Page 48 of Reckless

Staggering to the window, he looked down into the empty lot, and his heart almost stopped. The glass fell from his hand, and he stumbled back. His son was headed to the back entrance. The streetlight had given him a good view of his expression. He’d never seen that look on his face before—he had, in fact, tried to teach him that look to no avail. Everything he knew about torture and killing he’d learned from Kevin, but Kevin hadn’t believed it had ever taken. But now, seeing that expression, Kevin thought he might have succeeded all too well.

Whirling around, he desperately searched for a way out. He was here for him—of that he had no doubt. In a moment of clarity, Kevin knew what had happened. Oscar had double-crossed him. Probably told Ryan that Kevin had killed his mama. The kid had been a mama’s boy, through and through. No matter how many times he’d beat him till he was broken and bloody, determined to destroy any tender feelings and make him a man he could be proud of, Ryan had never gotten over his affection for her.

The thud of footsteps on the stairway sounded like thunder. His heart pounded so hard against his chest, he could barely think straight. Ryan wouldn’t kill him outright. He’d torture him first, just like he’d been taught.

Dashing to his desk, he now cursed the Scotch he’d consumed. His stomach roiling with acid and bile, he pulled open a drawer and withdrew his nine millimeter. He’d shoot him. Once he got the girl back, he’d get another son—maybe two or three. This time, he’d raise them right. They wouldn’t be weak mama’s boys like this one.

Leaning against the desk, he pointed his gun at the door. The footsteps were close now. In seconds, Ryan would burst through the door. Even drunk, Kevin was smart and aware enough to know that his aim would be off. He’d have only one chance.

A ping on his phone behind him caught his attention. His hand shaking, he clicked without even thinking about the threat he was about to face. When he saw the text and the photo, he knew he was done for.

A harsh sob escaped him. None of this had worked out the way he’d planned. And it was all the girl’s fault.

Closing his eyes, cursing the girl for destroying his dreams, he turned the gun, pressed the barrel against his temple, and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Her first moment of awareness was the feel of a large, warm hand holding hers. Jazz blinked sleepily and then smiled at the sight before her. Xavier sat in the chair beside the bed. He looked like he’d been there awhile. He was slightly slumped over, his eyes were closed, and he was softly snoring. His beard was more straggly than usual, his face was pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were a testament to his worry and loss of sleep.

Those beautiful eyes blinked open, and when he looked at her, she felt as if her whole world had been set right again.

“Hey, you,” he said gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

Confusion flickered across his face. “I think that’s what I should be asking you.”

“You look…” She’d never been one for diplomacy, often speaking bluntly. This was no exception. “You look like hell.”

“That’s what happens when the most important person in your life disappears.”

Everything within Jazz stilled. Seeing her brother again, realizing he was a killer, being abducted, tortured, and starved… None of those things had brought her to tears. But Xavier admitting how he felt about her brought up a well of emotion she could not quell.

Saying her name softly, Xavier surged up from his chair and gathered her gently in his arms. Burying her face against his chest, Jazz finally let go of the fear and outrage that had consumed her for the last two weeks. She was here, with Xavier. This man—this honorable, courageous, wonderful man—meant the world to her. All that she had suffered and endured was smothered by the comfort of his arms.

“I was so worried about you, baby,” Xavier whispered against her hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. What those bastards did to you was not your fault.”

Maybe not, but if she had just been honest and forthright with him, none of this likely would have happened. Even though she still didn’t know why she’d been taken, she knew she’d put herself in a vulnerable position, and that was on her.

“I kept praying that you would find me.”

Neither of them mentioned how much easier it would have been to find her if she hadn’t removed her tracker. She knew that explanation would have to be given soon.

He held her a while longer, letting her cling to him as long as she needed. For most of her adult life, Jazz had hidden her deepest emotions behind a facade of bravado. It was how she’d learned to cope with all the emotional pain she’d endured. With Xavier, that never seemed necessary. It was as if he had an insight into her mind that defied basic physics. Xavier saw her—not who she pretended to be.

“Think you can talk about it?” he asked gently.

Jazz drew in a breath, inhaling bergamot and ginger, two fragrances she associated with Xavier, and then nodded. “I think so.”

Drawing away from her, he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead and then a quick, but firmer kiss on her mouth. When he pulled away, a slight, satisfied smile curved his lips.

“What?” she asked.

“Kissing you could become my favorite pastime.”