Jax and the Brown Eyed Girl

Good. Brooklyn may get lucky and get her bags before those guys even get off the plane.

Matt shook his head, and his seatmate gave him a strange look. Matt ignored him.

I'll check the sky for pigs while I'm at it.

When the plane arrived in San Diego, Matt kept a respectful distance from Brooklyn. She walked in front of him while he trailed about twenty feet behind. His position allowed him to keep an eye on her and to also keep an eye on the terminal as the first-class passengers made their way to baggage claim.

He walked out of the terminal and caught an escalator down to baggage claim. A huge smile crossed his face when he saw Jake. Jake was holding a sign above his head that read: Dumbass! Matt burst out laughing, as did the other passengers as they passed by.

Jake was his best friend and business partner, which was like saying the ocean was wet. Jake and Matt had served together in the military and they'd been there for each other through almost every type of situation. Combat, PTSD, family, friends, deaths ...

Jake also turned heads. He would have attracted attention even if he hadn't been holding a ridiculous sign. He stood 6'4" and carried enough muscle for four guys and was also quicker and more agile than anyone Matt had ever seen. Dark brown hair and light blue eyes ensured he got a lot of attention from women. Over the years, Matt had seen women almost snap their necks to get a better look at Jake, and he accepted the fact Jake was better than average looking.

"It's about time," Jake said as Matt stepped off the escalator. "My grandma is slow, but she's old. You don't have that excuse."

"Screw you," Matt replied, barely concealing his laughter. "I'm still faster than you."

Jake stepped in beside his best friend and threw the sign into the trash. He gave Matt a crooked smile. "I can see you're still drinking heavily. You're obviously hallucinating. You need to lay off the Booker's." He paused dramatically. "I know! You should try drinking cosmopolitans!"

Matt punched his best friend in the shoulder. Snide comments and light physical violence were an integral part of their friendship. Jake recovered and rubbed his shoulder theatrically as they walked over to get the luggage and Jake caught Matt up on business. Fortunately, things were good, really good.

Matt caught a reflection of himself and Jake in a window near baggage claim. They didn't look like brothers but no two brothers had ever been closer. Jake was two inches taller than Matt, which he pointed out as often as possible. While Jake was taller, Matt didn't surrender anything to him in terms of muscle. They both hit the gym regularly. Where Jake had dark hair, Matt's was sandy blonde. Matt's eyes were green, Jake's were blue.

"Bring the Hummer?" Matt asked.

"Nope," Jake said. "The Ferrari."

Matt glared at him. "Are you kidding me? Where the fuck am I going to put my bags?"

"Damn, dude. I'm only kidding." Jake shook his head. "You need another drink. Yes, I brought the Hummer."

Matt exhaled softly. "Good."

The creepy dudes were on the escalator making their way down to baggage claim when Matt caught sight of them again. Jake caught his look. They'd served in some tight spots and knew each other's game faces. To his credit, Jake didn't move, didn't flinch, and definitely didn't crane his head around.

"Who?" was all he asked.

"Four Tangos," Matt said softly. Tango was the military term for target that was used for unsecure communications. If a bad guy was monitoring a specific frequency, the last thing the good guys wanted him to hear was the word target. Matt's gaze stayed fixed on the baggage carousel. "They're tracking the brunette. Blue shirt, blue jeans. Hourglass figure. In your two o'clock."

Jake did his own covert surveillance of the baggage claim area. A few minutes later he said, "Tallyho" indicating he had identified everyone, had them in sight, and he'd watch them as well. "Who's the mark?"

"Brooklyn Chase."

Jake did a small double-take. A smile broke over his face. "The Brooklyn Chase?"

"Yep." Matt glanced at Jake, a quirky smile pasted on his face. "How do you know who she is?"

Jake laughed. "The same way you know who she is, dumbass." He paused briefly and then asked softly. "Why are they following her?"

"No idea."

"What's our play?"

"Let's just watch and see what happens. Could be nothing."

Jake didn't respond immediately. A few moments later, he looked at Matt. "Could be something. Recognize the big one?"

"No."

"Former cartel member. Enforcer, I believe. Low level. Into violence."

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit. Here." Jake passed Matt a collapsible baton.

"Good thinking, buddy."

"I'm going tactical."

Matt nodded. "Good idea."

Jake made a show of shaking Matt's hand and patting Matt on the back before walking away. It was bullshit. Tactical meant he and Matt were separating so they couldn't be taken together. Jake would stay within sight of Matt, but he'd make his own decisions about where and how to follow the developing situation.

Matt's bags finally appeared. He used the motion of grabbing his suitcases to check out the creepy dudes again. They had separated as well. Two were waiting by the carousel, a few steps away from Brooklyn Chase, and two had apparently gone outside.

Brooklyn was still waiting for her bags. She was on her phone, likely arranging for a ride, but she didn't look happy.

Matt headed for the nearest exit. He saw two of the creepy dudes standing outside, smoking cigarettes and looking suspicious.

Definitely foreigners. Anyone with any sense wouldn't light up on the job. First, it's a bad habit. Second, it's a distraction. Finally, it marks you as a smoker and you stand out, especially in health-conscious San Diego. Americans don't smoke anymore, at least not like those two chimneys, and there were laws about that shit now.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Matt stepped off to the side, away from the doors, and checked his phone.

Jake: "Got Hummer. 20 seconds away. Stay mobile, I'll park at curb."

Matt: "10-4 good buddy!"

Jake: "Watch ur ass. I'll have u in sight in 10 seconds. 10-4 good buddy? U are such a geek."

Matt pulled out his Blackberry, dialed a fictitious number, and held the Blackberry next to his ear. Jake pulled the black Hummer up to the curb. He was 30 feet away waiting and watching for his play.

Game time.

"Fuck you!" he yelled loudly into his phone. "We're fucking done, you bitch!"

Surprised faces turned towards Matt as he shook his head angrily. He stashed his phone in his bag, cursing under his breath. He then reached down, snatched his bags, sighed theatrically, and walked over to the two creepy dudes.

Stopping an arm's length away, he slid his bags to one side and nodded at their cigarettes. Stressed-out guy needs a cigarette to calm down. Woman troubles. It was a universal situation in just about any country.

"Can I bum a cigarette off you?" His voice was light and friendly.

The first creepy dude was small and lean and built like a boxer. He moved like a boxer, too, weight evenly distributed over his hips as he looked at Matt suspiciously.

Matt held his hand out and smiled wider. "Name's Gilligan."

The creepy boxer stopped suddenly and smiled. "Gilligan! Like the TV show," he said excitedly.

Definitely foreign, and a moron. Matt nodded and laughed. "That's it."

Boxer creepy dude spoke heavily accented English, his smile revealing generously stained teeth, and his handshake was a dead fish handshake. His large buddy gave Matt an unfriendly smile and lit another cigarette. Boxer dude turned to his friend and chattered quickly in Spanish. Matt spoke the language fluently but acted as though he didn't understand a word. The little boxer ended his conversation with "Maricone," so the gist of what he was saying was obvious.

Matt's ruse worked. The boxer grabbed his pack of smokes and fished one out. Matt let go of his bags with a thankful smile. As the boxer held the cigarette out, Matt purposely let it slip through his fingers. When the cigarette hit the ground, boxer dude bent over to grab it. That's when Matt struck.

Matt's left hand materialized from behind his back, flicking the baton open in the same movement. He swung hard and fast with the business end of the baton. It hit the boxer perfectly, right behind the ear. The boxer dropped hard and didn't move after he hit the pavement.

Good night, peaches.

The other creepy dude, his mouth open and slack, stared stupidly at Matt.

Idiot.

Sidestepping quickly, Matt came at him at an angle, shifting the baton to his right hand. The big dude's hands were already half-raised from lighting a cigarette. Crushing the pack of cigarettes in one hand he started towards Matt, but he was late getting into motion, which cost him dearly. The big dude took a wide swing at Matt. It never connected. It never came close.

As the big dude's fist swung at Matt's head, he dropped into a kneeling position and took out all his frustration on the big guy's knee. The baton vibrated strongly in his hand when it exploded against the guy's knee. A garbled scream, mixed with a colorful Spanish curse filled the air. The big guy automatically clutched his busted kneecap, and Matt used his downward momentum to finish him off.

His opponent fell forward grasping his knee and shuddering with pain, leaving his face exposed. Matt twisted his hips and let the baton get up close and personal with his descending jaw.

The second creepy dude hit the pavement as unconscious as his friend. Matt looked up to see Jake jogging over.

"Holy cow, man, are you ok?" he said loudly.

Jake came up and pretended he was checking Matt out. He slipped the baton out of Matt's hand and made a big show of the situation, loudly pointing out how Matt had been attacked. Pedestrians and passengers filed quickly by, not wanting to get involved.

Jake and Matt moved the two guys up against the wall. Law enforcement would be along sooner or later and they hoped they'd be gone before airport security or police came to investigate. Worst case, they could handle it. Matt was conscious, Jake was a witness, and the two would-be kidnappers were unconscious. The situation was in their favor.

Jake checked the terminal, made a quick circle motion with his hand, and walked over to the other side of the door. Matt remained next to the two unconscious kidnappers.

Head Creepy Dude came through the doors first, his eyes scanning the area in front of him. An angry expression spread quickly over his face when he didn't see his friends.

Finally, his eyes found Matt.

He motioned to him with his thumb, "These your guys?"

Loud curses in Spanish erupted from Head Creepy Dude. His eyes locked on his men on the ground. He completely dismissed Matt as he walked over. Matt thought the men must be drunks, drug users, or both, because Head Creepy Dude didn't seem surprised to see them on the ground.

What the fuck was in those cigarettes?

Head Creepy Dude strode over to his guys, checked their pulses, flicked open their eyes, and then straightened. He looked suspiciously at Matt. "What happened?"

Matt shrugged. "I think they slipped. I found them this way."

Stalling for time, Matt needed to account for creepy dude number four and Brooklyn Chase. He needed more time. Meanwhile, Jake stood on the other side of the door and kept an eye out for the two missing people.

Head Creepy Dude looked down at his men again and then back at Matt. "I don't think so." He paused. "Do you know who we are? Who we work for?"

"Nope." Matt smacked his lips carelessly as he uttered his response.

"My name is Chico and believe me, amigo, you don't want to learn anything more. Walk away now." Chico smiled at Matt. His teeth were perfect. "Walk away now and you may live, for a little while longer."

Matt looked at Chico, then laughed and motioned to the two stiffs. "I could make you the same offer, amigo. Two of your guys are down, out cold. It took less than 60 seconds. You should forget your plans for Brooklyn Chase."

Chico was obviously the brains of the outfit. Matt's response appeared to register in his brain, and he could see the squirrels running around in his head. Chico grew still. When someone was competent and unafraid, it signaled trouble in Matt's business. Chico had tried bluffing. He'd tried bravado. Neither had worked. Now he was doubting whether he had the skill or the muscle to finish the job. That Matt knew who his target was made him worry even more.

"Holy cow! It's Brooklyn Chase!" Jake's voice was high and excited, completely out of character for him. Jake's response broke Matt and Chico's staring contest.

"Miss Chase! Miss Chase! Can I have your autograph? Maybe a picture?" Jake's voice was loud enough that other people turned to look. Chico did as well. Matt waited until Chico's attention was focused on Jake before moving a few steps away. "I just love your work. Are you single?"

The last of the creepy dudes had his arm around Brooklyn's shoulders, gripping her tightly. It was the big one. The former cartel enforcer. The one guy Matt and Jake knew was into violence. His other hand was inside his jacket. Matt suspected he held a knife against Brooklyn's side, possibly a gun.

A knife. My money is on a knife.

Terror shone in Brooklyn's eyes and they latched on to Jake, clearly communicating she needed help. Jake walked quickly up to them, his eyes focused on Brooklyn. By design, he completely ignored her partner.

Matt would have smiled if this had been a training exercise and would have laughed if they had been watching this on tape. Unfortunately, this was real and a civilian was in the middle.

At Jake's approach, the big creepy dude's hand came out of his pocket and away from Brooklyn's body. As Matt suspected, he'd been holding a knife, a big one. He attempted to keep Jake away from Brooklyn, but he seriously underestimated his opponent and Jake didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, trapped the enforcer's knife hand and viciously disarmed him. The knife clattered to the pavement several feet away, while shock, pain, and surprise crossed the cartel enforcer's face.

Jake wasn't done. The cartel enforcer was disarmed and off-balance and Jake made the most of it.

First order of business, separate the civilian from the threat.

Jake pushed Brooklyn out of the way in the opposite direction of Matt and Chico. Brooklyn tripped and fell on the concrete. Hard. It looked as if she might have sprained an ankle from where Matt stood. It didn't matter however, she was away from the bad guy and safe.

Second order of business? Turn out the lights.

The enforcer was better trained. Not well trained; just better trained than his friends. He didn't make any wide swings or try to box his way out of the situation. He executed several controlled, well-balanced strikes at Jake, none landed. The Cartel Enforcer was outclassed.

Not by a little. By a lot.

Jake blocked each strike effortlessly. He smiled at the big man in front of him and counter attacked, feinting quickly and rushing forward. Inside the cartel enforcer's guard in a heartbeat, Jake slammed a knife-hand strike into his solar-plexus. Potentially a killing blow, Jake didn't hit him as hard as he could have.

Pain erupted across the enforcer's face as his chest and diaphragm seized up, breathing now impossible for him. The enforcer started to crumple. Jake put out his opponent's lights with a solid, perfectly timed uppercut to the chin. The big guy's back hit the ground first. He was unconscious before his body came to rest.

Jake nodded at Matt before stepping over to help Brooklyn.

Chico narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Matt.

"Walk away, Chico. Walk away now and you'll be able to live for a little while longer."

Chico was pissed. Using his own words against him only made it worse. Matt guessed it was a machismo thing. He also detected a slight tinge of fear in Chico's eyes.

"This is not over," Chico said quietly. "We have to deliver her. Our client will not accept failure and they will not accept a substitute."

"You've lost, amigo," Matt replied. "The police will be involved soon and you will not get another chance at her. Walk away."

Chico sighed heavily. "This I cannot do. We have taken money. If we don't return with her, we die. If we don't bring her back, they will send another team to get her. Sooner or later, we'll have Miss Chase."

Matt stepped closer to him and lowered his voice. "Why Brooklyn Chase?"

Chico looked at Matt. "I don't know for certain. We were told little when we accepted the contract." His gaze slipped over to Jake and Brooklyn. He started to continue, but then closed his mouth.

"What?" Matt pressed.

"I heard she is wanted by someone powerful in southern Mexico," he continued. "She is beautiful, no?"

"More than beautiful."

"You have won this round, senor, but there are more rounds to go." Chico's face didn't hold pleasure or excitement. It simply held resolve.

Matt replied. "I'll win those as well."

"Part of me hopes you will, Senor. You and your friend are skilled. Also, I do not like this business. Drugs are OK. Buying and selling women though, it is not for me. The things I heard about the man who has paid for her, well, they are not good."

Jake walked a little closer, holding Brooklyn who limped slightly and appeared to be in shock.

Matt motioned with his head. "Leave, Chico. Forget this contract."

"I cannot. Soon, I will take her back." He started to move away and stopped. "I have never failed, senor. Not once."

"Neither have I, amigo," Matt responded.

Matt and Chico stared at each other for a moment longer. Chico finally turned and checked on his men. They were still unconscious, but the first guy who hit the concrete started to stir.

"Let's go, Matt." Jake's voice broke through his thoughts. "Security will be here soon. I'm surprised they're not here already."

"I've got her," Matt replied, gently taking Brooklyn from Jake.

Jake smiled. "Good, because you can't drive for shit."

Gently, Matt put his arms around Brooklyn's shoulders and guided her over to the Hummer while Jake got into the driver's seat. When Brooklyn was in a seat belt, he drove off. As they were driving out of the airport, they saw several security guards gathered around several men. A fight had broken out.

"Decoy?" Jake asked.

Matt nodded. "Definitely."

Jake drove through the parking gates. Once they were clear, he looked over at Matt. "I'm surprised that dude didn't have back up."

"I worried about that was well." Matt replied. He glanced at Brooklyn in the back seat. "When we talked, I got the sense it was a rush job."

"Good for us," Jake said after a minute. He kept his eyes moving as he carefully merged with traffic, but he also kept an eye on their six o'clock position.

Brooklyn's eyes looked clearer, and Matt expected she'd snap out of her funk soon. No one appeared to be following them, so he looked back at Jake. "Think he got the license plate?"

Jake gave him a sly smile. "I hope he did."

"Seriously. You had time for that?"

Jake nodded. "Damn straight. It probably saved our asses."

"True."

"You calling?" Jake asked.

"Who do we call first?"

"Ummm. Why don't you start with our attorney and then the local PD."

Matt sighed. "There goes our weekend."

"Yeah. That sucks big time."

Matt pulled out his phone. They had contacts in the local San Diego PD that were important to their private investigative agency, which also doubled as a security consulting firm focusing on corporate clients. They'd worked in conjunction with several law enforcement agencies in the past. Matt and Jake's professionalism and skill had resulted in solid relationships with the local police department. It also didn't hurt that they hired ex-law enforcement personnel whenever they had an opening.