Текст книги "Shattered"

Автор книги: Cynthia Eden

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Jax shoved to his feet. He turned, and that gaze of his—burning with a blue fury in that moment—swept over her. When he saw her wound, he swore.

“We need to call the cops,” Sarah said as the security team closed in on the boy. “He just attacked me.” Her voice didn’t shake. Her words didn’t break. There was no emotion in them at all. She couldn’t let any emotion affect her, not then. Not with all those people standing around in the hallway, whispering.

“She needs medical care,” Jax snapped. “Get an ambulance here!”

“No, I—” Sarah began.

“He sliced your arm. You’re going to need stitches.” He was holding her hand. So carefully, as if he were afraid of hurting her.

Her head tilted back as she looked up and focused on him. He’d come to her rescue, charging inside that room and probably saving her from—what? Torture? Death? “Thank you.”

His gaze searched hers. “You know who that kid is, don’t you?”

She glanced back at the boy. The hotel security had circled around him, and the guy was hunched on the floor. Crying. “I’ve never met him before in my life.” Those words were true. But even if they weren’t, Jax wouldn’t know. After all, she was a world-class liar.

Some of her father’s victims had been identified over the years. She had pictures of all those victims—and she’d seen the boy’s green eyes before. That particular shade of green was unusual, startling. Unforgettable. Those eyes belonged to her father’s first victim.

Gwen Guthrie.

POLICE STATIONS WEREN’T his scene. Mostly because he and the cops were all too often butting heads. They wanted to toss him in a cell. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. He usually did tell them to fuck off.

If it hadn’t been for Sarah, there was no way Jax would have been at the police station in New Orleans. But he’d stayed with her while she got stitched up, and even though she had plenty of protection around her, he was still loath to leave her.

“We’ve got this.” His shoulders tensed at that voice—a voice he knew. He turned his head and saw another LOST agent heading toward him. Wade Monroe. The guy moved with slow, deliberate steps, and his assessing gaze quickly swept the areas. Jax already knew the guy was an ex-cop, a former detective from up in Atlanta, and like the other LOST agents, the guy wasn’t exactly on Team Jax.

His mistake, of course. Team Jax was awesome.

“What the hell happened?” Wade demanded as he closed in on Jax. “What did you do to her?” And the guy actually grabbed his shirt, fisting his hands in the material.

Jax glanced down at those hands. Wade was a friend of Sarah’s, he had to remember that, and all the LOST agents had worked hell hard to protect Jax’s friend Emma Castille. Emma had gotten tangled in some serious shit recently, and LOST had protected her. So Jax figured he owed Wade and the others a small amount of leeway.

Very, very small.

“I saved the day,” Jax drawled, deliberately letting his accent deepen. He could use or discard that accent at will. He hadn’t been born in Louisiana, but he sure liked the faint drawl. “Rushed in like the hero that I am.”

“Bullshit,” Wade threw out.

Jax’s lips curved.

“You and I both know what you did to Kevin McCormack.”

He let his brows climb. “McCormack? Ah, you mean the crazy-ass FBI agent who tried to kill your LOST buddy Dean Bannon and my . . . friend . . . Emma.”

McCormack had been one psychotic asshole. He’d kidnapped and tortured his prey, and the guy had foolishly thought that Emma would be joining that prey list. McCormack hadn’t realized that Emma was family. Part of the very small family that Jax had in this world.

“You set up that hit on him, didn’t you?” Wade demanded. “Got some of your buddies in jail to take him out?”

Like he hadn’t already heard those accusations from the local cops. “News flash. Prisoners don’t exactly like FBI agents, and when a dirty, twisted freak like McCormack wound up in their grasp, I guess one of them just snapped.” And McCormack had wound up dead. One less problem for me.

Wade held his stare. “What happened tonight?”

Ah, well, at least they were done talking about the dead man. “I saved Sarah.” He tapped his chin. “Do you think she’ll be properly appreciative? I do hope so.”

Wade growled. “Don’t you ever get tired of being a dick?”

“Not really.”

But, over Wade’s shoulder, Jax had just caught sight of Sarah. She was heading toward them, and even under those garish lights at the police station, the woman was gorgeous.

Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, a perfect frame for her delicate, heart-shaped face. And delicate—yes, that was the word that kept coming to mind when he thought of her. She was small, petite, with a light build and sweet curves. Her lips were full, damn near perfectly bow-shaped. She was a package made for sin and temptation, he got that.

But it was her eyes—those incredible eyes—that were really getting to him.

Deep and dark. A man could lose his soul in eyes like that. Provided he had a soul to lose.

Yes, she looked delicate, all right. All five feet and nothing inches of her. And when he’d seen that bastard in her hotel room, seen that knife in the jerk’s hand, Jax had snapped.

He stepped around Wade. Let his gaze sweep over her. She was too pale. Her normally golden skin was pallid. Her lips were bare of color, and her gaze seemed a little too stark as she stared at him.

“Sarah!” Wade called, sounding incredibly relieved. “Finally. What the hell is going on here?”

“Oh, the usual.” She pushed back her hair. “Someone broke into my hotel room, pulled a knife, said I deserved to die.”

Wade swore.

“But, lucky for me,” Sarah continued, “Jax was there.”

Wade’s stunned gaze shot to him. “Told you,” Jax said, shrugging his shoulders. “I saved the day.” He offered his hand to Sarah. “Now, you look as if you’re about to collapse. Come home with me, and I’ll tuck you into a nice, warm bed.”

Wade shoved Jax’s hand out of the way. “Back off, Fontaine.”

Wade was going to be a problem.

“The offer . . .” Jax told Sarah softly, “will always be open.” Just so they were clear.

“Get out of here!” Wade exploded at him. “When are you going to get it? Sarah isn’t attracted to guys like you.”

Oh, but she was. “She certainly isn’t interested in you,” Jax murmured.

Wade surged forward, but Sarah had already moved, too, and she put her body between theirs. “I am not in the mood for this.” Her voice was low, carrying only to them. “My arm hurts, I just got grilled by the cops until I thought my head would explode, and the last thing I want right now is to deal with you two having some stupid testosterone fight.”

Wade’s cheeks flushed.

“Jax helped me tonight. I’m grateful to him.” She looked up at Jax. “I don’t . . . I don’t like to think about what could have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

He didn’t like to think of that, either. He caught her chin in his hand, holding her carefully. “Who was the guy?”

“His name is . . . Eddie Guthrie.”

“Aw, hell,” Wade said. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Obviously, that guy had just made some sort of connection with the name, a connection that Jax didn’t get.

“He’s come after you before?” Jax guessed.

She shook her head. “No, this is . . . just one of those things.” Her voice became even softer when she said, “He read an article about me in the paper—about the work LOST had done down here. He saw my picture and made the connection. It’s not like I could have known he was living here. I hadn’t been keeping track of him.”

He was confused. “Why did he come after you?”

Her chin notched up, pulling from his grasp. “Like you haven’t already been digging into my past.”

He had, but—

“That kid in there—Eddie—he came after me because he’s an eye-for-an-eye type.” Her words were stilted, but she shivered as she stood there. Wade shrugged out of his coat and put it around her shoulders.

Annoying true-blue type. Should have given her my damn jacket.

“You see, my father killed his mother. Tortured her for hours before he ended her suffering.”

Jax sucked in a sharp breath.

“So it seems that when Eddie found out I was in town, he thought he’d take the opportunity to strike out at my dear old dad . . . by killing me.” Her smile was sad. “An eye for an eye. A life for a life.”

“Sarah.” Wade’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. Because now Eddie is going to jail. He looks young, but turns out he’s twenty-one. No juvenile status for him.” Her lips turned down in a sad frown. “I highly doubt he’s going to come out in any better frame of mind.”

My father killed his mother.

“Time to leave this town,” Sarah said. Once more, her gaze found Jax’s. “How am I supposed to repay you?”

No one should have eyes like her. “Don’t worry,” Jax heard himself murmur, “I’m sure I’ll think of something . . .”

Chapter 2

IT WAS NEARING 3 A.M. SARAH SHOULDN’T HAVE been exiting a taxi in front of the little bar on the wrong side of the town. She should have been in her new hotel room. The one on club level with all the so-called great security. She should have been warm and safe in her bed.

A catcall followed her as she headed across the street and toward the entrance of Shade.

She knew she shouldn’t be at that place, but . . . she was.

The past is too strong tonight. I need to escape before I go absolutely crazy.

Wade was her friend, and he’d tried to understand what she was going through, but the thing was . . . he could never really understand. No one could.

A bouncer was waiting near the door. And there was a long, snaking line that seemed to circle the bar—even at 3 A.M. Hell, she hadn’t even thought that so many people would be there. If she stayed in that line, she’d never get inside. Sarah inched forward and when she looked up, the bouncer’s stare was on her.

He was a huge guy, rather tanklike, with a long, twisting scar that slid over his left eye, slicing right though the eyebrow. Whatever had caused that scar, well, it was pretty amazing that the guy hadn’t lost his eye.

He stood up. And Sarah looked way, way up.

“You don’t belong here,” he said, his gaze raking over her.

She wore jeans and a T-shirt. Tennis shoes. Her hair was loose because she hadn’t wanted to waste time with it. A light jacket covered her arms so no one could see that ever-so-stylish bandage she was sporting.

Sure, this might not be her typical place. Sarah usually avoided bars, but . . . “I need to see Jax.”

“Dark hair. Chocolate eyes. Fucking sex appeal.” The man whistled. “Pretty Sarah.”

Uh, okay.

“I know you.”

He did? “And you are . . . ?”

“Carlos.”

Great. So now he waved to someone else, and a slightly smaller guy took up a guard position at the bar’s door.

“I was told to always let you in. Provided that you came calling . . .”

Jax had known she’d come looking for him?

The guy took her inside. Music was blaring in there. Voices were shouting, and drinks were flowing. Pumping out from the long, wooden bar. There was also a woman doing some serious gyrating on the small stage that was just a few feet away. When the chick grabbed for the pole near her, Sarah looked away.

“This way.” Her guide wasn’t leading her toward the bar. He was taking her to a small door on the far right side of the place. “Jax is in there.” He reached for the doorknob.

Sarah grabbed his hand. “Is he alone?” Maybe she should have thought about that part before. She didn’t want to burst in there and find Jax with some half-naked chick—like the one out on that stage. He said to come and find him, but I don’t want to find him with someone else.

“Does it matter?” the man asked, his head tilting as he studied her.

“Uh, yes, it matters. A rather great deal.” She looked back at the bar. There was an empty space there, and Sarah was pretty sure she could wiggle into that spot. “I think I’ll just wait for him over there.”

But her guide had just thrown open the door. “Jax! She’s here!” That bellow was close to deafening.

Jax spun around. His eyes widened when he saw her.

“Uh, hi there, Jax,” Sarah mumbled.

He was alone, thank goodness. No half-naked woman to be seen.

The door closed behind her. Her guide had sure vanished fast.

Jax was stalking toward her. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She broke off, trying to think of a fairly believable explanation. The truth wouldn’t work. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I saw my dad’s face. I heard screams. And I started to wonder if Eddie was really so wrong when he came to kill me. Because I think I’m just as much of a monster as my father ever was.

Maybe more.

But she couldn’t tell that to her friends in LOST. They wouldn’t understand. Wade was already treating her with kid gloves. Her closest confidante on the team—Victoria Palmer—was still recovering from an attack on their last mission. So she sure couldn’t go to her.

None of her friends had ever understood about her past. They’d sympathized, they’d told her how very sorry they were for all that she’d had to endure. But they didn’t understand. And their pity drove her insane.

Jax’s blue stare was on her. And there was no pity on his face or in his gaze.

“I shouldn’t be here.” There. Those were the words that finally came out of her mouth, they were so true. “You’re dangerous and you’re too sexy and you’ve got a stripper on the stage outside of this door.”

His brows shot up. Then he laughed. Hard.

She kept staring at him.

“Which of those,” he finally murmured, “bothers you the most?”

Sarah rubbed her arms and started pacing around that little office. “Why do you even have this bar? It’s a serious hole in the wall.”

He seemed to consider her question for a moment, then he said, “When I was eighteen, I was begging for money outside this place.”

She stopped pacing. Sarah turned back around and stared at him.

“The owner said he had something to give me. I was starving, desperate—and he brought me around back.”

She waited. The owner had helped him? He’d—

“Then he beat the shit out of me and told me to never come back and loiter in front of his business again.”

That wasn’t the end of the story she’d expected. Sarah shook her head and said simply, “Bastard.”

Jax shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Oh, he was. But don’t worry, the guy got exactly what he had coming to him.”

“What was that?” Sarah was almost afraid to ask.

“I healed up. Lucky for me, someone found me and took me to the hospital.”

He said the words so simply, but she knew it must have been a brutal experience for him. He’d been so young then . . .

“When I was healed up, I made a vow to never beg for another damn thing in my life.” He was so close to her, less than a foot away. “I took every job I could find, and, no, all of those jobs weren’t exactly what you’d call legit. I worked my way up the ladder down here, I became a fucking force to be reckoned with, and on my twenty-first birthday, I bought this bar and four others.” His smile was cold. “I took the former owner out back on my move-in day. I told him that I had something for him . . .”

She wet her lips. “I think I know where this tale is going now.”

“He’d just beat two of his dancers so badly they could hardly walk. I figured it was time he had some payback coming his way.” Jax shrugged. “So I paid him. In full.”

She glanced toward the door. Coming there had been a huge mistake.

“Sarah.”

Her gaze slid back to him.

“No judgment,” he murmured. “There’s no anger in your eyes, no rage or disgust at me for being a cold bastard. No pity for the kid I was who got beaten in a dirty alley and left to die.”

“Don’t be too sure you understand what I feel.”

“Why not? I actually think I understand you very, very well.”

Sarah backed up a step.

A faint smile curved his lips. “It was there from the first time I saw you. That instant connection. Doesn’t happen often. Actually, it’s never happened to me before. I looked up, saw you, and thought—”

Sarah pretty much ran for the door.

But he caught her. His hands wrapped around her and Jax pulled her back against his body. His hold wasn’t hard or rough. Oddly, it was infinitely tender.

“Do you know what I saw when I looked in your eyes?” he whispered into her ear.

Sarah shook her head.

“You were hurting. Trying to hide your pain, but I could still see it. I looked at you and thought—I never want her to hurt again.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You don’t know me. Or what I’ve done.” Jax thought his past was bad? It was nothing compared to hers. She still had nightmares that had her waking in the night, choking for breath, and begging for help.

Help that hadn’t come. Not in time.

“Tell me why you came to see me tonight, Sarah.”

She sucked in a quick breath and decided to go with the truth. “Because I didn’t want to lie in bed and be afraid. Because I didn’t want to think about the past or the future.” Because she’d felt that insane connection between them, too.

The first time she’d seen him, she’d looked into his eyes and thought—

He can handle all my darkness. He won’t ever be afraid of what I tell him.

Because his gaze had told her that he’d already looked into hell . . . and hadn’t given a damn about the demons there.

He turned her in his arms. She made herself look up and into his eyes. He was so warm and strong against her. And he made her . . . want. Yearn for things that she’d denied herself for so very long.

Because she hadn’t wanted anyone to get close. She hadn’t trusted anyone with all her secrets.

She didn’t trust him, either. She’d be a fool to do that. But—she did want him. And every instinct Sarah possessed screamed at her that Jax Fontaine could give her the sensual oblivion she craved.

A few hours to forget. A few hours to just pretend that I’ m not the freak in the room. The monster that everyone else fears.

“What do you want from me?” Jax asked her.

Just a night. She’d be leaving New Orleans soon, flying out on a plane and heading back to her little house in the suburbs of Atlanta. They wouldn’t see each other again. So no one else would know about what happened tonight. Just her.

Just him.

So she rose onto her tiptoes. Her hands curled around his neck and she pulled him toward her, and Sarah kissed him. His mouth was closed and he was stiff against her. She’d expected—more. Because of the way she felt when he was near—that tight, hot energy, flowing through her veins—she’d thought—

“Not like that, princess.” His hands curled around her. He lifted her up, carried her, and sat her on the edge of his desk. Then he stepped between her legs. Jax wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her flush against his growing arousal. “Like this.”

Then he kissed her.

His mouth was open. The kiss was deep, hot, consuming. The guy wasn’t sampling with his tongue. He was taking and he was making her moan against him. Desire exploded within her. White-hot. Electrifying. So perfect because it pushed everything else aside for her. Sarah let go of her fears, and she held on to Jax as tightly as she could.

The man knew how to seduce. There was no denying that. And he sure as hell knew how to kiss. Her toes were curling, and it was a good thing she was up on that table because Sarah wasn’t so sure that her legs would have held her up.

Sarah kissed him back with a wild fury. Licking, sucking that sensual lower lip of his. She loved it when he growled and held her even tighter. But she wanted more. So much more.

She couldn’t hear the noise of the bar. It was so quiet in that room. Soundproofed? Maybe, she didn’t really care right at that moment. Her hands pushed between them as she fumbled with his belt and—

“No.” His hands closed around hers.

Sarah shook her head, certain that she’d misheard him. He hadn’t . . . wait . . . had he really said no? But he was enjoying this as much as she was, right? Doubt stirred within her. “You said you wanted me.”

“Oh, pretty Sarah, I do.” His voice was deep and sensual, and just the sound of that low rumble had her nipples tightening more. “But not like this.”

Uh, like this? Sarah blinked.

“Not here. This isn’t the place for you—or our first time together.”

He said that as if they’d be together plenty of times. But he was wrong. It was just one night. Not even that. Only a few hours remained before sunrise.

He stepped away from her.

Heat stained Sarah’s cheeks. She’d been so wrong about him. How had she been this wrong? She’d thought for sure that he wanted her, but he was standing there, eyes glinting, body tight and—

“I made a mistake.” Sarah snapped her legs together and jumped off that desk. Points for her—Sarah’s knees didn’t tremble and she stayed upright. “I won’t be bothering you again.”

He blocked her path when she headed for the door. “I have a feeling that you’ll be bothering me quite a bit.” He opened his right hand. Held it out to her. “Let’s take a ride together.”

What? She’d been trying to take a ride on that desk, but then he’d put on the brakes.

“You can trust me, Sarah. I told you, I’d never hurt you.”

Yes, he’d said that. “I don’t really trust anyone.” Not even the other LOST agents, not one hundred percent. “It’s a flaw I have.” Always looking for hidden motives. Always holding herself back from others.

“Then don’t trust me, but come with me.” His hand was still open, between them. Waiting. “And before this night is over, I’ll have you screaming with pleasure.”

Her heart jerked in her chest. “Maybe you’ll be the one who screams.”

He smiled at her. “You are not what others expect, are you?”

Not at all. Her hand lifted. Her fingers were trembling as they reached for his. He caught her hand in his. Held tight.

“There’s no going back now,” he told her.

No, there wasn’t.

Just a few hours.

He didn’t take her back through the bar. They went out another door, one that led them to the alley behind the bar. She could hear voices back there. People talking. Laughing. She saw one couple against the wall of that alley, kissing and stroking each other.

She quickly looked away from them and then saw that Jax was getting on a motorcycle. It was a big, black beast of a bike. He revved the engine, and the hard, rumbling growl filled her ears. He glanced back at her. “You’re not afraid of a little ride in the dark, are you?”

No. She jumped on. He put a helmet on her. “To keep you extra safe.” Then he kissed her. A light, fast kiss.

In the next moment, that motorcycle was lunging through the alley, then ripping down the street. Fast, faster, until it seemed like they were flying. And it was wonderful. The motorcycle was vibrating between her legs, her arms were wrapped tightly around Jax, and Sarah heard herself laughing.

She didn’t know where they were going. Right then, she didn’t care. The ghosts from her past weren’t chasing her—or trying to use a knife to slice open her throat. She was with Jax.

And right then, being with him was the only thing that mattered.

DR. SARAH JACOBS had gone slumming.

From the shadows, he watched as she climbed onto the motorcycle. Watched as she held her lover so tightly. When the motorcycle took off, her laughter rose above the roar of that bike.

Sarah was a woman who was so very good at pretending. Pretending to be innocent. Pretending that she wanted to help the victims of the world. But he saw right through her lies.

He recognized her for exactly what she was.

Dark and twisted. Broken on the inside. Like a mirror that had been busted, then pieced back together, cracks all along the surface. Sarah had those cracks, right beneath her skin.

Did she even realize the hell that was coming her way? Probably not. She thought she was the smart one. The woman who could figure out all the killers.

She’d never figure him out.

Tonight’s little visitor—that had just been the start of what he had planned. The true games were about to begin. Then he’d see just what Sarah knew . . .

But first, he had to start with the right prey. Someone who would catch Sarah’s attention. No, not just her attention, but the attention of the entire LOST group. Because Sarah just followed orders, and he needed her boss to order Sarah to stay in New Orleans.

Soon, Sarah would realize that she didn’t know killers nearly as well as she thought.

And I’m coming for you, Jax. Jax Fontaine. The name whispered in New Orleans like the man was supposed to be someone. You’re nothing. You’ve always been nothing.

Jax and Sarah were bound, linked, and they’d both be crashing and burning together.

It was almost perfect that Sarah and Jax had found each other.

Because it sure as hell made things easier for him.

He’d planned to take them out separately, but this—this was fucking fate. His justice. They’d come together, and it was his time.

His time to make them both pay.

SARAH LIKED DANGER. Jax had realized that fact when she laughed as he cut through the city on his motorcycle. She hadn’t even hesitated to jump on behind him.

Sarah Jacobs . . . such a mix of contradictions. She looked so controlled on the outside, all business, but then when you looked in her eyes . . .

I see the truth.

Fire. Passion. Her eyes burned for him.

He’d driven the motorcycle to one of his newest acquisitions, a house in the Quarter, not too far from the old La Laurie mansion. He headed past the main gate and parked his bike. Sarah didn’t climb off right away. Her body was pressed to his back, her hands wrapped around his stomach. He liked the way she held on to him—so tight. But he had a feeling he was going to like plenty of other things about Sarah, too.

She slowly let go and eased off the motorcycle. Sarah handed him the helmet and turned to look around.

He rose, too, and typed in a quick code to send the gate shutting behind them. He’d just started renovating the house, so it wasn’t much to see. Not yet. One day, though, it would be.

Sarah was staring up at the high stone wall that circled his property. Her gaze seemed centered on the broken bottles that were placed on the top of the wall.

She glanced back at him, her brows raised.

“It’s an old trick we use down here,” he explained to her. “If anyone tries to scale the wall, they either get cut or they knock the bottles over—and I hear them coming.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “I would have thought your security system would be all the protection you needed.”

“A man can never be too safe.” He turned and headed toward the house. But he didn’t hear the sound of her footsteps following him. Jax glanced back. She was still staring up at the broken bottles. “You haven’t changed your mind?” He was having trouble believing that she was actually there with him. Sarah. If the woman knew that she’d been starring in his fantasies every night since they’d met, she’d probably be trying to scale that wall, broken bottles or not. There was just something about her. The minute he’d seen her, she’d just . . . clicked for him.

“I haven’t.” Her voice was soft, but she’d finally started walking toward him. “I’ve been . . . here . . . in this area of town before. I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“I’ve got a few houses, scattered about.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s a good thing to have more than one base for operations.” No, that wasn’t the truth. He liked to acquire things. It was a quirk—or an obsession. But when you grew up with nothing, well, you had a tendency to want everything.

He opened the door for her. A curving spiral staircase led upstairs. The staircase was one of the finished elements in the house. He fucking loved that staircase.

And I’d love fucking her on it.

“Why this place?”

He shut the door behind him. Secured the alarm system in the house. “I got a great deal on it.” He gave her a tight smile. “Not everyone wanted to be so close to the massacre house.”

She tensed.

“The La Laurie mansion,” he explained as he propped his shoulders against the door and studied her. “It’s just down the road a bit. Those haunted tours come this way several times a day, everyone so eager to get a glimpse of the place—and maybe see a ghost or two.”

She rubbed her arms. “Now I know why this house seems familiar.”

“Went on a tour, did you?”

Her dark eyes held his.

“Like you’d be afraid of a few ghosts.” And he stalked toward her. He just had to get closer. She was standing in front of those stairs and looking so beautiful that she made him ache. “I actually wonder . . . does anything scare you?”

Her hand curled around the banister. “The man and woman who used to live in that house—the ones who hurt all of those people—they scare me. Real-life people always scare me more than any ghost story . . . because I know just how evil we can be.”

We? He caught her hand. The sleeves of her coat came down to her wrists. He brought her left hand up to his mouth. “I don’t think you’re evil at all.”

“Maybe you just don’t know me that well.”

Damn, but he liked her.

He held her hand. Stared into her eyes. And thought about all the ways he wanted to have her. His hand slid around her wrist. He could feel her pulse racing right there and—

There was a long, thick line beneath his fingertips. Frowning now, he pushed back her coat sleeve as he stared at her wrist. There was a scar there, one that appeared to slice over the veins.

“I usually do a better job of keeping that covered,” Sarah said, voice soft. “Tonight, I just didn’t bother. I figured you’d be able to deal with me, scars and all.”

His index finger slid over that scar.

“If you use your dominant hand to make the first cut and that cut is too deep, then your other hand won’t be able to slice when the time comes.”

His gaze snapped back to her face.

“Just a lesson I learned.”

“You tried to kill yourself.” Fury pumped through him. Sarah—dead? No.

“I was a teenager, utterly scared out of my mind.” But then she shook her head. “It wasn’t the fear that did it, though. It was the guilt.”

He didn’t understand. “Sarah?”

“You know who I am.” She stepped closer to him. And her bittersweet smile made his chest ache. “Oh, not all the specifics, because few people know those sordid details, but you know my father—”

“—was a serial killer.” Yes, he knew that. Murphy Jacobs, a man convicted of murdering five people, though he’d been suspected in the deaths of at least a dozen more.

“You know and you don’t look at me like I’m a freak.”