“Jax.”
The call came again. A little louder and he was across that room in an instant. His hand lifted and banged against the door. “Sarah, are you all right?”
The water was pounding down. He didn’t hear her. “Sarah?”
Then . . . a muffled cry. Like a—sob?
He twisted the knob. It turned easily in his grasp and he shoved the door open as his heart raced.
Sarah was in the shower, behind the glass, and tendrils of steam drifted in the air around her. Her head had been pressed to the tile, and one hand was over her mouth, as if she were trying to muffle her cries.
“Sarah?”
She jerked away from the wall and looked up at him, and that was when he realized . . . the water on her cheeks wasn’t just from the shower. Sarah was crying.
“You’re hurt.” Dammit, he should have insisted that she go to the hospital and get checked out. That exam in the ambulance had been a joke. He rushed across that little room and yanked open the shower door.
Sarah’s arms crossed over her chest, as if she were hiding her breasts, trying to shield herself. Hell, the last thing she needed to do was shield that beautiful body from him.
He reached out and turned off the spray of water.
She watched him, her eyes stark, tears still glinting in her gaze.
“It’s okay,” he told her, speaking softly. “You know you’re safe with me.” He grabbed a towel from the rack and opened it up for her. “Always, my Sarah. Always.”
He held the towel out to her even as his gaze darted over her body, looking for injuries. He could see some bruises forming. Most of the blood had been washed away, but there had to be a serious wound because Sarah was crying and she—
He wrapped the towel around her as she stepped from the shower. His arms slid over her shoulders as he pulled her against him. “You have to tell me where it hurts,” he said. So I can fix it. So I can fix you.
“She’s going to die,” Sarah whispered. “Because of me.”
He stiffened.
“Wade almost died . . . because of me. Sometimes, I think I’m cursed. That I just bring pain and death to everyone around me.”
Like he hadn’t thought that same shit about himself a time or twenty.
He tipped up her chin and stared down into her eyes. “Baby, you’re not cursed.”
Her laughter sounded more like a sob. “No, I’m just evil.”
The fuck she was.
“I could have stopped all of this. I should have.” A teardrop slid down her cheek. “I heard the screams, and I—I just let him tell me that they were only bad dreams. The wind. I believed everything . . . anything he said.”
Her pain was cutting into him.
“You’re supposed to love your father, right? And I did. That’s what makes it even worse. I loved him, while he was killing them.”
He held her tighter. “Sarah . . .”
She shuddered in his arms. She was naked and beautiful, and sex was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to hold her, take her pain away. Make her smile. Make those tears stop.
Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please, just give me a minute.” She tried to pull away from him. He didn’t let go.
Her breath blew out lightly, rasping over him. And her arms . . . they slowly rose to wrap around him. And, for a moment—a moment that just seemed to hang in time—Jax did nothing but hold her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman like that. Without the intent to fuck her, in the next five minutes, anyway. But Sarah needed him right then, and he found that he needed her, too.
What in the hell is happening to me?
She didn’t cry with loud, gulping sobs. Didn’t shake. Her tears were silent as they fell, as if Sarah were used to keeping her pain quiet.
“I don’t fall apart . . . a lot,” she finally confessed.
Her words made him smile and he turned his head. He saw their reflection in the mirror. He was big and blond, she was small and so delicate. Her wet, black hair slid down her back. His hands—with all the tats that had so many meanings—were around her. Stroking that wet hair.
Sarah looked as if she belonged with him. No, belonged to him.
“Thank you,” she added. She pushed against him once more. This time, he eased his hold and let her go. The towel almost fell, but Sarah grabbed for it and wrapped it around her body, anchoring it between her breasts.
He stared into her eyes. The tears were gone, but he could see the tracks drying on her cheeks. “Fall apart anytime you want,” he told her softly. “I’ll be right here to catch you.”
Her head tilted and she got that look about her—the one that told him Sarah was trying to figure him out. Keep trying, baby. It won’t happen.
“How did you know . . . I was crying?”
He turned away from her. “Because you called my name.”
“No, I . . . I didn’t.”
“Yes, baby, you did.” When Sarah called, he had the feeling he’d always answer her. “Want to finish that shower now and—”
A phone was ringing. Her phone, from the other room. He heard her sharp inhale, and then she was rushing past him, and nearly losing that towel again in the process.
She grabbed her phone and when her expression tightened, he knew who was calling her.
She hit the button to put the call on speaker. Her fingers trembled the faintest bit as she held that phone between her and Jax. “Where’s Molly?” Sarah said by way of greeting.
Laughter flowed over the line. Low and mocking, and Jax’s hands clenched into fists.
“She’s not a pile of ash, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
The man’s voice held no accent, but something about that voice seemed to tug at Jax’s memories. Do I know him? Do I know this bastard?
“But you were almost ash, weren’t you, Sarah? I was watching . . . saw you running toward the door.”
“On your cameras?” Sarah’s voice held no emotion, but the phone was still trembling in her grasp. “You set a trap for me.”
More laughter. Jax would be stopping that laughter, permanently. There were just some people who made the world a better place . . . when they weren’t in it.
“Didn’t think you would actually die,” the man murmured. “Not in the first room, though you did make me hope for a moment, Still, I thought you’d get some nice scars on that pretty face of yours. Scars to go show Daddy.”
Jax took out his phone. He had numbers for all of the LOST members. After all, he believed in being prepared. So he sent a quick text to Gabe. The bastard you’re after just called Sarah again. She’s talking to him now.
“I don’t want the cops involved, Sarah.” Now anger rumbled in the guy’s voice. “Molly is still alive, and if you want her back . . . I told you, you have to find her. That’s what you do, right?”
“I don’t believe she’s alive.” Sarah’s voice was flat. “I want proof of life, and I want it now.”
Silence.
“Maybe she did die in that fire,” Sarah continued. He was impressed that she kept her voice so calm. “Maybe you’re just jerking us around until we get the report from the fire marshal. If Molly’s alive like you say, then give me proof now, or I’m hanging up the phone.”
His breath rasped over the line. “She’s alive, bitch.”
“Prove it.” Sarah was staring down at the phone, not at Jax.
A text came through from Gabe. What is he saying?
Jax texted back. Sarah wants proof of life . . . he isn’t giving it to her.
Because Molly was dead?
There was only silence on the phone. No background noise at all that Jax could hear. In New Orleans, it was hard to find a place that quiet. People were everywhere. Music was always playing. Performers were in the streets. Something was happening.
“Do you want to hear her scream?” he finally asked Sarah. “I would have thought you’d heard enough screams when your daddy was cutting people up.”
Jax’s gaze snapped to Sarah’s face. She’d paled even more.
“Is that what he did?” Sarah asked, voice so mild and emotionless. “Did he cut up someone you loved? A mother, like Molly?”