Shattered (LOST #3)(3)

MONSTERS WERE REAL, AND THEY USUALLY HID beneath the skin of men.

Dr. Sarah Jacobs had spent most of her adult life hunting monsters. She’d just finished her most recent case with LOST—Last Option Search Team—a recovery group that hunted the missing. They’d stopped the bad guy, but not before he’d killed.

More innocent lives had been lost.

No one is really innocent. Her father’s voice whispered through Sarah’s mind, and she hurried her steps as she walked down the busy New Orleans street. A few other members of her team were still in town, tying up the last of their loose ends. Before long, though, they’d all be packing things up and heading back to the main LOST office in Atlanta.

There would be another case waiting. There always was.

Sarah’s footsteps quickened even more when she caught sight of her hotel. The doorman was outside, and a relieved smile spread across her face. She’d felt a bit odd in the last few days. As if she were being watched. She’d been taught never to ignore her instincts, but Sarah knew there was no reason for anyone to be following her. Not now.

She hurried past the doorman, mumbling a quick hello. Then she was in the bright hotel lobby. Her high heels clicked over that gleaming floor. She didn’t slow down for a little pit stop at the crowded bar. Sarah headed right for the elevator. She got lucky and was able to slip inside immediately. Only me in here. A quick exhale of relief escaped her as the doors started to close.

Then a hand appeared. A man’s hand—strong, tan, and tattooed. Dark, swirling tattoos slid around his knuckles. He waved his hand, activating the elevator doors’ sensors and causing those doors to open wide for him.

Sarah pushed back against the wall of the elevator as Jax Fontaine stepped inside. She knew him by sight. Unfortunately. She also knew the man was trouble. The local authorities generally stayed out of his way. Unless she missed her guess, they were afraid of the guy.

And I don’t blame them.

The word on the street was that Jax Fontaine was a very dangerous man. An enemy that most didn’t want to have.

Thanks to her last case, she was now acquainted with him—and she knew that she’d attracted some unwelcome interest from the guy.

“Hello, pretty Sarah,” he said. New Orleans drawled in his voice, just a hint of Creole rising and falling there. Jax smiled at her. Right. Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.

The elevator doors slid closed behind him.

Jax was tall, several inches over six feet, with broad shoulders and the kind of build that told her when he wasn’t up to no good in the French Quarter, he had to spend some serious time working out.

The guy looked like a fallen angel—if fallen angels spent a whole lot of time scaring the hell out of people. His hair was blond, thick, and a little too long. His face—that face of his was eerily perfect. Almost too handsome. A strong, hard jaw, a long blade of a nose. He had sharp cheekbones and blue eyes that seemed to see right into her soul.

And the elevator isn’t moving.

Probably because he’d leaned forward and pressed the stop button. What. The. Hell?

“I hear you’re leaving town.”

Her heartbeat spiked. When she was near him, that tended to happen. Her heart raced, her breathing came a little faster, and her stomach knotted.

Jax shook his head. “Leaving . . . and you weren’t even going to come and tell me good-bye?”

Laughter came from her. Not real laughter. She couldn’t remember what real laughter felt like. Tight and mocking, the laughter pushed out from her. “It’s not like we’re friends, Jax.” They’d been uneasy allies on the last case. Jax had known intel that she’d needed about the killer.

“Why just be friends? That’s boring.” His gaze slid over her. That light blue gaze seemed to heat as it lingered on Sarah’s body. “We’d be much better lovers than we’d ever be friends.”

Her hands were pressed to the wall behind her—only it wasn’t a wall. A mirror. Mirrors lined that elevator. To be very clear, Sarah told him, “I don’t date dangerous men.”

Jax stepped toward her. He didn’t move like other men. He stalked. He glided. Kind of like some big jungle cat—a beast hunting his prey. His hand lifted and his tattooed knuckles slid over her cheek.

His touch made her tense. Mostly because it seemed like an electric shock flowed straight through her body when his skin touched hers.

“Who said anything about dating?” Jax asked her. His smile flashed at her, showing his even, white teeth. “I thought we’d just spend the next seven hours fucking.”

Fucking. Her chin lifted. “Start the elevator.” Because she knew exactly what sort of huge mistake she’d be making if she got involved with a man like Jax. Sarah preferred to spend her time with men who were safe. Law-abiding. Men who didn’t thrive on danger and adrenaline. Men who had no idea about all the darkness that existed in the world.

Safe men.

Jax wasn’t safe. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d see right through the mask she wore.

When she inhaled, she could have sworn that she actually tasted him. He was so big, easily dwarfing her in that elevator, and his scent—masculine, rich—surrounded her.

Sarah pressed back against the mirror. “Start the elevator.”

His blue gaze sharpened on her. “Are you afraid of me?”