Shattered
Page 1
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 b
asement. 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.