Murphy looked down at the wound. Then he . . . laughed. And he drove his knife into Mitch. Mitch staggered back and fell.

So did Murphy.

Her father . . . her father fell.

Sarah dropped to her knees beside him. “Daddy?” And for that one instant, he was just . . . her daddy again.

He turned toward her. “Sweetheart . . .”

Sarah felt a scream building in her throat. He was dying, she knew it. Jax—Jax had slumped against the wall. The fire was spreading and she was trapped there.

“Go . . . out the window . . .” her dad said.

Sarah shook her head. “You . . . you’re here and Jax . . .”

“Go . . .” And his eyes closed. His breath sighed out.

No. Not like that. He couldn’t just die that fast. He couldn’t . . .

Jax needs me.

“Sleep tight,” Sarah heard herself whisper. You’re safe tonight. She pressed a kiss to her father’s forehead.

She pushed to her feet. Mitch was still not moving. Her father had finished him. She put her arm under Jax’s shoulder once more. They couldn’t go through the door. The fire was too strong. Her father had been right. She steered Jax toward the window. They were on the second floor, but they would have to take that jump. Broken bones—fine. They’d be alive.

She kicked out the old window. Fresh air blew inside and she gulped it in greedily.

“Sarah!”

Dean was down below, waving to her.

“Jump, Sarah,” Jax said, his voice low and rough. “Go . . .”

Her father had been trying to push her, too. Trying to make her leave, but she hadn’t. Didn’t Jax get it?

“Not without you.” She wasn’t going anyplace without Jax.

He shook his head. “I’m . . . already . . . d—”

“No!” She locked her fingers with his. “This is how—” She choked on the stupid smoke. “It works. Either we both go . . .” Another cough. “ . . . or we both stay.”

Because she wasn’t leaving him to the fire.

Jax stared into her eyes. “You . . . love me?”

“Yes.” She kissed him. Fast and hard. “Now let’s go, let’s—”

Something was moving in the fire. Mitch? Still not dead. No, no that wasn’t possible! Why wouldn’t he just stay down! And he had the gun . . . he was lifting it. Aiming it—

Jax wrapped his arms around Sarah, shielding her with his body.

And they jumped.

HE FUCKING HURT.

There wasn’t a single part of Jax that didn’t ache or burn, but that was okay with him. If he hurt, then it meant he was still alive.

“S-Sarah . . .” Talking was one hell of a lot harder than it should have been. Jax felt like he’d swallowed glass.

Or been trapped in a fire.

“I’m here.” Soft fingers brushed over his cheek. He felt his body being lifted. He should open his eyes, but that seemed to require a whole lot of effort.

“H-Hurt?” Jax managed to ask. Had Sarah been hurt when they jumped? Mitch had been firing and Jax had tried to protect Sarah with his body. He thought he might have been shot again, but as long as Sarah was safe . . .

“You saved me,” she told him.

Jax shook his head. No, he hadn’t. Sarah had saved him, from the very beginning. “Love  . . .”

“I love you, too,” Sarah whispered. Her lips pressed to his.

“Ma’am, we have to take him to the hospital,” Jax heard a voice say. “He’s losing blood too fast.”

“I’m coming with you, Jax,” Sarah told him. “From now on, I’ll always be with you.”

And he smiled.

The pain didn’t matter.

Sarah was safe. Sarah mattered.

GABE SPENCER STARED at the burning house. He’d just been pulling up to the scene when Jax and Sarah had burst out of the window. Jax had broken his leg when he hit the ground. Broken his arm. But Sarah . . . Jax had held tight to her. She’d been safe.

“They were the only ones to come out,” Victoria said from beside him. Her gaze was on the house. On the wreckage. Firefighters were battling the flames. The house was so old, the wood so rotten, that the fire had spread too quickly for them to easily control it.

“Sarah said Mitch was still alive when they jumped,” she added.

Gabe kept his gaze on the fire. “He’s not alive now.” Not Mitch. Not Murphy. They were gone. “No one’s alive in there now.”

Victoria was silent. Then, after a long moment, she asked, “Why did Murphy come down here?”

“Because he knew the man who was after Sarah. He had to stop him.”

“Why? He killed so many people . . . Sarah’s said herself that he’s a psychopath.” There was confusion in Victoria’s voice, and Gabe knew she wasn’t just thinking of Sarah’s father, she was thinking of her own.

Victoria’s father hadn’t killed dozens of people. He hadn’t been a slick serial killer who’d eluded capture for years.

Instead, Victoria’s father had struck out at the people closest to him. He’d killed Victoria’s mother. No one had believed Victoria when she tried to tell the cops . . . not at first.

That’s why Viki always speaks for the dead.

“Did he . . . love her?”

The smoke blended with the darkness of the night.

“I figure he did, as much as he could love anyone.”

Gabe turned away. Victoria kept watching the fire. He’d taken two steps when she said, “Do you hear that?”

Gabe looked back. Victoria was still staring at the fire.

“I could have sworn,” she murmured, “that I heard someone humming.”

JAX OPENED HIS eyes. He wasn’t particularly surprised to find himself in a hospital room. He remembered doctors peering at him. Men and women in green masks. There had been lots of bright lights and pain. Surgery.

He’d kept asking for Sarah. She hadn’t been there then and now—

He turned his head.

Brent stared back at him.

“Aw, fuck,” Jax muttered. Yeah, it still felt as if he’d swallowed glass when he spoke.

Brent’s lips quirked. “Expecting someone else?”

“Sarah.” He needed to see her.

“She’s been at your side for the last twenty-four hours. While the docs were saving your sorry ass in surgery, she got herself stitched up. She hasn’t left since then.”

She wasn’t there now. And he needed to see her. To make sure she was all right. He started to push up from the bed.

“If I weren’t dragging around an IV bag and feeling like shit, I’d shove you back into the bed myself,” Brent told him gruffly. “But since you’ve got a broken leg . . .”

Hell, he did have a broken leg. The cast was stretched up and hanging in the air.

“I figure you can’t go far.” Brent rolled back his shoulders. The guy was wearing a white hospital gown. So was Jax. “Relax. Sarah just stepped out to talk with your docs. She’s literally on the other side of that door.”

The room’s door opened. Sarah was there. Shadows were under her beautiful eyes. Scratches were on her cheeks.

She was perfect.

When she saw him, her lips curled—a fast, brilliant, beautiful smile. She ran across the room. “Are you with me this time?” Her fingers slid carefully over his face. “Truly with me?”

He lifted his hand. His damn fingers were shaking. He touched her. Real. Sarah was in front of him. Real and safe and alive.

“I should go get your doctors,” she said. “They were briefing me and I need to let them know you’re back—”

He caught her hand. “Don’t go.” He needed her close.

Sarah’s face softened as she stared at him.

“Don’t ever go, Sarah.” He knew they had a ton of shit to work through. Her past. His. But the past . . . the past didn’t matter right then. He wanted the present, with her. The future . . . with her. Anything that she could give to him, he wanted. “Stay with me.”

Sarah leaned forward and kissed him. Light and sweet. The best kiss of his entire life. “Always,” Sarah promised him. When she looked up at him, Jax saw the truth in her eyes. Sarah loved him. Him.

He knew he was the luckiest bastard on earth.

Jax pulled Sarah closer—with his left hand because his right arm was in a cast, too. And he just . . . held her.