by Cynthia Eden
She could actually feel all the blood leaving her head and flowing right down her body. No, he could not be there. She’d left him that morning. Wait, why would he be there? Her gaze jerked to Gabe. Gabe was staring at Jax.
“I think you know Jax Fontaine,” Gabe murmured.
Um, biblically, yes, she did. But did the others realize that?
“He’s our new client.”
Sarah grabbed tight to her control. She’d already revealed too much with her rapid breathing and her startled response to Jax. It was a good thing that Dean’s fiancée, Emma, wasn’t there. Emma could read people so very easily. The woman had a gift—or, rather, a wickedly honed talent. Emma would see right through her act.
But Emma isn’t here . . .
She stepped away from Gabe and advanced carefully toward Jax. He was dressed in a suit—not what she expected from him at all. He didn’t look like the leader of one of the biggest motorcycle gangs in the South—which he supposedly was. Instead, he looked like a too-in-control businessman. The tattoos on his arms were covered up, and the only markings she saw were the dark tats on his fingers.
“Who is missing?” Sarah asked Jax. But she really wanted to know . . . why hadn’t he told her sooner? Why waste any additional time on a case? With victims, time was always of the essence, even on cold cases.
Gabe had learned that lesson the hard way. If he’d found his sister just a little bit sooner, Amy would have been alive.
“That’s the tricky part,” Wade called out. His voice was mild, though, despite the frown that still pulled at his features. “Seems we have the missing, right here in this room with us.”
Her head cocked as she gazed back at Jax. She wasn’t sure what those words were supposed to mean. Normally, they were hired to find someone who’d vanished. Only once had they worked a different type of case.
Back then, a woman calling herself Eve Gray had come into the LOST offices in Atlanta. Eve had possessed no memory of her life, and she’d wanted the LOST group to help her figure out just who she was. They’d found out the truth for Eve, and along the way, Gabe had fallen for the blonde.
But Jax Fontaine wasn’t suffering from any memory loss, she’d stake her life on that. Was he just trying to play some game with them?
“I was seven when I was taken,” he said softly.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. Staring into his eyes, she saw how very serious he was. This is no game.
“I don’t remember where I was before then.” His voice was flat, so odd, without any emotion. “I know that the man who took me was a sadistic freak. He’d hit me, he’d threaten me, and . . .” Now his gaze seemed to see into the past. “For days, he’d lock me in a closet. He did that until I stopped begging to go home.”
Helpless now, she reached out to him. “Jax . . .” Her fingers curled around his arms. No emotion was in his voice or his face, but she could feel his pain, all but hanging in the air between them.
“After a while, I learned not to ask for home.” He glanced down at her hand, as it curled around his arm. “But I’m asking now. I’ll pay whatever price LOST demands, but I want to know where I came from. I want to know who I was . . .” His lips twisted. “ . . . before I became Jax Fontaine.”
Jax . . . a man who’d been arrested over a dozen times before his eighteenth birthday.
A man rumored to be the boss of the New Orleans underworld.
A man who’d . . . been a victim?
“So tell me the price,” Jax murmured, “and I’ll pay it.”
Her fingers tightened around his arm.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Gabe said, his words soft but laced with sympathy. “We don’t take a case, not until we’ve researched it more. We have to make sure—”
“—that I’m not bullshitting you?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes.” Gabe’s equally blunt reply.
“I’m not.” Jax’s gaze dipped to Sarah’s hand. “The man who became my—my father . . .” His lips twisted with disgust as he said the word. “He . . . took me. That I know with certainty. I was someone else before, and I need to find out who the hell that kid was.” His breath heaved out. “He didn’t work alone. There was a woman with him. Her name was Charlene. Charlene Fontaine.” His lips curved the faintest bit. “She became my mother. She . . . loved me.” He pulled away from Sarah and looked back out the window. “She used to tell me that my old mother was gone. But that she’d be better. And . . . in her way, she did take care of me.” After a moment, he said, “When I was fifteen, she killed herself.”
Sarah’s hand fell back to her side.
“I tried to save her, but I couldn’t. I figured my past died with her.” His fingers pressed to the glass. “But then I learned all about the LOST group, thanks to Emma. And I realized I might just find out where I’d come from, after all.”
She wanted to help him. No, more than that. Sarah needed to help him. She’d thought that Jax was strong, dangerous—he was. But there was so much happening beneath the surface with him.
Sarah glanced back over her shoulder. Dean had tensed at the mention of Emma’s name. No big surprise there, considering that the guy was in love with Emma Castille. But, once upon a time, Emma had been involved with Jax. Intimately involved. Sarah knew Dean didn’t exactly like having Jax anyplace near Emma but . . .
Don’t worry, Dean. Jax has moved on. Sarah just wasn’t going to get into the specifics of that whole moving-on bit right then.
Gabe’s intent stare was on Jax. It was Gabe who would make the final call about the case. He’d be the one to tell them if they could go ahead or if—
Gabe nodded, a small inclination of his head. “We’ll see what we can find for you.”
Instead of relaxing, Jax’s powerful shoulders tensed even more.
“But you should be warned,” Gabe continued, “you might not like what we discover.”
Jax just laughed as he turned to face them all once more. “Obviously, you don’t know what my life has been like. Nothing can be much worse than what I’ve lived through already.”
Sarah believed him.
Seven years old.
A chair leg scraped. Sarah glanced back and saw that Victoria had risen to her feet. “We’ll need your DNA,” Victoria said. “We should do some blood work. We’ll check NamUs and see if any reports match your case.”
NamUs—the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. Yes, they could check the database and see if there was a report of a seven-year-old boy vanishing around a timeline that fit Jax’s story. They could see—
“Don’t bother with NamUs,” Jax said, his voice close to a growl. “Did you think I hadn’t already tried them? Hell, I’ve hired three PIs in the last two years. No one ever turns up anything.” His gaze bored into Sarah’s. “I want you to be different.”
“We don’t give up easily,” she whispered.
“Good. Neither do I.” There was a deeper, harder note in his last words.
She shivered.
What is he doing to me?
Sarah backed away from him.
And Jax smiled.
“WAKE UP, MOLLY.”
The voice was low, rumbling, and it pierced through the heavy darkness around Molly Guthrie. She jerked, but found that her hands were tied behind her back. She was sitting on a hard wooden chair, and her feet were bound to the chair’s legs.
It was pitch-black around her, and even though she strained, Molly couldn’t see anything.
But he’s there.
“Please,” she whispered. “Let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you.” Her words came out slurred and rough, and she wondered what he’d used to drug her.
But he laughed. “Liar. You get out, you’ll tell everyone.”
She shook her head. “I—I promise.”
She thought she heard the faint creak of wood. As if he’d stepped forward, somewhere in that darkness. Somewhere . . . close.
“I’m not ready to lose you, not yet.”
Then she felt something cold and hard slide up her arm. Something with a sharpened tip, like a knife.
Please, no, not a knife. Not the knife!
“Are you thinking about your mother?” he asked her. His voice was such a deep rumble and an image of his face flashed in her mind. He’d been handsome. He’d smiled. Looked . . . charming. It had seemed safe enough to walk with him.
He isn’t safe.
“How long do you think she screamed for help?”
Molly didn’t know. She’d tried so hard not to think about her mother over the years. Or to imagine what her last moments would have been like.
“She probably screamed for help first,” he said, voice almost musing. “But then I bet . . . I bet she started begging to die.”
Molly shook her head, an instinctive move.
His insidious laughter came again. “You don’t think so? That’s what they usually do, before the end. Because the pain gets to be too much, and by then, the only escape is death.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“We’ll find out, you and I,” he promised as the tip of the knife pressed into her cheek. “We’ll see just how long it is before you start to beg.”
Then there was a flash, bright, as if—as if he’d just taken her picture.
“Now we begin . . .”
Chapter 4
WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME LAST NIGHT?”
Jax turned at Sarah’s question. She’d followed him out of that hotel suite and now she was in the elevator with him. The scent of vanilla clung in the air around him, and it was so tempting to have her near. He wanted to reach out and touch her.
He didn’t.
Jax knew he wouldn’t stop with a touch. He wouldn’t stop until he fucked her again, and while sex in an elevator—with her—would no doubt be amazing, this wasn’t the time.
The doors closed, sealing them inside. “Let’s see . . .” he murmured. “Did you want me to say something before we fucked? Or maybe after you snuck from my bed?”
Her cheeks flushed. Cute. He hadn’t been sure he could make her blush. He could.
“That’s why you came to see me last night, isn’t it?” Sarah asked. “Because you wanted to hire LOST, not because you . . . you wanted me.”
He stepped closer to her. Sarah didn’t retreat. He rather liked that about her. “Let’s be clear,” Jax said, his words soft. “I want you very, very much.”
She swallowed.
He smiled. “Hiring LOST is totally separate from us. But, yes, I came to this hotel because I wanted to see about hiring your group. Then you had that asshole in the ski mask try to knife you, and things got a little off track.”
Her eyelids flickered and she glanced over at the elevator’s control panel. They were slowing now, and the doors opened. As soon as the little ding stopped sounding overhead, she tried to hurry past him.
He made sure to keep perfect pace with her as they moved into the lobby. “Do you want to tell me . . .” Jax began softly, “why you were afraid when you came into that suite earlier?”
She stopped in the middle of the lobby and turned toward him.
He stood right beside her, but he was careful not to touch her. “Tell me,” he pushed, “why you’re scared now.” Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. Hadn’t he shown her that he wouldn’t hurt her? If he had his way, he’d destroy anyone who ever even thought about hurting her. Like that jerk from last night who’d—
“I went to see Eddie Guthrie this morning.”
Ah, that would be the jerk in question.
But then she shook her head. “Look, no, forget about me, okay. You’re a client. I’m supposed to be interviewing you. So let’s go grab some coffee and we can talk—see what you might remember about your past and go from there.”
So adorable. Did she actually think he’d never tried to visit a shrink and unlock the memories of his life before the kidnapping? “It’s not that easy.”
A faint furrow appeared between her brows. “Coffee is easy, I promise.”
She was good at evasion and distraction. He was better. “Eddie Guthrie made you afraid today. Even though he’s locked away.” He didn’t like that. “Want me to take care of that problem for you?”
Sarah paled, then quickly glanced around. In the next instant, she was grabbing him. “Do not,” she whispered, “threaten to kill someone in a public place!”
He laughed. Jax just couldn’t help it. “Oh, princess, I didn’t say anything about killing.” His reputation must have preceded him, again. It happened. Sometimes, that was good, and sometimes, that was bad.
She looked as if she wanted to question him, but then she gave a hard, negative shake of her head. “Just forget Eddie, okay? I’ll deal with him. After you and I are done, I’ll meet with Gabe and we’ll figure out the next step.”
He rather liked Gabe Spencer. Jax hadn’t thought he would. He genuinely liked only a handful of individuals in this world, and he respected even fewer. But he’d done his research on Gabe, and the ex-SEAL legitimately seemed to want to help others. So Jax had taken a chance and called the man today.
Then they’d had that little meet and greet in the hotel suite. Sure, a few of the LOST members—or, rather, two . . . Wade and Dean—had looked as if they’d like to slug Jax, not take his case, but he thought the whole deal had gone rather well. Or as well as he’d expected.
“You won’t tell me why you’re afraid?” Jax asked her. Because her fear was bothering him.
“I don’t know if there is even anything to fear yet. Sometimes, people facing jail will say anything to avoid getting locked up. Sometimes, they’ll act like they have intel or leverage or something that the cops need, hoping they can work out a deal. So the guy could just be bluffing. But I’ll figure all of that out. Right now, my focus is on you.” Her hold tightened on Jax. “Now, look, can we go someplace and just . . . talk? I have questions that I need to ask you before LOST can proceed.”
If they proceeded. He knew her team was still trying to decide if his story was real.
It’s real.
“Not in public.” His voice was close to a growl so he tried to soften that, adding, “The last thing I want is some dumbass in a coffee shop overhearing about my past. We’ll go back to my place, talk there.”
“Right.” She looked down and seemed to realize that she was holding tightly to him. Her hands immediately pulled back, as if she’d been burned. “We can take a cab.”
“No need.” He gave her a tiger’s smile. “I brought my motorcycle.”
One brow rose. “In those clothes?”
“Of course.” He paused a beat. “You seemed to like the ride last night.”
She bit on her lower lip.
He wanted to be the one biting that lip. “You want to hear all about my past, then come with me. I’ll give you every dark detail that you want to hear.” Details he’d never told to anyone else. But, as she’d slipped away from him that morning, he’d come to a decision.
It was time to know the truth. Time to finally figure out what had happened to him.
The past would be laid to rest and he could finally start focusing on the future.
“All right.” Her shoulders straightened. “Let’s go for that ride.”
Hell, yes. Soon, he’d have Sarah exactly where he wanted her.
They headed for the revolving glass doors that would take them out of the hotel. They’d taken only about four steps when Sarah’s phone gave a little beep. She paused and glanced apologetically up at him. “Sorry, I need to see”—her gaze dropped to the screen and her fingers swiped across the surface—“if it’s—”
Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. “No.”
He leaned closer to her, craning his head so that he could see the image that had just appeared on the screen.
“Please,” Sarah whispered. “No.” Her hand was trembling around the phone.
A photo filled the screen of her phone. A woman was in that photo�
�fairly young, with long red hair that was tangled around her terrified face. Blood slid from a cut on her cheek, and the woman’s arms appeared to be pulled behind her—tied behind her?
“I know her,” Sarah whispered. “She looks just like Gwen did.” A stark pause. “That’s his sister, Molly.”
“What the hell?” Jax demanded. Whose sister?
Sarah was frantically tapping on her screen. She called someone then—maybe the person who’d just sent that fucked-up picture to her? Sarah had the phone at her ear, and fear flashed across her face as she seemed to wait for someone to answer her call.
MOLLY’S PHONE WAS ringing. Right on time. Humming, he picked up that phone and turned on the speaker. After all, he needed to be able to hear all of this conversation—and so did Molly. He brought the phone in nice and close to Molly. In the darkness he’d created, the glow from the phone was the only light.
“Hello?” Ah, that slightly sharp and desperate voice would belong to Sarah Jacobs. Dr. Sarah Jacobs. “Who is this?” Sarah demanded.
With his left hand, he sliced the knife down Molly’s arm. She screamed. A high-pitched, desperate cry.
“Molly?” Sarah asked. “Molly Guthrie?”
Another slice of his knife had Molly screaming again.
“Stop!” Now it was Sarah who yelled. “I know you’re there . . .” Her voice dropped. “Why are you hurting Molly?”
He smiled. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long. When he’d seen her picture in the paper and realized that Sarah was in his town, he’d moved up his attack. Why go all the way to Atlanta and hunt her, when he could make her play the game right there, in his own backyard? Especially since she was already there and tangled up with Jax Fontaine. Too perfect.
He brought the phone to his mouth. “Hurry up,” he told her. “See if you can find the girl before she dies.”
“Who is this?”
Ah, it wouldn’t be that easy. Her question was really an insult. She was the profiler. She was the one who had to figure all of this shit out.
“She’s lost,” he taunted, “so come and find her.”
SHE’S LOST, SO come and find her. He’d hung up on her. The man’s words rang in her ears as Sarah slowly lowered her phone. She knew the woman in that picture—the woman who looked so terrified was Molly Guthrie. Sarah knew because she’d been researching Eddie Guthrie online, and she’d stumbled onto the guy’s social media pages. He’d had so many pictures of his sister Molly posted. Only Molly had been smiling in those photographs.