Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Seattle

X avier stood in front of the motel where Jazz was staying. Though it was a far cry from the ritzy hotel they’d stayed at during the op, this one wasn’t bad. It was one travelers looking for a less expensive overnight stay might choose. Nothing fancy but serviceable. He could understand why Jazz chose it. Still, why she’d stayed in the city in the first place was still a mystery.

“Any idea why she’d come here?” Gideon asked.

Xavier shook his head. “None.” He scanned the parking lot, noting two cars that not only looked like rentals but were also facing outward, the way Jazz would park.

Turning to the door, he knocked rapidly and called out, “Jazz, it’s me. Open up.” Greeted with silence, Xavier had no compunction in using the key he’d bribed from the desk clerk. The man had claimed Jazz hadn’t checked out, but something was definitely wrong.

On instinct, he and Gideon both pulled their weapons as they entered the room. At first glance, he saw no luggage or any indication that Jazz, or anyone, had even been here.

“It almost looks like it’s been wiped down,” Gideon said. “You smell that?”

Xavier took in a breath, and his gut clenched, but not with worry. “That’s likely Jazz’s doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“She travels with antibacterial wipes.” His mouth twisted in a fond smile. “She wipes everything down, from doorknobs to the bathroom sink.”

“I didn’t know she was such a clean freak.”

“I think it goes back to her childhood.” He had asked her about it when they first became partners, and she had flushed a bright pink as she explained that she’d stayed in some shitty places in her life and didn’t mind doing that now. However, since she could now afford antibacterial wipes, she’d said it helped her feel like it was her choice—that she hadn’t been forced to do it.

“Front desk said Housekeeping hasn’t touched the room,” Gideon said.

“Then it’s definitely Jazz’s doing.” He glanced around the room, noting there was nothing left of hers here. He slid open the closet. No clothes or luggage. So she had left without informing the front desk. Not all that unusual, but something still didn’t fit.

Getting an uneasy feeling, he looked over his shoulder at Gideon. “Check with Serena about the two cars parked outside that are facing outward. See if either of them was rented under one of Jazz’s aliases.”

“Will do. After that, I’m going to go talk to the front-desk guy again. Seemed a little squirrely to me.”

The instant the door closed, Xavier dropped down on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes, and whispered, “What are you doing, Jazz? What’s going through your mind? Where the hell are you?”

He played back what had happened over the last week. When they’d arrived in Seattle, there had been nothing to indicate she wasn’t totally committed to the mission. Everything they did prior to going to the restaurant had been status quo. Except for one thing. They’d shared that surprising and very hot kiss. That had never happened before, but he hadn’t gotten the idea that she hadn’t wanted it. She had, in fact, mentioned that she looked forward to coming back to their room and continuing that kiss.

He shook his head. No. It hadn’t been that.

When they were seated at the restaurant, he’d done something dumb. He admitted that now. He should never have brought up her brother. She’d had no way out. Even though he’d done it for that exact reason, his plan had backfired. Yeah, he’d gotten her to agree to make a formal request to Ash to put the OZ team on finding Brody, but it had been done under duress.

Still, she hadn’t seemed angry—maybe just a little sad or resigned?

When Bass had arrived, they’d both been in operational mode. She’d been as professional as ever, and he’d detected nothing off. Then the assassination had occurred. They’d gone into action. He’d gotten delayed, and she had gone off on her own. Not unusual. They were both professionals, and she could take care of herself. He hadn’t worried.

But when he’d found her, she had just been standing there, looking at the empty alley. She’d given him a description of the shooter and the SUV. Looking back, he could say that she’d looked pale, maybe a little lost. But that could’ve just been the frustration of not catching the guy.

Then, after they’d joined the rest of the team at the safe house, she’d been uncharacteristically quiet. So quiet that several of the team had asked her if she was all right. She’d claimed to have a stomach issue and disappeared into the bathroom. She’d been very subdued when they’d returned to the hotel suite. Neither of them had mentioned what they had once planned. Returning to the intimacy of before had seemed out of place.

The next morning, when they were sitting at breakfast, she had told him she was taking time off. And then she’d just left. She had claimed it had nothing to do with what they’d talked about the night before, but what else could it have been?

And, instead of leaving the city, she’d gone to another place to stay and apparently then questioned the staff at the restaurant. Why the hell would she still be working the case?

None of this made sense.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern grew. The room was empty of her stuff, but that didn’t mean there weren’t clues.

Standing, he started a more thorough search, meticulously looking through each drawer. She had left nothing behind, which was no surprise. Jazz traveled light and often didn’t unpack unless she intended to stay awhile.

He went into the bathroom and looked around. It was almost pristine. He took a step back and then stopped, spotting something at the corner of the mirror. Using his phone’s flashlight, he peered closer, and his heart stalled. Blood. There were several smears of blood. It looked like someone had worked hard to wipe it away, but they’d left some behind.

He told himself it could have been left by someone else. Maybe the cleaning people had missed it, but it didn’t look old. And Jazz wouldn’t have missed it when she’d done her usual pre-stay cleaning. He’d seen how meticulous she was with those wipes.

He gave one more look around and walked out of the room. The empty closet caught his attention. Or rather, what was at the back of the closet. A safe. He didn’t question why he would open it. Even though it was obvious Jazz had left, something told him to check.

Squatting, he keyed in a number he knew well. When they’d started their partnership, they’d agreed to use each other’s birthdays for their safe combination. That way, they would always have access to each other’s safes. This was the first time he’d ever had to do this. The instant the door swung open and he saw the contents, his heart dropped to his feet. Oh hell no.

Taking his phone, he punched in Serena’s number. When she answered, he rasped out, “Get a forensics team to the motel. I think Jazz has been taken.”