Present Day

The trigger felt right.

The sight was zeroed in, the balance perfect. The Remington 700/40 fit her body and her mind like an old friend she could trust, and Jasmine “Jazz” Parker didn’t trust easily. But she and this rifle were connected in a way a lover, friend, or family could never be. The Remington would never let her down.

The only hitch—she didn’t have an ideal shot at the kidnapper. Not yet, anyway.

Sweat beaded her brow in the Colorado midmorning sun. Without taking her gaze from her target, she wiped away the perspiration. Every second counted, and she had to stay ready. Negotiations had fallen apart hours ago and the ending seemed inevitable. To save the governor’s daughter, Jazz would excise the five-year-old girl’s captor.

Jazz shifted, relieving the pressure against her knees, the stiffness in her hips, but the rifle remained steady. She centered her sight on the small break in the window.

Having focused through the high-powered Leupold scope for hours, she waited for an opportunity for the scumbag’s blond head to move into range. They all made a mistake sooner or later. His face or the back of his head, she didn’t care, but she needed a clear shot through to the medulla oblongata. The kill had to be clean; the man had to crumple with no time to think and no reflex to pull the trigger.

“Blue Four, have you acquired the target?”

The question came through her earpiece loud and clear, but she spoke quietly into the microphone. “Negative.”

“Blue Two, what is target’s position?”

“Zone Two, pacing. He’s carrying the girl, a gun at her head, a Bowie on the southeast corner table. He’s nervous, unpredictable.”

Jazz could trust Gabe Montgomery’s assessment of the situation. He, unlike his brother, Luke, she could count on. And what was Luke doing in her head anyway? Now was not the time to be thinking about the one guy she should never have let near her.

“Blue Two to Blue Leader.” Gabe’s voice filtered through the communications system. “He’s on the move again. Going toward Zone One. I repeat. He’s headed to Zone One.”

Jazz’s body froze in readiness. He was coming her way. If Blue Leader ordered the guys to rush the house, she had to be on her game. She would protect them. She wouldn’t fail.

The blinds fluttered. Jazz forced her breathing into a comfortable, familiar pattern. “Blue Leader, this is Blue Four. I see movement.”

A blond head peered out, face straight on front, the area between nose and teeth in clear view.

“Target acquired. It’s a good shot.”

“Can you see the girl?”

“He’s got a gun to her head.”

Only a second passed before the expected order came through.

“Take the shot, Blue Four.”

“Ten-four, Blue Leader.”

Slowly, deliberately, Jazz exhaled and, between heartbeats, squeezed the trigger.

Luke Montgomery ducked through the door of the bar, closing out the last hints of sunset behind him. He hated not knowing his enemy’s identity, but he would adapt. His Army Ranger unit had always been ready for an ambush. Five years in special ops had made him suspicious of most. On that last mission, though…even Luke had been taken in.

Not again. Never again.

He shifted his shoulder, the stiffness and scarring a permanent reminder of how close a bullet had come to sending him home from Afghanistan in a body bag. Lesson learned. Except for his family, Luke assumed everyone was lying. Tonight would be no different.

He kept to the shadows, studying the surroundings for potential threats and quick exits. He preferred covert operations, but stealth wasn’t an option here. Even he couldn’t blend his six-feet-four-inch frame in this cracker box. Though he hadn’t set foot in the joint in a couple of years, too many people would recognize him.

A sharp rap of the cue ball hitting its target echoed like a gunshot over the raucous laughter. Nope, Sammy’s Bar hadn’t changed. Neither had the clientele.

Cops. And some of them were on the take. How many guns would turn on him if they knew he was after one of their own? It didn’t matter. His informant had risked her life coming to him. She didn’t want her son forced into the world of organized crime. Luke understood the need to protect a child all too well. He’d get Grace and her son out, and bring down the bastards. Not only the criminals who threatened her, but also the cops who enabled them.

He searched the room as if he were casing the streets of Kabul for concealed insurgents. Colorado wasn’t Afghanistan, but his mission was almost identical. Ferret out the liars. As an investigative journalist, he just did it with a pen these days instead of an assault rifle.

Acutely focused on his surroundings, he stepped into the light and waited, patience something he’d learned the hard way in the field. The hum of whispers started soft then grew louder. Most everyone in the bar turned toward him. Excellent. He scanned the new faces and recognized one that definitely interested him. Sheriff Tower’s son, Brian. Luke’s intel hinted that the corruption went all the way to the top. How ironic if he ended up using an Internal Affairs cop in the sheriff’s office to get to the rotten core. And what better way to get at the father than through the son.

Luke stalked his target at the far end of the bar and slid onto the stool next to him, adjusting his position to create a clear view of the entrance while minimizing his blind side. “Cola,” he said to the bartender. “Straight.”

Tower snorted and sipped amber liquid from his shot glass. “Sure you don’t need some ice to water it down?”

“You got a problem?” Luke said. Tower’s eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. Good. Lowered inhibitions made Luke’s job that much easier.

“What are you doing here, Montgomery? Slumming with the boys in blue? Don’t you military types stay to yourselves?”

“Ex-military. I’m a civilian, and it’s a free country. Thought I’d catch a game of pool. Join me?” Luke nodded to the table that had just come open.

“Nah.” Tower swirled his glass. “I’m having a party of my own right here.”

“Celebrating?”

“You could say that.”

A shout blasted through the bar’s door, and a group of men shoved into the room led by none other than Luke’s brother. “The blue team beat the bad guys this morning. We’ve been waiting all day for this.” Gabe’s exclamation boomed over the bar’s chatter. A hearty cheer sounded. “Line ’em up, barkeep.”

Great. His brother wouldn’t be happy Luke had infiltrated Gabe’s favorite bar. Luke stroked his jaw. Might as well prepare for the punch that would come later.

Tower lowered his head, a sly smile tilting the corners of his mouth. A tingle vibrated in Luke’s temple, an alarm he’d learned the hard way not to ignore. Something was definitely up with the guy. Maybe his source had been right after all.

Glasses clinked as the SWAT team members piled into the bar. “Wait a minute,” Gabe said. “Where’s Jazz?”

The second Luke heard her name, he couldn’t fight the urge to watch for her. He surveyed the room then lasered on the bar’s entrance. A flash of blond glinted in the dim light and a tall, lithe frame filled the doorway. He knew that silhouette well, from the generous curve of her breasts, to the narrow waist, to the slim but strong legs that could hold him…Damn, if he let his mind travel any farther he’d need a cold shower. She did look good, though. Better than the academy photo he’d stared at all day on CNN.

He’d spent too much time thinking about her today after avoiding her for the past two years. They’d replayed the story of her precision shot and the rescue of the governor’s daughter over and over. His editor, sucked into the idea of a female sniper as much as the rest of the country, had tacked on the human interest assignment to Luke’s already full investigative plate. Just because he knew Jasmine. Now she was here. Much too close for his own sanity.

He’d have to talk to her. Soon. He forced his attention back to Tower, who’d gone rigid in his chair.

“Let’s hear it for Jazz!” Gabe called out.

A roar of applause rocked the bar.

“Yeah, right,” Tower muttered into his drink.

“You got a problem with her too?”

Tower slanted a disgusted look toward the doorway. “Parker’s got female quota written all over her. She doesn’t belong.”

The swarm of SWAT bodies concealed Luke’s presence, so he took the opportunity to study Jasmine. With stiff movements, she strode to the bar and nodded as Gabe handed her a drink. She squirmed under his brother’s toast, edging away from the group as soon as she could. The laughter and conversation rose, but she pulled away. Tower was right on one count. She didn’t fit into SWAT’s easy camaraderie. She stood apart from the group, solitary and watchful, just like the first time they’d met in this same bar, when he couldn’t resist introducing himself to a lone goddess. He’d wanted to know if the full lower lip that didn’t smile hid untapped passion. He hadn’t been disappointed.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Gabe’s voice came out of nowhere.

Luke had to admire the stealth flank. His little brother really could’ve been a Ranger. He shook off the memories. “Just having a drink with my friend here. Join us?”

“Looks to me like you’re consorting with the enemy,” Gabe said.

“Internal Affairs keeps the riffraff out of the sheriff’s office, Montgomery.” Tower stared at Jasmine. “Most of it, anyway.”

Gabe let out a low curse and nodded toward the bar’s entrance. “Outside, Luke. Now.”

He tossed down a couple of bills and called the bartender over. “I’m buying this round,” Luke said. He’d made initial contact. It was a start.

He slid off the barstool and followed his brother. His gaze swept the room one last time for Jasmine, but she’d vanished. Probably for the best. One investigation at a time. He had an article on her coming out in tomorrow’s paper. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her about it or requesting an interview for the follow-up.

At least he wouldn’t have to go searching for her hangouts when he needed to talk to her. Jasmine was a creature of habit, and Luke knew her patterns. Hell, he knew much more than that. He knew she loved her sex hot and her whiskey straight. He knew she couldn’t stand cantaloupe or cauliflower but was addicted to butter rum Life Savers. He knew she liked her showers scorching, her kisses gentle, and that she purred in the middle of the night when he splayed his hand along her hip and nuzzled her neck.

Whoa. Where had all this rehashing the past come from? He’d been burned with Jasmine’s brand once too often, and he still had the scars as evidence. He had to remember that. She’d been the one to walk out. With a soft shake of his head, he shoved out of the bar and stepped into the cool night breeze. Instinctively he gave the dusk-lit parking lot a quick scan.

Before he could finish, Gabe turned on him. “You just had to bring the investigation here, didn’t you? And who do you start on? Tower?”

Calmly Luke removed Gabe’s hand from his clothes. “You don’t care if there’s a dirty cop working beside you?”

“Of course I do, but Tower’s on a power trip. He thinks his old man’s position as sheriff gets him a free ride, and he hasn’t been far from wrong. When Jazz beat him out of the sniper slot, he moved to Internal Affairs for a reason. He plays a good game with the brass, but he’s got more than an eye on SWAT. He’d like to bring us all down.”

“Then you should be glad he’s on my radar. I won’t stop until I get to the truth.”

“Life’s not all black and white, Luke. You’ve never tolerated the gray, and if you get this wrong, good cops could lose everything.” Gabe poked Luke’s chest. “You have one source. No corroboration.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been on this story a few weeks, and I’m already receiving threats to lay off or be sorry. I don’t like threats, little brother.”

Gabe’s expression hardened, but not before Luke caught the flash of hurt behind his brother’s eyes. Luke understood all too well. He knew from experience how much it sucked knowing the “supposed” good guys could let you down.

“Are you carrying?” Gabe asked.

“What do you think?” Luke lifted his jacket, revealing the HK in his shoulder holster.

“There’re a bunch of good cops in there, putting their lives on the line, Luke. Don’t screw them over.”

“I’m only going after the dirty ones. The ones with something to hide. They deserve what they’ll get.”

“This isn’t Afghanistan. You go Rambo, I’ll throw you in jail myself.”

Luke nodded, knowing his brother didn’t really understand. He hadn’t watched an entire unit massacred because of deliberate deceit. Good men dead because of a lie.

“Just be sure,” Gabe said quietly. He turned back to the bar, his posture stiff, then looked over his shoulder with a grin. “See you Sunday at Mom’s? I’m bringing chips. I can’t take another veggie tray.”

“I’ll be there.”

Speaking of his mother…Luke checked his watch. He had a few more minutes before she arrived to meet him. He could make some more inroads with Tower.

“You haven’t changed at all. Asking too many questions. Ruining people’s lives.”

He stilled. Jasmine.

The familiar voice wafted over the August breeze from a darkened nook. Those husky tones sent shivers through him even though it’d been two years since they’d spoken.

She stepped into the light only feet away. Oh boy. No one else sported hair that particular color—like honey kissed with sunlight. She’d pinned the silky strands tightly to her head. What a crime. He’d loved taking it down, studying the way the color changed as the soft strands slipped through his fingers and feathered the smooth skin of her arms and back, all the way down to the lush curve of her hips.

His best intentions evaporated. Every memory of every night they’d shared rushed through him, one after the other. His body responded, going heavy with desire. Man, he was toast.

He clutched at a light post in an attempt to steady his reaction. She’d always been magnificent, an Amazon beauty, and the way she’d fit him when they’d made love had rocked his soul. Obviously she still did.

“Doing a little recon of your own?” he asked, trying to sound normal when she made him feel anything but. “Why aren’t you partying with the team? You’re the hero of the hour.”

“An innocent girl’s alive, but a man is dead. I did that. Celebrating would feel…wrong.”

Her words as much as her flat tone sobered him quickly. Taking a life was never easy. “I checked out the kidnapper. The guy had ties to organized crime and a record. A long one. He was a criminal almost from the time he was born.”

Jasmine shrugged, as if hoping he’d drop the subject. He studied her closely beneath the flickering light. He’d seen that haunted look on the snipers in his unit—the acknowledgement that they’d ended a life. The weight could smother the soul.

“You saved a child. He would’ve killed her.”

“I know.” A shiver went through Jasmine and the shadows left her face, like a curtain being drawn. He’d seen this before as well. In battle. When a warrior pushed aside the reality so they could live with what they’d done.

The sniper was back. She crossed her arms and faced him. “From what I overheard you’re after cops these days instead of criminals? Are you out for a story or justice?”

“You did hear a lot. I just want the truth.”

“The truth doesn’t always lead to justice,” she said.

“Justice will come. My informant knows details. Enough for me to believe some cops are criminals. You know anything about that…Jasmine?” Deliberately he let her name roll off his tongue for the first time since she’d walked out two years earlier.

She clenched her jaw in irritation as he’d known she would. Jazz was the sheriff’s deputy, the sniper. Jasmine was the woman she revealed only in rare, unguarded moments. He’d always called her Jasmine when they made love; he still thought of her that way. She hated that about him.

“Do you know anyone with secrets they’re trying to hide?” he pressed.

Her eyes flashed with panic for a split second. Well hell. She did know something. Why did it have to be Jasmine? And why wasn’t he surprised?

She’d always been closed mouthed about her past, but he’d spent all day working on the supposed fluff piece about the woman behind the sniper. After hours searching her background he hadn’t found anything on Jasmine before she played basketball at Metro State. The lack of information pinged his instincts and made him wonder just what he’d stumbled onto. No one popped out of nowhere as an eighteen-year-old woman.

Damn her. If she was involved in anything illegal, he’d expose her. No matter what their relationship had been. No matter how much he still wanted her.

Before he could push for information, a beam of headlights bounced into the parking lot pulling into an empty space near him. He recognized his mother’s vehicle. So did Jasmine. Her mask fell into place. Any chance of talking was over. For now.

A small girl’s shining face peered through the glass. After his mother released the car seat’s latch, the bundle of energy leapt out of the vehicle and raced toward him. He grinned and knelt down, holding out his arms as his daughter ran to him, a stuffed orange clown fish clutched in her hand.

“Grandma said Hero and me could have ice cream for dinner.” Her words rushed out as she thrust the toy into his hands.

“Hi, munchkin.” Luke wrapped his daughter’s warm body in his arms and buried his face in the baby shampoo smell of her hair. His child, his Joy. The only truly honest human being he’d ever met. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Her arms spanned wide. “This much, Daddy?” she beamed.

“Oh my God.” A whisper erupted from Jasmine’s lips, and she stumbled back several paces.

Luke’s shoulders tightened at the shock in her voice. He forced himself to relax for his daughter’s sake and handed his mother the keys. “Take Joy and put her in the SUV. I’ll be right there.”

Anna Montgomery grabbed Joy’s hand and her curious gaze shifted from Luke to Jasmine. “Jazz. It’s good to see you. Really.”

Jasmine swallowed, her face strained. “Mrs. Montgomery.”

His daughter’s curious expression sent a chill of foreboding through Luke. Joy wasn’t one to hold her tongue about anything, and Jasmine looked astonished enough to ask a question he didn’t want to answer. “Mom?” he urged. “Please.”

His mother bundled Joy off to his car, though his daughter kept looking back, staring at Jasmine and whispering to his mother.

The SUV door slammed shut, and Joy’s face pressed against the glass, peering at Luke. A cool night breeze batted a tin wind chime hanging near the bar’s entrance, its awkward tones oddly appropriate.

Luke faced Jasmine. “She’s my daughter. Joy.”

“Who…How…?”

The world spun around Jazz as she struggled to right her balance against the ache erupting inside her.

Luke, a father. He’d said he couldn’t do commitment; that his life was constantly in danger, especially when he’d been in Afghanistan. She’d understood. As a cop, so was hers. For just that reason, she’d succumbed to his seduction. Then, like a fool, she’d let herself start to believe in happily-ever-afters—at least in that still, small place inside her soul. And all the time he’d had a child and a family of his own.

“You’re one to talk about honesty and not keeping big secrets,” she said. “You should’ve told me about your daughter while we were dating. Oh. Wait. Maybe you didn’t think having a child was important enough to mention to the woman you were sleeping with. It’s a good thing I walked when I did, isn’t it? I’ve never been one to stay where I wasn’t wanted.”

“You were wanted, and you know it. I didn’t tell you about her existence because I didn’t know. Not until she ended up on a plane to Denver after her mom died in a car accident.”

Joy had lost her mother too? The words sucked all the anger out of Jazz. She’d never been able to depend on anyone, especially her family. Unlike Jazz, Joy could count on Luke and the rest of the Montgomerys to love and protect her. What would that have been like? To have someone care enough about Jazz to defend her? She’d never know.

“Don’t expect me to apologize for Joy,” Luke said. “I won’t. She’s a gift.” His gaze shifted to the SUV where his daughter waited, and he sighed. “Look, it’s been two years. Maybe it’s time we talked instead of avoiding each other.”

His hand reached out and clasped hers. The electricity crackling between them erupted, and her traitorous heart quickened. Her fingers itched to push back the lick of mahogany hair that had fallen onto his forehead. Between that errant lock and the long lashes framing molten chocolate eyes, her breath still caught at the sight of him. She longed to touch him; his hot gaze still melted her insides. She was a fool to think she was over him. Lord, what kind of Pandora’s box had she opened? She should’ve stayed hidden. Being invisible was the only way to protect herself.

She’d been right to leave two years ago, before he’d gotten any closer to her heart, before he’d learned the truth. She had to get out now, before passion drew her back in, before unthinkable possibilities seduced her again.

“There’s nothing left to say, Luke. Nothing.”

Their gazes locked, and a trembling began inside her. She turned and raced into the bar. Anything to distract her from these crazy feelings. Like a reflex, she dug into her pocket searching for a butter rum Life Saver. Nothing but an empty wrapper. She needed a refill.

She paused and watched through the window as he went to his daughter, careful to check the girl’s car seat before giving her a tender kiss on the forehead. As he slid behind the wheel he glanced back at Jazz through the small window in the bar’s door. She recognized the speculative gleam that lit his eyes.

Nothing had changed in two years. She had only one choice. Stay away from Luke Montgomery before he focused his quest for the truth on her.

“What do you mean I’m under investigation?”

Jazz watched as Sarge, with measured control, clicked shut the utilitarian door, offering a rare bit of privacy from the rowdy antics in the SWAT team’s den. He sank into the leather chair behind his desk and leveled a serious look at her.

She’d entered the office this morning expecting a promotion, not this. “I saved the life of the governor’s daughter, and now I’m being investigated by Internal Affairs?” She met her commanding officer’s gaze. “How does that happen?”

Sarge’s square jaw clenched.

Oh, boy. Only rarely had Jazz witnessed even a hint of emotion in her boss. She admired the trait. That she recognized his anger worried her.

“Tower happened. He convinced his commander in Internal Affairs to reopen the post-incident investigations into your terminations. It’s a witch hunt, Jazz. He wants to see you burn.”

Stunned, she backed away from the desk. First Luke and now this. She shoved a hand in her pocket and fingered the familiar roll of Life Savers. She wished she could pop one right now. She could use the comfort of a sugar fix. “I knew he was pissed when I beat him out of the opening on the SWAT team. I haven’t done anything wrong. Every action was a result of direct orders. Every shot deemed justified.”

“You think that matters to Tower? He’s used to getting what he wants. In his eyes you humiliated him, and he wants to bring you down.”

Sarge tossed down her folder on a desk so pristine the dust didn’t dare settle there. “Be careful, Jazz. This file doesn’t go into a lot of detail, but Tower claims he can prove you’re not fit to be a cop.”

She clutched the candy in her pocket and squeezed the frisson of disquiet into submission. Emotions were weak, and she could never reveal even the smallest crack in her armor. “He’s bluffing.”

Sarge leaned forward in his chair. “A smart cop doesn’t make a move like this without an ace in his hand. Do you have any idea what Tower’s latched onto? What he can use against you?”

Her mind flashed to the angry runaway she’d been, a child forced to do anything to survive. Twelve years had passed since then. Her juvenile records had been expunged, erased as if they never existed. She pushed away the thoughts. It was impossible. Tower couldn’t know.

“He’s grasping at straws. I’ve done nothing to dishonor my badge.” She met Sarge’s look and forced her face into a calm mask. He nodded as if reassured, but she could detect the underlying concern.

“He’ll fight dirty. He’s got a lot to lose.”

“I can stand up for myself.” She was good at her job. She protected her team. She never failed. She was Jazz Parker, one of the boys in blue who could thread a needle with a bullet.

“Just be smart about what you say—and what you do. He’ll be looking to trip you up.” Her commander drummed his fingers over the file. “I want you as lead sniper, Jazz, but this situation has to be cleared up.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.” Sarge gifted her with a supportive smile. “I made the right decision when I chose you over Tower.” He lowered his gaze to a razor-edge stack of paperwork. “Dismissed, Deputy.”

Jazz snapped to attention and turned on her heel, burying her unease deep inside. She pulled out the butter rum she’d been craving and popped it in her mouth. The smooth sweetness exploded on her tongue. Yes. Much better. She could deal with this. She had Sarge’s confidence.

She also had one very large vulnerability.

Jazz steadied herself as she reached for the doorknob. She’d covered her bases. The past she’d taken such great pains to hide would stay buried six hundred miles south. It had to.

She marched out of Sarge’s office, shut the door behind her, and then froze at the unbelievable sight greeting her—Brian Tower, holding court, surrounded by her teammates. He leaned against the metal lockers lining the equipment room, smirking while a half-naked, redheaded bimbo fawned over Gabe.

Tower’s smile oozed with triumph. “Why don’t you wait in the car for me, darlin’. I have one last piece of business.”

Swinging her hips like a working girl, she sashayed toward the door. Gabe’s eyes were glazed as he stared after the swaying figure. Half the team’s jaws were hanging on the floor. Jazz chomped down on the candy in her mouth and swallowed. Men. It would be funny if it weren’t Tower’s woman they were gawking at.

He slapped her lycra-covered assets as she waltzed past him and exited the room. “Keep the motor running.” Tower turned around and grinned at his audience. “Takes a lot to keep her happy, but I’ve got her covered.”

A few sniggers filtered among her teammates.

Jazz gathered her temper. She strode toward the workbench, but Tower cut her off. He flopped down in her chair, next to her rifle, and crossed his legs as if he owned the place.

“You’re in my seat, Deputy Tower.”

He didn’t respond, just unrolled the newspaper he held and shifted in the chair. His ash-blond hair was perfectly groomed, his tailored charcoal pinstripe immaculate. Her entire wardrobe didn’t measure up to that suit.

With a smirk, Tower threw down the afternoon paper and looked at her. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite media suck-up. I thought I’d congratulate you on making the front page. You’re a hero, Parker. Looks like you saved the governor’s daughter all by yourself.” He rose from the chair. “Sorry, guys. You barely got a mention. Guess you just don’t have her star power.”

Tower straightened his jacket, and his confidence gave Jazz a chill of apprehension. What was he up to?

“I need to catch up with my lovely goddess. She’s got my day off planned, and I don’t intend to miss a minute of…fun.” He flashed a grin and sauntered out of the room.

Jazz watched him with growing frustration until the door shut behind him. “Jerk.”

Gabe chuckled at her barb, but Steve Paretti whistled under his breath. “How’d Tower get his mitts on that luscious babe?”

“God only knows,” Carl Redmond said.

“She sure found your lap interesting, buddy boy,” Paretti said, turning to Gabe. “Practically slid off the table onto you.”

“Hey,” Gabe protested. “I was just looking after Jazz’s gun.”

“Yeah, that’s what you were thinking about,” Paretti shot back. “Jazz’s gun.”

Gabe winked at her, but she couldn’t rustle a smile. She stared at the Remington near his elbow and studied the rifle intently. It looked okay. No smudges on the barrel, no fingerprints, and the settings looked right.

“See if I leave her in your care anytime soon, Montgomery. Some bozo brings a woman in here and your brains slide south.”

“We’re only human,” Gabe muttered.

A wave of laughter followed, but Jazz didn’t join in, her attention caught by the front page of the newspaper Tower had left on the table. An academy photo of herself stared back just below the fold. She leaned closer even as her teammates crowded around her. “What’s my picture doing on the front page?”

The caption below the image made her squirm.

Jasmine Parker, Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office’s first female SWAT team member, and Colorado’s only female sniper, shot and killed the man who kidnapped the governor’s five-year-old daughter.

“They’ve got you as some kind of cross between the Archangel Michael and Joan of Arc,” Gabe murmured as he read a few lines of the story.

What was going on? Between the media coverage and IA’s investigation—not to mention Luke—her entire world was under attack. Someone might just recognize the girl she had been from the photo of the woman she had become. She didn’t need this.

She slammed her hand on the table. “Dammit.”

Silence blanketed the room. Finally Gabe leaned back against the oak workbench. “Okay, I’ll be brave and ask. Why are you wound tighter than Sarge right before a mission?”

“IA’s investigating my record,” she said dully.

“You gotta be kidding?” An awkward pause settled over the room. Finally Gabe patted her shoulder. “Look, nothing makes people happier than tearing down a hero. Especially a hero who got her picture in the paper. They’ll see him for what he is.”

“Gee, thanks. Trusting the brass. That makes me feel better.” Jazz grimaced and skimmed her fingers across the print, sweeping past the headline, Female SWAT Sniper Rescues Governor’s Daughter, Kills Kidnapper. The byline screamed through her head.

Luke Montgomery.

She skewered Gabe with a glare. “Your brother wrote this.”

Gabe raised his hands in surrender. “I swear to God, Jazz. I didn’t know.”

She found that hard to believe. The Montgomerys were in each other’s pockets all the time.

She glanced once more at the paper, and a small, italicized phrase below the article filled her with apprehension. First in a series? She clutched the paper in her fist. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not now. Not with Tower on a mission to bring her down. One bullet she could probably dodge, but she couldn’t count on luck a second time. She’d never been that fortunate.

As much as she hated it, she had only one option. She had to talk to Luke. She couldn’t control Tower’s actions, but somehow she had to find a way to stop Luke Montgomery from making things worse.

Jazz Parker would pay for what she’d done.

The Desert Inn’s neon sign flashed red, the last three letters winking on and off as if sharing in the joke—and the success.

Everything had gone like clockwork. The bitch had stood only feet away, and she knew nothing. Face to face with her past, and she was just as ignorant now as she had been then. Low-class, unworthy whore who’d ruined everything.

The television and newspaper had made her out to be some kind of hero. Lies. All lies. They didn’t know the truth, but they would.

Wearing a badge she didn’t deserve, Jazz Parker mocked from the front page. Killing her quick was too easy. She needed to suffer.

Just the thought sent shivers of excitement prickling through every nerve. Yes. Make her suffer. Make her lose everything. Everything she cared about, everything she loved.

An old Truth or Consequences board game balanced on the rickety nightstand in the dilapidated hotel room. Jazz Parker’s past would rise again. The truth would destroy her.

A smile tugged at determined lips. The plan was set. The end was near. The newspaper crumpled in eager hands, destroying the face of the traitor. After all these years living with the pain, justice would finally be done.

Jazz Parker would pay inch by inch. Then she would forfeit the ultimate price—her life.