Page 35 of Reckless

She lowered her hands and gazed hopefully at him, her face filled with as much sorrow and sadness as she could muster. When he snapped several photos with his phone, she ground her teeth together to keep from snarling and growling like an abused animal. She had felt hate in her heart before but that emotion was mild to what she was feeling now. Something untamed and feral rose up inside her and she knew if she was set free, she would attack without mercy.

“Boss says that’s a good start. Wants to give you a few more days to think about it.”

What?

“And since I gotta go and you didn’t do what I said, I figure I can still make you get on your knees, even if I won’t be here to see it.”

With that, he put the paper bag and shake on the floor several inches from the cell door and out of her reach.

Giving her an arrogant, smug smile, he said, “Bon appétit.” Turning his back on her, he walked out the door.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bozeman, Montana

Xavier turned the key and pushed open the door to Jazz’s apartment. He felt like an intruder, and though he knew he wouldn’t likely find any clues to what had happened to her, he had to make sure.

Having all agreed that Jazz was no longer in Seattle, the team had returned to headquarters. The two men who’d abducted Jazz were dead, which meant someone else had been responsible. Getting rid of the hirelings and then getting her out of town made sense. Without any clear leads, they were going on the assumption that the man or men responsible had seen her in the video from the restaurant, hired local thugs to help with the kidnapping, and then killed the men to keep them quiet.

While Serena was digging into every known associate of the two thugs and tracking their actions over the last few months, Eve and Gideon were investigating those leads along with putting out fires in other ongoing cases.

Ash had gone to North Carolina for a face-to-face with Kate. After hanging up on him when he’d called her about Jazz’s abduction, she had called back half an hour later and requested a meeting. It was obvious she had some intel, but why wouldn’t she blurt it out if it would help find Jazz?

Kate Walker keeping secrets from OZ was bizarre on its own merits. She had been their biggest supporter from the beginning. They wouldn’t have accomplished nearly what they had been able to do without her assistance. So why the hell would she be reluctant to share what she could to help find Jazz? It made no sense.

So everyone had an assignment, and this was his. He hated invading her space. This was Jazz’s sanctuary—where she lived her real life, away from the role she played as an OZ operative. As much as Jazz loved her OZ family, when it came to her personal life, she could be very private. He got that. Independence and self-sufficiency were of utmost importance to her. And he felt like the biggest slug alive for invading her privacy. But he was desperate. She had disappeared eight days ago, and they still had no inkling who had taken her or why.

Jazz lived simply and was a minimalist almost to the point of deprivation. There wasn’t a lot of color in her décor, which suited her personality. The living room held a comfortable-looking faux suede sofa with numerous colorful throw pillows and an old rocking chair by the window where he imagined she liked to sit and look at the mountains in the distance. A television hung on the wall, and an old forty-five record player sat in the corner. He remembered that Jazz had told him about that purchase—she had been excited to find something rare and old that still worked.

There were a few framed photographs on the walls, not of people but of landscapes. They were black-and-white and, though stark, seemed to fit the overall theme of simplicity.

The kitchen was utilitarian with just a coffeemaker and toaster on the counter. He spotted a mug beside the sink and smiled at the picture of a large orange cat with the name Scaredy beneath the photo. He knew Jazz was an animal lover, but she had always claimed she couldn’t get a pet because of her work schedule. While he agreed they were out of town a lot, he wasn’t sure that was the biggest reason. She had lost so much in her life. Sometimes, it was easier to go without than to take a chance on losing it. He understood that philosophy all too well.

Shaking himself out of his psychoanalyzing mode, he quickly went through her cabinets. He didn’t expect to find any insightful information, but he was too thorough to not look. Other than an inordinate supply of Jiffy peanut butter and several cans of SpaghettiOs, her shelves were almost bare.

The fridge held even less—a gallon of milk, butter, eggs, yogurt, and cheese.

He went to her bedroom and felt his heart lift at the scent that hit his nose. Jazz had a preference for jasmine. She’d told him since it was her name, how could it not be her signature fragrance?

Her bedroom was no more elaborate than the rest of her apartment. A regular-sized bed with a simple white coverlet, a nightstand holding a candle, flashlight, and a worn-looking paperback of Little Women. The surface of the eight-drawered dresser across from the bed was empty. Grinding his teeth and feeling like a voyeur, Xavier opened each drawer and searched through her things. Jeans, T-shirts, and underwear were stacked neatly in each one.

He was about to close the last one, her sock drawer, when his fingertip happened to tap the bottom. A hollow sound caught his attention. Removing the socks, he tapped harder and realized it was a false bottom. Taking his knife from his pocket, he pried open the cover and found a small wooden box. The guilt in his gut didn’t prevent him from opening and rifling through the contents. He’d apologize after he found her.

All he found was an envelope addressed to Brody McAlister in Indianapolis. He opened it and felt a lump develop in his throat as he read the simple, heart-wrenching note from a heartbroken little girl.

Dear Brody, you left to buy groceries, but you never came home.

Jazz had actually told him about the letter. When she’d first explained about her background and how her brother had disappeared, she’d told him how she had written and mailed him a letter. She’d said she had remembered her mother filling out a change-of-address form when they’d moved to Atlanta with her new stepfather and stepbrother. Her mother had told her that if anyone wanted to get in touch with them, the mail would be forwarded from their old address to their new one. She had thought that perhaps Brody had left her and might have a new address.

She had given a small, self-deprecating laugh as she described how the innocent little girl who’d had no idea what to do to find her brother had done the only thing she knew to do. Xavier thought that might have been the beginning of his hatred for Brody McAlister.

Being a nosy asshole was anathema for him, but as he read the letter, his anger against her brother grew with each line he read. Desperation and loneliness filled the short note. Xavier folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. He really hoped he got the chance to put his fist in Brody McAlister’s face one day.

He returned the box to its hiding place and closed the drawer. He would have to tell her he’d read it. He just hoped he got the chance to do that.

Not seeing anything that would lead him to finding Jazz, he left the bedroom and did a cursory search of the bathroom. Feeling even more helpless than he had when he’d entered the apartment, he quickly headed to the front door. His phone buzzed just before he put his hand on the doorknob.

He saw a number on the screen that he didn’t recognize, and his heart leaped. He prayed that Jazz had somehow found a way to call him. He quickly answered, “Jazz?”