Shattered (LOST #3)(11)

She quickly looked away from them and then saw that Jax was getting on a motorcycle. It was a big, black beast of a bike. He revved the engine, and the hard, rumbling growl filled her ears. He glanced back at her. “You’re not afraid of a little ride in the dark, are you?”

No. She jumped on. He put a helmet on her. “To keep you extra safe.” Then he kissed her. A light, fast kiss.

In the next moment, that motorcycle was lunging through the alley, then ripping down the street. Fast, faster, until it seemed like they were flying. And it was wonderful. The motorcycle was vibrating between her legs, her arms were wrapped tightly around Jax, and Sarah heard herself laughing.

She didn’t know where they were going. Right then, she didn’t care. The ghosts from her past weren’t chasing her—or trying to use a knife to slice open her throat. She was with Jax.

And right then, being with him was the only thing that mattered.

DR. SARAH JACOBS had gone slumming.

From the shadows, he watched as she climbed onto the motorcycle. Watched as she held her lover so tightly. When the motorcycle took off, her laughter rose above the roar of that bike.

Sarah was a woman who was so very good at pretending. Pretending to be innocent. Pretending that she wanted to help the victims of the world. But he saw right through her lies.

He recognized her for exactly what she was.

Dark and twisted. Broken on the inside. Like a mirror that had been busted, then pieced back together, cracks all along the surface. Sarah had those cracks, right beneath her skin.

Did she even realize the hell that was coming her way? Probably not. She thought she was the smart one. The woman who could figure out all the killers.

She’d never figure him out.

Tonight’s little visitor—that had just been the start of what he had planned. The true games were about to begin. Then he’d see just what Sarah knew . . .

But first, he had to start with the right prey. Someone who would catch Sarah’s attention. No, not just her attention, but the attention of the entire LOST group. Because Sarah just followed orders, and he needed her boss to order Sarah to stay in New Orleans.

Soon, Sarah would realize that she didn’t know killers nearly as well as she thought.

And I’m coming for you, Jax. Jax Fontaine. The name whispered in New Orleans like the man was supposed to be someone. You’re nothing. You’ve always been nothing.

Jax and Sarah were bound, linked, and they’d both be crashing and burning together.

It was almost perfect that Sarah and Jax had found each other.

Because it sure as hell made things easier for him.

He’d planned to take them out separately, but this—this was fucking fate. His justice. They’d come together, and it was his time.

His time to make them both pay.

SARAH LIKED DANGER. Jax had realized that fact when she laughed as he cut through the city on his motorcycle. She hadn’t even hesitated to jump on behind him.

Sarah Jacobs . . . such a mix of contradictions. She looked so controlled on the outside, all business, but then when you looked in her eyes . . .

I see the truth.

Fire. Passion. Her eyes burned for him.

He’d driven the motorcycle to one of his newest acquisitions, a house in the Quarter, not too far from the old La Laurie mansion. He headed past the main gate and parked his bike. Sarah didn’t climb off right away. Her body was pressed to his back, her hands wrapped around his stomach. He liked the way she held on to him—so tight. But he had a feeling he was going to like plenty of other things about Sarah, too.

She slowly let go and eased off the motorcycle. Sarah handed him the helmet and turned to look around.

He rose, too, and typed in a quick code to send the gate shutting behind them. He’d just started renovating the house, so it wasn’t much to see. Not yet. One day, though, it would be.

Sarah was staring up at the high stone wall that circled his property. Her gaze seemed centered on the broken bottles that were placed on the top of the wall.

She glanced back at him, her brows raised.

“It’s an old trick we use down here,” he explained to her. “If anyone tries to scale the wall, they either get cut or they knock the bottles over—and I hear them coming.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “I would have thought your security system would be all the protection you needed.”

“A man can never be too safe.” He turned and headed toward the house. But he didn’t hear the sound of her footsteps following him. Jax glanced back. She was still staring up at the broken bottles. “You haven’t changed your mind?” He was having trouble believing that she was actually there with him. Sarah. If the woman knew that she’d been starring in his fantasies every night since they’d met, she’d probably be trying to scale that wall, broken bottles or not. There was just something about her. The minute he’d seen her, she’d just . . . clicked for him.

“I haven’t.” Her voice was soft, but she’d finally started walking toward him. “I’ve been . . . here . . . in this area of town before. I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“I’ve got a few houses, scattered about.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s a good thing to have more than one base for operations.” No, that wasn’t the truth. He liked to acquire things. It was a quirk—or an obsession. But when you grew up with nothing, well, you had a tendency to want everything.