Jazz pulled her truck into the darkened parking lot of her apartment building and yanked the keys from the ignition. The gloomy night matched her mood. Luke Montgomery had been back in her life for two days, and he’d already wreaked havoc. Yesterday’s confrontation at the gym sure hadn’t dissuaded his interest in her past, and it certainly hadn’t helped her equilibrium. She couldn’t deny her body’s reaction to him or her desire to feel those broad shoulder muscles ripple under her hands. She missed touching and being touched, but her head knew she couldn’t let herself want him. She had too much to lose.

The temperature outside had dropped, so Jazz tugged her Arvada Police Academy sweatshirt on, then slung her exercise bag over her shoulder and exited the pickup. Her muscles ached with fatigue. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d clocked more than her share of miles on the Apex jogging trail near her apartment, and she’d spent more than her share of time in the gym pummeling the punching bag.

One question still pounded in her head. How had Tower known about her name?

He’d enjoyed spouting off the information in front of the team—and Luke. She’d seen the guys’ uncertainty spike at the accusations, and Luke’s gaze had turned suspicious, his focus intent.

Lord, she’d seen that same look in his eyes when he’d received the first tip about his close friend, Derek Mason’s, involvement in that city works scam. Hundreds of thousands of dollars changing hands, all the rumors pointing Derek’s way. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been Luke’s childhood friend. Luke had started to dig, ferreting out the truth. When it came out that Derek had lied to Luke, he’d torn Derek apart in print.

She shivered. His fury over his old friend’s deceit had been as terrifying to watch as the tenacity with which Luke had followed every lead. He’d acted like Derek’s activities and the secrets he’d kept had been personal betrayals.

She’d almost let herself trust him, but she couldn’t deal with Luke coming after her like that. She’d realized then he’d never forgive the things she’d done in the past. She’d had no choice. She’d left him before he could mount an investigation on her. If he found out her birth name, he might learn it all. Jazz gripped the strap of the canvas duffel. Her past was no one else’s business. Her legal name was Jasmine Parker. It had been for twelve years.

She fingered the plastic nametag attached to the bag. She’d spent a long time getting the name on that tag. After five years in foster care, seeing the distrustful looks and listening to the whispers of each new foster family upon recognizing her name from all those sordid newspaper articles, she’d finally been old enough to request the change in a New Mexico court.

As Jazz, for the first time in her life, she’d been free. A new name, a new town, a new state, a new life.

Jasmine Parker was her real name. She hadn’t lied at the gym, but she hadn’t revealed the whole truth either. She’d learned the hard way: sometimes it made sense to give up and start over. That’s what she’d done. So why couldn’t Luke just leave her alone? Why couldn’t Tower?

She rounded the corner of her apartment building and headed toward the back entrance. A faint shuffling came from the shadowy stairwell, just audible over the sounds of faraway traffic. She peered into the darkness. Silence billowed around her; her muscles flexed in readiness. Listening, waiting.

Could it have been a cat or a squirrel? She squinted along the hedge bordering the sidewalk, but she couldn’t see the stairs leading down into the building, much less a scurrying animal. She cursed her landlord for not fixing the bulb in the entryway yet. The nearest light was down the street, barely illuminating a beat-up VW and a rusty red Pinto a half-block away.

Both seemed empty, but she couldn’t banish the sense of being watched.

She slid deeper into the shadows, then slowly shifted the duffel off her shoulder and worked the side pocket zipper to reveal the holstered gun inside. Sweat trickled down her back as she grasped the Glock, the extractor flush with the slide. The chamber was empty of bullets.

Jazz eased the duffel onto the ground beside her then pulled the slide back until the comforting click echoed in the night.

An owl hooted. Slices of moonlight bounced off a figure slouched in the shadows next to the cave-like stairwell entrance, hands thrust out of sight in his jacket. Was he hiding a weapon?

She tightened her fingers around the butt then stepped forward. “You there. This is the police. Come into the light, hands where I can see them.”

A throat cleared. “There is no light, Jasmine. Not unless you count the moon.”

Luke’s velvet baritone sent shivers through her. She hadn’t forgotten what his whisper sounded like in the dark. She wished to God she had. Her fingers relaxed against the trigger even as nervous anticipation throbbed at the base of her neck.

A slight breeze rustled the trees nearby. She searched the darkness for his features, and he stepped into the moonlight, his footsteps silent on the concrete despite his size. That solid, muscular build had made her feel small when he held her against him. The beam illuminated the square jaw she’d caressed many a morning, and his eyes still mesmerized her. Brown pools of chocolate that could see straight into her soul, and when they turned dark with passion…

She shivered. He could melt her with a look. But seeing him didn’t get any easier. “What are you doing skulking out here, Luke? If I’d been more paranoid, I could have shot you and asked questions later.”

“In your dreams, honey. I could’ve disarmed you in seconds, and you know it. Besides, you’re too good at your job to shoot first.”

“Lucky for you.” With a few deft motions, she unloaded the weapon and replaced the bullets in a small leather case.

“Not bad. You know your way around that gun.”

“I’m a sniper. I’m good at a lot of things, including detecting bull when I hear it.” She tucked her gun in the duffel then straightened. “We’ve said all we need to say.”

Luke took in the fierce expression meant to terrify mere mortals, and damn if he didn’t get hard, because he also saw the translucent glow of her skin and the heightened flush of her cheeks as the moonlight bathed her face. His body didn’t know how to be cautious with her. His heartbeat quickened and tension worked its way through him. The damp tendrils framed Jasmine’s face, begging his hand to push them out of the way. How easy it would be to walk over, yank her against him, and kiss the hell out of her. Get it out of his system. Maybe her lips wouldn’t taste as exotic as his body remembered.

He wished he still had the right to steal her very breath then kiss her lips to softness.

“Old man Peterson should fix that light,” he said to distract himself.

“Mr. Peterson died a year ago. His son takes care of the place now.” She shifted the bag to her other arm. “What do you want, Luke?”

You. Naked in my bed two years ago, explaining what really caused you to walk out on me. “I need more information for the next article.”

“Use what’s in the press releases. No way am I giving you an interview.”

“If I don’t get it, my editor will send someone else. Might as well admit you can’t get out of the discussion. Just start with something simple. Where’d you grow up?”

Her eyes flickered and shifted left. The back of his neck bristled and the tingle in his temple returned. Don’t lie to me, Jasmine. He knew from experience that lies begat lies, and secrets led to blackmail and bad choices. Things that could corrupt cops.

In his jacket he held the true answer to his question: a twelve-year-old notice from the Sierra County Sentinel in New Mexico, a small weekly press with fewer than five thousand subscribers and no database. Only the old-fashioned clipping service had discovered the truth misplaced in its archives.

She swallowed and met his stare before pulling away from him. “Fine. I grew up in Idaho. Now will you leave?”

“You’re lying…Jane.” He closed in on her, cornering her against the hard concrete of her apartment building. “Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, is a long way from Idaho. Imagine my surprise when my investigator tracked down the legal notice. Jane Sanford, ex-ward of the state of New Mexico, legally became Jasmine Parker on her fifteenth birthday.”

Her face drained of color. Her shock gave him no pleasure, no satisfaction, but she couldn’t know how seeing that fax come in through his office had sent him reeling in disbelief. Her life was a fabrication. He’d given her a chance to tell the truth, and she’d lied anyway. Now he wanted to know why, and he would find out…one way or another.

A car door slammed in the parking lot. Luke lowered his voice. “I don’t think we want to have this conversation in a stairwell, do you?”

“I don’t want to talk to you at all.”

“Not an option anymore and you know it.”

She scanned the area, and the chatter of a family coming toward them seemed to make up her mind. “Fine. Come on.”

Jasmine resettled the duffel on her shoulder, unlocked the door at the base of the stairwell, and hurried into the apartment building. Luke followed in silence.

As he strode into the apartment he hadn’t entered in two years, he studied the tidy room and for the first time noticed how little of Jasmine he saw here: no photos, only a few knickknacks, nothing on the bookshelf but official-looking training manuals, nothing to give him a hint of who she was or used to be. The scene was in stark contrast to his own house, with its wall of memories and photographs of each and every family member at nearly every important event in their lives.

Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to look beyond the passion between them in the past, but as she faced him in the center of the room, hazel eyes darkened, flashing green as she glared, memories assailed him. A touch football game at his mother’s house, a touchdown, an illegal tackle in the end zone culminating in a kiss. Jasmine sitting on the porch swing in the backyard, watching him and his brothers battle it out in volleyball, her expression surprisingly wistful. The longing on her face had been so deep he’d asked her later if she missed her family, but she’d shut him out—again. It had been the beginning of the end of their relationship. A few days later, she’d walked out.

“Why are you doing this?” she challenged. “My past, and my future for that matter, are none of your business.”

“As a journalist, the truth is my business. Why are you lying to me?”

She shifted and the tension emanating from her rose. “I haven’t lied. I am Jazz Parker.”

“You were Jane Sanford.” Luke leaned forward. “What happened to you? Why would a fifteen-year-old change her name? What’s so scandalous that Brian Tower thinks he can use it to bring you down? Or maybe there’s more to this than just your past? Like something going on in the sheriff’s office right now?”

“You think I’m corrupt? I would never dishonor my badge. My job is what I live for.”

“Would you do anything to protect your career? Like Derek did anything to protect himself and his father?” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to face him. “Trust me. Tell me the truth.”

Scorn colored her expression. “Why should I? So you can do to me what you did to Derek? Expose my life to the world? He pleaded with you to drop that investigation, but no, you had to keep pushing. Too bad you didn’t find out he wasn’t guilty until after he put a gun in his mouth and blew his brains out.”

He winced at the dead-center hit. Did she think he hadn’t wondered if he could have done things differently? “He covered up his father’s activities. If Derek hadn’t asked me to lie for them both, maybe we could’ve worked together to bring down the organization. He’s the one who betrayed our friendship. He knew what happened to my unit in Afghanistan, and he lied to me anyway.”

“He was protecting his family. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do anything for your brothers, or your daughter.”

“Hell yes, I’d kill for them if they were in trouble. But they’d never put the innocent at risk. They’d never put me in a position to lie for them.”

She swallowed, and her breath hitched. “Then you’re lucky.”

A vulnerability Luke had never seen before washed over her before she pushed it back with palpable force. She shoved her hand into her pocket. He recognized the instinct. Had seen it more times than he cared to remember, and he’d never clued in on the real vulnerability the small act revealed. Going for a comfort fix, Luke realized. Her hand shook as she pulled out the roll of butter rum Life Savers. In her nervousness, the candy dropped to the floor.

“Great.” She knelt down to pick it up, but Luke hunkered beside her and reached for the sweet. Their hands touched.

Luke’s nerves tingled with awareness. He knew she was hiding something more than her name, but her secrets didn’t smother his desire for her. The scent of the herbal shampoo he remembered so well curled its tentacles around him. His body hardened, his heart pounded. The first time he’d met her he’d wanted her then and there. Nothing had changed. He knew the strength of her—and the accompanying softness. All this enticement he could have handled, but when her breath caught in an answering pull to his nearness, his treacherous body couldn’t deny the attraction.

A flash of panic crossed her face, but Luke had seen enough.

“Why don’t you just leave?” The slight quiver in her voice revealed more than she would ever admit.

“I don’t want to leave.”

He gripped her fingers, entwining his with hers, and squeezed. He saw the moment she recognized his desire. Her breath caught and she drew her hand from him.

She rose, shaking her head. “No, Luke. It’s a bad idea. We’re better off leaving the past alone. I’ve moved on and so have you.”

“It’s a very bad idea.” As if pulled by an invisible rope, he closed the remaining distance between them and grasped her arms, tugging her against him, her body fragile and defenseless against his strength.

If she’d resisted he would’ve let her go. But she didn’t. Something stronger than logic drew them together. They fit together. In so many ways it was like coming home.

His mouth hovered over hers and the emerald green of her eyes flared hot, smoldering with promise. “If you really don’t want this, Jasmine, tell me now. Tell me you don’t remember how good it was between us.”

She didn’t pull away. The pulse at the base of her throat pounded, and her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. Her cheeks flushed and her voice came as no more than a whisper. “I remember. Even when I don’t want to.”

With a groan, he let his desires take over. He cupped her face in his hands. Slowly, savoring the sweet anticipation, he lowered his mouth to hers. At the first touch of her softness, his heart slammed against his chest. He felt too much of the past, but at this moment, he didn’t care. He ground his lips against hers like this wasn’t their first kiss in two years, but as if they’d never parted.

He held her head still so his mouth could explore the sweetness of hers. Moments later, she yielded, pressing her body even closer. A flash of heat surged through him, and he let himself sink into the passion.

Her tongue parried thrust for thrust, the mating ritual reminiscent of an age-old, erotic dance. His hips strained forward and she cradled him, nestling against him, welcoming him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her even tighter, eliciting a soft series of sighs. She would be ready for him. He knew that.

He knew her.

He moved his mouth to her ear and nipped the lobe. A throaty purr whispered from her. He smiled with satisfaction. Yes, he knew her.

In answer to his every wish, Jasmine groaned in surrender to the passion and leaned against him, backing him toward the sofa, shoving his jacket from his shoulders to the floor. His foot tangled in the cloth, and he kicked it aside. With a crackling paper sound the wrinkled fax documenting her name change fell from his pocket and landed face up beside his coat.

Luke froze as Jasmine glanced down. With excruciating deliberation, she bent down to pick up the fax and stilled.

“What was I thinking, letting you touch me again, when I know what you really want. A story.”

Her accusing gaze flew to his. Hurt and betrayal burned in her eyes—replaced in seconds with pure fury.

“So, Luke,” she bit through clenched teeth. “Just how far were you willing to prostitute yourself to learn about Jane Sanford and land on the front page again?”

Jazz wiped the stain of stupidity from her mouth. Her lips still tasted of Luke. She felt branded, and that really ticked her off. “I won’t be used by anyone.” She stalked to the door and opened it wide. “You know your way out.”

His expression closed down as he shrugged his jacket over his shoulder holster. “You could’ve trusted me, but that’s not in your makeup, is it? You haven’t changed at all.”

“Why should I?”

He stalked past her. She slammed the door after him, shutting his presence out of her life once again.

Damn him. For a few moments she’d been swept away. He knew exactly how to touch her, to melt all her defenses. It’d been so long since a man had held her, made her body tingle, made her want to be close. Why was he the only one she wanted, when he was out to use her?

She gripped the fax in her hand and stared at the legal notice of her name change. Stupid. She’d witnessed the obliteration of every article in the Sierra County Sentinel’s archives referring to Jane. Somehow, though, this obscure notification had slipped through—probably because it was buried in a long list of legal mumbo jumbo. Leave it to Luke to find hard evidence linking her to Jane. She ground the paper into a small ball and leaned back against the worn oak doorframe to rest her throbbing head. If he found out the truth behind her name, he’d destroy the life she’d fought so hard to create.

The cell phone rang and she grabbed it as a shield more than anything. “Parker.”

“We’ve got a hostage situation. Maybe a copycat of our kidnapper. Blue Team is up.”

“I’m there in ten, Sarge.” She hung up the phone, grabbed the keys from the table, and caught her determined reflection in the mirror. She was a sniper. Nothing more, nothing less. She had to remember that. Jane Sanford was gone, irrelevant now. Only Jazz Parker’s ability to protect the hostages and her team mattered.

She took the stairs two at a time as pounding steps rose to meet her. Suddenly Luke blocked her on the first floor landing. She lurched to a stop when she saw the HK gripped in his right hand. “What—?”

“You’ve got a problem,” he said.

“Yeah, you,” she snapped, but he moved to block her. “I don’t have time for guessing games. I got called in. We’re done, Luke.”

She moved to sidestep him, but in one efficient motion he shoved her against the wall and pinned her, his hard body pressed intimately to hers. The square line of his jaw throbbed and his dark brown eyes had gone black with intent. It might’ve been sexy if he hadn’t gone mission critical.

“Listen for once in your life. Someone knifed your truck. Tires. Seats. Everything. It’s not going anywhere.”

She pushed past him. “But we were just outside—”

“Which means someone was watching and waiting for an opportunity. I heard footsteps running from the parking lot. Big guy by the sound of him.”

“If you’re lying, I’ll kick you across the asphalt.”

“I’m not, and you know it.”

She yanked free, pulled out her own weapon, and maneuvered past him down the last flight of stairs. “Fine, but I’ll catch him. You aren’t in the army anymore. I’m the law.”

She grabbed the doorknob. He slammed his hands on either side of her and leaned forward, his weight preventing her from opening the door.

“I don’t care if you’re Wonder Woman. You’re not going out there alone. Got it?”

She turned in the cage of his arms and faced him. “I have to get to the station. I have a duty.”

“We go together. Slowly. Back each other up.” He punched 911 into his cell and handed it off to her. “Report in. You’ll get a quicker response.”

Jazz spoke to the dispatcher then tossed Luke his phone. “I’ve got to be in the SWAT den ASAP. There’s a situation.”

“Then let’s do this,” he said.

“Stay behind me.”

“Right.” He slid into lead position and headed out.

God, he infuriated her.

They slid quietly into the enveloping darkness then stopped. Jazz tensed. The night held a discordant edge. Even though the street noise seemed louder and grittier, the normal night sounds in the surrounding trees were eerily silent. Was the vandal still out there?

They scoured each area for anything out of place, quickly working their way around the parking lot, back to back, allowing for maximum visibility.

Many snipers worked alone. She did. How different yet how reassuring would it be to work with someone—with Luke—that closely? He literally had her blind side. No one had ever done that. Not even the man who taught her cops were the good guys.

She scanned the nearby trees and along the street, the dim lamppost casting only shadows. Nothing. “Seems safe enough,” Jazz said. “Looks like he’s gone.”

“He left a hell of a present.”

They made their way to her truck, but Jazz skidded to a standstill when she saw the mess. Luke clicked on a small flashlight and pointed the beam on the vehicle interior. The passenger door hung open and the upholstery was flayed in shreds.

Her hands white-knuckled her Glock. Someone had violated her property, in front of her home. Someone had attacked her where she lived.

Then her trained eyes noticed an odd pattern of gouges on the hood. As she moved closer, the marks collided into familiar shapes of letters. A message left by the vandal.

Killer Cop.

The truth in the words made her shudder.

Luke crouched down and swept the outer edge of the truck’s undercarriage with his flashlight. He could still move like a mountain lion—silent and stealthy. A warrior to the core. A man she wanted at her side in battle.

“Anything?” she whispered.

“Without the right equipment, I can’t verify there isn’t a bomb.” He thrust her away from the truck. “No point taking chances. Perimeter seems clear.”

From a distance, she studied the shredded leather seats, the vicious slices. Her stomach burned. “Bastard. I’ve still got two years of payments.”

He faced her, and the intense expression in his eyes worried her: concern, curiosity, and determination—a deadly combination within Luke Montgomery. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “So, Jasmine, who’d you piss off?”

“I—”

Suddenly his gaze shifted. In one seamless motion he smashed her to the pavement, his arms wrapped around her head, his body shielding her.

A sharp crack echoed into the night.