In Her Sights (3 page)

“You
did
hear a lot. I just want the truth.”

“The truth doesn’t always lead to justice,” she said.

“Justice will come. My informant knows details. Enough for me to believe some cops
are
criminals. You know anything about that…Jasmine?” Deliberately he let her name roll off his tongue for the first time since she’d walked out two years earlier.

She clenched her jaw in irritation as he’d known she would.
Jazz
was the sheriff’s deputy, the sniper.
Jasmine
was the woman she revealed only in rare, unguarded moments. He’d always called her Jasmine when they made love; he still thought of her that way. She hated that about him.

“Do you know anyone with secrets they’re trying to hide?” he pressed.

Her eyes flashed with panic for a split second. Well hell. She
did
know something. Why did it have to be Jasmine? And why wasn’t he surprised?

She’d always been closed mouthed about her past, but he’d spent all day working on the supposed fluff piece about the woman behind the sniper. After hours searching her background he hadn’t found anything on Jasmine before she played basketball at Metro State. The lack of information pinged his instincts and made him wonder just what he’d stumbled onto. No one popped out of nowhere as an eighteen-year-old woman.

Damn her. If she was involved in anything illegal, he’d expose her. No matter what their relationship had been. No matter how much he still wanted her.

Before he could push for information, a beam of headlights bounced into the parking lot pulling into an empty space near him. He recognized his mother’s vehicle. So did Jasmine. Her mask fell into place. Any chance of talking was over. For now.

A small girl’s shining face peered through the glass. After his mother released the car seat’s latch, the bundle of energy leapt out of the vehicle and raced toward him. He grinned and knelt down, holding out his arms as his daughter ran to him, a stuffed orange clown fish clutched in her hand.

“Grandma said Hero and me could have ice cream for dinner.” Her words rushed out as she thrust the toy into his hands.

“Hi, munchkin.” Luke wrapped his daughter’s warm body in his arms and buried his face in the baby shampoo smell of her hair. His child, his Joy. The only truly honest human being he’d ever met. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Her arms spanned wide. “This much, Daddy?” she beamed.

“Oh my God.” A whisper erupted from Jasmine’s lips, and she stumbled back several paces.

Luke’s shoulders tightened at the shock in her voice. He forced himself to relax for his daughter’s sake and handed his mother the keys. “Take Joy and put her in the SUV. I’ll be right there.”

Anna Montgomery grabbed Joy’s hand and her curious gaze shifted from Luke to Jasmine. “Jazz. It’s good to see you. Really.”

Jasmine swallowed, her face strained. “Mrs. Montgomery.”

His daughter’s curious expression sent a chill of foreboding through Luke. Joy wasn’t one to hold her tongue about anything, and Jasmine looked astonished enough to ask a question he didn’t want to answer. “Mom?” he urged. “Please.”

His mother bundled Joy off to his car, though his daughter kept looking back, staring at Jasmine and whispering to his mother.

The SUV door slammed shut, and Joy’s face pressed against the glass, peering at Luke. A cool night breeze batted a tin wind chime hanging near the bar’s entrance, its awkward tones oddly appropriate.

Luke faced Jasmine. “She’s my daughter. Joy.”

“Who…How…?”

The world spun around Jazz as she struggled to right her balance against the ache erupting inside her.

Luke, a father. He’d said he couldn’t do commitment; that his life was constantly in danger, especially when he’d been in Afghanistan. She’d understood. As a cop, so was hers. For just that reason, she’d succumbed to his seduction. Then, like a fool, she’d let herself start to believe in happily-ever-afters—at least in that still, small place inside her soul. And all the time he’d had a child and a family of his own.

“You’re one to talk about honesty and not keeping big secrets,” she said. “You should’ve told me about your daughter while we were dating. Oh. Wait. Maybe you didn’t think having a child was important enough to mention to the woman you were sleeping with. It’s a good thing I walked when I did, isn’t it? I’ve never been one to stay where I wasn’t wanted.”

“You were wanted, and you know it. I didn’t tell you about her existence because I didn’t know. Not until she ended up on a plane to Denver after her mom died in a car accident.”

Joy had lost her mother too? The words sucked all the anger out of Jazz. She’d never been able to depend on anyone, especially her family. Unlike Jazz, Joy could count on Luke and the rest of the Montgomerys to love and protect her. What would that have been like? To have someone care enough about Jazz to defend her? She’d never know.

“Don’t expect me to apologize for Joy,” Luke said. “I won’t. She’s a gift.” His gaze shifted to the SUV where his daughter waited, and he sighed. “Look, it’s been two years. Maybe it’s time we talked instead of avoiding each other.”

His hand reached out and clasped hers. The electricity crackling between them erupted, and her traitorous heart quickened. Her fingers itched to push back the lick of mahogany hair that had fallen onto his forehead. Between that errant lock and the long lashes framing molten chocolate eyes, her breath still caught at the sight of him. She longed to touch him; his hot gaze still melted her insides. She was a fool to think she was over him. Lord, what kind of Pandora’s box had she opened? She should’ve stayed hidden. Being invisible was the only way to protect herself.

She’d been right to leave two years ago, before he’d gotten any closer to her heart, before he’d learned the truth. She had to get out now, before passion drew her back in, before unthinkable possibilities seduced her again.

“There’s nothing left to say, Luke. Nothing.”

Their gazes locked, and a trembling began inside her. She turned and raced into the bar. Anything to distract her from these crazy feelings. Like a reflex, she dug into her pocket searching for a butter rum Life Saver. Nothing but an empty wrapper. She needed a refill.

She paused and watched through the window as he went to his daughter, careful to check the girl’s car seat before giving her a tender kiss on the forehead. As he slid behind the wheel he glanced back at Jazz through the small window in the bar’s door. She recognized the speculative gleam that lit his eyes.

Nothing had changed in two years. She had only one choice. Stay away from Luke Montgomery before he focused his quest for the truth on her.

“What do you mean I’m under investigation?”

Jazz watched as Sarge, with measured control, clicked shut the utilitarian door, offering a rare bit of privacy from the rowdy antics in the SWAT team’s den. He sank into the leather chair behind his desk and leveled a serious look at her.

She’d entered the office this morning expecting a promotion, not this. “I saved the life of the governor’s daughter, and now I’m being investigated by Internal Affairs?” She met her commanding officer’s gaze. “How does that happen?”

Sarge’s square jaw clenched.

Oh, boy. Only rarely had Jazz witnessed even a hint of emotion in her boss. She admired the trait. That she recognized his anger worried her.

“Tower happened. He convinced his commander in Internal Affairs to reopen the post-incident investigations into your terminations. It’s a witch hunt, Jazz. He wants to see you burn.”

Stunned, she backed away from the desk. First Luke and now this. She shoved a hand in her pocket and fingered the familiar roll of Life Savers. She wished she could pop one right now. She could use the comfort of a sugar fix. “I
knew
he was pissed when I beat him out of the opening on the SWAT team. I haven’t done anything wrong. Every action was a result of direct orders. Every shot deemed justified.”

“You think that matters to Tower? He’s used to getting what he wants. In his eyes you humiliated him, and he wants to bring you down.”

Sarge tossed down her folder on a desk so pristine the dust didn’t dare settle there. “Be careful, Jazz. This file doesn’t go into a lot of detail, but Tower claims he can prove you’re not fit to be a cop.”

She clutched the candy in her pocket and squeezed the frisson of disquiet into submission. Emotions were weak, and she could never reveal even the smallest crack in her armor. “He’s bluffing.”

Sarge leaned forward in his chair. “A smart cop doesn’t make a move like this without an ace in his hand. Do you have any idea what Tower’s latched onto? What he can use against you?”

Her mind flashed to the angry runaway she’d been, a child forced to do anything to survive. Twelve years had passed since then. Her juvenile records had been expunged, erased as if they never existed. She pushed away the thoughts. It was impossible. Tower couldn’t know.

“He’s grasping at straws. I’ve done nothing to dishonor my badge.” She met Sarge’s look and forced her face into a calm mask. He nodded as if reassured, but she could detect the underlying concern.

“He’ll fight dirty. He’s got a lot to lose.”

“I can stand up for myself.” She was good at her job. She protected her team. She never failed. She was Jazz Parker, one of the boys in blue who could thread a needle with a bullet.

“Just be smart about what you say—and what you do. He’ll be looking to trip you up.” Her commander drummed his fingers over the file. “I want you as lead sniper, Jazz, but this situation has to be cleared up.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.” Sarge gifted her with a supportive smile. “I made the right decision when I chose you over Tower.” He lowered his gaze to a razor-edge stack of paperwork. “Dismissed, Deputy.”

Jazz snapped to attention and turned on her heel, burying her unease deep inside. She pulled out the butter rum she’d been craving and popped it in her mouth. The smooth sweetness exploded on her tongue. Yes. Much better. She could deal with this. She had Sarge’s confidence.

She also had one very large vulnerability.

Jazz steadied herself as she reached for the doorknob. She’d covered her bases. The past she’d taken such great pains to hide
would
stay buried six hundred miles south. It had to.

She marched out of Sarge’s office, shut the door behind her, and then froze at the unbelievable sight greeting her—Brian Tower, holding court, surrounded by her teammates. He leaned against the metal lockers lining the equipment room, smirking while a half-naked, redheaded bimbo fawned over Gabe.

Tower’s smile oozed with triumph. “Why don’t you wait in the car for me, darlin’. I have one last piece of business.”

Swinging her hips like a working girl, she sashayed toward the door. Gabe’s eyes were glazed as he stared after the swaying figure. Half the team’s jaws were hanging on the floor. Jazz chomped down on the candy in her mouth and swallowed. Men. It would be funny if it weren’t Tower’s woman they were gawking at.

He slapped her lycra-covered assets as she waltzed past him and exited the room. “Keep the motor running.” Tower turned around and grinned at his audience. “Takes a lot to keep her happy, but I’ve got her covered.”

A few sniggers filtered among her teammates.

Jazz gathered her temper. She strode toward the workbench, but Tower cut her off. He flopped down in
her
chair, next to
her
rifle, and crossed his legs as if he owned the place.

“You’re in my seat, Deputy Tower.”

He didn’t respond, just unrolled the newspaper he held and shifted in the chair. His ash-blond hair was perfectly groomed, his tailored charcoal pinstripe immaculate. Her entire wardrobe didn’t measure up to that suit.

With a smirk, Tower threw down the afternoon paper and looked at her. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite media suck-up. I thought I’d congratulate you on making the front page. You’re a hero, Parker. Looks like you saved the governor’s daughter all by yourself.” He rose from the chair. “Sorry, guys. You barely got a mention. Guess you just don’t have her star power.”

Tower straightened his jacket, and his confidence gave Jazz a chill of apprehension. What was he up to?

“I need to catch up with my lovely goddess. She’s got my day off planned, and I don’t intend to miss a minute of…fun.” He flashed a grin and sauntered out of the room.

Jazz watched him with growing frustration until the door shut behind him. “Jerk.”

Gabe chuckled at her barb, but Steve Paretti whistled under his breath. “How’d Tower get his mitts on that luscious babe?”

“God only knows,” Carl Redmond said.

“She sure found your lap interesting, buddy boy,” Paretti said, turning to Gabe. “Practically slid off the table onto you.”

“Hey,” Gabe protested. “I was just looking after Jazz’s gun.”

“Yeah, that’s what you were thinking about,” Paretti shot back. “Jazz’s gun.”

Gabe winked at her, but she couldn’t rustle a smile. She stared at the Remington near his elbow and studied the rifle intently. It looked okay. No smudges on the barrel, no fingerprints, and the settings looked right.