Chapter 34

Who'd have thought nearly getting killed could feel so good? Jazz smiled as she leaned back into the cushions of Nev's sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table, holding a mug in her hands.

Hawthorne cared for her. Maybe more than cared.

Her pulse fluttered as she remembered the deep concern in his eyes as he'd touched her cheek and asked if she was hurt.

A shiver tracked down her spine at the memory of the way he'd held her in his strong arms, squeezing almost too tight as he pressed her against his chest, like a person did when they'd nearly lost someone they…loved.

Nev had interrogated Jazz about Hawthorne almost as much as the explosion when Jazz had returned home. Probably because Nev could see Jazz's swoony feelings written all over her. Jazz guessed she was beaming. Wasn't that what a woman in love did?

She frowned.

If only Nev had been supportive and happy for her. Not that Nev had said much. She hadn't needed to say anything with her grim expression broadcasting her thoughts so loudly. Jazz didn't see why Nev—

The ringtone from her phone drew Jazz's gaze to the device on the coffee table. The paramedic at the scene had told her not to use electronics for twenty-four hours since she had a mild concussion. But talking on the phone should be fine, as long as she wasn't staring at the screen.

The caller ID Pierce Cracklen appeared on the screen.

She grabbed the phone as she set down her mug. "Hi, Uncle Pierce."

"Jazz, hello." His tone sounded pleased, like he was happy he'd reached her. "I wasn't sure when you were working today."

"Not until the late shift."

"Are you all right? You sound tired."

Was Uncle Pierce coming to know her that well? The possibility brought a smile back to her face. "Yes, I'm fine." Should she tell him what had happened? The unfamiliar urge startled her. She'd never wanted to tell her aunt and uncle anything about her life as an adult. But that was before Uncle Pierce had started to like her and care.

"Are you sure? It sounds like something is wrong. Are you sick?" Worry pinched his voice.

"No, no. I'm not sick." She couldn't have him calling a doctor or rushing over himself. "I have a mild concussion, that's all."

"A concussion? How did you get that?" His concern was almost palpable. And it went straight to her heart. Probably into the hole left by parents who'd never cared.

She told him about the bomb on the trail, how the explosion would've killed her if not for Flash.

"I'm coming to your apartment right now. You shouldn't be alone." The protective ferocity in his voice reminded her of Hawthorne.

Was this real? Did she really have two men in her life who cared about her now? One who was becoming the father she'd never had and the other…

But her uncle's words sank in, halting her delightful thoughts. "I'm not at my apartment. I've been staying with a friend for the last couple days."

"Oh. Before what happened today?" His confusion came clearly across the line.

She should tell him. "Yeah. This wasn't the first attack, so I left my apartment to try to throw whoever's trying to kill me off the trail."

"Kill you?" A mixture of anger and shock raised his voice. "Jazz, why didn't you tell me? I could help keep you safe."

Wow. He really did care about her now. Things were looking up.

"Have you told the police?"

"Yes, they're involved. But no one's been able to figure out who's behind the attacks, beyond the thugs I caught."

"I had no idea, Jazz. I'll have my people investigate. And I'll contact the security firm I'm using during my campaign to have them give you protection."

The gesture warmed her from the inside out. So this was what it was like to have a real dad. Someone to protect her. To make her feel loved just by showing his concern. "Thanks, but I have good security already."

"You do? All right." He paused, like he was thinking. "I suppose you're trained for this kind of situation. But I…I can't lose you, too."

Jazz's throat tightened.

"Not after Joan. You remind me of her in some ways, you know."

Jazz tried to swallow as tears pooled in her eyes. No one had ever compared her to a family member. Not at all. As if she'd never really been related to any of them.

"You're strong and determined. And you love the fair so much." He paused. Was that a sniff? Was he crying, too?

She didn't try to stop the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"She would be as proud of you as I am."

Jazz's heart squeezed so hard she thought it might burst. He was proud of her? "Thank you." She pushed the words past the thickness in her throat. "That means a lot."

Uncle Pierce took in a breath that sounded a little shaky. "The reason I called was to ask you something. The girls are coming home tomorrow, and I wondered, would you sit with us at the funeral on Saturday?"

If Nev had been there, she would've said she needed to scrape Jazz's jaw off the floor. Jazz had never been more shocked in her life. He wanted her to be publicly recognized as a member of his immediate family? Alongside his two perfect daughters?

"Um…" She cleared her throat. "Sure?" The answer ended more like a question. Mostly because she still couldn't believe she'd heard him right.

"Wonderful. I'm so pleased." And he sounded pleased. As if he wore a smile as he spoke. "But I don't want to wait until Saturday to see you again. And I'm sure the girls will want to get reacquainted."

That, Jazz seriously doubted. His daughters made Cinderella's wicked stepdaughters look like sweethearts.

"Will you join us for brunch on Friday at the house?"

Jazz paused. Since Phoenix had her working late nights at the fair now, she should be able to make that. Maybe she could even bring Hawthorne along and introduce him to her family.

The idea sent a thrill through her that fueled her answer. "Yes, I'd love to."

"Excellent. But please call me anytime you even think you're in danger. I want to be there for you, Jazz. I mean that."

His words were like something from the dream of her aching heart. If it was a dream, she hoped it would never end.

"Hey, Emerson."

Hawthorne paused in his walk past the cattle barn and looked back.

Nevaeh Williams marched toward him with her K-9. The agent's expression didn't look friendly.

Hawthorne tried not to inhale too deeply as he waited the couple seconds it would take for her to reach him. The odor of manure and wood shavings wasn't his favorite.

Nevaeh stopped a few feet away and leveled a challenging stare at him.

He tensed automatically, though he had no idea what he could've done to her without knowing.

Her dog looked up at him with a panting grin that suggested he thought Hawthorne was less of a problem than Nevaeh seemed to at the moment.

"I thought you said you weren't ‘in the market' for a relationship." She thrust her fingers into the air more like knives she wanted to stab him with than air quotes.

Oh, man. Not another interrogation about Jazz. He hadn't figured that one out to his own liking yet.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I'm not."

"Then why, exactly, does my best friend think you're in love with her?"

"She—" The reply got stuck, as if his throat had decided to shut down completely. "She does?" The squeak that escaped the second time wasn't much better.

"Yes, she does. And she wouldn't if you hadn't led her on."

"Whoa." He lifted his hands, palm out. "I did not lead her on." The protest rang weak in his own ears. Could he honestly say he hadn't?

"So you mean you do love her?"

The question made sweat drip down his forehead. Or maybe that was thanks to the direct sunlight they were standing in. But the sun had nothing to do with the way his heart thumped hard against his ribs. As if it wanted to give an answer his brain knew was wrong. Wanted to say he did love Jazz Lamont.

"I…" He ran his tongue over his lips. "I never meant to convey that." Why didn't he just say no?

Then Nevaeh would stop giving him that weird look she'd switched to the moment he hadn't instantly answered. Slightly raised eyebrows and a tilted head. As if she was surprised by something she'd just realized.

Irritation sparked in his gut, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his hand. "I never meant to mislead anyone. Does she…" No, he would not ask if Jazz loved him. Not even to calm his pulse that took off at a sprint the moment he pondered the question. "I hope she doesn't really think I feel that way about her."

"Are you still leaving? Going to Idaho?"

"Yes."

"When?"

As soon as he possibly could. He bit back the desperate response. "When my commitment is fulfilled with the fair." Which meant he'd have to make it over another week yet. Maybe he could avoid working shifts with Jazz. Though all the shifts overlapped somewhat. Maybe he could ask for desk duty or something.

"Commitment." Nevaeh watched him like one might a bug under a microscope. "Have you ever been married?"

"No." He probably should've made an effort to keep the horror that rolled through him out of his voice.

Her eyebrows lifted farther. "Ever been in a long-term dating relationship?"

He narrowed his eyes, not keen on where she was going with her line of questioning. "Look, I appreciate that you're protective of your friend. It's great Jazz has someone like you. But that doesn't mean I need to share all the details of my personal life with you."

"That would be a no." The woman smirked as she crossed her arms over her red T-shirt. "Afraid of commitment?"

"More like I'm wise enough to know the dangers of it."

"Dangers?" Disbelief stretched her flattened lips wider.

"Being trapped in a lifelong commitment is one of the most dangerous things there is. You never know how the other person will control you or what they'll force you to do. You completely lose control over your own life. You lose your freedom." He shut his mouth before he unloaded more. Her crack about him being afraid chafed at his pride, and he'd said too much. Been too annoyed.

He opened his mouth to apologize.

"Hey, guys." Jazz's raised voice jerked his attention past Nevaeh to see Jazz hurrying toward them at a quick clip, Flash straining at his leash as if he'd like to move faster.

More heat surged up his neck, headed for his face. Hopefully, Jazz wouldn't notice. Though he shouldn't have to feel guilty or embarrassed. What he'd said was correct. And he had every right to choose a single life of freedom over marriage. The Bible even condoned that.

"You're not going to believe this." Her breath came in uneven pants, which had to be more from excitement than her quick pace. He'd seen her level of fitness in action. "I just heard from Cora."

"About what?" Nevaeh watched Jazz with widened eyes.

"Freddie Blain. Though that isn't his real name."

"It isn't?" Nevaeh stepped closer to her friend.

"No." Jazz shook her head. "But that's not all." She pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and tapped the screen.

Hawthorne frowned. Should she be using the device yet? He'd thought her boss wasn't being cautious enough when Jazz had shown up and said Phoenix Gray cleared her to work. Jazz had said something about Phoenix recognizing Jazz had reasons she wanted to be there and that Phoenix liked her agents to be tough.

"When Cora got to the office after her narcotics gig, she got a look at the photo you sent earlier." Jazz threw a glance at Nev. "Then she sent me one of Sam Ackerman's dad, Gary Ackerman."

"Why?" Nevaeh asked the question on the tip of Hawthorne's tongue.

Jazz lifted her phone and extended it toward Hawthorne first, the screen facing him.

He stepped in closer to see the image, shading it from the sunlight with his hand.

It couldn't be.

Gary Ackerman was Freddie Blain.