Shattered (LOST #3)(63)

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.