“Gee, thanks. Trusting the brass. That makes me feel better.” Jazz grimaced and skimmed her fingers across the print, sweeping past the headline, Female SWAT Sniper Rescues Governor’s Daughter, Kills Kidnapper. The byline screamed through her head.
Luke Montgomery.
She skewered Gabe with a glare. “Your brother wrote this.”
Gabe raised his hands in surrender. “I swear to God, Jazz. I didn’t know.”
She found that hard to believe. The Montgomerys were in each other’s pockets all the time.
She glanced once more at the paper, and a small, italicized phrase below the article filled her with apprehension. First in a series? She clutched the paper in her fist. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not now. Not with Tower on a mission to bring her down. One bullet she could probably dodge, but she couldn’t count on luck a second time. She’d never been that fortunate.
As much as she hated it, she had only one option. She had to talk to Luke. She couldn’t control Tower’s actions, but somehow she had to find a way to stop Luke Montgomery from making things worse.
Jazz Parker would pay for what she’d done.
The Desert Inn’s neon sign flashed red, the last three letters winking on and off as if sharing in the joke—and the success.
Everything had gone like clockwork. The bitch had stood only feet away, and she knew nothing. Face to face with her past, and she was just as ignorant now as she had been then. Low-class, unworthy whore who’d ruined everything.
The television and newspaper had made her out to be some kind of hero. Lies. All lies. They didn’t know the truth, but they would.
Wearing a badge she didn’t deserve, Jazz Parker mocked from the front page. Killing her quick was too easy. She needed to suffer.
Just the thought sent shivers of excitement prickling through every nerve. Yes. Make her suffer. Make her lose everything. Everything she cared about, everything she loved.
An old Truth or Consequences board game balanced on the rickety nightstand in the dilapidated hotel room. Jazz Parker’s past would rise again. The truth would destroy her.
A smile tugged at determined lips. The plan was set. The end was near. The newspaper crumpled in eager hands, destroying the face of the traitor. After all these years living with the pain, justice would finally be done.
Jazz Parker would pay inch by inch. Then she would forfeit the ultimate price—her life.
She’d made a huge mistake. Jazz never should’ve called Luke about the article yesterday. Just leaving the message had flooded her with too many memories, and they’d followed her—even into sleep. Which was why she’d insisted to Gabe and everyone else on the team not to mention Luke. Ever. She should have listened to her own advice. Too late she’d recognized she’d probably whetted his curiosity even more. Fool. What had she been thinking, reaching out to him?
He hadn’t bothered to answer, and she’d tossed and turned all night, fighting the erotic dreams that left her body hungry for a man. Not just any man, unfortunately. Only Luke made her tremble with longing that way. His body was the stuff of pure fantasy—washboard abs, muscular biceps, and a charming grin when he wanted something. Not to mention a butt that any woman on the planet would like to watch walking the other way. But his mouth, that’s what set Luke apart. He knew what to do with his lips, knew when they should be soft and coaxing or hard and demanding. He could find every erogenous zone on her body…he’d discovered some she didn’t even know existed.
By the time dawn’s overcast light parted her bedroom curtains, she punched her pillow. He was trouble. She had to get him out of her head, and she knew of only one way.
After rolling out from beneath the blankets, she brushed her teeth, threw on her sweats, grabbed her car keys, and rushed out the door. When she reached the parking lot, the sky had opened up with a downpour. No way could she go for a run in Apex Park now. At least the gym would be open.
The sparse, Saturday-morning traffic let her keep her pace, leaving the dreams behind. She hoped. Within minutes she’d pulled into a crowded parking lot not far from the sheriff’s office.
The clang of metal and the smell of sweat drifted over Jazz as she strode into the gym shaking off the rain from her jacket. Familiar faces and figures greeted her. Grunts of exertion merged with a cacophony of male voices in a testosterone-laden sea of bodies. She breathed in the sounds and scents of the physical challenge. Yes, this was where she belonged. In this place, in this morning ritual, she could erase thoughts of the investigation—not to mention Luke. She needed to be here, needed to push past her body’s betrayal.
After a stiff wave of acknowledgement to several teammates, Jazz stretched and warmed up on the versa-climber before working her way to the bench press. The weights tallied two-fifty, and she pulled forty off of each side. Dusting her hands with talc, she positioned herself below the barbell and regulated her breathing.
“Need a spotter?”
Gabe’s face peered at her from overhead. She usually turned his offer down, but today a dozen questions rushed through her mind. Jazz closed her eyes against the swirling thoughts. She didn’t need a Montgomery standing over her while she tried to pound her libido back into submission with a hard workout, but there were things she needed to know.
“I guess so.”
After Gabe positioned himself, she pressed the heavy barbell up until her arms straightened then lowered the weight to her chest. Muscles straining, she pushed through three sets of eight. As she exhaled through the last rep, Gabe guided the bar back to its rest.
“Not bad. For a girl.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his hands in submission.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Gabe added several weights to the bar. “Seriously, you’ve taken on twenty pounds of iron since the last time I spotted you.”
“Keeping track?” Jazz waited at the head of the bench.
He shrugged and slid beneath the bar. “Not really. You passed the SWAT physical. That’s good enough for me.” He grinned. “But as a guy, it’s a bit scary to know that an attractive woman can almost bench press you.”
They moved through the stations, their conversation sparse, their bodies focused. Jazz couldn’t figure out how to ask what she really wanted to know. When Gabe finished the last set and walked across to her, she knew she’d run out of time. With a pause of apprehension, she dove in. Business first, then personal. “What are the guys saying about IA’s investigation?”
He snagged the towel she handed him and dried the sweat dripping from his forehead. “Not much.”
She sipped at her water bottle. The tepid liquid slid down her throat. “We both know most of the team wasn’t exactly excited when I beat out Tower three years ago. They must be happy IA is sniffing around.”
“No one is happy when IA noses into our business.”
“Point taken.”
Gabe settled on a wooden bench and chugged some water. “Look, we have a few Neanderthals on the team, but all you have to do is let people in a bit, Jazz. You’ll have their support. You proved yourself as an Arvada police officer before joining the team. You’re a hell of a marksman. They’ve seen what you can do. And yesterday, that shot was a thing of beauty.” He rolled the cool bottle across his forehead. “Not to mention, you’ve got one other thing in your favor.”
Jazz sat down beside him. “What’s that?”
“They all hate IA more than they dislike having you on the team.”
Slumping back against the concrete wall, she tried to grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel loved and appreciated.”
Gabe’s face grew serious, and he leaned toward her. “If you’re tired of the struggle, Jazz, tell me now. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for SWAT. You need to meet them halfway.”
“I know. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
A few gutter curses punched through the rhythmic ringing of bars and low grunts.
“That’s what te
ammates are for,” he said.
When Gabe rested his hand on Jasmine’s knee, Luke’s first instinct was to bench press his brother through the front window. His second thought was why in hell he was reacting like he had a right to care.
He strode toward them, his muscles tense and poised for battle. He took in the warm glow on Jasmine’s skin and the firm shape of her curves outlined by the soaking T-shirt. The transparent cotton outlined her bra and showed off the firm planes of her belly and the strong lines of her arms. The view left nothing to his imagination—or anyone else’s. He could just envision peeling off that wet material and tasting the saltiness of her skin, bringing to life the responsive nipples starting to pebble as if teasing him.
Luke dragged his gaze away from temptation and surveyed the room, striving to rein his body under control. Incredibly, none of the men seemed aware of the raw sexual energy emanating from her. Good thing. He’d have had to knock some heads together.
“Cozy, aren’t we?”
Jasmine started then glanced down at her damp T. Her face bloomed red as she quickly slipped a thick sweatshirt from her bag and jerked it down over the clingy cotton. She planted herself in front of him. “What are you doing here, Luke?”
“You called me.”
“Yesterday.”
“Some of us have a life to live and a job to do.”
“Is that what you call this?” Jazz reached into her exercise bag and threw the newspaper at him. “Doing your job?”
The tail of her sleek French braid whipped over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes, which shifted in color depending on her mood, blazed a brilliant green to match her fury. “Going out of your way to screw with people’s lives?” She leaned toward him, using her body language in an attempt to intimidate him.
She failed. The up-close view of her apricot-soft skin, the fullness of her lips, and the pulse beating at her neck only served to tempt him more. Lord, she was sexy like this.
“What are you trying to do to me, Luke?”
“Uh, guys, I’m gonna do a little stretching,” Gabe said, scooting down the bench.
“Keep it down to a low roar, okay? You’ve got an audience.”
Several cops had paused in their workout to stare. Luke met the curiosity with a glare that’d made more than one Ranger in his unit back off. Within seconds, the voyeurs ducked their heads and returned to their workout.
“Let’s take this private.” Luke grasped Jasmine’s arm and tugged her into a small alcove. She jerked away and faced him toe-to-toe.
“What—”
“I get it. You have a problem with the article,” he interrupted. He didn’t mention that he’d sent out queries on her, looking into a past that didn’t seem to exist.
“Cut the crap,” Jasmine said. “You didn’t think I had a right to know last night that you’d plastered me on the front page?”
“We were…distracted. Why are you so upset about that article? I made you into a hero. Most people would be happy.”
“Do I look happy to you? The article should never have happened, and I intend to make sure the so-called follow-up dies a quick death.”
She vibrated with a tension he didn’t understand. Her intensity, her…he couldn’t call it anything but desperation. Most wouldn’t see it. Jasmine had a wall around her so thick few could get through, but Luke recognized the anxiety. This was about more than the article. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The more he dug into her past, the more he had to wonder what Jasmine had to hide.
Leaning back, he settled his body into a position of casual indifference. “Is there some reason you don’t want anyone to know who you are and what you do?”
The green flecks in her eyes blazed even brighter. Breathing hard, she jammed her fists against her hips. “You know better than anyone SWAT is a team. Why did you single me out? I’ve had a tough enough time fitting in as it is.”
“You’re the one who took the shot. You killed the bad guy, so you’re the story my editor wants. He likes to sell papers.”
“I just do my job, Luke. I don’t want to stand out from my team. I don’t need that kind of attention right now.”
“Why is right now different?”
He rubbed the spot tingling at his temple. She eyed the movement, her expression guarded, and slowly Luke forced his hand down. Did she remember the quirk as clearly as he recalled every time they’d set fire to the sheets?
He shook his head. He had to stop thinking about sex, but standing near her made that difficult. She captivated him with every word, every gesture.
She exhaled sharply. “I just want to be left alone.”
“Well, we can’t always have what we want, Jasmine. You told me that once. I learned it in spades after you left.”
He’d never forget that last night. He’d been hurting. Had thought they had the potential for something…special after six months of dating. He’d been wrong. He’d needed her support, and she’d walked out without a second look. His life had changed profoundly soon after—when he’d learned about Joy. He’d put Jasmine out of his mind and out of his life. Until now. He had a job to do. He wouldn’t let their history stop him.
Luke pulled a notebook from his pocket. “How about some background information for the next article? Where did you learn to shoot? Did your father teach you?”
Her jaw tightened and she shivered, just slightly. He’d shaken her with his question.
“I didn’t know my father, Luke. He wasn’t a hero like yours.”
The words escaped as if she couldn’t stop them. That small statement was more than she’d revealed the entire time they’d dated.
She stared at him, her expression troubled, almost vulnerable. “Don’t write another article about me, Luke. Please.”
Jasmine Parker? Vulnerable? Armadillos had less armor, and yet he’d seen something today in her he’d never seen before. Fear. Why did she want to stay under the radar so desperately?
A shadow fell across them. “Well, well, well.” Tower’s sarcastic voice rose above the noise of the gym. “Colorado’s newest celebrity and the reporter who made her. More interviews? I would’ve thought you’d had enough, Parker.”
Jasmine’s countenance went flat and cold. She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m surprised to see you here, Deputy Tower. I didn’t think you liked to sweat.”
Tower smiled. “It’s true. I prefer to make others do it.”
The tension in the gym rose sharply as the team gathered around the alcove, watching, waiting. Jasmine’s stance was ready, like a panther waiting to pounce.
“Gentlemen, a word of caution.” Tower addressed the suddenly quiet room. “Steer clear of Parker, unless you want to get dragged into her mess.”
Luke had heard enough. He stepped forward, but before he could intercede, Jasmine’s clipped words sliced through the air.
“Don’t threaten me, Tower. I won’t forget it.”
“Your fans think they know you,” he sneered and sent a sidelong glance to Luke. “Don’t you, Montgomery? The truth needs to come out. We all know she didn’t get the job because she deserved it.”
To hell with becoming drinking buddies with this jerk to get an in with his old man. Luke would bring them down another way. “Back off. Now.”
“Or what? You’ll take me out with your pen? I’m real scared.”
“Would you like to step outside?” The idea had appeal. He could take the guy out twenty different ways in less than ten seconds—with or without the pen.
Jasmine’s shoulders flexed, as if she were ready for battle. “Cool it, Luke. I don’t need you to fight for me.”
So she thought she could get him to back down with a few words…and yet he watched as she faced Tower. She was amazing.
“I earned my spot. Unlike you…” she turned to Tower, “who’s been trading on Daddy’s position his entire life.”
Tower’s countenance twisted in anger, but he didn’t retreat. Was the man an idiot?
Tower’s face turned snide. “I have confirmation she’s a liar.” He paused, letting his words settle around him. “Ask your illustrious sniper what her real name is. Because it sure as hell’s not Jazz Parker.”
Luke’s attention snapped to Jasmine. He waited for the explosion, for the rebuttal, but she said nothing. She seemed frozen in place.
“No comment, Parker?” Tower taunted. “Didn’t think so. Like I said, only the beginning.”
Silence blanketed the gym. No one breathed.
Tower turned, and the sea of men parted as he swaggered out of the gym.
Unlike the others, Luke didn’t turn to watch the troublemaker leave. Instead he studied Jasmine. No fire or anger burned in her eyes. Her face had gone milk-white, and her stricken look sickened his soul.
Without a word, the men mumbled and shuffled back to their exercise equipment, unable to meet her gaze.
“My name is Jazz Parker,” she whispered, too softly for anyone but him to hear.
Her words were too late. Tower had left her flayed open and vulnerable. Luke had to uncover the truth now. He just prayed Tower or his father were the ones guilty of corruption and that Jasmine’s secrets weren’t as bad as he feared.
The aroma of fresh-baked bread and oatmeal cookies permeated the Montgomery house in an unchanging Sunday lunch ritual. Even after the family had lost their father, Patrick, to a wayward bullet during a convenience store robbery, the comforting tradition lived on. Since Patrick’s other four sons were out of town, though, Luke and Gabe had the living room to themselves.
“I’ve talked to everyone, called in favors. I even contacted an old-fashioned clipping service to search the surrounding states,” Luke muttered. “It’s like she didn’t exist before coming to college in the Denver metro area.” He fingered the all-too-short stack of clippings littering the coffee table. “She’s lived in the same apartment in Arvada since then. I found a few sports articles, a mention of a few arrests she made while at the Arvada Police Department, and then a blurb about her being named sniper to the Jefferson County SWAT Team. Other than that, nothing.”
In Her Sights Page 3