In Her Sights

by Perini, Robin

  She shook her head and pulled her hands from him. “You have a daughter to protect, Luke. I’ll handle it. My way.”

  She pushed away a half-eaten plate of food. “I’m finished. I need to go home. Alone.”

  Luke paid the bill, his mind made up. No way was he letting her stay by herself. Not until he convinced himself she was safe. He’d do whatever it took to protect her. He refused to let Jasmine fight this battle alone.

  Breaking into Jazz Parker’s apartment had been too easy. She was a failure as a cop, just like the rest of her life. Just like her whore of a mother.

  Not that a lock or two would’ve stopped the plan. Now all she had to do was bait the trap. She flipped open her phone and dialed her cop’s number.

  “Hello?” His too-eager voice rumbled with anticipation.

  “Hi, lover boy. You ready to be bad with me?”

  “You know it, honey.” His voice lowered. “I’m ready for you. Big and hard and ready. Just the way you like it.”

  Her stomach rolled when she thought of his horrible hands all over her, but for now she needed him.

  “Lover, I could really use a favor. It’s naughty, but I know you can do it.”

  A soft laugh sounded through the phone. “The naughtier, the better.”

  “Oh, you.” She forced herself to gift him with the incipient giggle that turned him on so much. “I probably shouldn’t be telling a cop this, but I accidentally knocked my car door into this Pinto and I didn’t have anything to leave a note with. I want to try to contact him. I memorized his license plate. Can you get me his name and address so I can give him my insurance information?”

  There was a long pause on the other end.

  “Please. I’ll do anything you want. Even what you asked for last night.”

  The sharp intake of breath brought on a smile. He was hers. She controlled him.

  “Give me the number.”

  “Oh, lover, you’re just so smart and so wonderful. See you tonight. I’ll give you a whole lot more than I promised.” Her voice grew low and sexy. “I’ll ride you like you’ve never been ridden, so be ready.”

  He groaned. “I’m ready now.”

  With a last giggle, she pursed her lips and made a disgusting kissing sound then hung up the phone.

  And so the next step began.

  She scanned her enemy’s possessions. The place was too neat. She could see the cop now, arranging all the books and bottles just so. She pulled down the wall unit. Books and manuals flew across the room, crashing into the wall. The few mementos of Jazz Parker’s life, shattered.

  Methodically she trashed room after room, finally pushing open the bedroom door. Everything necessary to frame Jazz would be in here, and her enemy would soon pay for what she’d done. She rummaged through the closet, slashing her clothes, destroying her life.

  Then she saw them. A pair of Arvada Police Academy sweatpants lay in the middle of the floor. Perfect. The irony would be poetic.

  The phone ringing interrupted the celebration. “This is Jazz, you know the drill. Leave a message.”

  Her voice sounded through the machine: clear, calm, content. Well, that would soon change.

  “Jazz, it’s Anna Montgomery. I wanted to let you know that Gabe’s much better. Also, I’m looking for Luke and haven’t been able to reach him. He’s searching for you, so if you see him, tell him I’m taking Joy to Lake Arbor Park this afternoon. We’ll be home before dark.”

  Everything was falling into place. The lying bastard’s daughter and mother would be at a park. Alone. This entire day was a sign. A wonderful, glorious sign.

  A quick search of the bathroom and closet for a weapon and the job would be complete. And there it was—like Excalibur waiting for the chosen one who would wield it for justice.

  An iron crowbar lay tossed in the corner. Vicious, deadly, wonderful.

  A quick pivot out of the closet brought her face to face with her reflection above the vanity. Her recently dyed auburn hair was scraped away from her face to prevent even one hair from escaping.

  Her mother’s eyes stared back at her.

  No. No. No. Mama, the weak, trusting fool, was dead. She wasn’t here.

  Panicked, she swung the crowbar with all her might at the mirror. Shards splintered, but the accusing eyes didn’t disappear. A thousand images reflected back at her. Eyes watching her. Everywhere.

  “I promised you I’d kill the killer! I will. I’ll keep my promise, Mama.”

  Breathing labored, she sucked back a sob as the crowbar dropped to the floor with a thud. “Jane Sanford will die.”

  Dinner hadn’t ended quite as Luke expected. He’d hoped Jasmine would agree to his plan. They were still negotiating, though Luke had no intention of losing. He pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. Last time they were here they’d been a target. This time, his body tingled with something other than danger. He let his fingertips graze her arm as she exited the SUV. She shivered as the heat sweltered between them. Would she acknowledge the attraction? Would she fight it?

  As they climbed up the stairs toward her apartment, a place they’d made love countless times, the electric awareness crackled even above the irritation.

  “For the last time, I don’t need a babysitter.”

  So, all business. Part of him sighed in relief, part in disappointment. He could keep their relationship professional. He hoped.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said. “Whether I plant myself in your apartment or in the hallway, I’m here for the long haul.”

  They exited the stairwell to Jasmine’s wide-open front door. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

  Luke palmed his HK and shoved her behind him. “What the devil is going on now? We need backup.”

  She peered past him as he eased toward the door, step by step, listening for signs of an intruder. He wanted this son-of-a-bitch so bad he could taste the kill.

  “I can’t believe I’m calling 911. Again.” She reported the break-in then pulled the Glock from her bag. “Who’s doing this?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve had it,” Luke said. He hoped the bastard was inside. He’d end this sick game once and for all.

  They edged around the open door. Jasmine’s breath caught. Nothing remained untouched. Her sofa had been shredded. Shelves were upended. The few knickknacks she possessed had been scattered and broken.

  “Forensics is going to be furious, but I’m not taking a chance he’ll get away,” Luke said, hoping he’d have the pleasure to settle the lopsided score.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Stay close. No heroics.”

  “Ditto.”

  The apartment was oddly silent. Luke’s shoulders tensed as they picked their way through the devastation. The mess didn’t stop her from being a cop. She’d become a master at compartmentalizing. He recognized the skill. He’d developed it as a soldier; she’d honed her abilities surviving her childhood. She was so strong; she impressed the hell out of him.

  Methodically they searched the kitchen, the coat closet, anyplace an intruder could hide.

  Finally they reached the bedroom door.

  “Last room,” she said softly. “Last chance.”

  His moves quiet and subtle, he rounded the corner and quickly swept the room with his HK. Empty. When he saw her bed, he recoiled. Her mattress and pillows had been hacked just like the sofa and truck. The viciousness of the attack sickened him. Every destructive inch screamed personal vendetta, not professional hit.

  A small hitched breath sounded behind him as she took in the full scope of the hatred. The violation had wounded her. Luke’s jaw ached as he fought to restrain his fury. He stepped toward the bathroom. Let him be there. Five minutes is all I need.

  He entered the room. Empty. Again. But the message was clear. He stared at the wall, a flood of curses erupting and echoing through the tiled room. The mirror had been violently shattered, a threat scrawled in red on the wall for impact.

 
; Killer Cops Die Too.

  Jasmine stilled next to Luke. Careful not to startle her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, kneading slightly. She wasn’t alone. She had to know that.

  “It’s not lipstick,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “It’s blood.”

  Jazz waited in the hall until Detective Neil Wexler left her apartment. “You’ve got yourself an enemy, Parker, and not a sane one. First the truck, the gunshot, and now this. Add to that your…work troubles…and your life seems to be unraveling mighty fast. Any chance they’re connected?”

  “I don’t know.” She shoved her hand in her pocket. Empty. Man, she could use a Life Saver.

  Wexler flipped open his notebook. “I’m primary on the vandalism and this break-in. Do you know of anyone who has a personal grudge against you? Anyone who got caught because of one of the SWAT operations? Any recent parolees who’d want revenge?”

  Did she dare mention Tower in an official investigation? It could cost her. Sarge had made that clear, and Jazz reluctantly agreed. “No one’s brought anything to my attention in months. You could check on the new complaints, I guess.”

  “There was a red Pinto following her earlier today,” Luke interrupted. “Some guy was waiting for her when she left the station this morning.”

  “You saw him?” Wexler’s eyebrows rose.

  “Yeah. He looked like a cop or maybe ex-military.” Luke sent Jazz a pointed stare.

  She glared back and then looked away.

  Wexler slapped his notebook against his thigh. “Okay, what are you two not telling me?”

  “We may have a suspect, but it’s just speculation.” Jazz cleared her throat. “It’s difficult.”

  “Go on.”

  “He’s a cop. IA.”

  A low whistle sounded through Wexler’s lips. “Brian Tower.” Neil didn’t put pen to paper; his expression turned serious. “Listen, Jazz, I want to get the jerk doing this to you, but are you sure you want to open that can of worms? Messing with Tower won’t be pretty. He’s got connections.”

  Luke gestured toward the apartment. “You think what this guy did was pretty? Only a psycho would slash up a bed like that. If Tower’s the one, he should be strung up without a trial.”

  “Luke—” Jazz said.

  Wexler planted his feet in challenge. “We’re getting into some deep and smelly waters here, and you’re hiding information. Why do you suspect him?”

  Jazz held her breath. What could she say?

  Finally Luke lowered his voice. “I’m assuming you’ve heard, but I’m investigating corruption in the sheriff’s office,” he said. “I have it on good authority Tower’s involved. I’m still unsure about how deep.”

  Jazz stared at Luke, stunned. How long had he been certain Tower was mixed up with the bad guys and hadn’t told her? Her stomach flipped at the betrayal. Even with their deal, she couldn’t trust Luke to be straight with her. When would she learn she couldn’t count on him to be there for her one hundred percent?

  Wexler’s expression turned cold. “Really? Exactly who is this ‘informant’?”

  “I don’t have to disclose anything. I can tell you this person is vulnerable to organized crime by even talking to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my source. I provide the identity, and someone will die.”

  “You’re giving me nothing. What am I supposed to do? Wait for you to ruin a cop’s life on rumors? Do you have any evidence? At all?”

  Luke listed their suspicions, but even as he did, Jazz recognized how flimsy the case was against Tower. Jazz could tell Wexler didn’t want to listen. She couldn’t blame him. Luke was withholding. She wasn’t giving the detective the whole picture either. She’d taken the easy way out—the safe way out—and not mentioned that Tower knew details about her past. Wexler may not know what they were holding back, but his instincts must be screaming at him.

  “It’s thin,” he said. “What about the Pinto. You see it, Jazz?”

  “Not today, but I glimpsed one the night my truck was vandalized.”

  Wexler made a few more notes. “It’s not much to go on. We may get lucky and find some fingerprints. At the very least we should get some DNA from the blood on the wall.” He rubbed his chin and cleared his throat. “Look, Jazz, I’ll keep an eye on your suspect. But I’m going slow and easy. For your sake as much as my own. If you come up with anything else, let me know.” He shot Luke a chilling gaze. “And if you have any concrete information, maybe you’ll share it with me. Before more than an apartment or vehicle is sliced up.”

  “We gave you a suspect, Wexler. Don’t worry, I’ll provide you anything I can that will help you do your job.” Luke faced him toe to toe. “But if you don’t follow through, I’m giving you a heads up. I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect Jasmine.”

  “Keep it within the law.” Wexler ducked under the crime scene tape then turned back to Jazz with a concerned look. “Have you got a place to stay until we’re finished here?”

  A wave of exhausted realization hit her. Her apartment was a crime scene. That meant she had no clothes, no home. She shivered and lifted her chin. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” She’d figure out something. She always did. “Let me know what you find out.”

  “Will do.” He glanced at his clipboard. “Take care, and watch your back until we catch this psycho.”

  Wexler disappeared into Jazz’s apartment and she confronted Luke. “Your informant named Tower? You lied to me!”

  Luke pulled her away from the door. “Lower your voice. I never lied.”

  “So what’s your latest definition of a lie, Luke?” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “As I recall, when you went after Derek, the definition included pretty much anything that wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

  “I can’t tell you everything. I’m shielding someone who can’t protect herself,” he whispered. “Or her son. If her husband learns she called me, she’s dead. I can’t let that happen. She’s a mother protecting her child.”

  “Damn you.” A wave of hopelessness swept through Jazz. She understood. She’d done far worse in the name of protecting someone who couldn’t protect herself.

  Luke turned her to him, shifting her body against his and rubbing her arms. “I’ll find a way to help you, Jasmine. I promise, but we have to broaden our thinking. As much as I initially believed these attacks were about my investigation, I was wrong. When the perp slashed your truck and destroyed your apartment, those acts are much more vicious and personal than a deliberately missed shot. Put that together with Tower knowing details about your past that no one else knows, and this situation is more complicated than I realized.”

  “But why come after me now?”

  “Maybe the news coverage reached someone from your past who recognized you, or Tower put out inquiries. I don’t know. But I won’t stop until we find out who’s responsible and you’re safe.”

  She shivered at his dogged confidence. How could she appreciate his determination on one hand while that very trait chilled her soul? How could she trust him with her past? She’d never been one to give up control of her life. She hadn’t even let Sheriff Clarkson destroy those files and the newspaper articles about Jane without witnessing their shredding. She didn’t have faith that Luke wouldn’t turn his back on her when he learned the truth. Everyone else had judged her—from the time she was born to the day she’d taken her new name.

  Nothing had changed. From the moment Luke and the SWAT team had learned just one snippet of her story, she could tell they looked at her differently. And if they knew everything? Luke wouldn’t stand by her. He’d judged Derek as guilty for far less than Jazz had done.

  She lifted her hands to Luke’s shoulders and pushed away. “This isn’t just about your investigation anymore. This is about me. So unless you have another suspect in the wings—”

  “Nothing solid.” He studied her face, his churning speculation evident in his eyes. “What are you planning?”
>
  “The only lead left besides Tower and his accomplice is the car. Maybe it’ll give us a break. I need to run the Pinto myself. I’m going back to the office.”

  “Carder will kick you out if you try anything before you get a good eight hours’ sleep. You need a safe place to rest,” Luke said, his voice firm. “My mother’s been bugging me to let Joy sleep over. Stay with me tonight. I’ve got the equipment to run searches on the Pinto.”

  “I don’t know.” Talk about walking into trouble. She bit her lip. “I’d better go to a hotel.”

  “If you get a room, I’m stuck there with you. Less time and privacy to investigate. If you research at the sheriff’s office, everyone will know, and it could get back to him.” Luke let his hands run down her sides and slipped his fingers into her empty pocket. “Besides, I’ve got a stash of butter rum,” he said. “And you seem to be all out.”

  “The butter rum clinches it.” She hesitated. “No sex.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He put his hand on her back. “Much,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Luke unlocked the door to his house with relief. At least she’d be safe for a while. Actually, on the ride over, Jasmine admitted it was Luke’s computer setup that had finally convinced her to come home with him. He didn’t care why she’d agreed. She was here now.

  A soft click of the front door and a twist of the deadbolt shut them in. He slipped the key into his pocket and watched as she strode past a jam-packed wall of family photographs and into the living room. He couldn’t remember a time they hadn’t headed straight for the bedroom when they had come to his house. The fire between them had burned hot, but not deep. He’d never known her. Not really. He knew how to touch her and caress her to drive her wild with passion, but he hadn’t seen her heart. He’d understood her dedication to the job, had admired that she’d fought for a place on SWAT, but he hadn’t look past the external cues. He’d been a fool.