind was a million miles away. Or maybe on another dimension, on a Being sitting on a throne, One who knew him and…and still loved him, and still wanted to use him, no matter what he’d done.
Goose bumps rose on his arms.
Thank You. Thank You for…for all of this.
The names displayed on the screen blurred. Jaz pulled in a deep breath, and with the air came renewed faith, not from within but from the Lord Himself, helping the very mortal, very flawed man to believe in the Immortal, the Perfect, and His plan.
“Any luck?” Wright asked.
He blinked away the emotion, and there it was, a contact card with Henry and Francine Sebast’s name. Not because Jaz was that smart but because God had known, five years before, that he’d eventually need it. He lifted his gaze. “Got it.”
“He doesn’t have any idea you’re working with the DEA?”
“I’m just a drunken playboy and gambler to him and everybody else.”
Wright was nodding slowly. “It’s a cover.” Not a question, an understanding. “It’s the reason you can’t take care of your daughter.”
“Yes.” He could leave it at that, but he wanted to be honest. “The drunken playboy gambler…that was true, before Magras got his grips on me. Before I knew about Charlotte. It’s a cover now because I changed. I don’t drink, I don’t gamble, and the women are always just…props.”
Wright’s eyebrows hiked, his gaze flicking to his daughter.
“Not Kenzie, obviously.” Jaz needed to watch his words with this man. “She had no interest in that Jaz.”
“She has better taste,” Kenzie quipped. “Why don’t I see if Alyssa can use his phone number to locate him?”
“Worth a try.” Jaz handed her the phone.
Wright smiled at his daughter, but it faded when he focused on Jaz again. “If that doesn’t work”—he said if, but Jaz heard when—“you’ll call him, tell him you overheard something, tell him you want to meet him to talk about it.”
“How would I have heard, and why would I care? The playboy Jaz wouldn’t, unless…” He considered the conundrum. “I could hint that I’m willing to keep quiet for a price.”
“Too dangerous,” Kenzie said. “The man hasn’t stayed hidden all these years by trusting people.”
“True.” Jaz returned to his seat on the bed. There wasn’t enough space for both him and Wright to stand. “We need to know where he is, and then the DEA can apprehend him.”
“Theoretically.” Wright backed up to his chair and sat, his expression unreadable. “But I don’t know if they will. The information we dug up proves Henry is Marcus, but it doesn’t link him to any smuggling operation or the cartel. It’s all circumstantial.”
“You don’t think they’d pick him up?” Jaz couldn’t help the frustration. He’d finally found the guy, and they’d just…what? Let him keep doing what he was doing?
Wright looked away, silent for a long moment. When he looked at Jaz again, there was a hardness in his eyes Jaz hadn’t seen before. “We can’t wait until the DEA puts together a case. We need to finish it before he figures out we’re on to him.”
“Dad.” Kenzie scooted off the bed and stood. “What are you saying?”
His gaze softened when he looked at his daughter. This man had mastered the art of masks in a way Jaz never would—and never wanted to. “I need you to get on a plane. Today. I can’t protect you if—”
“I’ve already found a flight,” she said. “I don’t relish being the man’s target.”
“Yes, good.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about us, sweetheart. Jaz and I will figure this out. We’ll both be able to focus better when you’re out of harm’s way.”
“You should come with me.” She looked from her dad to Jaz, and he didn’t miss the concern, the fear, in her eyes. “Let the DEA take care of it.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t do that.”
She gave her father a look Jaz wouldn’t dare aim at the man, then turned it on him. “I’m not leaving until I know what you’re planning—and what you’re hoping to get out of it. You can’t just barge into Henry’s hotel room and accuse him of being the head of a cartel.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Wright said.
“I’m aware,” Kenzie said. “But I’m involved with this too. If you want me to leave—”
“I want you to trust me.”
Jaz didn’t blame Kenzie for wanting more information.
“I’m with Kenzie.” Jaz’s words earned a look from Wright that could’ve sliced an artery. He pretended not to notice. “She is involved, has been for years. She deserves to know what we’re doing. Keeping her in the dark isn’t the same as keeping her safe.”
And honestly, Jaz wanted to know the man’s plan too.
Kenzie shifted to sit beside him and slipped her hand into his, a gesture her father didn’t miss.
“Henry-slash-Marcus doesn’t believe anybody knows who he really is,” Wright said.
“We need to throw him off balance. We need to make him believe someone discovered his secret, that that person is whispering about it, that it’s only a matter of time before the authorities move in.
We want him to react, to do something, to make a call or a transaction or anything that we can use to prove who he is and what he’s up to. ”
“You’ll be able to set that up? Because I doubt Wentz—”
“I have better contacts than your handler. I’ll have his accounts flagged, his phone bugged, his properties watched.
You’ll tell him what you heard, acting like you don’t believe it, and even if it were true, what do you care?
Don’t even go to the blackmail thing. This is just a friend telling a friend about some ugly rumors.
You should even have a theory about how the rumor got started. ”