Dillon Rivera parked the car in the shade stood impassively next to it. He'd given her a couple of rough shoves and been rewarded with a groan, but he'd hit her a bit harder than he'd intended, apparently. Pity; to hear her brother's crew tell the story, she'd been nearly indestructible.

He poked at her shoulder again and this time she came back swinging. That was more like it.

"Hello, Jade, welcome back," Dillon said.

"Dillon, come on, let's work this out," Jax said, fighting back nausea. "Why do you think Okada was so mad? I was going to work against him. I wanted to be back with MS-13."

"You were never part of MS-13," Dillon spat.

"I was family to you and Salinas; come on, Dillon, I helped you pass ninth grade English," Jax said, "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"No," Dillon said decisively. He grabbed her by the arm in a bruising grip, his fingers purpling her fair skin almost immediately. "Get out," he said, as he shoved her in front of him. She stumbled, then regained her footing, and gritting her teeth in determination, walked with her head held high and her shoulders straight. She tried to take in as many details as she could about her surroundings; she was well and truly screwed and she knew it. Abandoned subdivision; she'd been half-conscious on the drive out, so she had no sense of how long it had taken - not that her lousy sense of direction would have helped much in that respect anyway.

They turned a corner and she spotted it: Carlos's 97 Supra. She knew exactly what was under the hood, had a good guess as to some of the other features. The engine had sounded damn close to perfect last night.

Even half-concussed and held hostage, her fingers itched to wrap around the steering wheel, and she could feel her hands tremble.

"Oh, you still have it bad, don't you?" Dillon purred in her ear.

"Actually, I'm just way overdue for a smoke," Jax said. It wasn't entirely untrue. One smoke, and she was back to craving nicotine. Danny was going to be so mad. Again. He'd made her quit cold turkey after bringing her home from the hospital last time . . .

She startled when Dillon poked at her again, handing her a cigarette and flicking the lighter for her. She lit the cigarette, and then had a half-formed thought . . . should she try to burn Dillon, run and jump in the car? Or ? Her thought was interrupted by the sight of him jangling the keys in her line of vision. Well, then, never mind. But the nicotine was helping; sharpening her focus, tamping down some of the nausea.

"What, Dillon, keys, yes, I'm proud," she said, aiming for the same exasperated tone she'd used with him seven years ago. Keys. If she could just get the keys . . . she swatted at them, as if to bat them out of her face, and tried to make a grab. She felt her hand close around the key, and Dillon closed his fist over hers and squeezed hard.

"Nice try, Jade," he said, continuing to squeeze her hand until she felt the sharp edge of the key break the skin. As blood started to trickle out of her fist, she felt her thumb give way with a sickening pop, and she couldn't hold back a sharp cry of pain.

Dillon laughed cruelly as she released her grip on the keys. "The crew talked about you for weeks and weeks after, you know. About how you could take a beating. You earned some mad respect, Jade. No one knew where you disappeared to. Salinas wouldn't admit it, but he searched for you. Until the cops came down on him."

"Salinas and I were tight, Dillon," Jax said, still trying to play on his sympathy . . . she had a sense that she needed to somehow buy some time, though she wasn't thinking too closely about what she was buying time from. "You know Salinas didn't want me dead. He had to teach me a lesson, I get that. I disrespected him. I always thought he gave the order for them to cut me loose, though." It was a blatant lie; she'd seen the coldness in Salinas' eyes when he left the garage that night. But if Dillon would buy it . . .

"Salinas was weak," Dillon snarled. "And I'm not. He should have known you were selling him out. You sold him out to the cops, and they came and took him; took everything from me. So tell me, Jade, who else are you working with, hmm? Who's gonna come looking for you?"

"Just the fed," Jax said, squeezing her hand into her shirt to try to stop the bleeding. She grabbed at the base of her thumb, tried to slide it back into place, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her.

"I don't believe you," Dillon said. "Not that it matters. You know how this ends. I just want to know, do I make it fast, or do we have time to play?"

"Dillon, come on man, what do you think you're doing?" The voice came from behind them.

Travis, Jax thought. Oh, shit, shit, shit, no Travis, get out of here.

Dillon whirled, his hand still in a bruising grip on Jax's arm, pulling her with him as he turned and causing her to lose her footing. He jerked her up sharply.

"Travis, this doesn't concern you." Dillon snarled. "I didn't call for you."

"No, come on, man, think about this. She could be useful to you," Travis said, his hands held up in front of him.

It happened so fast; Jax saw Travis fall in the instant that the gunshot resonated in her ear. She looked in stunned disbelief at his body, unmoving on the ground, a pool of blood slowly forming under him as he lay next to the open door of his car.

"You bastard," she spat at Dillon, but she couldn't hear the sound come out of her own mouth. She shook her head to try to rid herself of the ringing in her ears.

"He shouldn't have interfered," Dillon said. "Guess you've still got it, Jade, making an impression on the crew. He was soft, like my brother. That's a weakness I'm going to have to purge from my crew - a soft spot for pretty girls." He shoved her, hard, in front of him, and held the gun casually to her back. "Walk," he ordered, shoving her toward the Supra.

()()()()()()()()

Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett was an undeniably attractive person under any circumstances, but - not for the first time, if she were honest, which she was woman enough to be - Kono couldn't help but notice that in full tactical gear, he was holy-shit-yes-please. Or maybe that was just her . . . and Jax, obviously. They'd discussed their mutual appreciation for Steve in tactical situations one night over a pitcher - okay, three, whatever - of margaritas.

"So, today was . . hmm . . . " Kono hummed.

"What?" Jax asked, amused.

"The guys in tac gear . . . don't tell me it doesn't add a certain . . . dimension to the day," Kono said, arching an eyebrow at Jax.

"Did I ever tell you about getting doped up, spilling my guts, before Steve and I . . . you know . . . " Jax asked.

"No. Details now," Kono said, topping off Jax's glass.

"I was on the good stuff, couldn't shut up. Mumbled something about 'thigh holsters'," Jax said, too buzzed to be embarrassed at this point.

"Hmmm, yeah . . . " Kono muttered appreciatively.

"Get your own," Jax said mildly.

"What?" Kono asked, looking dubiously at her glass. She had her own glass. Was pretty sure she wasn't drinking Jax's. Thigh holster? Didn't like them. They pulled her pants down.

"Navy SEAL," Jax said, grinning at Kono. "Get your own. I highly recommend. Every girl should have one, really."

When Steve stepped out of the armory, Kono shamelessly appraised him.

"What?" he asked, checking to see if something was obviously wrong with his equipment.

"Nothing," she sighed. "I'll get one of my own."

Steve looked at Chin, who shrugged. "Sometimes it's just better not to know, brah."

The ride to The Last Oasis was short and fast; lights and sirens were deemed appropriate, given the circumstances. Danny clung to the oh-shit handle as Steve took a corner on two wheels.

"You in a hurry to walk into an ambush, big guy? Road, Steven, road," Danny groused.

"If Jax isn't there, Okada may know where she is," Steve said. "Either way, we're on borrowed time."

Steve slung the Camaro into the parking lot, Chin and Grover's SUVs right behind him. Danny may have been mistaken, but he could have sworn the double doors to the bar swung open of their own accord at Steve's approach. Would figure - the anger coming off of him in waves was tangible.

Lee Okada stood up at the sound of screeching tires, and several of his men came from various dark, back rooms of the establishment.

"Gentlemen," he said, holding up a hand to stop his men from drawing down on the officers. "How can we help you today?"

In two steps, Steve was at his throat, lifting him slightly off the ground and pressing him back against the nearest wall. Danny resisted rolling his eyes, and Okada's men drew their sidearms, which of course meant that the team had to likewise draw. Steve was never one for subtlety.

"Jade," Steve said simply. "Where is she?"

"Not here," Okada said, his voice breathless from the pressure on his windpipe. "I have no idea where. She was briefly in my employ, but we had a parting of ways, and she left here earlier today."

"Tear the place apart," Steve said, pressing his gun against Okada's temple.

The paperwork on this is going to be complicated, Danny thought.

Okada's men firmed their grips on their weapons and kept them trained on the team, but Okada raised his hand. "Be my guest," he said. "Gentlemen, please allow these fine officers to see for themselves that Jade isn't here."

The men reluctantly lowered their weapons, and Chin, Danny, Kono, Grover, and Duke rushed into the back rooms. Steve heard their voices call out 'clear', one after the other, until they came back, shaking their heads in disappointment.

Steve growled and body checked Okada even higher against the wall.

"Tell me, who has her, and where," he demanded.

"So sorry to disappoint you, Commander," Okada said, "but I truly have no idea. Now, I've been kind enough to allow you to search my place of business, with only a request, not a warrant, I might add. I'm not sure that you want to waste any more time here."

Steve turned so quickly that Okada thudded to the ground. Danny watched as Steve blew through the doors and exited the bar.

"Okay, Steve, come on, buddy," Danny said, approaching Steve, who was pacing in short steps next to the Camaro, "hold it together, yeah? We're gonna find her."

Steve turned to him. "I knew it, Danny. I knew there was something about Davidson . . . God, why didn't I follow my instincts?"

"Look, we all knew something was off about him, even Jax," Danny said. "This is helping no one."

"You're right," Steve said, taking a deep breath. Danny recognized the game face - the mission-intense, take-no-prisoners mask that settled over Steve's features.

Chin and Kono came out, followed by Grover and Duke, who were careful to cover their sixes as they exited.

"What next?" Chin asked.

"She hasn't tried to contact us, so we assume she can't. We assume Okada turned her over to MS-13," Steve said grimly, looking to Grover and Danny for confirmation.

Grover went to his SUV and pulled out his radio. "Yeah, give me locations on every known MS-13 in Honolulu," he said. "Not the foot guys, the ones with clout. Send it to my phone." He glanced at Duke, raised his eyebrows in question. "Put other available units on the usual suspects, locations, anything MS-13 related." Duke nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, guys. It's all we've got right now," Steve replied. "We'll take the island apart, piece by piece."

()()()()()()()()

Travis groaned and squinted against the bright light that insisted on piercing through his eyelids, exponentially aggravating his splitting headache. He tried to sit up, and groaned again as a sharp pain ripped through his shoulder. He stilled as he heard Dillon's voice, and the more muted sound of Jade's voice in reply. Turning his head slowly, he realized that they were within sight, but Dillon's back was to him, and his open car door provided a decent measure of cover.

He carefully reached with his good hand into his pocket, hoping against hope that his phone was undamaged and had signal. The battery was low, but to his relief, there was a dial tone and then blessedly, the voice of an operator in response to his shaking fingers dialing 911.

"Yes," he said, as quietly as he dared, "Please, send help. There's a man, Dillon Rivera . . . he has a lady out here, he's hurting her. Yes ma'am, Lanakai, the abandoned housing development. Me? Oh, yes, ma'am, I need help, too. I've been shot, I think."

His battery dead, and shock setting in, Travis closed his eyes to rest, just for a bit.

()()()()()()()()

Jax evaluated her situation as they approached the car. Mildly concussed; though she'd had much, much worse. Cut on the palm of her hand - inconsequential. Dislocated thumb - she could probably fix that, given a few deep breaths and a minute without Dillon's scrutiny. Bruises on her upper arm and forearm - dismissed. All in all, still in fighting shape. She demanded her brain to focus on a way out. Unfortunately, during her systems check, she missed something important.

"Answer me, damn it," Dillon was saying, when she tuned back in.

Shit, what was the question? Her brain scrambled ineffectively for a clue.

Dillon grabbed her chin in a crushing grip, turning her eyes up to meet his.

"I said," he hissed, "I know you're working with both Five-O and SWAT. Davidson told me. So, stop lying, and tell me, how long before they get here?"

"Okay, okay," she said, feigning defeat and giving herself a split second to think. Tell him their arrival was imminent, and he'd likely shoot her on the spot. Tell him they had no idea where she was, and who knew what she was setting herself up for. She stuck with her instinct to try to buy time. "I'm not allowed contact with Five-O or SWAT. Just Davidson. I made my morning meet with him . . . that's all I know. I didn't have any other instructions today, but to go to The Last Oasis and try to get information."

"So," Dillon said smugly. "They don't even know you're missing, yet, do they? Good. I want to see if you can still drive."

"So how's that going to work?" Jax asked. "You win, you can shoot me. I win, I can stick my boot up your -"

Okay, goading him may have been a bad idea, Jax thought, as a sickening punch knocked the air out of her. She felt a rib grind.

"So, you're afraid you can't beat me in a fair race, that it, Dillon?" Jax was done trying to play on his sympathy. Clearly, that wasn't going to work. Getting him mad enough to slip up and give her an opportunity to get away was the next best plan. That would involve copious amounts of smart-assery: thankfully, she was from Jersey and trained by the best.

"You think winning a race is the plan here, Jade?" Dillon asked, tsking in mock disappointment. "What, you think it really matters which of us wins a race? I just want to experience going up against you. You think you're going to get out of that car again once I put you in it?"

Dillon grabbed her by the throat, and bent to whisper in her ear. "You're going to get in that car, and you're going to drive, because you might as well, right? But you know you won't be able to get away, not after I'm done with you. And I'm going to run. you. into. the. ground."

He'd holstered his gun. In order to punch her, and grab her, he'd holstered his gun. As her vision started to gray at the edges, she grabbed the hand around her throat for leverage and raised her knee as quickly and sharply as she could, right into Dillon's groin.

He released her immediately and clutched himself, falling to the ground in agony. She made a quick grab for his gun, but he struck out at her with a vicious kick, catching her behind her knee. Her injured hand broke her fall, and for a split second she pondered that maybe face planting would have been the better option.

She could hear Dillon getting to his feet; heard him rack the slide on his gun.

Jax closed her eyes and tried to remember one of those Catholic prayers that Danny had tried to teach her. She felt the barrel of the gun pressed against the back of her neck, as a rough hand hauled her up off the ground.

"Drive."

()()()()()()()()

"Steven, in order to do anything remotely effective, we need to arrive in one piece," Danny said, as they hurtled down the H1 to the first location. Chin and Grover's SUVs were still visible, in the distance, in the rear view mirror. Steve had made a quick stop by the palace to swap out the Camaro for his truck, which made Danny worried. Steve loved driving the Camaro; so much so, that Danny rarely got to drive it himself. No, Steve taking time to get the truck meant that Steve wanted the gear inside the truck. That usually ended in an inordinate amount of paperwork, created by Steve, but completed by Danny.

"You know, her feet don't touch the floor," Steve said, out of the blue. "When she sits there," he nodded at Danny's position in the passenger seat, "her feet don't touch the floor. She usually curls her feet up under her."

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Danny said cautiously. This was a strange conversation to be having at . . . wow, okay then, ninety-five miles an hour.

"I'm an asshole, Danny," Steve said, looking at Danny earnestly. Instead of at the road. "I should have . . . I don't know. Moved the seat, or lowered it, or something."

"Really don't think she minds, babe," Danny said. He paused. "Is this about the truck?"

"I haven't told her, really," Steve continued, as if Danny hadn't said anything. "I've told her how amazing she is, how she constantly sells herself too short, what a good cop she is . . . I've told her how beautiful she is, because she has no clue - no idea, Danny. Who did that to her?"

Danny had some ideas, but he figured this was more of a rhetorical situation.

"But I haven't told her, really, how I feel about her. How I would feel if . . . " Steve stopped. "I should have told her, Danny. I should have told her when she left the other morning. I started to, but then I was afraid it might jinx the op. You never do that, you know, right before . . . you just don't."

"So, when we find her, you tell her, okay babe?" Danny said. "You tell her when we find her."

Danny's phone rang. "Grover," he said, putting the phone on speaker immediately. "What have you got?"

"We've got a break, boys," Grover said, his voice filled with relief. "Lanakai. The abandoned subdivision. HPD dispatch got a call from what sounded like a young man, shot, probably in shock himself. Says there's a man there with a young woman."

"What makes you think it's Jax?" Steve said.

There was a beat of silence. "The kid ID'd the man as Dillon Rivera. HPD ran the name."

"Son of a bitch," Danny said. "Salinas Rivera's . . . "

"Brother," Grover replied. "Younger brother. Davidson conveniently left every record pertaining to Dillon Rivera out of the case file."

"We're only two exits away," Steve said.

"Approach these guys with caution," Grover warned. "Assume there's a crew, and assume they're armed."

Danny decided that looking at the speedometer was just pointless, really, and held on.