Текст книги "Shattered"
Автор книги: Cynthia Eden
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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Dedication
This book is for my readers. For those wonderful romantic suspense readers who love to turn pages and find danger and romance and surprises. Thank you so much for your support. You have been absolutely fantastic!
Acknowledgments
AS ALWAYS, I WANT TO SAY “THANK YOU!” TO the amazing staff at Avon. I appreciate all of the help that you have given to me! The editors, the cover designers, the publicists—you are amazing, and it is a pleasure to work with you all.
For my husband and son . . . How can I thank you enough for your patience? When I disappear into my office and get lost in my stories, you always understand . . . and you are waiting for me when I come up for air. Thank you!
Writing this series has been a wonderful experience for me. I’ve loved being able to explore all of the characters. Jax was certainly a character who took me by surprise—and, confession time—he may just be my favorite all-time character to write. I really hope that you enjoy him, too!
Happy reading, everyone!
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Have you read Broken and Twisted?
Prologue to Broken
Prologue to Twisted
About the Author
By Cynthia Eden
Praise for Cynthia Eden and her novels
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
IT WAS THE SCREAM THAT WOKE HER. SIX-YEAR-OLD Sarah Jacobs shot up in bed, her heart racing and the echo of that terrible scream still ringing in her ears. The room was dark, but moonlight spilled through her window and illuminated her favorite teddy bear—he was right at her side. Her daddy always put the teddy bear close to her at bedtime.
She clutched that bear to her, holding it tightly, as she slipped out of the bed. The hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet. She wanted her daddy. He made her feel better after she had a bad dream. And she must have just had a bad dream. She must—
“Help me!”
That terrible cry had Sarah flinching. The teddy bear fell from her hands and hit the floor. Sarah’s fingers fumbled with the doorknob and it took her three tries to open that door. Then she was running down the hallway, rushing toward that sound. It had been a woman, crying for help. Sarah’s mommy had cried for help once. In that car accident. She’d been trapped, and Sarah hadn’t been able to help her.
The scream had died away again, but it had come from up ahead. The basement. The basement door was shut, but she could see the faint light shining behind the door. Who was in her basement? Why was the lady screaming for help?
Sarah’s fingers were shaking when she reached for the door. But before she could try to turn that knob, the door opened on its own. Sarah’s breath caught as fear swept over her but when she looked up—she just saw her daddy.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he told her, flashing her a big smile. “Did you have a bad dream?”
Sarah rubbed her eyes. “Someone’s screaming.”
He bent and picked her up, carrying her easily. Her daddy was so big and strong. “No, sweetheart. No one is screaming. No one at all.” He was humming as he carried her back to her room. Her daddy did that. He hummed his sweet tune and Sarah started humming with him. They went back to her room, and he tucked her in bed. He picked up her teddy bear and slid Mr. Fuzzy right in bed next to her. “Silly bear,” her dad said, flashing her a grin that she could see even in the dark of her room. “Was he trying to make a break for it?”
Sarah giggled.
He kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight. You know you’re safe tonight.”
He always told her that. Sleep tight. You know you’re safe tonight. And she was safe, as long as her daddy was near.
Sarah yawned. Her daddy brushed back her hair. “If you hear anything else tonight,” he murmured, “don’t pay it any mind. A storm’s coming, and that must be what you heard. Thunder and lightning. Branches scraping against the house. Nothing more.”
Sleep was already pulling at her.
“Stay warm in bed. No matter what you hear, it’s just a storm.”
She smiled and snuggled her bear closer.
Her daddy crept from the room.
Sleep was pulling at her, tugging harder and deeper and—
“Help me!”
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. It was just the storm. Her daddy had said it was just the storm, and he never lied to her.
Two years later . . .
“THE WORLD ISN’T a safe place, sweetheart.”
Sarah was twirling around in her front yard. Her daddy was beside her, staring out at the street. He sounded so serious, so she stopped spinning.
“There are bad people in the world.”
Her hands were still over her head. She lowered them slowly, staring at her daddy.
“I won’t let them hurt you, though, don’t worry.”
No, he would never let anyone hurt her. Sarah already knew that.
“I’ll teach you how to be strong, how to spot the bad people.”
Sarah tiptoed toward him. She was still wearing her tutu, and it brushed against her legs. “How do I spot them?”
He tapped her on the nose. “It can be hard because they look just like you and me.”
Sarah bit her lip. “What do the bad people do?”
“They lie, sweetie. They steal. They kill. You have to be ready for them. I’ll make you ready.”
Her breath heaved out. “Thank you, Daddy.” He was always taking such good care of her.
“There are two types of people in this world. You’ll see that. The hunters and the victims.” His gaze held hers. His eyes were as dark as her own. “I won’t ever let you be a victim.”
Sarah shook her head. She didn’t want to be a victim.
“That’s my girl.” He smiled at her. Her daddy was such a handsome man. She’d heard all those ladies say that—the ladies that were always trying to catch her daddy’s attention. And when he smiled, his whole face seemed to light up. “Before I’m done with you, Sarah, you’ll be the very best hunter out there.”
She smiled at him, too. She wanted to be just like her daddy.
If he said she’d be the best hunter . . . then she would be.
Eight years later . . .
SOMETHING SMELLED FUNNY in the house. Sarah stood in the kitchen, her bare toes curling against the tile. It was her birthday—sweet sixteen. They were going to celebrate. Her friends were coming over for a sleepover.
But . . . something smelled funny.
Oh, jeez, it would be so embarrassing if her friends came over and they caught a whiff of that smell. They’d make fun of her! No way was that happening on her birthday. Sarah grabbed for the air freshener. She inhaled. Nearly choked. Horrible. And the smell was coming from . . . the basement. Her dad’s workroom.
Had a pipe burst? Was there mold and water all over the place down there?
Sarah hurried forward. She opened the door, then hesitated. Her dad had told her not to go down there—his work was still out and he was worried she might mess it up.
If a pipe burst, that will mess everything up for him. I need to check.
Sarah walked forward. Her hand curled around the banister that would take her down into the basement. The smell was worse. So strong and thick. She hurried down those steps, spraying as she went.
When she reached the last stair, the smell was so intense that Sarah almost gagged. It smelled as if something had died down there. Oh, no. Don’t let me find a dead rat. Don’t.
She heard the floor creaking above her. Then she heard the faint sound of her father humming.
Oh, good, he was home. He’d gone out to pick up her cake, and he had said that he’d make it home before she did, but Sarah had beaten him. Just by minutes, it seemed. Now he could come down there and move whatever thing was stinking up their house.
And my friends will never know.
“Sarah?” It was her dad’s voice. “Sarah, you’ve got to see the surprise I’ve got for you.”
Her dad and his surprises. She glanced back up the staircase. “I’m down here, Dad!”
Silence.
She turned to stare at the darkened recesses of the basement. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped forward. There was some kind of bag down there. Big and thick. Burlap.
“Sarah, you’re not supposed to be down here.”
She jumped because her dad was right behind her. He’d moved silently down those stairs, and she hadn’t even heard him. Sarah whirled around even as her heart raced in her chest. “Dad! You scared me.”
He didn’t smile at her. His dark eyes glinted. “I’ve told you before . . . you don’t need to be afraid. It’s the rest of the world—”
“—that has to be afraid.” She shook her head. Right. He said that line to her all the time. She knew he wanted her to think she was some kind of superstar, but she wasn’t. She was just a normal girl. One who’d started to get picked on at school. Not that she’d told her dad. He would just get mad if he knew that Ryan Klein had made fun of her when she’d fallen at PE the other day. Now everyone was calling her Shaky Sarah. If they didn’t get the smell out of the house soon, that nickname would change to Smelly Sarah in about twenty minutes when her friends arrived.
She pointed behind her. “Dad, I think a pipe broke and got your bag wet. That smell is terrible!”
He moved forward. His steps were still silent. He could do that, move so quietly. He’d been showing her how lately, too. He’d been teaching her to shoot, to fight. To hunt.
“That’s one of your presents. Though I was going to show it to you later. After your friends left.”
Her present was in that stinky bag?
Sarah put down her air freshener and she crept forward.
Her dad turned on another light, and the bulb shone down on that bag. The bag wasn’t just wet. Those stains on it were so dark in color.
“I heard about the trouble you had at school.” His lips thinned. “Your counselor called me . . . told me all about that boy . . .”
Her cheeks burned. “It’s nothing, Dad. I can handle him.”
“He has a history of picking on other kids. Bullying them. He’s older, so he should know better.”
He was older. Eighteen. A senior while she was just a sophomore.
“I can handle him,” she said again.
Her dad smiled. “You don’t have to.”
Then he opened the bag for her.
Sarah stared into that bag and she heard screaming. Screaming that she remembered from so long ago . . . wild, desperate screaming—
Help me. Help me. Help me!
–but this time, that screaming was coming from her. Sarah was screaming and crying and she was on the floor. Nausea rolled through her stomach and she vomited right there.
Her dad’s arms wrapped around her.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Happy birthday.”
Chapter 1
MONSTERS WERE REAL, AND THEY USUALLY HID beneath the skin of men.
Dr. Sarah Jacobs had spent most of her adult life hunting monsters. She’d just finished her most recent case with LOST—Last Option Search Team—a recovery group that hunted the missing. They’d stopped the bad guy, but not before he’d killed.
More innocent lives had been lost.
No one is really innocent. Her father’s voice whispered through Sarah’s mind, and she hurried her steps as she walked down the busy New Orleans street. A few other members of her team were still in town, tying up the last of their loose ends. Before long, though, they’d all be packing things up and heading back to the main LOST office in Atlanta.
There would be another case waiting. There always was.
Sarah’s footsteps quickened even more when she caught sight of her hotel. The doorman was outside, and a relieved smile spread across her face. She’d felt a bit odd in the last few days. As if she were being watched. She’d been taught never to ignore her instincts, but Sarah knew there was no reason for anyone to be following her. Not now.
She hurried past the doorman, mumbling a quick hello. Then she was in the bright hotel lobby. Her high heels clicked over that gleaming floor. She didn’t slow down for a little pit stop at the crowded bar. Sarah headed right for the elevator. She got lucky and was able to slip inside immediately. Only me in here. A quick exhale of relief escaped her as the doors started to close.
Then a hand appeared. A man’s hand—strong, tan, and tattooed. Dark, swirling tattoos slid around his knuckles. He waved his hand, activating the elevator doors’ sensors and causing those doors to open wide for him.
Sarah pushed back against the wall of the elevator as Jax Fontaine stepped inside. She knew him by sight. Unfortunately. She also knew the man was trouble. The local authorities generally stayed out of his way. Unless she missed her guess, they were afraid of the guy.
And I don ’t blame them.
The word on the street was that Jax Fontaine was a very dangerous man. An enemy that most didn’t want to have.
Thanks to her last case, she was now acquainted with him—and she knew that she’d attracted some unwelcome interest from the guy.
“Hello, pretty Sarah,” he said. New Orleans drawled in his voice, just a hint of Creole rising and falling there. Jax smiled at her. Right. Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.
The elevator doors slid closed behind him.
Jax was tall, several inches over six feet, with broad shoulders and the kind of build that told her when he wasn’t up to no good in the French Quarter, he had to spend some serious time working out.
The guy looked like a fallen angel—if fallen angels spent a whole lot of time scaring the hell out of people. His hair was blond, thick, and a little too long. His face—that face of his was eerily perfect. Almost too handsome. A strong, hard jaw, a long blade of a nose. He had sharp cheekbones and blue eyes that seemed to see right into her soul.
And the elevator isn’t moving.
Probably because he’d leaned forward and pressed the stop button. What. The. Hell?
“I hear you’re leaving town.”
Her heartbeat spiked. When she was near him, that tended to happen. Her heart raced, her breathing came a little faster, and her stomach knotted.
Jax shook his head. “Leaving . . . and you weren’t even going to come and tell me good-bye?”
Laughter came from her. Not real laughter. She couldn’t remember what real laughter felt like. Tight and mocking, the laughter pushed out from her. “It’s not like we’re friends, Jax.” They’d been uneasy allies on the last case. Jax had known intel that she’d needed about the killer.
“Why just be friends? That’s boring.” His gaze slid over her. That light blue gaze seemed to heat as it lingered on Sarah’s body. “We’d be much better lovers than we’d ever be friends.”
Her hands were pressed to the wall behind her—only it wasn’t a wall. A mirror. Mirrors lined that elevator. To be very clear, Sarah told him, “I don’t date dangerous men.”
Jax stepped toward her. He didn’t move like other men. He stalked. He glided. Kind of like some big jungle cat—a beast hunting his prey. His hand lifted and his tattooed knuckles slid over her cheek.
His touch made her tense. Mostly because it seemed like an electric shock flowed straight through her body when his skin touched hers.
“Who said anything about dating?” Jax asked her. His smile flashed at her, showing his even, white teeth. “I thought we’d just spend the next seven hours fucking.”
Fucking. Her chin lifted. “Start the elevator.” Because she knew exactly what sort of huge mistake she’d be making if she got involved with a man like Jax. Sarah preferred to spend her time with men who were safe. Law-abiding. Men who didn’t thrive on danger and adrenaline. Men who had no idea about all the darkness that existed in the world.
Safe men.
Jax wasn’t safe. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d see right through the mask she wore.
When she inhaled, she could have sworn that she actually tasted him. He was so big, easily dwarfing her in that elevator, and his scent—masculine, rich—surrounded her.
Sarah pressed back against the mirror. “Start the elevator.”
His blue gaze sharpened on her. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Aren’t most people?” she dodged. Most smart people?
“Yes, but they have a reason to fear me.” His knuckles fell away from her. “You don’t. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”
Right. Like she was just supposed to take him at his word. Once Jax had been drawn into LOST’s investigation, Sarah had made it a top priority to learn as much about him as she could. Only it turned out that there wasn’t a whole lot to discover. Most of his past was cloaked, little more than rumors and smoke. Sure, she’d seen his criminal record, but that had been all juvie stuff. The guy had been good at covering his tracks once he’d become legal.
He’d been on the streets since he was a teenager. Somehow, he’d clawed his way—quite literally—out of the gutter and become a force to be reckoned with in the area. He owned several businesses and had connections that stretched across the county. And the local police were sure that he was a criminal. They just hadn’t been able to pin any serious crimes on him.
It’s hard because he has money and power. And he’s smart. She could see the intelligence in his eyes. The cunning. He won’t make mistakes easily.
“I love it when your mind starts spinning,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “Tell me, Dr. Jacobs, are you profiling me right now?”
Her hands lifted and she shoved against his chest. He backed up, not because she’d been uber strong and knocked him back, but because . . . dammit, she suspected he moved for her.
To make her feel in control.
But he likes power.
And, hell, she was profiling him. “I don’t understand the point of this little meeting. Stopping a woman in the elevator is hardly an appropriate pick-up routine—”
He laughed. His laughter actually sounded real. Warm and rough, and it rolled right over her.
“How is anything about us appropriate?” Jax asked. That man’s voice—so deep and rumbly—it was like pure sex. She was pretty sure, like one hundred percent so, that he normally had women tossing their panties at him on sight.
She wasn’t one of those women. Or, rather, she was trying not to be one of those women.
Sarah hurried to the control panel and pressed the button to get that elevator moving again. “You’re lucky security wasn’t called in. You can’t just stop an elevator.” She was muttering. She was also not looking back at him. “Look, LOST appreciates your cooperation.” Well, she didn’t actually think her teammates did appreciate his cooperation. They pretty much thought Jax was trouble.
So right.
“But the case is over now,” Sarah continued determinedly, “and your involvement with us . . .”
The doors opened. She breathed a fast sigh of relief and said, “That involvement is over, too.” Sarah stepped out of the elevator, straightened her spine, and made herself glance at him. Then she very firmly said, “Good-bye, Jax.”
He caught her right hand. “You know we’d be dynamite together. We touch, and I pretty much implode.”
Her whole body was trembling, but Sarah locked her knees. “That kind of desire is dangerous.”
“Aw, pretty Sarah, that kind of desire is addictive.”
Her room was just a few feet away. “Let go of my hand.” This madness with him had to stop. And that was exactly what it was—madness. He wasn’t the right kind of man for her. Not even for a night. He pushed her, made Sarah want to let go of her control, and she couldn’t do that. She already walked a fine line as it was.
His index finger slid along her inner wrist. Her pulse jerked beneath his touch. He leaned toward her and his breath blew lightly against her ear as he asked, “What are you so afraid of?”
She’d never tell. “Good-bye, Jax.”
He eased back from her. “When you change your mind, come and find me.”
The guy’s arrogance was too much.
“Did you really think I’d just jump on you when I saw you?” Her skin still felt warm where he’d touched her.
His mouth hitched into a half smile. “A guy can only hope.”
She shook her head. Then Sarah turned and marched away.
“That’s not why I came tonight. Though fucking you would have been heaven.”
Her steps slowed.
“I wanted to ask you about your business.”
Her business? LOST?
“What makes your boss decide to take on a case?”
Curious now, she looked back at him. “Is someone missing?”
Jax just shrugged. “I did my research, too, you know.”
She kept her expression still. If he’d been digging into the backgrounds of the LOST agents, then she realized that he knew all about the messed-up nightmare that was her past.
“LOST takes the cold cases, right? The ones that the cops have given up hope of solving.”
Sarah inclined her head. Her boss, Gabe Spencer, had originally opened LOST because he wanted to make a difference. When his sister had vanished, the local cops had been no help. Gabe had found Amy on his own, but he’d found her too late. The man who’d been holding Amy had killed her right before Gabe got to the scene.
“There’s no expiration date on your cases,” he said. “Doesn’t matter how much time has passed. You’ll still take it?”
“We’ve taken cases where the person has been missing for over ten years.” They were the Last Option Search Team for a reason. Most people who came to them had tried every other option that was available to them. Their other efforts had turned up nothing. Desperate, at the end of their rope—yes, that was the way families were when they finally came to the LOST office in Atlanta. “But . . .” And he needed to know this, if he was looking for someone who’d been missing. “The longer a person is gone, the greater the likelihood is that you aren’t going to find a live victim.”
“Right.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t have to worry about that.”
She stepped toward him. “Jax?” He’d made her curious now.
But he was backing into the elevator and shaking his head. “Forget it. I think it was a mistake.” Then he flashed his broad grin at her. What she thought of as his panty-dropping grin. “Though seeing you is always a pleasure.”
He was wearing a mask, one that hid his true emotions. In that moment, she was sure of it. For an instant, he’d let her glimpse behind the mask, but that instant was over.
“Have a safe trip back home. And who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again one day.”
“Maybe.” She was missing something there. She hesitated, then called, “Jax?”
But the elevator doors slid closed.
Sarah took a deep breath. Okay, so that had been unexpected. Pretty much everything about Jax Fontaine was unexpected. The last time she’d seen him—just days before—he’d told her, “When you need me, come find me.”
Only he’d been the one to find her. Asking questions that had put her on edge.
The carpet swallowed her footsteps as she hurried to her room, and maybe it was because she was thinking so much about Jax or maybe she was just off her game, but it took Sarah a moment too long to realize that her door was ajar. She blinked, staring at it, then she tried to hurriedly back away.
But the door was yanked open. A man stood there. A man covered from head to toe in black. She whirled away from him, but he grabbed her and yanked Sarah back against him.
“Time to pay.”
She opened her mouth to scream, but his gloved hand covered her lips.
NORMALLY, JAX WASN’T a coward. He feared no one and nothing. But . . .
The elevator opened. He stepped into the lobby. Glanced around. The rich and the pompous filled that place. Sure, these days he pretty much counted as rich, but he wasn’t pompous, and he couldn’t stand the sight of those pricks.
The marble floor of that hotel gleamed. Sarah had switched her hotels since her arrival in New Orleans. Probably because she hadn’t thought the last place was secure enough.
Since I broke into her hotel room. That had been a one-time deal. He’d just needed to talk with her and he’d been . . . concerned . . . about her well-being.
There were only a handful of people in that world that he cared about. Normally, he didn’t give a shit about most folks. But Sarah, with her dark, mysterious eyes—she’d gotten beneath his skin. And he’d just almost told her the biggest secret of his life.
Well, one of his top five, anyway.
He paused in the lobby. Unlike the other jerks running around that place, he was wearing jeans and a battered jacket. The concierge was frowning at him, so Jax just glared at the guy. The concierge then got very busy shuffling his papers.
The past doesn’ t matter. Why the hell did I ever come here and ask about LOST?
He strode toward the exit. The doorman hurried forward.
Only . . .
Jax glanced back. The LOST group knew their shit. He’d seen them in action. He’d read reports about their successes. If anyone could discover the truth for him, it would be LOST. And the only LOST agent who might actually push for the others to take his case?
Sarah.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered.
The doorman backed up.
Jax turned on his heel. Okay, so this time, maybe he’d even try asking nicely. The problem with that plan was that Jax didn’t exactly know how to do anything nicely.
Maybe the sexy little profiler could show him.
So once more, he found himself riding up that elevator. Only this time, he was alone. But Jax could have sworn he caught a light, sweet scent hanging in the air. Vanilla? Yeah, that was Sarah’s scent. When he’d been close to her—close enough to kiss, and he’d sure wanted to kiss her badly—that scent had teased him.
It had also aroused him.
The elevator ascended quickly, and soon he was up and high and stopping on Sarah’s floor. No one was in that hallway. All the doors were shut. He knew which room was Sarah’s—he could always get any intel he needed in New Orleans. A phone call had done the job for him. So he strode toward Room 3809. He lifted his hand and knocked. Rather politely, he thought.
There was a thud of sound from inside the room. As if Sarah had dropped something.
His brows climbed. Jax thought that he’d hear the pad of her footsteps coming toward him, but, other than the soft thud, there was no other sound coming from that room.
He knocked again. Harder. “Sarah, we need to talk.”
She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. Jax didn’t intend to leave until he’d had his say.
HER ATTACKER HAD a knife to Sarah’s throat. He’d nicked the skin a moment ago, when Jax had first knocked on her door.
Jax.
Right then, he was her main hope of survival.
“Make a sound, and I will slice your throat right here and now.” The man’s voice was a low, lethal whisper from behind his mask.
“Sarah, we need to talk.” Jax sounded determined. And he was pounding on her door again—harder this time. If he kept pounding like that, he’d attract attention from some of the folks in the other rooms. That attention would be wonderful.
Her attacker pulled her back against him. The knife didn’t leave its spot at her throat. He was maneuvering her, trying to get her—toward the connecting door? Yes, yes, he was. He was trying to get her to the door, and then he must think he could get her out by going through the other room. Or maybe he didn’t intend to get her out of the hotel. Maybe he’d be killing her as soon as he could.
Too bad. I’m not ready to die.
She’d been trained well, after all. She knew how to survive.
So her hands slid down and when he moved another step, she knocked the lamp off the table. Just like she’d accidentally tripped over that chair a few moments ago. But when that lamp hit, the crash was loud and clear.
“You bitch,” her attacker snarled as he yanked her around to face him. “I’m gonna hurt you so much—”
The door crashed in. Sweet hell, yes.
But that knife was still too close to her. So Sarah slammed her head at her attacker. He groaned when she hit him, and the hand holding the knife jerked. She leapt back, her head pounding now, and he swiped out with his knife. The blade sliced down her arm, and Sarah cried out in pain.
Then Jax was there. He pulled her toward him, then he pushed her behind his back, shielding her. Normally, she wasn’t the shielding type, but she was bleeding and scared and Jax was pretty much roaring as he shot toward her attacker.
The guy’s fingers were locked tight around the knife. He lunged forward, and he brought that knife down in an arc, aiming right for Jax.
Jax’s hand lifted. He blocked that attack, then swung his fist into the other man. The attacker hit the floor. In the next instant, Jax was on top of him. Punching. Driving his powerful fists at the guy again and again.
Voices rose from the hallway. Right. You couldn’t exactly kick in a door and roar without attracting attention. Someone out there was shouting for security—a very good idea. Sarah’s hand wrapped around her wound. The blood dripped right through her fingers. He’d cut her so deep. She was probably going to need stitches and—
Jax still had him on the floor. She hurried forward. Sarah touched his shoulder and Jax froze, with his hand poised to punch the guy again.
Her attacker wasn’t fighting anymore. Just lying there, moaning.
Every breath that Sarah took felt icy in her lungs. “Take off his mask,” she told Jax.
Jax leaned down and ripped that mask off the guy.
Evil has so many faces. Her father’s voice whispered in her mind. That’s why you can’t ever trust what you see.
She was staring down at a kid, a boy who looked around eighteen. His lip was busted, bleeding, and so was his nose. Sarah didn’t know if she and her head butt were responsible for his injuries or if they’d come courtesy of Jax’s powerful fists, but the kid was obviously down for the count.
“Who the hell are you?” Jax demanded. “And why were you after her?”
The guy tried to talk. Blood and spittle flew from his mouth. Sarah stared at him, caught by the bright green of his eyes. His eyes were familiar to her. She knew she’d seen him somewhere before . . .
“Bitch is . . . evil . . .” the boy rasped. “Just like . . . him.”
Him.
“He murdered . . . mom . . . Gwen . . .”
That name—Gwen—seemed to echo through Sarah’s mind, and suddenly, an image clicked for her. Gwen Guthrie. A woman who’d had eyes exactly the same shade of bright green as the boy who’d attacked Sarah. His mother?
Yes, yes, that fit. Sarah had done research on Gwen. The woman had given birth to two children . . .
Before my father murdered her.
“Have to . . . kill Sarah. What she . . . deserves . . .”
Security pushed into the room. Goose bumps appeared on Sarah’s arms. No matter how many times she tried to escape her past, it just kept chasing her down. This time, the past had come armed with a knife. A very sharp one, at that.
