She even made him want to be more than he fucking was.

Carefully, he lowered Sarah to her feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He wanted to kiss her again. No, he wanted to grab her and run away from that scene. He wanted to take her far away so that she’d always be safe.

But that wasn’t Sarah. He’d already realized she wasn’t the type to hide. Not from anything or anyone. So when the detectives closed in on Sarah, he backed away and let them toss their questions at her.

“How did you know where the vic was being held?” Brent wanted to know.

“Did you see the perp?” Cross demanded in the same instant.

Jax hadn’t seen him. If he had, the guy wouldn’t have walked away.

“Are you okay?” the soft, feminine voice came from his right. His head turned and he saw Emma Castille staring up at him. Worry was stamped on her pretty features. “When you didn’t come out with the cops, I was scared.”

Ah, Emma. Despite what a bastard he’d been in their shared past, she still cared for him. That was one of Emma’s weaknesses . . . her soft heart. He’d always tried to protect her so that others wouldn’t use that weakness against her.

Now Dean Bannon was the one guarding her. With all the ferocity of a lion.

“I couldn’t leave Sarah,” Jax said simply.

Her eyes widened. Once, he’d nearly gotten lost in Emma’s bright eyes. But Emma had been afraid of him. She’d always pulled away from his darkness.

Sarah . . .

Sarah accepts me.

And when he looked into Sarah’s eyes . . . I am fucking lost.

“Since when did you start playing the hero?” Emma’s voice was so low that only he could hear it. “What’s your angle, Jax?”

Ah, right. He was always supposed to have an angle. After all, he had a rep to maintain. His gaze slid back to Sarah. “I’m working things out.” That was the truth. Mostly. He really didn’t like to lie to Emma. She was one of his few friends, even if he knew that she sometimes wished he’d vanish from New Orleans.

An ambulance rushed away from the scene. He tensed. That was Molly—being taken to the hospital. He looked down and realized that her blood stained his clothes and his hands.

“Is she going to make it?” Emma asked softly.

His hands fisted. “She’s young. Had her whole life ahead of her.”

“Jax?”

“She was bad, Em. Real bad.”

He took a step away from her. He needed to call Carlos and he also needed to let his lawyer know where the guy could pick up his car.

Because I’m not leaving this scene. Not without Sarah.

“Dean told me. About your past. Your family.”

He looked back at her.

Pain flashed in Emma’s eyes. “All this time . . . why didn’t you come to me first? You know I would have convinced LOST to take your case.”

He searched her stare. And there it was. Pity. He walked back to her. Smiled down at her. “Because I have been many things to you, Emma Castille, but I have never been a man you pitied.”

Her breath caught. “No, Jax—”

“I just want to know who my mother was. My father. And why the hell I never mattered enough for them to find me.”

Emma’s hand curled around his arm. “You matter.”

He backed away from her. “So do you, Em.” And he was glad, so very glad, that she’d found her partner in Dean. Sure, the guy was a straight-A prick in that follow-the-rules, law-abiding way, but Dean had already proved that he would lay down his life—in an instant—for Emma.

Love could make a man do some stupid shit.

He looked over at Sarah. She was still between the two detectives, but her gaze was on Jax. She looked tired. Ash coated her cheek, and, like him, Molly’s blood stained her clothes and hands.

“It was a near thing,” Emma said from behind him. “I saw the fire raging. Then you rushed out, carrying Sarah with you.”

Leaving her hadn’t been an option. Either Sarah had come out of that blaze . . .

Or I would have stayed with her.

That unsettling thought had him stiffening.

“What happened to the man who took Molly?” Emma asked.

He glanced around the scene. So many cops. So many firefighters.

“Did he burn in the blaze?”

Jax shook his head. No, the end hadn’t been nearly that simple. Not for the freak they were looking for. “He’s still out there.” He stared at the fire. Burning so bright. “And he isn’t done.”

“How do you know that?” Emma’s soft voice followed him.

He focused on Sarah. “Because he doesn’t have what he wants, not yet.” You never will. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt her.

Another attack would come. They would be ready for it.

HOSPITALS. THEY ALWAYS reminded Sarah of death. Far too much of death. She’d stayed out at that scene with the detectives, answering their questions again and again. The fires had been extinguished. The area searched. But there had been no sign of the man who abducted Molly Guthrie.

Now, exhausted, body aching, voice too husky from the flames and the smoke, Sarah was pacing in the hospital waiting room. Dean and Emma had gone to the hospital earlier. They’d been calling to give her updates.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to update on.

Molly had gone into surgery. The guy’s attack had been brutal. The doctors had done their best to stitch up Molly and stabilize her, but she’d lost so much blood. She was unconscious now, and the doctors were monitoring her closely. She couldn’t talk to the cops or to Sarah about who’d hurt her. She couldn’t even open her eyes.

So the man who’d attacked Molly could be walking down the main streets in New Orleans. He could be planning another abduction . . .

And there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

“This is a win, Sarah.” She jumped at the voice and turned to see Victoria standing in the doorway. Her friend’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the light glinted off Victoria’s glasses. “You found Molly. You saved her.”

Wearily, Sarah shook her head. “They don’t know if she’s even going to last the night.” And that made her heart ache. “She survived until the end, but, Viki . . .” Sarah crossed toward her, exhaling softly. “He did a number on her.” So many cuts. So much pain.

Victoria’s fingers closed around Sarah’s. “She made it out. You got her out.”

“No.” She couldn’t take credit. She hadn’t carried Molly through the fire and down all of those stairs. “Jax got her out. He did this.”

Victoria blinked. “What?”

“There’s more to him than just the stories you hear.”

“There’s always more,” Victoria allowed. “More good and more bad. That’s something you and I both know.”

Yes, they did. Because Victoria’s past was filled with blood and tragedy and death, too. Victoria had learned, early on, that love could be a mask for evil. A mask that hid true intent so very well.

“He knows my father,” Sarah confided to Victoria. “The man who took Molly . . . he’s connected to my dad.”

“How?” Victoria asked her.

“I don’t know.” And, since she didn’t know who the perp was . . . that meant only one other person could tell her. “But I will find out.” She’d already talked to Gabe. He was pulling the files on the families of Murphy’s victims—victims they knew about. But the cops had been able to pin only a few of the crimes on her father. Sarah knew there were other bodies out there.

If they can’t find the body, then there’s no crime. You have to be smarter than the cops. Don’t ever give them anything. Make them work for the job.

She swallowed as her father’s words replayed in her mind. “Once I know that Molly is safe, I’m going to see him.”

“Sarah, no.”

She hadn’t seen her father in . . . no, she didn’t want to think about the last time she’d seen him. “Maybe Molly can ID the guy. Maybe it won’t matter and I—I won’t have to see him.” Because her father terrified her.