In Her Sights (4 page)

“See if I leave her in your care anytime soon, Montgomery. Some bozo brings a woman in here and your brains slide south.”

“We’re only human,” Gabe muttered.

A wave of laughter followed, but Jazz didn’t join in, her attention caught by the front page of the newspaper Tower had left on the table. An academy photo of herself stared back just below the fold. She leaned closer even as her teammates crowded around her. “What’s my picture doing on the front page?”

The caption below the image made her squirm.

Jasmine Parker, Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office’s first female SWAT team member, and Colorado’s only female sniper, shot and killed the man who kidnapped the governor’s five-year-old daughter.

“They’ve got you as some kind of cross between the Archangel Michael and Joan of Arc,” Gabe murmured as he read a few lines of the story.

What was going on? Between the media coverage and IA’s investigation—not to mention Luke—her entire world was under attack. Someone might just recognize the girl she had been from the photo of the woman she had become. She didn’t need this.

She slammed her hand on the table. “Dammit.”

Silence blanketed the room. Finally Gabe leaned back against the oak workbench. “Okay, I’ll be brave and ask. Why are you wound tighter than Sarge right before a mission?”

“IA’s investigating my record,” she said dully.

“You gotta be kidding?” An awkward pause settled over the room. Finally Gabe patted her shoulder. “Look, nothing makes people happier than tearing down a hero. Especially a hero who got her picture in the paper. They’ll see him for what he is.”

“Gee, thanks. Trusting the brass. That makes me feel better.” Jazz grimaced and skimmed her fingers across the print, sweeping past the headline,
Female SWAT Sniper Rescues Governor’s Daughter, Kills Kidnapper
. The byline screamed through her head.

Luke Montgomery
.

She skewered Gabe with a glare. “Your brother wrote this.”

Gabe raised his hands in surrender. “I swear to God, Jazz. I didn’t know.”

She found that hard to believe. The Montgomerys were in each other’s pockets all the time.

She glanced once more at the paper, and a small, italicized phrase below the article filled her with apprehension.
First in a series?
She clutched the paper in her fist. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not now. Not with Tower on a mission to bring her down. One bullet she could probably dodge, but she couldn’t count on luck a second time. She’d never been that fortunate.

As much as she hated it, she had only one option. She had to talk to Luke. She couldn’t control Tower’s actions, but somehow she had to find a way to stop Luke Montgomery from making things worse.

Jazz Parker would pay for what she’d done.

The Desert Inn’s neon sign flashed red, the last three letters winking on and off as if sharing in the joke—and the success.

Everything had gone like clockwork. The bitch had stood only feet away, and she knew nothing. Face to face with her past, and she was just as ignorant now as she had been then. Low-class, unworthy whore who’d ruined everything.

The television and newspaper had made her out to be some kind of hero. Lies. All lies. They didn’t know the truth, but they would.

Wearing a badge she didn’t deserve, Jazz Parker mocked from the front page. Killing her quick was too easy. She needed to suffer.

Just the thought sent shivers of excitement prickling through every nerve. Yes. Make her
suffer
. Make her lose
everything
. Everything she cared about, everything she loved.

An old Truth or Consequences board game balanced on the rickety nightstand in the dilapidated hotel room. Jazz Parker’s past would rise again. The truth would destroy her.

A smile tugged at determined lips. The plan was set. The end was near. The newspaper crumpled in eager hands, destroying the face of the traitor. After all these years living with the pain, justice would finally be done.

Jazz Parker would pay inch by inch. Then she would forfeit the ultimate price—her life.

She’d made a huge mistake. Jazz never should’ve called Luke about the article yesterday. Just leaving the message had flooded her with too many memories, and they’d followed her—even into sleep. Which was why she’d insisted to Gabe and everyone else on the team not to mention Luke. Ever. She should have listened to her own advice. Too late she’d recognized she’d probably whetted his curiosity even more. Fool. What had she been thinking, reaching out to him?

He hadn’t bothered to answer, and she’d tossed and turned all night, fighting the erotic dreams that left her body hungry for a man. Not just any man, unfortunately. Only Luke made her tremble with longing that way. His body was the stuff of pure fantasy—washboard abs, muscular biceps, and a charming grin when he wanted something. Not to mention a butt that any woman on the planet would like to watch walking the other way. But his mouth, that’s what set Luke apart. He knew what to do with his lips, knew when they should be soft and coaxing or hard and demanding. He could find every erogenous zone on her body…he’d discovered some she didn’t even know existed.

By the time dawn’s overcast light parted her bedroom curtains, she punched her pillow. He was trouble. She had to get him out of her head, and she knew of only one way.

After rolling out from beneath the blankets, she brushed her teeth, threw on her sweats, grabbed her car keys, and rushed out the door. When she reached the parking lot, the sky had opened up with a downpour. No way could she go for a run in Apex Park now. At least the gym would be open.

The sparse, Saturday-morning traffic let her keep her pace, leaving the dreams behind. She hoped. Within minutes she’d pulled into a crowded parking lot not far from the sheriff’s office.

The clang of metal and the smell of sweat drifted over Jazz as she strode into the gym shaking off the rain from her jacket. Familiar faces and figures greeted her. Grunts of exertion merged with a cacophony of male voices in a testosterone-laden sea of bodies. She breathed in the sounds and scents of the physical challenge. Yes, this was where she belonged. In this place, in this morning ritual, she could erase thoughts of the investigation—not to mention Luke. She needed to be here, needed to push past her body’s betrayal.

After a stiff wave of acknowledgement to several teammates, Jazz stretched and warmed up on the versa-climber before working her way to the bench press. The weights tallied two-fifty, and she pulled forty off of each side. Dusting her hands with talc, she positioned herself below the barbell and regulated her breathing.

“Need a spotter?”

Gabe’s face peered at her from overhead. She usually turned his offer down, but today a dozen questions rushed through her mind. Jazz closed her eyes against the swirling thoughts. She didn’t need a Montgomery standing over her while she tried to pound her libido back into submission with a hard workout, but there were things she needed to know.

“I guess so.”

After Gabe positioned himself, she pressed the heavy barbell up until her arms straightened then lowered the weight to her chest. Muscles straining, she pushed through three sets of eight. As she exhaled through the last rep, Gabe guided the bar back to its rest.

“Not bad. For a girl.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his hands in submission.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Gabe added several weights to the bar. “Seriously, you’ve taken on twenty pounds of iron since the last time I spotted you.”

“Keeping track?” Jazz waited at the head of the bench.

He shrugged and slid beneath the bar. “Not really. You passed the SWAT physical. That’s good enough for me.” He grinned. “But as a guy, it’s a bit scary to know that an attractive woman can almost bench press you.”

They moved through the stations, their conversation sparse, their bodies focused. Jazz couldn’t figure out how to ask what she really wanted to know. When Gabe finished the last set and walked across to her, she knew she’d run out of time. With a pause of apprehension, she dove in. Business first, then personal. “What are the guys saying about IA’s investigation?”

He snagged the towel she handed him and dried the sweat dripping from his forehead. “Not much.”

She sipped at her water bottle. The tepid liquid slid down her throat. “We both know most of the team wasn’t exactly excited when I beat out Tower three years ago. They must be happy IA is sniffing around.”

“No one is happy when IA noses into our business.”

“Point taken.”

Gabe settled on a wooden bench and chugged some water. “Look, we have a few Neanderthals on the team, but all you have to do is let people in a bit, Jazz. You’ll have their support. You proved yourself as an Arvada police officer before joining the team. You’re a hell of a marksman. They’ve seen what you can do. And yesterday, that shot was a thing of beauty.” He rolled the cool bottle across his forehead. “Not to mention, you’ve got one other thing in your favor.”

Jazz sat down beside him. “What’s that?”

“They all hate IA more than they dislike having you on the team.”

Slumping back against the concrete wall, she tried to grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel loved and appreciated.”

Gabe’s face grew serious, and he leaned toward her. “If you’re tired of the struggle, Jazz, tell me now. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for SWAT. You need to meet them halfway.”

“I know. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

A few gutter curses punched through the rhythmic ringing of bars and low grunts.

“That’s what teammates are for,” he said.

When Gabe rested his hand on Jasmine’s knee, Luke’s first instinct was to bench press his brother through the front window. His second thought was why in hell he was reacting like he had a right to care.

He strode toward them, his muscles tense and poised for battle. He took in the warm glow on Jasmine’s skin and the firm shape of her curves outlined by the soaking T-shirt. The transparent cotton outlined her bra and showed off the firm planes of her belly and the strong lines of her arms. The view left nothing to his imagination—or anyone else’s. He could just envision peeling off that wet material and tasting the saltiness of her skin, bringing to life the responsive nipples starting to pebble as if teasing him.

Luke dragged his gaze away from temptation and surveyed the room, striving to rein his body under control. Incredibly, none of the men seemed aware of the raw sexual energy emanating from her. Good thing. He’d have had to knock some heads together.

“Cozy, aren’t we?”

Jasmine started then glanced down at her damp T. Her face bloomed red as she quickly slipped a thick sweatshirt from her bag and jerked it down over the clingy cotton. She planted herself in front of him. “What are you doing here, Luke?”

“You called me.”

“Yesterday.”

“Some of us have a life to live and a job to do.”

“Is that what you call this?” Jazz reached into her exercise bag and threw the newspaper at him. “Doing your job?”

The tail of her sleek French braid whipped over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes, which shifted in color depending on her mood, blazed a brilliant green to match her fury. “Going out of your way to screw with people’s lives?” She leaned toward him, using her body language in an attempt to intimidate him.