Shattered (LOST #3)(72)

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve lied, stolen . . .”

That was supposed to scare her?

“I learned to use my fists far too early. When someone hurt me, I always struck back.”

“Still not afraid.” She wasn’t.

He sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. “What do you think happened to the man who took me?”

Her breath froze in her lungs.

“Do you think I just let him walk away? I always knew what he’d done. It was in the back of my head. And all those years . . . he kept hitting Charlene. Kept hurting me. Did you think I was just going to let that all go?”

She could feel her lower lip trembling. To stop that movement, Sarah caught her lower lip between her teeth. And she waited.

“One day, he slammed Charlene’s head into the wall. She didn’t get up, just lay there, hurting . . . hurting so much. He was standing over her, ready to swing again, and I wasn’t going to let it happen.”

Her fingers were still twined with his.

“I ran at him. Hit him as hard as I could and he just . . . fell down the stairs. I heard his neck when it snapped. I knew what had happened. It’s a sound I’ll never forget.”

Jax!

“He didn’t die right away. I walked down to the bottom of the stairs. His eyes were wild, and he was trying to talk. I just stared at him because I knew there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done. A few moments later, his eyes closed. He was gone.”

Sarah was silent, still biting her lip.

“You’re supposed to say something, Sarah.” His voice roughened. “Call me a murderer. Pull away from me. Get the phone and call the cops!”

Did he really think that was what she would do? “Self-defense.” An act that got out of control. “You didn’t mean to push him down the stairs—”

“Didn’t I? I meant to stop him, Sarah, by any means.”

Her left hand came up, and, in that darkness, pressed to his face. She could feel the rough growth of stubble along his hard jawline. “And I meant to stop my father that day.” Her finger had been squeezing the trigger. So ready to take that shot. If he hadn’t stopped . . . “I don’t really see how you and I are so different.”

“We are.” His head turned, and he pressed a hot kiss to her palm. “Because you didn’t ditch the body and lie to the cops. I did. Charlene helped me. And then, a few weeks later, she killed herself because she couldn’t stand to see what I’d become.”

“No.” Her denial was immediate. Absolute. “That’s not what happened.”

“You weren’t there. I was. I saw her, fading away each day. She couldn’t even look me in the eye, and she’d jump every time she so much as heard a creak of sound. She couldn’t handle what I’d done. She couldn’t handle me. I—I loved her, and she killed herself to get away from me.”

“No.” The denial came again, even harder this time. “I don’t believe that, Jax. You saved her life. You protected her.”

“Not soon enough,” he said, and she heard the guilt in his voice. “She was the reason I survived that hell, and I’m the reason she died.”

“Jax, you don’t know what she was thinking. You don’t know—”

He’d lifted her hand up higher and he pressed a kiss to the scar that slid along her inner wrist. “I never want to do anything to hurt you. Sarah, don’t leave me.”

Something seemed to break inside her at his words. “I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled him fully down on the bed with her. And Jax just held her. He cradled her against his chest and his arms curled around her back.

Sarah had never felt more protected.

And she’d never felt as if she belonged with someone else, to someone else, more than she did in that moment.

His words hadn’t scared her, they’d just made her understand him—and the connection they seemed to have—all the more. They’d both been through hell. Both battled their own demons, and they both weren’t ever going to completely shake their pasts.

But the past didn’t have to determine their future.

“Good night, Sarah,” Jax whispered.

Sleep tight. You know you’re safe tonight.

She closed her eyes.





Chapter 14

SARAH SAT AT THE LITTLE TABLE IN THE NARROW prison cell. The warden had granted her special permission for this little visit. She was surrounded by prison bars, and the table in front of her was about five feet long. Jax was next to her, looking as dangerous as usual. Two guards waited near the cell’s door. They were both armed.

Sarah had pulled back her hair. She hoped that she looked cool and in control. Looked that way, because on the inside, she was a ball of nerves. She couldn’t let her father see those nerves, though. He would use any weakness that he could spot.

She heard the clang of another door opening. The shuffle of footsteps. He was coming.

Her chin lifted. Her heart raced.

Jax reached over. He caught her wrist and his fingers slid over her scar in the briefest of caresses. “I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

She nodded. He let her wrist go and . . .

Her father came in.