Shattered

by Cynthia Eden

  “No, I don’t think she will, either.”

  Then he laughed. Because he had such grand fucking plans.

  INTERROGATION ROOMS SUCKED.

  Jax tapped his fingers on the table. Cross was on the opposite side of the table, staring intently at him, but not saying a word. Jax figured that was supposed to be some kind of intimidation bullshit, but it was really just annoying.

  If the guy wanted to waste time, that was his deal. But Jax had somewhere he needed to be.

  With Sarah.

  The door burst open. “Don’t say a word!” Ty told him as he rushed in. The guy’s face was flushed, his blond hair tousled, and he was huffing and puffing. “My client has nothing to say and unless you’re arresting him—”

  “He was ID’d by the victim. You’d think he would have plenty to say about that,” Cross drawled.

  Jax didn’t move.

  “ID’d?” Ty jumped on that. “There was a lineup? Why wasn’t I informed? You can’t do that without—”

  “No lineup,” Cross gritted out as his cheeks flushed. “She said his name. She described him. That’s what we call a slam dunk.”

  Ty dropped his suitcase on the table. “That’s what I call a confused, injured victim. A woman who isn’t remembering straight.” He nodded his head. “When she’s out of the hospital, let’s see if she still tells the same story, shall we?”

  Cross glared. “Jax here won’t give us an alibi, but his girlfriend sure was accommodating. She was trying to say the two of you were screwing at the time of poor Molly’s disappearance, right?” He leaned forward. “Is that what went down? You were screwing the sexy shrink when—”

  “Don’t,” Jax warned him. It would be so easy to jump across the table at that guy.

  But he was supposed to be playing it cool. Cross was trying to push his buttons. He got that. The guy would love to slap him with an assault charge so that he could hold Jax longer—until the cop found some additional evidence he could use against Jax.

  “Don’t what?” Cross taunted. “Don’t ask if you were fucking her then? Because that’s what she said. I mean, hell, you’ve worked some number on her. If she’s willing to lie for you this way . . .”

  Jax’s muscles were tight. His body stiff.

  “Or maybe . . . maybe what they say about her is true. ’Cause I did some research on her. Some folks think she’s as screwed in the head as her old man. That’s how she understands the killers. She is one of ’em. And she probably wants to screw you because . . . it’s like to like, right, man? One sick, twisted freak to—”

  Jax jumped to his feet, his fists ready to swing.

  “No!” Ty screamed.

  And the door flew open again. Brent was there. Like Ty, he seemed to be a little out of breath, as if he’d been running. His gaze immediately found Jax’s. “She’s okay.”

  What?

  “Get that in your head first, okay? Sarah is all right.”

  Jax shoved the table out of his way.

  “This isn’t good,” Ty muttered.

  Jax stalked toward Brent. “What are you talking about?”

  “There was an . . . incident.”

  Jax shook his head.

  “She’s all right,” Brent rushed to say again. “But . . . some guy in a Mustang followed Sarah. He shot at her and Gabe, and they—they crashed.”

  He could feel all the blood draining from his head. Sarah had been in danger, and he’d just been sitting in that damn room with Cross.

  “There was a gun in the car. Sarah fired back and the guy got the hell out of there. Cops are searching for him now.”

  Fury was making his blood boil in his veins. “He’s dead.” The bastard wasn’t going to do this to Sarah. He wasn’t going to terrorize her any longer. Wasn’t going to attack her again and again. “Dead.”

  “You can’t take the law into your own hands,” Brent said, his face showing his worry.

  “Watch me.” Jax looked back at his lawyer. “Can they hold me any longer?”

  Ty’s mouth had dropped open. He quickly snapped it closed. “The ID . . . that’s not admissible. Most of the people in this town know of my client. She can’t just say his name like it’s gold. I want the victim to actually pick his photo out of a lineup. Because I’m saying she can’t do it.”

  Cross and Brent shared a long look.

  “You know where to find me,” Jax muttered. He’d played their bullshit game. Gone into the station like a good freaking citizen. And how had that worked out?

  Sarah could have been killed.

  “If you don’t have anything to hide . . .” Cross said, giving him a sly smile. “Then how about letting us search your homes? Your businesses?”

  Was the guy serious? Jax looked at Cross and gave him a smile, too. A go-to-hell grin. “When you’ve got a warrant, you come try that shit. Otherwise . . .” He rolled back his shoulders and thought about how much he’d like to slug the guy. “I’ll be seeing you later.”

  He’d discovered real fast that, no, the cops hadn’t realized the first piece of property that the perp had blown up . . . well, that it actually belonged to Jax. They hadn’t figured it out, and he sure wasn’t going to reveal that information to them. They’d just say I set the bomb. That I had access to that place.

  Cross’s eyes were angry chips of ice.

  Jax leaned in close to the guy. “And I won’t be forgetting. Not what you said about Sarah and not what I know you’ve done.”

  He saw the fear flash—just for an instant—in Cross’s eyes. That was right. The dick should be afraid of him. “You think a badge is going to keep you safe?”

  “Are you threatening me?” Cross sputtered. Then, voice rising, he demanded. “Did you just hear him, Brent? This dumbass threatened a police detective!”

  “No!” Ty’s instant denial. “My client did no such thing. I was right here. I never heard him threaten you, but I am curious.” Ty’s head tilted as he studied the cop. “What have you done?”

  Jax knew. So did Cross.

  “Get the hell out of here while you can,” Cross snarled. “Because soon, we’ll have enough evidence to nail your ass. If not for this case, then for another. A guy like you only ends up in one place . . .”

  “Right.” Jax nodded. “On top. See you around, Detectives.”

  Then he brushed by Brent, making sure not to reveal any other emotion. He was already gripping the bare end of his control. He needed to get to Sarah. Right then. And make sure she was all right.

  Ty was silent as they headed out of the station. Jax could feel the stares of the other officers on him. Some would be staring with fear. Some with disdain. What the hell ever.

  Ty didn’t speak until they were outside and well away from the station. And then he glanced at Jax with a worried shake of his head. “Tell me that I’m right. Tell me that poor woman isn’t going to ID you in any kind of lineup.”

  “She won’t. Because the only thing I did was pull her out of the fire.” From hero to villain in about sixty seconds flat. That was generally the story of his life.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  Ty exhaled on a long sigh. “Good, then we’ll let the ID situation play out, and in the meantime, could you try to stay out of trouble?”

  Jax shrugged. “I don’t really think that will be happening.”

  “What? Come on, we’re talking about your life!”

  “No, we’re talking about Sarah’s life.” And Sarah was the most important thing in his life. “Sarah is mine.” He started walking away from his lawyer. “The bastard hunting out there doesn’t screw with her. No one attacks Sarah and just runs away. No one.”

  COPS WERE BLOCKING Molly’s hospital room door. Sarah stared at that door. She needed to get inside. It was vital that she talk with Molly Guthrie . . . about Jax . . . about the abduction . . . about the freak who was still loose out there.

  She’d been sitting in the waiting room of that hospital.
Ideas and theories had raced through her head. She’d been slowly building a profile of this perp ever since Molly had first vanished.

  With every new detail that she learned, she’d revised her profile a bit. Shaping. Changing. Letting it evolve.

  White male. In his thirties or early forties. Strong. Fit. Military background. Personal vendetta. He doesn’t see victims, he sees tools. People he can use to accomplish what he wants.

  And what he wanted—vengeance.

  Not on Sarah. Not exactly. I’m another tool for him. He wanted vengeance on Murphy.

  The guy couldn’t sympathize with any of his prey. He lacked total empathy, a sign of a sociopath or a psychopath. But . . . she thought this man had been functioning in society. She thought he blended well. That he acted just like everyone else around him.

  So he exhibits more traits linked with psychopathy . . .

  Because he was organized. He was calculated. Sociopaths were disjointed, their attacks more random and out of control.

  Not with this guy. He was a planner. Like a chess master. Every move led to another and another and . . .

  His endgame.

  That endgame seemed to be the destruction of Sarah’s life . . . and of her friends? Because when he’d taken Molly, that move had deliberately drawn in the LOST team. At the initial explosion, just blocks from Bourbon Street, Wade had been the first one in the building.

  Wade always goes in first. That was left over from his cop days. If anyone had studied Wade, they would have known that . . .

  Then when they’d gone to the riverfront, searching for Molly, the bombs had been set in those buildings—buildings that Gabe and Dean had been searching.

  And Gabe had been shot just hours before. She’d looked at the back of the car. All of the bullet holes had been concentrated on his side of the vehicle.

  He’s targeting my friends.

  “Dr. Jacobs?”

  Her head whipped up as Sarah was pulled from her thoughts.

  Carlos stood in front of her. “Jax asked me to come and get you.”

  Get her? “I’m not leaving. I need to talk to Molly in order to clear Jax.”

  “He’s not at the police station. His lawyer already took care of things there.” Carlos stood with his hands loose at his sides. “He wants you to meet him at Shade. He’s on the way to that bar now.” He glanced around when a nurse passed him. “He figured he’d better not show up here, not until the mess with the Guthrie woman is cleared up.”

  Right. Because he couldn’t exactly waltz close to Molly’s room without raising some serious suspicion. But she shook her head. “I’m not done here. I can’t leave, not until I talk with her.”

  Carlos’s eyes narrowed. “Most people don’t refuse Jax.”

  “And I’m not most people.” Her mind was still racing. Two LOST agents were in the hospital. She needed to make sure that no one else wound up hurt.

  “I think that’s why the boss is so interested in you,” he murmured.

  Right then, Molly’s door opened. A young doctor came out, a guy with brown hair and a small pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Doctor!” Sarah hurried toward him. She flashed him her LOST ID, but he just frowned at it. “I need to speak with Molly.”

  “You’re not a cop.”

  “Uh, no, no, I’m not, but—”

  “You’re family?”

  “She doesn’t have any family left.”

  The cops behind him were shifting nervously.

  “Look, if you’d just let me talk to her . . .”

  “Let her through, Doc.”

  She glanced over at that hard voice and saw Detective West marching down the hallway. His badge was clipped to his belt.

  “Let her through,” he said again. Detective Cross was right behind him. So was . . . wait, was that other guy Jax’s lawyer? Yes, she remembered seeing him before.

  “I think she should hear this,” Cross said, his face smug.

  Sarah’s stomach knotted. Whatever he wanted her to hear, it couldn’t be good.

  JAX PACED INSIDE his bar, rage still filling him. No matter what he did, there were always going to be people who thought he was nothing but a criminal. A thug straight from the streets.

  He looked down at his hands. Saw the tats there. Remembered the blood that had covered his knuckles before.

  Maybe he should be rotting a jail cell someplace. But he’d tried to make a difference. Tried to change.

  Let me out! Daddy! Daddy!

  His voice, from so long ago. He’d begged and begged, but he’d never seen his real dad again. He’d given up on Jax.

  Jax grabbed the tequila. His fingers were tight around the bottle. Sarah was on her way to him. Sarah . . . Sarah believed in him. She didn’t know all his secrets, but she’d still been there, defending him to the cops.

  Sarah.

  And that bastard is trying to kill Sarah.

  He threw the bottle across the bar. It hit the mirror and shattered. No, not on his watch. No one was going to hurt Sarah.

  Where the fuck is Carlos? The guy should have been back with Sarah by then. He should have . . .

  Jax’s phone rang. He grabbed it, but . . . he didn’t know the number flashing on the screen. Jax lifted the phone to his ear. “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to slice your Sarah into pieces . . .”

  MOLLY GUTHRIE WAS small, bruised and . . . broken. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and tremors shook her body.

  “Look at the pictures,” Brent was telling her. “And I want you to point to the man who did this to you.”

  She was staring at the pictures. Biting her lip. Shaking her head. “H-He isn’t there . . .”

  Sarah saw Cross tense.

  “Take your time,” Brent told her softly. “Look and be very sure.”

  Molly glanced up at him. “I—I told you. It was Jax Fontaine.” Her voice was raspy, as if she’d been crying for a very long time and her body seemed to be covered with bandages.

  Jax Fontaine’s picture was right in front of her. But Molly didn’t recognize him.

  “How do you know it was Jax? I mean, Mr. Fontaine?” Sarah asked.

  Molly frowned and glanced over at her. “I . . . I know your voice.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sarah nodded. “Yes, I was the woman on the phone. The one who told you—”

  “Not to beg . . . for death,” Molly finished, whispering. She shook her head. “I didn’t. He wanted me to . . . he kept stabbing me . . . but I didn’t.”

  And Sarah realized that while Molly was battered, she was far from broken.

  “Are you saying . . .” Now it was the lawyer that spoke up. Ty Keith. “ . . . that you don’t recognize the men in any of those pictures?”

  “It was Jax! He told me! Jax Fontaine!”

  Sarah stepped forward. “That was how you knew. The man who took you said his name was Jax Fontaine?”

  Molly nodded. “M-My brother . . . that man said he knew my brother. That Eddie had played at his bars. He was supposed to take me home, but . . . but he lied.”

  “Yes,” Sarah said definitely. “He lied.” He lied and told you his name was Jax so that the cops would pick Jax up. So that they’d tie him to the crime. If Molly had survived . . .

  The bastard had already had a backup plan in place. And that plan had been Jax Fontaine.

  Why?

  She didn’t understand—

  Sarah’s breath caught.

  Is he trying to frame Jax, because of me? Because she’d been with Jax? No, she was still missing something. “Can you describe the man who took you?”

  “I did! He was big. Over six feet. With broad shoulders. Blond. His eyes were blue!” Molly’s eyes were tearing up. “What more do you want? It was Jax Fontaine!”

  She hated to push the woman. Sarah kept her voice soft and soothing as she asked, “What did his tattoos look like?”

  “T-Tattoos?”

  The room got very qui
et then. The only sound was the beep of the machines to the right of Molly’s bed.

  “YOU’RE A DEAD man,” Jax told him.

  Laughter flowed over the line. “Is that so? Am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

  “You should be.” Something about that guy’s voice was still nagging at Jax. I’ve heard that voice before . . . I’ve heard it.

  “I’m not. You’re the one who should be afraid. Afraid you’ll find pieces of her. And that’s going to happen. I’m going to take her away from you. I’ll cut into her, slowly, and maybe I’ll send you those pieces—”

  “Stay the fuck away from Sarah!”

  Silence, then . . . “Why don’t you make me?”

  “I will. Tell me where you are, and I’m there right now.”

  “I know what you’ve done, Jax Fontaine. You’re just as much of a killer as I am. As she is . . .”

  “Sarah isn’t a killer!” And that was why Jax would handle this. He’d stop the bastard. “Where are you?”

  “Do you still scream . . .” that man wanted to know. “Begging at night for a father that just doesn’t give a shit? A father who threw you out because he knew what a freak you were?”

  His heart turned to ice in his chest. How the hell did that bastard know about his past?

  “Your family threw you out because they knew you were no good. Cast you out . . .” Laughter. “That’s what you thought, anyway. But guess what I know? I know, I know, I know . . .”

  The man’s voice was driving him crazy. “Where are you?”

  “I know what really happened. I can tell you . . .”

  And I can kill you.

  “But you have to come alone and you have to come now.”

  “WHEN YOUR ABDUCTOR tied you up, did you see his hands?” Sarah asked carefully.

  A furrow appeared between Molly’s eyes. “I did. His hands were tanned, dark . . . like he spent a lot of time outside.”

  “There wasn’t anything unusual about his hands?” Brent pushed.

  “No . . . no . . . why?” Tears were bright in Molly’s eyes. “Am I saying the wrong thing? I told you who it was! I told you—”

  “Jax Fontaine has tattoos on his hands and on his arms. Rather unmistakable tattoos,” Ty said, sounding quite pleased. “So I don’t possibly see how my client could be the man who so grievously attacked Ms. Guthrie here.”