In Her Sights (17 page)

Dinner hadn’t ended quite as Luke expected. He’d hoped Jasmine would agree to his plan. They were still negotiating, though Luke had no intention of losing. He pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. Last time they were here they’d been a target. This time, his body tingled with something other than danger. He let his fingertips graze her arm as she exited the SUV. She shivered as the heat sweltered between them. Would she acknowledge the attraction? Would she fight it?

As they climbed up the stairs toward her apartment, a place they’d made love countless times, the electric awareness crackled even above the irritation.

“For the last time, I don’t need a babysitter.”

So, all business. Part of him sighed in relief, part in disappointment. He could keep their relationship professional. He hoped.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “Whether I plant myself in your apartment or in the hallway, I’m here for the long haul.”

They exited the stairwell to Jasmine’s wide-open front door. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

Luke palmed his HK and shoved her behind him. “What the devil is going on now? We need backup.”

She peered past him as he eased toward the door, step by step, listening for signs of an intruder. He wanted this son-of-a-bitch so bad he could taste the kill.

“I can’t believe I’m calling 911. Again.” She reported the break-in then pulled the Glock from her bag. “Who’s doing this?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve had it,” Luke said. He hoped the bastard was inside. He’d end this sick game once and for all.

They edged around the open door. Jasmine’s breath caught. Nothing remained untouched. Her sofa had been shredded. Shelves were upended. The few knickknacks she possessed had been scattered and broken.

“Forensics is going to be furious, but I’m not taking a chance he’ll get away,” Luke said, hoping he’d have the pleasure to settle the lopsided score.

“I’m going with you.”

“Stay close. No heroics.”

“Ditto.”

The apartment was oddly silent. Luke’s shoulders tensed as they picked their way through the devastation. The mess didn’t stop her from being a cop. She’d become a master at compartmentalizing. He recognized the skill. He’d developed it as a soldier; she’d honed her abilities surviving her childhood. She was so strong; she impressed the hell out of him.

Methodically they searched the kitchen, the coat closet, anyplace an intruder could hide.

Finally they reached the bedroom door.

“Last room,” she said softly. “Last chance.”

His moves quiet and subtle, he rounded the corner and quickly swept the room with his HK. Empty. When he saw her bed, he recoiled. Her mattress and pillows had been hacked just like the sofa and truck. The viciousness of the attack sickened him. Every destructive inch screamed personal vendetta, not professional hit.

A small hitched breath sounded behind him as she took in the full scope of the hatred. The violation had wounded her. Luke’s jaw ached as he fought to restrain his fury. He stepped toward the bathroom.
Let him be there. Five minutes is all I need.

He entered the room. Empty. Again. But the message was clear. He stared at the wall, a flood of curses erupting and echoing through the tiled room. The mirror had been violently shattered, a threat scrawled in red on the wall for impact.

Killer Cops Die Too.

Jasmine stilled next to Luke. Careful not to startle her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, kneading slightly. She wasn’t alone. She had to know that.

“It’s not lipstick,” he said.

“No,” she said. “It’s blood.”

Jazz waited in the hall until Detective Neil Wexler left her apartment. “You’ve got yourself an enemy, Parker, and not a sane one. First the truck, the gunshot, and now this. Add to that your…work troubles…and your life seems to be unraveling mighty fast. Any chance they’re connected?”

“I don’t know.” She shoved her hand in her pocket. Empty. Man, she could use a Life Saver.

Wexler flipped open his notebook. “I’m primary on the vandalism and this break-in. Do you know of anyone who has a personal grudge against you? Anyone who got caught because of one of the SWAT operations? Any recent parolees who’d want revenge?”

Did she dare mention Tower in an official investigation? It could cost her. Sarge had made that clear, and Jazz reluctantly agreed. “No one’s brought anything to my attention in months. You could check on the new complaints, I guess.”

“There was a red Pinto following her earlier today,” Luke interrupted. “Some guy was waiting for her when she left the station this morning.”

“You saw him?” Wexler’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah. He looked like a cop or maybe ex-military.” Luke sent Jazz a pointed stare.

She glared back and then looked away.

Wexler slapped his notebook against his thigh. “Okay, what are you two not telling me?”

“We may have a suspect, but it’s just speculation.” Jazz cleared her throat. “It’s difficult.”

“Go on.”

“He’s a cop. IA.”

A low whistle sounded through Wexler’s lips. “Brian Tower.” Neil didn’t put pen to paper; his expression turned serious. “Listen, Jazz, I want to get the jerk doing this to you, but are you sure you want to open that can of worms? Messing with Tower won’t be pretty. He’s got connections.”

Luke gestured toward the apartment. “You think what this guy did was pretty? Only a psycho would slash up a bed like that. If Tower’s the one, he should be strung up without a trial.”

“Luke—” Jazz said.

Wexler planted his feet in challenge. “We’re getting into some deep and smelly waters here, and you’re hiding information. Why do you suspect him?”

Jazz held her breath. What could she say?

Finally Luke lowered his voice. “I’m assuming you’ve heard, but I’m investigating corruption in the sheriff’s office,” he said. “I have it on good authority Tower’s involved. I’m still unsure about how deep.”

Jazz stared at Luke, stunned. How long had he been certain Tower was mixed up with the bad guys and hadn’t told her? Her stomach flipped at the betrayal. Even with their deal, she couldn’t trust Luke to be straight with her. When would she learn she couldn’t count on him to be there for her one hundred percent?

Wexler’s expression turned cold. “Really? Exactly who is this ‘informant’?”

“I don’t have to disclose anything. I
can
tell you this person is vulnerable to organized crime by even talking to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my source. I provide the identity, and someone will die.”

“You’re giving me nothing. What am I supposed to do? Wait for you to ruin a cop’s life on rumors? Do you have any evidence? At all?”

Luke listed their suspicions, but even as he did, Jazz recognized how flimsy the case was against Tower. Jazz could tell Wexler didn’t want to listen. She couldn’t blame him. Luke was withholding. She wasn’t giving the detective the whole picture either. She’d taken the easy way out—the safe way out—and not mentioned that Tower knew details about her past. Wexler may not know what they were holding back, but his instincts must be screaming at him.

“It’s thin,” he said. “What about the Pinto. You see it, Jazz?”

“Not today, but I glimpsed one the night my truck was vandalized.”

Wexler made a few more notes. “It’s not much to go on. We may get lucky and find some fingerprints. At the very least we should get some DNA from the blood on the wall.” He rubbed his chin and cleared his throat. “Look, Jazz, I’ll keep an eye on your suspect. But I’m going slow and easy. For your sake as much as my own. If you come up with anything else, let me know.” He shot Luke a chilling gaze. “And if you have any
concrete
information, maybe you’ll share it with me. Before more than an apartment or vehicle is sliced up.”

“We gave you a suspect, Wexler. Don’t worry, I’ll provide you anything I can that will help you do
your
job.” Luke faced him toe to toe. “But if you don’t follow through, I’m giving you a heads up. I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect Jasmine.”

“Keep it within the law.” Wexler ducked under the crime scene tape then turned back to Jazz with a concerned look. “Have you got a place to stay until we’re finished here?”

A wave of exhausted realization hit her. Her apartment was a crime scene. That meant she had no clothes, no home. She shivered and lifted her chin. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” She’d figure out something. She always did. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do.” He glanced at his clipboard. “Take care, and watch your back until we catch this psycho.”

Wexler disappeared into Jazz’s apartment and she confronted Luke. “Your informant named Tower? You lied to me!”

Luke pulled her away from the door. “Lower your voice. I never lied.”

“So what’s your latest definition of a lie, Luke?” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “As I recall, when you went after Derek, the definition included pretty much anything that wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“I can’t tell you everything. I’m shielding someone who can’t protect herself,” he whispered. “Or her son. If her husband learns she called me, she’s dead. I can’t let that happen. She’s a mother protecting her child.”

“Damn you.” A wave of hopelessness swept through Jazz. She understood. She’d done far worse in the name of protecting someone who couldn’t protect herself.

Luke turned her to him, shifting her body against his and rubbing her arms. “I’ll find a way to help you, Jasmine. I promise, but we have to broaden our thinking. As much as I initially believed these attacks were about my investigation, I was wrong. When the perp slashed your truck and destroyed your apartment, those acts are much more vicious and personal than a deliberately missed shot. Put that together with Tower knowing details about your past that no one else knows, and this situation is more complicated than I realized.”

“But why come after me now?”

“Maybe the news coverage reached someone from your past who recognized you, or Tower put out inquiries. I don’t know. But I won’t stop until we find out who’s responsible and you’re safe.”

She shivered at his dogged confidence. How could she appreciate his determination on one hand while that very trait chilled her soul? How could she trust him with her past? She’d never been one to give up control of her life. She hadn’t even let Sheriff Clarkson destroy those files and the newspaper articles about Jane without witnessing their shredding. She didn’t have faith that Luke wouldn’t turn his back on her when he learned the truth. Everyone else had judged her—from the time she was born to the day she’d taken her new name.

Nothing had changed. From the moment Luke and the SWAT team had learned just one snippet of her story, she could tell they looked at her differently. And if they knew everything? Luke wouldn’t stand by her. He’d judged Derek as guilty for far less than Jazz had done.

She lifted her hands to Luke’s shoulders and pushed away. “This isn’t just about your investigation anymore. This is about me. So unless you have another suspect in the wings—”

“Nothing solid.” He studied her face, his churning speculation evident in his eyes. “What are you planning?”

“The only lead left besides Tower and his accomplice is the car. Maybe it’ll give us a break. I need to run the Pinto myself. I’m going back to the office.”

“Carder will kick you out if you try anything before you get a good eight hours’ sleep. You need a safe place to rest,” Luke said, his voice firm. “My mother’s been bugging me to let Joy sleep over. Stay with me tonight. I’ve got the equipment to run searches on the Pinto.”

“I don’t know.” Talk about walking into trouble. She bit her lip. “I’d better go to a hotel.”

“If you get a room, I’m stuck there with you. Less time and privacy to investigate. If you research at the sheriff’s office, everyone will know, and it could get back to him.” Luke let his hands run down her sides and slipped his fingers into her empty pocket. “Besides, I’ve got a stash of butter rum,” he said. “And you seem to be all out.”

“The butter rum clinches it.” She hesitated. “No sex.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He put his hand on her back. “Much,” he muttered beneath his breath.