Текст книги "Shattered"

Автор книги: Cynthia Eden

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

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.”

Like 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.

He stared into her eyes. The tears were gone, but he could see the tracks drying on her cheeks. “Fall apart anytime you want,” he told her softly. “I’ll be right here to catch you.”

Her head tilted and she got that look about her—the one that told him Sarah was trying to figure him out. Keep trying, baby. It won’t happen.

“How did you know . . . I was crying?”

He turned away from her. “Because you called my name.”

“No, I . . . I didn’t.”

“Yes, baby, you did.” When Sarah called, he had the feeling he’d always answer her. “Want to finish that shower now and—”

A phone was ringing. Her phone, from the other room. He heard her sharp inhale, and then she was rushing past him, and nearly losing that towel again in the process.

She grabbed her phone and when her expression tightened, he knew who was calling her.

She hit the button to put the call on speaker. Her fingers trembled the faintest bit as she held that phone between her and Jax. “Where’s Molly?” Sarah said by way of greeting.

Laughter flowed over the line. Low and mocking, and Jax’s hands clenched into fists.

“She’s not a pile of ash, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The man’s voice held no accent, but something about that voice seemed to tug at Jax’s memories. Do I know him? Do I know this bastard?

“But you were almost ash, weren’t you, Sarah? I was watching . . . saw you running toward the door.”

“On your cameras?” Sarah’s voice held no emotion, but the phone was still trembling in her grasp. “You set a trap for me.”

More laughter. Jax would be stopping that laughter, permanently. There were just some people who made the world a better place . . . when they weren’t in it.

“Didn’t think you would actually die,” the man murmured. “Not in the first room, though you did make me hope for a moment, Still, I thought you’d get some nice scars on that pretty face of yours. Scars to go show Daddy.”

Jax took out his phone. He had numbers for all of the LOST members. After all, he believed in being prepared. So he sent a quick text to Gabe. The bastard you’re after just called Sarah again. She’s talking to him now.

“I don’t want the cops involved, Sarah.” Now anger rumbled in the guy’s voice. “Molly is still alive, and if you want her back . . . I told you, you have to find her. That’s what you do, right?”

“I don’t believe she’s alive.” Sarah’s voice was flat. “I want proof of life, and I want it now.”

Silence.

“Maybe she did die in that fire,” Sarah continued. He was impressed that she kept her voice so calm. “Maybe you’re just jerking us around until we get the report from the fire marshal. If Molly’s alive like you say, then give me proof now, or I’m hanging up the phone.”

His breath rasped over the line. “She’s alive, bitch.”

“Prove it.” Sarah was staring down at the phone, not at Jax.

A text came through from Gabe. What is he saying?

Jax texted back. Sarah wants proof of life . . . he isn’t giving it to her.

Because Molly was dead?

There was only silence on the phone. No background noise at all that Jax could hear. In New Orleans, it was hard to find a place that quiet. People were everywhere. Music was always playing. Performers were in the streets. Something was happening.

“Do you want to hear her scream?” he finally asked Sarah. “I would have thought you’d heard enough screams when your daddy was cutting people up.”

Jax’s gaze snapped to Sarah’s face. She’d paled even more.

“Is that what he did?” Sarah asked, voice so mild and emotionless. “Did he cut up someone you loved? A mother, like Molly?”

He laughed.

“No,” Sarah said. “It couldn’t be your mother because you wouldn’t do this to Molly if that had been the case. You wouldn’t make her relive this terror.”

She was profiling him.

And the guy on the line was dead silent.

“You want to be like Murphy, don’t you?” Her words came faster. “You’re the one giving the pain, you’re the one—”

“I am nothing like him!” Those words were a roar. Sarah had definitely succeeded in breaking through that guy’s control.

“Aren’t you?” Sarah threw right back. “Then give me proof of life!”

The phone went dead.

“Dammit,” Sarah whispered.

Jax texted . . . No proof. We lost—

Her phone rang again. Same number. Molly’s number?

Calling again, he texted back.

Sarah didn’t answer the phone. “You told LOST what was happening, right?” Sarah asked Jax quietly. “Those are the texts you’re sending?”

He nodded.

“Then they can try to get a lock on the phone. Tell Gabe I’m answering again, and I’ll keep the guy talking for as long as I can.”

Jax sent the text through to Gabe.

Sarah swiped her index finger over the surface of that phone. Then she hit the button for speaker—

“You bitch!” The guy blasted. “You’re the one who should have died all those years ago! Murphy’s daughter. Blood as tainted . . . just like him!”

“Proof of life,” Sarah said. “Give it to me, or I hang up on you right now.”

Silence. Then . . . the rush of footsteps. The . . . lap of water? Yes, yes, it sounded like water, lapping against a dock. The man was running and Jax could hear water. And . . .

A squeak as a door opened. The thud of footsteps, a bit distorted, as if the guy were rushing up stairs. His breath was shuddering over the line and—

“She wants proof that you’re alive.”

A woman screamed then. Loud and long, and Sarah flinched.

The caller laughed. Why are you laughing, asshole? Because you like hurting women? Ah, now that was just one thing that Jax fucking hated.

Yet another reason to kill this guy.

“I just drove my knife into her, Sarah. Didn’t hit an organ, that way she’ll just bleed and hurt, but not die. Guess who taught me that move?”

Sarah didn’t speak.

“Who taught me that move, Sarah? Who liked to keep his prey alive while they bled and begged?”

“Murphy.”

Another long scream filled the line.

“I stabbed her again, Sarah,” he said, sounding almost gleeful. “I stab—”

“How do I know that’s Molly? Put her on the line. Let me talk to her. Let me know it’s her. Because maybe you’ve got an accomplice who’s just screaming on command. Maybe you’re some dumb dick who—”

“Help me!” That was a woman’s terror-filled voice.

“Molly?” Sarah asked. Again, she was like ice. No emotion at all in her voice. But the phone still trembled in her grasp. “I need proof that it’s you. Tell me something that will—”

“I won’t . . . beg . . . like her.” The words were weak. “Won’t go out . . . like my m-mother . . . won’t beg, no matter what he says . . .”

Sarah’s eyes closed. “No, Molly, don’t beg, do you understand? Whatever he does, don’t beg for death.”

Another scream then . . .

“Happy now?” the man taunted Sarah. “You’re the reason Molly bled. But then, you’re the reason Molly’s mother died, too, aren’t you?”

Sarah sucked in a quick breath of air and her eyes opened. “You think you know my secrets.”

“I know where the bodies are buried.” Laughter. “All of them. And before I’m done, Sarah, you’ll be joining them. Another body, buried in a shallow grave. A grave that the police can’t ever find because they believe the lies—”

“Molly, if you can hear me, I’m coming for you,” Sarah said, cutting over his words. “You’re going to make it out of this alive, just don’t give up. Do you understand me? Don’t give up—”

“Molly can’t talk now,” he murmured. “She’s too busy getting stabbed.”

Molly’s scream filled the air once more.

“Hurry, Sarah. Find her fast. Because if you don’t, she’ll always be one of the lost.”

Once more, the line went dead.