Sarah shook her head. “They love giving you a hard time, don’t they?”

So sweet. It sounded as if she were worried about him. “Don’t fret, princess. I can handle anything they throw at me.” But he was still ready to get out of that station. He caught her hand, threaded his fingers with hers, and stalked from the room. As they made their way out of the bullpen, he was aware of the stares on him. He could hear the mutters.

He ignored them, as usual.

Then they were outside. Cars were zooming down the street up ahead, and there were plenty of tourists filling the street.

“I . . . I need to work on this case, Jax.” Her voice was soft. “I promise, I will get LOST to help you find your family, but right now, Molly has to be our priority. I’m sorry.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I’ve been waiting years to find out about my past. You think I can’t spare a few more days?” Days that Molly might not have? He wasn’t that much of a selfish bastard.

Her breath caught. “You . . . why did you come to the police station?” She glanced back at it. “You hate being there. You didn’t have to follow with us.”

“You were there,” he said simply. “So that meant I needed to go, too.”

Her fingers pulled away from his. Sarah shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”

Who did?

“What do you want from me?”

Everything. But he didn’t think she was ready to hear that part, not yet.

“I can help,” he told her simply.

Her gaze—so dark and deep—searched his.

“You know I have contacts that you want to use.”

He could see the struggle on her face.

“Use me,” he dared her. “Because I rather think I’d enjoy having you indebted to me.”

“LOST would owe you,” Sarah said carefully.

A car whizzed by them.

He moved then, standing so that he was closer to the road. His body curled near her. “You would owe me,” he told her clearly. “You, Sarah. Just you.”

She bit her lip. Did she have any clue that he found that move fucking sexy?

“Before I went in that police station, I called my friend Carlos . . . I told him to learn everything he could about Molly Guthrie.” He waited a beat. “Want to see what he’s learned? Because Carlos is very good at uncovering secrets.” Mostly because when people saw Carlos, they knew to be afraid. At six-foot-four and weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds, Carlos was a man you didn’t fuck with.

Unless you wanted to get put down.

“I have my own ways of learning secrets.” Then she backed away from him.

Sighing, he took out his phone. Called Carlos. His friend answered on the second ring. “Hello, Carlos,” Jax murmured, just loudly enough for Sarah to hear. “Where’s the girl?”

Sarah glanced back at him.

“Last night, she was washing dishes on Bourbon Street,” Carlos told him. “I’ve got her leaving work—on foot—at around 4 A.M. No one saw her after that.”

“The name of the bar,” Jax murmured.

“Voodoo Night.”

He knew the place. Hell, he’d almost bought the joint six months ago. “What else?” Jax asked.

“No boyfriend, no angry exes. She attends the community college during the day, works at night, and, no, her neighbors have not seen her this morning.”

Ah, trust Carlos to get there before the cops. “If you learn anything else, let me know.”

“Always, boss,” Carlos promised.

Jax put down his phone. Sarah was staring up at him. She even tapped her foot.

He let both of his brows rise.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“Let’s take a ride on my bike.”

Sarah’s eyes went molten. So dark and fiery.

“I’ll take you to the last place she was seen, princess. Will that help?”

She lunged toward him. “Get me on that bike.”

Ah, he’d thought that would work. “Just remember,” Jax murmured. “You owe me.” He always collected on his debts.

VICTORIA STOOD IN the New Orleans police bullpen. Voices were buzzing around her. The cops moving so fast. Everything seemed too loud. Too rough.

But then, that was the way things had been for her in the last few days. She’d gotten out of the hospital after her abduction and attack, and she’d thought life would return to normal.

It hadn’t.

But the nightmares had started. Terrible twisting dreams.

“Viki?”

At Gabe’s call, she flinched. She hadn’t meant to do that, dammit. She didn’t want her boss knowing just how rattled she was. Victoria turned toward him, carefully schooling her features.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

Ah, that was Gabe. Always checking on his team. His handsome face was etched with concern.

“Of course,” she lied. Like she’d tell him—or anyone—that she was falling apart on the inside.

His lips thinned. “I want you heading back to Atlanta.”

What?

“Take some time off. You don’t have to jump right back into a case, especially not this one.” He glanced around them, then muttered, “I have a bad feeling in my gut about this case. First the girl’s brother sneaks into Sarah’s hotel room, then Molly’s photo gets sent to Sarah?” He shook his head. “Coincidences don’t happen. Someone is playing a game with us here.”

And he wanted her out of the picture because . . . what? She was some kind of liability because she’d been caught off guard before. “You don’t think I can do my job?” That hurt. Because the job was all she had.

She’d never been particularly comfortable around other people. Not like Gabe was or Dean was, anyway. She said the wrong thing. Stumbled over her words. But the dead . . . she made a difference with them. She helped then.

Gabe’s face softened as he focused on her. “I think you can do anything.” He sounded as if he meant those words. “But I also know you went through hell recently.”

Hell . . . Being drugged, sealed in a body bag, and nearly murdered by a madman. Yes, that whole experience hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park. And that’s why the bad dreams haunt me each night. She’d thought about talking with Sarah. If anyone could understand her nightmares, it would be Sarah. And it wasn’t just because Sarah was a psychiatrist.

I know she has nightmares, too.

“I want you to recover. Hell, I’m not letting Emma Castille work this case, either. I gave strict instructions for her to recover, too, and keeping her from joining us here at the station was damn hard.”

Emma . . . Emma was Dean’s new fiancée and a woman with an uncanny ability to read others. She picked up on the smallest of tells. Emma could read body language like no one Victoria had ever encountered before . . . but, like Victoria, she’d also just gotten out of the hospital.

Only Emma hadn’t just been sliced with a knife. She’d been shot.

“I want you both to recover.” Gabe gave a hard nod. “And we don’t have a body, Viki. We can find this girl, alive. If she’s just gone missing, then the odds can finally be in our favor.”

And Viki didn’t help with the living. Only the dead.

“I’ll get your plane ticket,” Gabe told her. His gaze softened as he studied her. “I can have you out of the Big Easy in hours.”

One of the detectives called his name and Gabe stepped away from her. Victoria stared after him. He was right, though. The team didn’t need her. They didn’t have a body.

Just find the girl alive.

Chapter 5

IT WAS ONLY NOON, BUT BOURBON STREET WAS ALready packed with people. Men and women walked down the street, their hands wrapped around their drinks. Mimosas. Hurricanes. The folks out there were all laughing and talking.

Many of the bars were open, but Voodoo Night . . . its doors were shut.

Sarah leaned forward, nearly pressing her nose to the glass as she tried to look inside the bar. But she didn’t see anyone in there. The chairs had been placed on top of the tables and the interior was dim.