Chapter 11
Jax stepped into the cold night air, his Glock at his side and his night-vision monocular in his hand. The surf crashed in the distance, the scent of the air salty and sharp. He used his monocular to survey his surroundings. The path to the beach was deserted.
He moved to the side of the house, taking in the balconies of the condo complex and a hundred feet of vegetated sand dunes between Jessa’s house and the complex.
The other side of her property was open to a neighbor, with nowhere to hide, so clearly it was the dune side of the structure he had to be concerned with.
He made his way to the dunes, his mind lost in thought as he walked. He hadn’t anticipated the depth of Jessa’s dislike toward him. Her words rang out in his memory.
You are a mean-spirited, pompous asshole with no use for other people.
Hell, he could have said as much about himself, but hearing it out of her mouth was something else entirely. Because he did have a use for her. He had a whole host of uses just waiting to be explored, and it wasn’t just about sex. Damn it, he liked her — and he didn’t like anybody.
Still, he’d protect her. He’d stay here as long as he needed to, to make sure she was safe.
He’d left Hawk in charge of HERO Force, and they didn’t need everyone on the mission they were doing this week.
Besides, sleeping on the floor would be good for him.
Help to get the message through his thick damn skull that Jessa didn’t want anything to do with him.
Jessa.
Why had she taken on a new identity? Maybe she was in trouble. Money trouble, or…something. But he just couldn’t imagine what trouble Jessa could get into.
A hundred feet from the dunes, movement caught his eye. The grass was moving as if someone was crawling through it, and the hair on Jax’s arms stood up on end as he continued to walk and raised his monocular to his eye once more. There in the brush was a man crawling away on his stomach.
Jax reached for his Glock as he began to run toward the figure. The other man stood and ran, too, a large shape at his side. Jax was gaining on him, but the man made it to a parking lot and an SUV, speeding away just as Jax got to him.
“Son of a bitch!” yelled Jax. He doubled back to the dune and the brush area where the man had been, quickly locating his hideout by the flattened foliage behind a large swath of tall grass.
He dropped into a squat to examine the area with a flashlight.
A pattern of distinctive and familiar markings was left in the sand.
The tripod of a sniper’s rifle. He turned and looked back at her house, the kitchen window shining brightly in the night.
Whoever was watching Jessa’s house was looking for something and was willing to kill in order to find it.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Jesus.
What had she gotten herself into?
Some kind of trouble, that was for damn sure, and she wasn’t talking. It was time for him to find some answers, with or without her cooperation.
Back at the bungalow, he closed all the drapes and locked both doors, then turned his attention to Jessa’s belongings. He went through every drawer, cupboard, and box she had in the kitchen and living room, as well as a hallway closet.
What could they possibly be looking for?
In one box he found scrapbooks of her wedding and life with Ralph. Her diplomas. A small desk in the corner held mail and bills, and he scrupulously checked for anything amiss financially but found nothing. If anything, Ralph had left her enough money that she shouldn’t have any issues at all.
One envelope caught his attention, with the return address of a lawyer’s office.
I write to inform you of certain assets bequeathed to you pursuant to Mr. Hopewell’s Last Will and Testament, to wit: a first edition copy of The Manor by John Boronkay.
So Jessa had inherited a book that was meant for Maria Elena.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jessa exclaimed.
He twisted around and saw her standing in a white fuzzy bathrobe, indignation clearly etched on her features. “Trying to figure out what’s going on, since you aren’t going to tell me.”
“You have no right to go through my things!”
He stood up and faced her. “I need all the information so I can figure out who’s after you and what they want. If you don’t like that, you can try being honest with me.”
She huffed.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Where’s the book you inherited from” — he looked back at the lawyer’s letter — “Harold Hopewell?”
She looked around the room, selecting the old-looking volume and handing it to him. “Here. I was reading it at the beach today.”
“When did you get this letter?”
“Two weeks ago. Why?”
“And when was the first break-in?”
“Ten days ago. Do you think they’re related?”
“Can you think of any reason someone would be interested in something of yours?”
“No. None.”
He held the book in his hands, twisting it back and forth in the light. “Then this might have something to do with it. What’s it about?”
“A wealthy family in New England.”
“Maybe Harold Hopewell was in love with Maria Elena Cortez.”
“Maybe, but with a name like Harold I think he might be older.” She sat down. “It still makes me sick to know she was a real person, and I stole a proper burial from her. I should have realized when the book arrived. I just figured they had me mistaken for somebody else.”
Jax dialed his phone. “Logan, I need you to pull everything you can find on one Harold Hopewell.”
Jessa pulled at his arm. “No. I don’t want you to do this.”
“He died a few weeks ago, his lawyer’s in Boston, firm by the name of Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore.”
“Stop it,” said Jessa. “I don’t want HERO Force involved.”
“Hang on.” Jax pulled the phone from his ear. “We need information. Logan can get it.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with you or your men.”
He glared at her and put the phone back to his ear. “It’s a rush job. Let me know what you find out.”
Jessa hit his shoulder as he hung up. “I hate you. Do you know that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Sort of begs the question, why did you sleep with me?”
“You need to leave. I’ve had enough of this cloak-and-dagger garbage.”
“You’re right. We should go.”
She held up her hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I can’t protect you here, Jessa.”
“I don’t need protection. This is just a couple of kids—”
“There was a man hiding in the brush of the sand dunes. One man, alone.”
Her eyes went wide.
Jax put his hands on his hips. “He ran when I got close to him. He had a sniper rifle, and he was pointing it at your house, looking through the scope and watching you.”
Jessa grabbed her throat, a look of pure fear settling over her features.
“That weapon has one purpose and one purpose only,” said Jax. “To end your life. I figure either he’s after the book or he has something to do with the reason you wanted a new identity in the first place. You need to come clean with me, Jessa. This isn’t a game.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I want this to be happening to me?”
“Then why aren’t you telling me everything? You’re keeping secrets and they just might get you killed.”
Her bottom lip trembled.
“You can trust me with anything. Don’t you know that?” he asked. “Why did you need a new identity?”
She turned away. “None of your business.”
He closed his eyes and bit out his words. “We’re leaving. Get your things, and make sure you bring that book.”