Luke didn’t know how long his family and Jasmine had waited, but midnight had come and gone. He’d prided himself on patience in the field, but when it came to those he loved, he had none. The doctor’s face had appeared more and more grim each time he’d updated them. All Luke could think about was his brother surviving. Then his mind would veer to tracking down the thug who’d done this to Gabe and snapping the guy into pieces.

“Daddy?”

At his daughter’s sleepy voice, Luke shifted in his chair and shoved aside the stark thoughts of retribution. He couldn’t let Joy sense the violent rage vibrating beneath the surface. Burying his emotions, he knelt beside the little girl, who’d fallen asleep using his mother’s lap as a pillow. Tenderly he brushed the hair from his daughter’s eyes. “Why are you awake, munchkin? The sun’s still asleep.”

The girl rubbed her eyes. “Where’s my bed? I thought Uncle Caleb was taking me home.”

“Daddy needed to be here, so Uncle Caleb brought you to me.”

Joy’s nose wrinkled up and Luke watched as her mysterious little brain processed the information. Sometimes he would just sit and watch as she discovered a new fact about the world and marvel at the capacity of a human being to grow and adapt. She gave him hope that good things existed in this world. Now he prayed she would be spared from learning the lesson of death much too soon. He still hadn’t figured out a way to explain her mother’s death to her. She knew she didn’t have a mommy because her mommy was in Heaven, but she didn’t remember Samantha, and that made it easier. For now.

“Is it church day? Is Uncle Gabe here too?”

“Uncle Gabe is sleeping right now, munchkin.”

“But I’m awake, and I want to play with him.” She threw her blankets aside and plopped down off her grandmother’s lap. “Wake him up, Daddy. He won’t mind.” Joy hugged her stuffed clown fish to her. “Me and Hero want to fly to Uncle Gabe.”

“He can’t wake up right now, Joy.” Luke’s voice turned gruff. “You remember when we went to the park last Saturday?”

“You bought me a red balloon.” Her expression brightened.

“And remember when you slid down the slide?”

Her lips turned down and trembled. She lifted her elbow and pointed to the faint cut that had almost healed. “I hurt myself.”

Luke nodded. “Well, something like that happened to Uncle Gabe, so he’s with the doctor who’s fixing him.”

Joy placed her small hands on either side of Luke’s face and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Will he get a shot?”

“He might. He has a big hurt, Joy.”

“You’ll kiss it and make it better?”

Joy’s words held such conviction that Luke wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of baby shampoo. “I love you, baby.”

Her lips pursed against his cheek, and she blew a butterfly kiss then squirmed in his arms. “Let me go, Daddy. You’re squishing me.”

“Sorry, munchkin.” Reluctantly Luke released his daughter.

In little bunny slippers, she explored her new surroundings. She padded over to her uncles and one by one patted them on the cheek when they lifted her up. Luke’s heart warmed. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Joy in his life, but he thanked God every day for her.

Then Joy’s attention shifted to Jasmine’s hair. The little girl’s eyes widened in obvious awe. She stretched out a tentative hand toward the long, blond braid brushing Jasmine’s thigh.

“Are you Rap…Rap…” Joy glanced over her shoulder at her grandmother. “What’s the name of the princess with the long hair?”

“Rapunzel?” Anna’s voice was soft and laced with a smile.

Joy leaned closer to Jasmine. “Did you have to cut your hair when you escaped?” she whispered, her voice conspiratorial.

Jasmine’s panicked gaze flew to Luke’s, but his daughter refused to be ignored. She stroked the shimmers of blond bound by the braid. “Were you scared when you ran away from the wicked witch?”

Confusion painted Jasmine’s face. “What witch?”

“The one who stole you from your mommy and daddy,” Joy said as if the answer was obvious.

A shaft of pain flashed in Jasmine’s eyes, and Luke winced. He knew very little about her childhood, but it couldn’t have been easy since she’d wiped away not only her name, but her entire identity. For all he knew she had escaped from a wicked witch. “Joy, don’t bother Jasmine. She’s sad right now.”

Joy’s eyes widened with alarm. “Are you going to cry? Do you need your mommy and daddy?”

Luke could see Jasmine struggling to maintain composure, her hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t have a mommy and daddy, Joy.”

“Who tucks you in at night?”

Luke stepped forward to pull Joy away, but his daughter’s wrinkled forehead made him pause. He could tell she was working some problem out in her unique three-year-old mind.

She looked down at Hero and then up at Jasmine. “Is it scary at bedtime?”

Jasmine blanched. The sniper was gone. A vulnerable woman had replaced her. She tried to smile at Joy. “Sometimes.”

“I get scared too,” his daughter said, leaning in to Jasmine. “I don’t like the dark,” Joy whispered.

“Me either.” Jasmine’s hand shook; her eyes turned haunted. “I…uh…have to go now.”

“Wait.” Joy lifted her chin and stuck out both hands, cradling the well-worn orange and white fish. “You can have Hero. He’ll keep you safe.”

Then Luke saw something he’d never seen before. Jasmine’s eyes glistened and she bit her lip.

“I can’t take Hero. He belongs to you.”

That stubborn Montgomery glint shone in his daughter’s eyes. “It’s okay. I have Daddy and Gamma and Uncle Gabe and Uncle Caleb and Uncle Seth and Uncle Nick. And I even have Uncle Zach. He’s the Dark Avenger,” she whispered. “He flies and catches bad guys.”

Helplessly, Jazz glanced at Luke. “What should I—?”

“Take good care of him. He needs lotsa hugs every day.” Joy shoved Hero into Jasmine’s arms. With a small hiccup Joy ran past Luke and into her grandmother’s arms.

Jazz stared at the stuffed toy. “I…uh…don’t know what to say.” Her voice had gone hoarse. “Th-thank you, Joy.”

A thunder of footsteps echoing down the hall nearly drowned Jazz’s words. Gabe’s teammates filled the opening of the waiting room.

Sarge stood framed in the doorway and studied the situation before stepping inside. He strode across the room and nodded his head in greeting. “Mrs. Montgomery.”

She stroked the blond hair of the child resting in her lap. “Sergeant Carder. Thank you for coming.”

“How’s Gabe doing?”

The rest of the team moved forward and shed curious glances at Jasmine.

“He’s still in surgery. It’ll be a while,” said Luke.

As the team shifted to offer their best wishes to his family, Luke watched Jasmine draw away from them. No one came toward her. Couldn’t they see what they were doing to her? Each second they were in this room ignoring her devastated her even more. As it was, she retreated inwardly, inch by inch, before his eyes.

She dug into her pocket, obviously going for a Life Saver. He hated seeing her like this. If it weren’t for his mother and daughter, he’d knock a few of these idiots into doing the right thing. As it was, he’d have to be covert.

He pulled Paretti aside. “What the hell does your team think it’s doing, treating Jasmine like the enemy?”

Paretti grimaced. “We tried. She distanced herself. As usual.”

“Well, try harder. You all should be supporting her. Gabe told me you wouldn’t fight for her. I didn’t believe him until now. Guess I’ll be the one standing by her since her teammates are too cowardly.”

“Step back, Luke. You don’t get it. There are a few jerks on the team, but most of them wanted to give her a chance. Have given her more than one. She pushed us away. Makes it hard to watch her back.”

“Still—”

“Her shot was over a foot wide with no possibility of deflection,” Paretti snapped. “The whole operation cratered. Gabe assumed the target was down. Instead he caught the bastard’s knife.”

Luke stared at Jasmine, who’d turned her back to the team and still sat alone, almost shrinking into the chair. Snipers could miss a target. It was unusual, but not unprecedented. A foot wide, though? He’d never heard of a shot that far off in all his years overseas.

And Jasmine being off that much. He didn’t buy it. The only other option made his stomach knot. Sabotage. He’d been inside the SWAT den. The weapons were locked up, access limited to members of the sheriff’s office. Proof of corruption, perhaps? Jasmine and Gabe might both be victims of the cancer spreading through the ranks.

“She doesn’t miss. Ever.” Luke spoke the words loudly enough that a couple of SWAT team members turned their heads.

“She missed tonight,” Paretti said under his breath.

Luke caught Jasmine’s expression and knew she’d heard at least part of the exchange. She carefully cradled Hero in her arms, stood, and, with her shoulders hunched, walked out of the room without saying a word to anyone.

“Shoot,” Paretti muttered, “Maybe I—”

Luke stopped him with a glance. “Don’t bother. If you want to do any good, talk some sense into your so-called team. I’ll go.”

He sent a quick glance from Joy to his mother. She nodded her understanding. Joy would be okay. His mother would see to that.

Luke stalked out of the waiting room and didn’t pause for the elevator. He plowed down the stairs two-by-two until he reached the lower floor just in time to see her exit the glass revolving doors at the hospital entrance. Luke broke into a run, ignoring the censure of the white-haired gargoyle guarding the information booth.

When he finally shoved outside, the woman he’d raced after had already crossed the parking lot.

“Jasmine!” he yelled.

She didn’t slow down, and he sprinted after her. When he caught up to her, he spun her into his arms and pulled her close. She shoved against his chest, but he wouldn’t let her go. He pinned her to him, unwilling to release her.

“Let me go, Luke. Your family needs you.”

“You didn’t have to leave.”

“How could I stay?” She sagged in his embrace and ducked her face against his chest. “Don’t you get it? It was my fault. I lay on that hill tonight, far above the action, with just one job. One friggin’ job. Take out the bad guy. Well, I screwed up, and Gabe paid the price. I know it. The team knows it.”

“That’s bull. In one night your car got vandalized, a sniper took a shot at you, and you missed a shot. There are no coincidences. If you blame anyone, it should be me. Everything started with my investigation and the article I wrote about you.”

She shrugged him off, shaking her head. “Protecting them was my responsibility. You asked me if I was ready. I honestly thought I could handle it.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I made a mistake. I was wrong. Now Gabe might die.”

“He won’t die. You said it yourself, he’s strong. He’s a fighter. So come inside with the family.”

“I can’t.” She clutched at his shirt. “I want you to know I’d trade everything to have Gabe safe and well. For you and your family. I’m so sorry.”

She was so set on being alone, so determined to take all the blame. He framed her face with his hands and stared into her tired eyes. “You belong in there. With the people who care about Gabe.”

“A sniper who misses can’t be part of the team. They can’t be counted on.”

“I don’t think you made a mistake. I think someone sabotaged your weapon.”

“It doesn’t matter. The weak link gets you killed. It’s my job to be perfect.”

“No one is perfect. And a team is supposed to watch each other’s back.” He kneaded her shoulders and rubbed the knotted muscles. “No one can do it alone. No one expects perfection. Gabe didn’t expect it. He told me not to let you blame yourself.”

“Well, I do. My team does. I’ve failed them.”

“Are you telling me none of them ever came up short?”

“It’s not the same. I have one responsibility. How can they ever trust me again?” She bowed her head. “It’s over, Luke. My career, my place on the team. My whole identity.”

He lifted one hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t tell you there won’t be fallout with your team, but don’t give in. Where’s that fighter I know is in you?”

“You don’t know me.” She shoved against him to escape his embrace.

“You’re wrong about that.”

His lips swooped down and fastened to hers, hard and demanding. Butter rum burst between them. The taste flooded him with memories of Saturday mornings nestled in warm covers, losing himself in Jasmine’s passionate touch, making the world fade to nothingness.

God, he wanted that for her right now.

She softened against him, and the chaos of emotions engulfed his senses. He pressed his body closer, where, for just a moment, he lost himself. Present, past, future, they all faded away in the sweetness of her lips. Nothing existed but her mouth. Her hands roamed his back, eliciting a rumble of pleasure in his chest.

Struggling to control the primal need burning inside him, he raised his mouth and stared at the woman who’d just melted in his arms. He wanted to unbraid her hair and tangle his fingertips through those silken strands. He longed to feel her legs wrapped around him and her breasts pressed against his chest with nothing between them but heat and desire. She could make him forget like no one ever had.

Now was not the time or the place, but he would have her again. And soon. He didn’t want to give up touching her, so he let his hands roam down her arms, down past her waist to the soft curve of her hips. Her eyes blinked open, soft with desire, and he pushed back a wisp of hair.

She swayed against him, shaking her head. “Oh, God. I can’t do this,” she choked. “I won’t be like her. I swore I would never be like her.”

Her words didn’t make sense, but the panic in her voice, the torment in her eyes tore through him. “Who?”

“My mother,” Jasmine said. “I used to hide in the dark, forgotten, while she entertained them. A man, any man, meant more to her than I did. She only remembered me once they left.”

She pushed away from him, her cheeks drawn, her body stiff, and he let her go. The fight within her died right in front of him. He wanted to shake the passion back into her, but her small revelation stopped him. He could only imagine the horrors she’d faced, and he could do nothing to protect her from the past.

“Look at me, Luke. My teammate is helpless, maybe dying. It’s my fault, and all I can think about is escaping into your arms. I’m no better than she was.” Jasmine shook her head slowly. “I may not know who I am anymore, but if I become like her, I really am nothing.”

From the hidden lookout above the hospital, a hand reached out and ripped a branch from the tree. Hatred seethed through every pore. Luke Montgomery had kissed the bitch.

A red haze clouded blurry vision. No. No. No. This wasn’t right. He was ruining everything. Jane Sanford was supposed to be humiliated, abandoned, and alone. Her team didn’t want her around anymore. The cop had said so.

Whitened fingers balled against camouflage pants. The slut was just like her mother.

Montgomery was like all men. He couldn’t wait to get into her pants. He’d been warned, but he’d fallen into the Jezebel’s arms. Well, he’d regret that mistake. The ones he cared for most—his family—would forfeit the ultimate price. They would be destroyed.

A satisfied smile twisted determined lips. Soon, Jane and Montgomery would both pay. In blood.

The August moon hung above the sheriff’s office, suspended like a fading spotlight in the early morning sky. Night and day, past and present, trading shifts.

As Luke steered his SUV down the block, he banged his hand on the steering wheel. Gabe was in a medically induced coma and holding his own, but Jasmine had vanished. Run off like before, like Samantha had.

Samantha. He hadn’t thought about Joy’s mother in quite a while. Not until recently. The affair had started out so much like his and Jasmine’s. They’d connected. Too fast.

They’d liked each other, had fun together, and then she’d turned serious. She’d wanted him to give up his foreign travel. Stay home. Find a life in Denver, near his family. She hadn’t understood why a war across the world was so important to him, and he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t wanted to explain those darkest parts of his soul. He’d left her, promised to return, and been captured by a group of insurgents. For several months even his family hadn’t known if he was alive or dead. When he came home, Samantha was already gone. He hadn’t looked for her, though; he’d been relieved. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but he hadn’t known that by not following her, he’d lost a child he didn’t know existed.

Well, no more letting go. Not anymore. He shouldn’t have let Jasmine leave the parking lot. Not in her state. He’d hoped a few hours of rest would snap her back to herself. Had she gone to her apartment? Of course not. Stubborn woman. He’d been searching for hours. She hadn’t been at any of her usual hangouts either: the gym, running in Apex Park, or even the corner convenience store that stocked butter rum Life Savers for her. The cop shop was the only place left to look. She had to be here.

He’d been mulling over the situation all night. He’d contacted his researcher to take the search on Jasmine one step further. He’d even authorized travel to New Mexico to hand search the archives.

She’d lied about her past, that much was clear, but he also knew a fundamental truth about Jasmine. She wouldn’t have sacrificed her team—or Gabe—for anyone or anything. The miss last night had devastated her. She hadn’t tanked the shot.

Hell, he was violating his own rules by not having proof, but at heart she was a protector like him. He and Jasmine were alike in so many ways. They fought with all the strength they had for right and the innocent.

He also understood something today that he hadn’t considered two years ago. He’d terrified her with his blind resolve to ferret out the truth about Derek. She’d recognized he wouldn’t quit searching if he’d gleaned she was hiding her own dark secrets. Well, the thing she’d hated most about him was about to come in handy.

He pulled into the parking lot. Nothing mattered except finding out who was doing this to her. And why. Had Jasmine been the target? Had Gabe? Was this about the corruption investigation…or something else? Too many loose ends.

Luke didn’t like it when pieces didn’t fit. Hadn’t liked it when he commanded his Ranger unit. He didn’t like it as a journalist either. Trouble tended to follow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flick of a cigarette lighter. A cop out for a smoke? Close to the parking lot’s exit, the tall, broad-shouldered figure, face obscured by a ball cap and an overcoat, stood hunched near an old red Pinto.

Something about the man’s stance and the Pinto bothered Luke, but he couldn’t quite place the car. Had he seen it before? He maneuvered the SUV into a parking space, but his Ranger instincts revved into overdrive. What was he missing?

At that moment Jasmine emerged from the station. She carried a rifle case in one hand. Simultaneously the man standing next to the Pinto dropped the half-smoked cigarette, snuffed it out with his heel, then picked up the butt and pocketed it, his movements quick and furtive.

Unless this guy was anal about littering, normal people didn’t usually tuck away their cigarette butts. Surveillance might. Or a predator who didn’t want to leave behind traceable DNA.

Jasmine crossed the parking lot, jumped into a beat-up pickup truck she must have scrounged from a junkyard by the looks of it, and, before Luke could react, tore onto the street. A second later, the man Luke had been watching ducked behind the tinted glass of the Pinto, and the old car lurched once then pulled out after her.

The guy was following her.

Luke floored the gas and raced after the red vehicle. He grabbed his cell phone and punched a number on his speed dial he’d never bothered to delete. It rang then went to voice mail.

“Damn you, Jasmine. Pick up.”

As the red Pinto weaved through traffic, always maintaining at least one car between him and Jasmine, Luke pressed on the accelerator to keep up. He squinted to read the small car’s license, but it was covered in mud. The guy knew what he was doing.

Luke redialed several times, but Jasmine still didn’t answer. Obviously unaware of the tail, she turned toward the outskirts of Golden then pulled on the road to the rifle range.

Her destination clear, the red Pinto slowed but didn’t stay with her. Luke gritted his teeth and debated whom to follow, but he had no real choice. He couldn’t let the unknown subject get away.

With a quick turn, he tailed the Pinto onto a side street, barren of traffic except for the two of them. Within minutes, the car whipped through another quick turn, then took a second left. Luke cursed. He’d been made. And the guy knew how to evade.

Luke swerved to make another sharp turn, but when the SUV straightened, the obviously suped-up Pinto had vanished. His muscles taut with urgency, Luke retraced the last several hundred yards, looking down side streets and alleys for any sign of the red vehicle.

Nothing.

He’d lost him! If the guy doubled back to Jasmine…she was alone.

Luke yanked his SUV around and flew toward the firing range. He would get to her in time. He had to.

Wind gusted between Jazz and the target, buffeting her clothes with sand. Her elbows pushed into the cold dirt as she lay belly down on the ground. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the truth. Fighting bone-numbing fatigue, she shifted her hips and tried to replicate her position from the night before.

Tower had cornered her at the crack of dawn for an official sit-down. His interview had been brutal. He’d relished every moment of having her in the chair across from him, knowing she couldn’t leave. He’d grilled her with question after question. About the weapon’s scope settings, its windage, its elevation, her own emotional state. The worst part was she’d asked herself those same questions over and over again since last night. Did he think she hadn’t wondered if she’d made a mistake? If she’d lost it?

She hated the doubts that crept into her mind, but she couldn’t stop them. She’d fought so long and so hard to find a place where she would be respected. She didn’t expect love or friendship or family. Those were out of reach, but she could hit a target. Better than anyone.

At least she had until last night.

Using the back-up weapon Sarge had given her, she’d know in the next few minutes if she’d lost everything. Could she take it if she missed again?

The tripod cradling the gun didn’t take the pressure off her triceps as she maintained position, attempting to mimic everything—the cramped muscles, the stiffness, the pressure—before taking the first shot.

Without looking at her watch, she knew it was time. She’d waited long enough. She clasped the stock, blinked the grit from her eyes, and focused. She didn’t need the cool air whipping through her shirt to tell her which way the breeze blew. Through the scope, at a forty-five-degree angle to the right, she could see the wind mirage, rolling like waves across her view.

Jazz held the gun into the optical illusion to compensate for the gusts of air. On a clear, still day the bullet would move to the right a bit. Centrifugal force would do that. In this weather, she had to make additional adjustments, but each move was like second nature.

The target should be easy. She’d made tougher shots more times than she could remember. Never had any shot felt as important.

Gazing at the concentric circles of the target, she focused on the ten ring, the bull’s-eye. Deep breath. Another, and another. Jazz exhaled slowly and, between heartbeats, squeezed the trigger.

For a brief second after the shot rang out she closed her eyes, unwilling to see another hit off target. Heart pounding, hands damp with sweat, she opened her eyes and stared through the scope. Dead center of the ten ring.

Thank God.

Something large and dark lifted from Jazz’s heart, and her arm sagged, letting the barrel drop a few inches. Unexpected tears burned in her eyes. Despite what she’d told Tower, until this very moment she hadn’t been certain. Not really.

Jazz cleared her mind and focused. She raised the barrel, sighted the target, and fired. Again and again and again.

After the last round hit, Jazz walked out the hundred yards and removed the target from its backstop. She held it up to the sun, but even with the paper flapping in the twenty-mile-an-hour wind, the tight pattern of holes streamed sunlight on her face. Twenty out of twenty, less than a centimeter off the ten ring’s center.

“Tower, you son-of-a-bitch. I haven’t lost it.”

She tacked up another target at 250 yards and strode back to her weapon, her steps quicker, her concentration more focused than it had been since the moment Gabe fell. She’d do it again, this time faster.

She pushed aside the sleep deprivation and lay prone in the dirt. The world around her disappeared; the wind faded to nothing. The past, the future were driven away by a single piece of steel flying through the air at 2,800 feet per second.

Twenty more shots; twenty perfect hits.

Jazz lowered her weapon, centered in her skill. The fault wasn’t her aim. Something else had happened. Sabotage, as Luke suspected? Soon she’d be able to tell him…wait a minute. Why did proving herself to Luke matter? Had Luke ensnared her emotions again? She couldn’t let that happen. She needed to show Sarge. She had to stay focused on discovering what happened to Gabe.

She stood and made her way down the range to the second target, then hunkered in front of it. The center ring holes had melded into one, just a few millimeters from the first target’s cluster. She whizzed through the calculations in her mind. Perhaps adjusting the grain of the full metal jacket would give her a bit more precision.

She pulled off her ear protectors just as a man’s shadow raced across the paper. Jazz whirled to her feet, her body poised for combat.

Luke yanked her into his arms and hugged her tightly against him, his lips brushing her hair.

“Don’t you ever turn on your cell phone?”

She must’ve imagined the slight tremor in his voice and shaking in his body.

He grabbed her weapons and clasped her hand, dragging her into a run toward their vehicles. “We’ve got to get out of here. Fast.”

“Is it Gabe?” she breathed, terrified of the answer, struggling to balance the targets and keep up with his long stride.

“They think he’s gonna make it. But someone tailed you from the station. Red Pinto. Muddied license plate.”

Jazz stumbled slightly then righted herself. “Red Pinto?” she gasped. “I noticed a red Pinto on the street near my apartment before the truck was vandalized.”

“Then your buddy’s back. And he could be watching us.” Luke scanned their surroundings. “Pray to God he’s not the sniper. Move it.”