“If he’s hurt Rick, I don’t give a shit whose mother-in-law he’s related to.” Saxon would figure out a way to make it up to Claudio.
“If there is a list, I have someone to add to it.”
“You are not allowed to shoot your momma, Zen.”
“But…”
“Nope,” Noble growled at his swim buddy. “This is about Saxon’s… er… friend. Insisting you bring Shaun home to meet her is not a reason to shoot your momma.”
“It is if she’s gonna want to introduce him to every freaking Karen in town.”
“Zenk—”
“Fine.” Zenko folded his hands over his chest. That his eyes were focused on Saxon told all of them that he had once again used himself to divert attention from another when they needed a second to compose themselves. Hell, Saxon wasn’t even entirely sure that Zenko had a momma.
“Okay, Rick Jones.” Noble pointed to the photo on the screen, “Former SEAL. He’s been a friend of Saxon’s for a couple of years.” He jerked his finger toward the screen, where a blurry photo of Rick filled the top left corner. The rest of the screen filled with information from his bio. “His father, Ken Jones, is the US Ambassador to Italy.”
“Holy shit,” Castiel kicked the leg of Saxon’s chair, “You’re marrying up!”
“He’s my friend.” Saxon clamped down on the inside of his cheek. Why the hell could they not get it. How many more ways could he explain it so they would understand?
“He’s more than a friend, Sax,” Luc tapped his fingers off his leg. “We heard the call to TOC, your tone of voice told us everything we need to know. He’s yours, that makes him ours. That means we go save his ass.”
“Hooyah,” Noble moved on with the briefing. “By the time we studied the security cam footage from the street outside the hotel, the van had already disappeared.”
“What?” Saxon knew his tone was stunned. He fucking felt stunned. It was a huge kick in the teeth when the men he had spent most of his adult life fighting with hadn’t told him they had nothing on his missing friend.
“Max has been following chatter on some of the forums he has infiltrated,” Noble called their attention back to the matter at hand. “The Taliban has reached out to the ‘Ndrangheta mafia clans, looking to order modified versions of civilian UAVs.”
“What has that got to do with Rick?” Saxon straightened in his chair, there better be a connection. He better see one fast, or he was outta here, and he’d find Rick himself.
“Guess who happens to own a factory in China which supplies civilian-grade drones to the consumer market?” Noble clicked on the remote to change screens, “Mr. Ambassador Jones himself.”
“Fuck, that can’t be good.” Luc turned to Max, “Do we have verified intel that it’s connected?”
“Yup.”
“Two hours ago, the ambassador’s residence in Rome received a ransom demand,” Noble turned to face Saxon, “five thousand drones and one hundred thousand dollars for the safe return of his son.”
“Will he pay it?” The sinking feeling in his guts told him the answer to that question was probably going to be a negative one.
“No.” Noble’s brows drew together in a frown. “Our contact inside the embassy says Ambassador Jones claims to have no son.”
“He did what now?” Saxon got to his feet, he needed to move. “What kind of father does that?”
“An asshole one.” Reese dropped the pen in his hand and laced his fingers together, flexing his hands to crack his knuckles. “There’s a lot of asshole fathers around.”
“I found a newspaper report.” Max took the remote from Noble’s hand and clicked the button. “Fifteen years ago, at a White House Christmas party, there was an altercation between Jones senior and junior on the WH Lawn.” He hit the small plus button on the screen to enlarge the font so they all could read it. “There have been no sightings of Rick Jones since.”
“Two days later, Rick Jones joined the US Navy and within a week had shipped off to boot camp.” Noble nodded to Max, who flicked the images on the screen to the next image. “He graduated BUD/s class 246, one of only twenty-two men out of one hundred sixty-eight to do so. He served multiple combat tours, including some time with a Joint Task Force, before he disappeared off radar.”
“CIA?” Zenko studied the man’s photo on the screen. As someone who had come up through the ranks within the SEAL community, Zenko knew what it took to be the best of the best. He understood the grueling challenge of BUD/s and SQT. It pissed him off that the CIA was recruiting from within teams. But there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it.
“I don’t know.” How the hell did he not know this information? Saxon wanted to kick his own ass. He should have spent more time talking and less time fucking, and all of this wouldn’t be such a freaking surprise. Jeez, he really was a shallow bastard.
“Everything I can find,” Max switched the screen to a street map of Naples, “Points to a black ops group working for probably DEVGRU or possibly JSOC, but I can’t confirm that.”
“We’re still getting him back,” Saxon resisted the urge to cross his fingers under the desk, “Right?”
