by Cynthia Eden
Wade wasn’t in any condition to drive Sarah. The guy had a concussion, and he’d been loaded into the back of an ambulance. Jax would have felt better if Sarah went to the hospital, too, but the woman was stubborn.
And currently covered in ash and blood.
He slammed the car door shut and then glanced over at his lawyer. “I’ve already called my office,” his lawyer told him quickly. Ty tossed him the keys. “You take the car, and my assistant will come for me.” The cops had impounded Jax’s bike, but he knew Ty was already working to get the motorcycle released and delivered back to Jax’s place. The guy was definitely worth the retainer Jax paid for him.
Jax’s fingers fisted around the keys. “Let me know what you find out.” Because he knew that Ty was staying to dig for additional information on that chaotic scene. Lawyers always had a way to get the cops to talk. “You can come get your car later.”
Ty nodded and backed away. The guy kept glancing curiously at Sarah, but Ty hadn’t asked Jax any specific questions about her. His lawyer knew better than to pry. Especially when a woman was involved. The sunlight glinted off his blond hair as Ty turned away.
Ty came from old Southern money. He’d been one of those silver-spoon types that Jax normally hated. He’d never wanted or needed anything, and the guy had just sailed his way through law school at Tulane.
Jax had fought his way through life, battling for every single thing he possessed.
But he and Ty . . . well, they were different, that was for sure. But he’d had Ty’s back over the years, and Ty had always been there for him. Though Jax was sure that hefty retainer fee figured into the equation . . .
Still, Ty was the best criminal defense attorney in New Orleans, and the guy had always kept quiet about the secrets Jax carried. He knows better than to share them.
Jax glanced across the street and saw Carlos waiting. Jax gave the fellow an almost imperceptible nod. He owed Carlos—more than he’d ever be able to repay. The man had been his right hand for years, and Carlos had been a good friend, even when Jax didn’t deserve it. There weren’t many people that Jax actually counted on in that world, but Carlos—the man was family to him.
Jax walked to the car. Slid behind the seat and started to crank the engine.
But Sarah’s fingers flew out and curled around his. “Wait.”
He glanced over at her.
“I need to . . . see the scene. Just a little longer.”
She leaned forward and stared at the building. It was just a shell now. Hollow. Black. Smoke rose in long, sweeping tendrils.
“It’s destruction. Death. That’s what you wanted to show me,” Sarah murmured. “You wanted us to see death.”
His back teeth clenched. “What the guy wanted was for you to die, Sarah. He wanted to hurt your father by hurting you.” He cranked that engine. Yeah, okay, Sarah wanted to stay there and get in the killer’s head. Too bad. The woman was covered with bruises and blood and maybe she was too stubborn to go to the ER, but he would be taking care of her.
“My father . . .” Now her voice was weary as she leaned back in the seat. “If you’re talking about his enemies, they’d fill the street.”
He glanced over at her. She’d turned her head away from him and was staring out of the window. “Buckle your seat belt, princess.”
Her hand moved and slowly clicked the seat belt into position. “I hate him.”
He pulled away from the scene. Maneuvered through the cars and the onlookers who’d gathered to watch shit burn. “The dick who did this? Don’t worry, I’m sure the LOST group will be taking him down. Isn’t that what you do?”
“No.” She was so quiet. So unlike Sarah. Sarah, who had drawn him from the beginning because he’d sensed the fire in her. “We don’t hunt killers. We look for the victims. We find them. We help them.”
He risked another quick look at her. Her left hand had risen and it pressed to the window. Sarah said, “I need to find Molly. If she wasn’t in that fire . . .” Her breath whispered out. “Then she’s still out there, and we still have a chance to help her.”
Did she seriously think she was just going to run out and hit the streets again? While she was still bleeding? “There are other team members in LOST, let them hunt.”
“I called Gabe. He’s going to meet Wade at the hospital. Dean is already at the police station.”
He kept driving.
“Are you taking me back to the station?”
“You’re still bleeding,” he gritted out.
“Back to my hotel room?”
“I want to take you back to my place.” Where he could lock her inside and keep her fucking safe.
“But I don’t have clothes at your place. All of my stuff is in my room at the hotel.
The bastard had already been inside her hotel once. “I can get you clothes in five minutes,” Jax told her. One phone call, that was all it would take. He’d snap his fingers, and the clothes would be there at his house, waiting for them, no problem.
“Jax.”
He liked the way she said his name. Liked the way it sighed from her ever so softly.
“Just take me to my hotel. The staff there gave me a new room, one on the concierge floor with better security. I’ll be safe.”
Yes, she would be—because he’d be with her.
“I’ll shower, change, and then I will be going back out to hunt for Molly. I will hunt until I find her.”
He braked at a red light. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had whitened. “Why?” He just didn’t understand that part. “Why are you so determined to find her? You’re risking your life for someone you don’t even know.” Sarah had almost died. Yet she was willing to run right back out into danger. Who the hell did that?
“I’m determined because Molly needs me. She’s scared and she’s hurting, and she needs to know that someone is looking for her.”
He glanced at her once more. Her words had just driven straight to his core, and Sarah didn’t even realize it.
“He told me . . . he told me that was one of the reasons his victims broke. They realized that no one was looking. No one cared that they’d vanished. No one would look . . .” Her head tilted down as her words trailed away.
“Who told you that, Sarah?”
A car horn honked behind him. Jax gave the driver the best finger he had, then he moved forward. And, again, he asked, “Who told you that?”
“My father.”
The more he learned about that guy, the more he realized just what a miracle Sarah was.
Then he remembered the words she’d whispered moments before . . . I hate him. And he knew that Sarah hadn’t been talking about the man who took Molly.
He turned at the next light. Drove in silence to her hotel. Normally, Jax always had a line ready for any situation. A fast and sarcastic quip. But this, this was different.
This was Sarah.
He pulled into the valet line. Tossed the keys to the guy there and handed him a quick tip.
“You don’t have to come in,” Sarah was saying. “I can go up and—”
He shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” His hand caught hers. Curled around her delicate fingers. Held tight.
She looked down at their entwined hands. “Why are you doing this?” She sounded confused. Sarah titled back her head to stare up at him. “Why do you even care?”
Because she was making him care. Chipping at the wall of ice that normally surrounded him. His left hand brushed back her hair. He decided to give her part of the truth. “Because when I was a kid, I used to hope that someone was out there, looking for me, too.”
Only there hadn’t been. No one had ever come for him, and the nightmare had continued. A nightmare that he didn’t think most people would ever be able to understand. But Sarah, she was different.
She’s a survivor, just like me.
He’d learned, later, that no one had ever even filed a missing person
’s report that matched up to him. No one had ever . . . looked.
A seven-year-old boy vanished, and no one had given a damn.
Sarah’s fingers squeezed his. “You’re hurting.”
His gaze shot up to hers.
“I can tell. You . . . you go away when you hurt.”
He had no clue what that meant.
Sarah shook her head. “Now you’re staring at me like I’m crazy.” Her laughter held an edge of bitterness. “Like that hasn’t happened before.” She pulled away from him. He let her go, but he followed her, making sure to stay close as his gaze swept the hotel lobby, looking for any threat.
When the elevator doors closed, sealing him inside, he said, quite simply, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”
Her brows rose.
“I think you’re one of the smartest women that I’ve ever met.” In so many ways, she reminded him of his friend—and former lover—Emma Castille. But there was a core difference between the two women. Emma had always been afraid—deep down—of the darkness that clung to him.
Sarah . . . Sarah was drawn to his darkness.
Her lips pressed together, as if she were trying to hold back her words, but then Sarah said, “It starts with your eyes.”
He tensed.
“The emotion shines there, even when you try to school your expression. Just a glimpse, but that little glimpse is all I need.”
He waited.
“But when you hurt, all emotion vanishes. You lock yourself down. I can see it happen.”
The elevator doors opened.
Sarah slipped by him. “I’m sorry that you hurt.”
His eyes closed, just for a second.
Her hand squeezed his arm. His fingers lifted and caught hers once again. He followed her from that elevator. Walking behind her because he literally could not turn away from Sarah. She was drawing him in, pulling him deeper and deeper into her web. The connection between them—it was more than just her desire for danger. More than his desire to be with a woman who fucking understood the sins that he carried.
It was . . . elemental.
Instinctive.
Opposites didn’t always attract. Sometimes, two people who were alike met—and the rest of the world fell away. It was like two halves of a fucking whole finally connected. That was what it felt like for him every single time Sarah touched him.
She inserted her key into the lock and he glanced around the floor. There was a security camera mounted on the wall near the elevator. And they’d had to use a special key card to get up to that floor. A bit of an improvement, security-wise, but still not enough for him. Especially since anyone who worked at that hotel could get the key card that would provide access to the concierge level. Hell, anyone there could get a key to Sarah’s room. Then that key could be passed right along to any jerk with enough cash to buy it.
Sarah opened her door. It was pitch-black inside—her curtains were drawn and the darkness seemed too heavy in her room. When she walked forward, Jax made sure he was just inches behind her. And then—yeah, he searched the room.
Sarah shut the door behind him. He heard her secure all of the locks. Then she was crossing that room and pulling back the blinds and sending sunlight spilling inside. The room had a view that looked out on the river, and he could see a barge slowly making its way toward the city.
“You really don’t need to stay here,” Sarah said softly. “I’ll shower and get fresh clothes on, then I can get a taxi to take me back to the police station.”
He put his hands on his hips and just stared at her.
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t understand you,” Sarah told him once more.
She sounded as if that really bothered her. But then, that was her thing, right? “You have to understand everyone.” He figured that was part of her profiler gig. Seeing people, breaking down their motivations, learning their secrets.
“I just . . .” She raked a hand through her hair. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Because I find that I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you.” In fact, that idea really pissed him off.
Her lips parted, as if she would respond, but then Sarah turned and made her way slowly to the bathroom. Her hand lifted and curled around the door frame. With her back to him, she said, “You saved my life today.”
“Yours . . . and that jerk Wade.” Jax would make sure Wade realized he owed Jax a serious debt.
She looked over at him, a faint smile curving her lips and chasing a few of the shadows from her eyes. “I guess that means Wade and I both owe you.”
“I figure it’s extra motivation. Once this case is over, you’ll bust ass to find my family.”
Her smile slipped away and he wished he could call the words back. He wished—
“I am going to find your family, Jax. And I’m sorry that you’re having to wait, even longer, to learn the truth about your past. I will find them. I promise, I won’t give up until you have the answers that you’ve been looking for.”
He believed her. There was too much sincerity in her eyes and in her soft voice. He took a step toward her, but Sarah disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, he heard the rush of water as her shower turned on.
He stared at the closed door a moment longer, then he turned and made his way back to her bed. Her suitcase was at the foot of the bed. Her computer was close by. She’d dropped her phone and purse on the chair—he’d have to thank Carlos for finding those at the scene.
The room . . . it smelled like Sarah. Sweet vanilla. Every time he caught that scene in the future, he’d think of her. Always . . . her.
He turned toward the river. The water glinted, shining and—
Had Sarah just called out for him? He whirled around, sure that he’d heard her voice. Heard her say—
“Jax.”
The call came again. A little louder and he was across that room in an instant. His hand lifted and banged against the door. “Sarah, are you all right?”
The water was pounding down. He didn’t hear her. “Sarah?”
Then . . . a muffled cry. Like a—sob?
He twisted the knob. It turned easily in his grasp and he shoved the door open as his heart raced.
Sarah was in the shower, behind the glass, and tendrils of steam drifted in the air around her. Her head had been pressed to the tile, and one hand was over her mouth, as if she were trying to muffle her cries.
“Sarah?”
She jerked away from the wall and looked up at him, and that was when he realized . . . the water on her cheeks wasn’t just from the shower. Sarah was crying.
“You’re hurt.” Dammit, he should have insisted that she go to the hospital and get checked out. That exam in the ambulance had been a joke. He rushed across that little room and yanked open the shower door.
Sarah’s arms crossed over her chest, as if she were hiding her breasts, trying to shield herself. Hell, the last thing she needed to do was shield that beautiful body from him.
He reached out and turned off the spray of water.
She watched him, her eyes stark, tears still glinting in her gaze.
“It’s okay,” he told her, speaking softly. “You know you’re safe with me.” He grabbed a towel from the rack and opened it up for her. “Always, my Sarah. Always.”
He held the towel out to her even as his gaze darted over her body, looking for injuries. He could see some bruises forming. Most of the blood had been washed away, but there had to be a serious wound because Sarah was crying and she—
He wrapped the towel around her as she stepped from the shower. His arms slid over her shoulders as he pulled her against him. “You have to tell me where it hurts,” he said. So I can fix it. So I can fix you.
“She’s going to die,” Sarah whispered. “Because of me.”
He stiffened.
“Wade almost died . . . because of me. Sometimes, I think I’m cursed. That I just bring pain and death to everyone around me.”
L
ike he hadn’t thought that same shit about himself a time or twenty.
He tipped up her chin and stared down into her eyes. “Baby, you’re not cursed.”
Her laughter sounded more like a sob. “No, I’m just evil.”
The fuck she was.
“I could have stopped all of this. I should have.” A teardrop slid down her cheek. “I heard the screams, and I—I just let him tell me that they were only bad dreams. The wind. I believed everything . . . anything he said.”
Her pain was cutting into him.
“You’re supposed to love your father, right? And I did. That’s what makes it even worse. I loved him, while he was killing them.”
He held her tighter. “Sarah . . .”
She shuddered in his arms. She was naked and beautiful, and sex was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to hold her, take her pain away. Make her smile. Make those tears stop.
Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please, just give me a minute.” She tried to pull away from him. He didn’t let go.
Her breath blew out lightly, rasping over him. And her arms . . . they slowly rose to wrap around him. And, for a moment—a moment that just seemed to hang in time—Jax did nothing but hold her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman like that. Without the intent to fuck her, in the next five minutes, anyway. But Sarah needed him right then, and he found that he needed her, too.
What in the hell is happening to me?
She didn’t cry with loud, gulping sobs. Didn’t shake. Her tears were silent as they fell, as if Sarah were used to keeping her pain quiet.
“I don’t fall apart . . . a lot,” she finally confessed.
Her words made him smile and he turned his head. He saw their reflection in the mirror. He was big and blond, she was small and so delicate. Her wet, black hair slid down her back. His hands—with all the tats that had so many meanings—were around her. Stroking that wet hair.
Sarah looked as if she belonged with him. No, belonged to him.
“Thank you,” she added. She pushed against him once more. This time, he eased his hold and let her go. The towel almost fell, but Sarah grabbed for it and wrapped it around her body, anchoring it between her breasts.
