“No.” She was so quiet. So unlike Sarah. Sarah, who had drawn him from the beginning because he’d sensed the fire in her. “We don’t hunt killers. We look for the victims. We find them. We help them.”

He risked another quick look at her. Her left hand had risen and it pressed to the window. Sarah said, “I need to find Molly. If she wasn’t in that fire . . .” Her breath whispered out. “Then she’s still out there, and we still have a chance to help her.”

Did she seriously think she was just going to run out and hit the streets again? While she was still bleeding? “There are other team members in LOST, let them hunt.”

“I called Gabe. He’s going to meet Wade at the hospital. Dean is already at the police station.”

He kept driving.

“Are you taking me back to the station?”

“You’re still bleeding,” he gritted out.

“Back to my hotel room?”

“I want to take you back to my place.” Where he could lock her inside and keep her fucking safe.

“But I don’t have clothes at your place. All of my stuff is in my room at the hotel.

The bastard had already been inside her hotel once. “I can get you clothes in five minutes,” Jax told her. One phone call, that was all it would take. He’d snap his fingers, and the clothes would be there at his house, waiting for them, no problem.

“Jax.”

He liked the way she said his name. Liked the way it sighed from her ever so softly.

“Just take me to my hotel. The staff there gave me a new room, one on the concierge floor with better security. I’ll be safe.”

Yes, she would be—because he’d be with her.

“I’ll shower, change, and then I will be going back out to hunt for Molly. I will hunt until I find her.”

He braked at a red light. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had whitened. “Why?” He just didn’t understand that part. “Why are you so determined to find her? You’re risking your life for someone you don’t even know.” Sarah had almost died. Yet she was willing to run right back out into danger. Who the hell did that?

“I’m determined because Molly needs me. She’s scared and she’s hurting, and she needs to know that someone is looking for her.”

He glanced at her once more. Her words had just driven straight to his core, and Sarah didn’t even realize it.

“He told me . . . he told me that was one of the reasons his victims broke. They realized that no one was looking. No one cared that they’d vanished. No one would look . . .” Her head tilted down as her words trailed away.

“Who told you that, Sarah?”

A car horn honked behind him. Jax gave the driver the best finger he had, then he moved forward. And, again, he asked, “Who told you that?”

“My father.”

The more he learned about that guy, the more he realized just what a miracle Sarah was.

Then he remembered the words she’d whispered moments before . . . I hate him. And he knew that Sarah hadn’t been talking about the man who took Molly.

He turned at the next light. Drove in silence to her hotel. Normally, Jax always had a line ready for any situation. A fast and sarcastic quip. But this, this was different.

This was Sarah.

He pulled into the valet line. Tossed the keys to the guy there and handed him a quick tip.

“You don’t have to come in,” Sarah was saying. “I can go up and—”

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” His hand caught hers. Curled around her delicate fingers. Held tight.

She looked down at their entwined hands. “Why are you doing this?” She sounded confused. Sarah titled back her head to stare up at him. “Why do you even care?”

Because she was making him care. Chipping at the wall of ice that normally surrounded him. His left hand brushed back her hair. He decided to give her part of the truth. “Because when I was a kid, I used to hope that someone was out there, looking for me, too.”

Only there hadn’t been. No one had ever come for him, and the nightmare had continued. A nightmare that he didn’t think most people would ever be able to understand. But Sarah, she was different.

She’ s a survivor, just like me.

He’d learned, later, that no one had ever even filed a missing person’s report that matched up to him. No one had ever . . . looked.

A seven-year-old boy vanished, and no one had given a damn.

Sarah’s fingers squeezed his. “You’re hurting.”

His gaze shot up to hers.

“I can tell. You . . . you go away when you hurt.”

He had no clue what that meant.

Sarah shook her head. “Now you’re staring at me like I’m crazy.” Her laughter held an edge of bitterness. “Like that hasn’t happened before.” She pulled away from him. He let her go, but he followed her, making sure to stay close as his gaze swept the hotel lobby, looking for any threat.

When the elevator doors closed, sealing him inside, he said, quite simply, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Her brows rose.

“I think you’re one of the smartest women that I’ve ever met.” In so many ways, she reminded him of his friend—and former lover—Emma Castille. But there was a core difference between the two women. Emma had always been afraid—deep down—of the darkness that clung to him.

Sarah . . . Sarah was drawn to his darkness.

Her lips pressed together, as if she were trying to hold back her words, but then Sarah said, “It starts with your eyes.”

He tensed.

“The emotion shines there, even when you try to school your expression. Just a glimpse, but that little glimpse is all I need.”

He waited.

“But when you hurt, all emotion vanishes. You lock yourself down. I can see it happen.”

The elevator doors opened.

Sarah slipped by him. “I’m sorry that you hurt.”

His eyes closed, just for a second.

Her hand squeezed his arm. His fingers lifted and caught hers once again. He followed her from that elevator. Walking behind her because he literally could not turn away from Sarah. She was drawing him in, pulling him deeper and deeper into her web. The connection between them—it was more than just her desire for danger. More than his desire to be with a woman who fucking understood the sins that he carried.

It was . . . elemental.

Instinctive.

Opposites didn’t always attract. Sometimes, two people who were alike met—and the rest of the world fell away. It was like two halves of a fucking whole finally connected. That was what it felt like for him every single time Sarah touched him.

She inserted her key into the lock and he glanced around the floor. There was a security camera mounted on the wall near the elevator. And they’d had to use a special key card to get up to that floor. A bit of an improvement, security-wise, but still not enough for him. Especially since anyone who worked at that hotel could get the key card that would provide access to the concierge level. Hell, anyone there could get a key to Sarah’s room. Then that key could be passed right along to any jerk with enough cash to buy it.

Sarah opened her door. It was pitch-black inside—her curtains were drawn and the darkness seemed too heavy in her room. When she walked forward, Jax made sure he was just inches behind her. And then—yeah, he searched the room.

Sarah shut the door behind him. He heard her secure all of the locks. Then she was crossing that room and pulling back the blinds and sending sunlight spilling inside. The room had a view that looked out on the river, and he could see a barge slowly making its way toward the city.

“You really don’t need to stay here,” Sarah said softly. “I’ll shower and get fresh clothes on, then I can get a taxi to take me back to the police station.”

He put his hands on his hips and just stared at her.

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t understand you,” Sarah told him once more.

She sounded as if that really bothered her. But then, that was her thing, right? “You have to understand everyone.” He figured that was part of her profiler gig. Seeing people, breaking down their motivations, learning their secrets.