“Are you okay?” he asked as he settled his hands on her hips, desperate to pull her to him, desperate to hold her until the threat was gone. But he needed to hear her say it.
“I’m okay now.” She pushed his hands aside, unstrapped her holster and set it up on top of his TV. Then she looped her arms around his neck, pushed up on her tiptoes and fused her lips to his.
It was nothing like the kiss they’d shared this morning. Instead of going slow, her grip tightened as soon as his lips started to move against hers. Her tongue breached the seam of his mouth and she moaned, sending his pulse skyrocketing.
Gripping her hips again, harder this time, he pulled her closer until there was no space between them. She was a perfect mix of lean muscle and feminine curves, and her tongue was dancing around the inside of his mouth in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head.
Her kisses were fast and frantic, and Jax met her pace, learning the curves along her body with his hands as she looped a leg around his hip.
Then she pulled back slightly, breathing heavily, her eyelids at half-mast as she panted, “I can’t stay long, Jax. I have to get back out there.”
As she was leaning back in, he whispered, “We have all the time we want, Keara. Anchorage and Desparre are only a jumper flight apart.” His lips sought hers again, desperate for another feel of her before she went off chasing a killer.
But she pulled away, her hands dropping from around his neck and her leg returning to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, she was still breathing hard, but the desire in her gaze was fading. She nodded, stepping out of his embrace so quickly he almost stumbled, and he tried to figure out what was happening.
“You’re right,” she said. “And those jumper flights happen every day. The killer has obviously targeted you, Jax, and I don’t want it to happen again. You need to get on one as soon as possible. You and Patches should go home.”
He stared back at her, his own passion cooling as understanding dawned. Keara wasn’t here right now because the overwhelming relief that he was okay had made her realize she wanted something more serious.
She was here to say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Patches whined and glanced from Jax to the closed hotel door.
“I know,” he said softly, petting her. The look Keara had given them as she’d grabbed her overnight bag and paused at the door, before shutting it softly behind her, was lodged in his brain. It had been full of regret and sorrow. But it had also been full of finality.
She believed he’d follow her advice. She believed she was never going to see them again.
It had been hours since she’d left and he hadn’t heard from her since. He knew she was out there somewhere, searching for the bomber. She’d thrown herself into danger while she asked him to run away from it. For the FBI’s part, they didn’t like that he’d been targeted, either. Ben had called to check in on him. The agent hadn’t suggested that he go home, but he’d sounded discouraged as he advised Jax to stay inside.
Jax had agreed, but asked for a favor in return. When Ben had originally run the symbol through the FBI database, they’d focused on the past seven years, since Celia’s murder. But today Jax had asked Ben to run the symbol for a ten-year stretch about thirty years ago.
After Keara had left, he’d needed something else to focus on. Sitting in the quiet of his hotel room with no victims to help and nothing else to do made it too easy to think about the expression on Keara’s face as she’d walked out the door. He wasn’t about to give up hope of changing her mind.
Still, it was one thing to wish for this case to be solved, for her husband’s murder to be solved. For Keara to get closure. He believed in her. She was dogged and a damn good investigator. Maybe it wouldn’t happen quickly, but he believed she’d find the person responsible.
But after what happened this morning, he wasn’t sure closure would be enough to make her move on. At least not with him.
His job wasn’t usually dangerous. Still, he enjoyed using his knowledge of psychology to help investigations. If the opportunity arose again, he didn’t want to turn it down. Even if he was willing to promise that, maybe Keara just couldn’t bring herself to ever date someone connected to law enforcement again.
He understood it. He’d seen the details from her husband’s case file. The murder had been gruesome. He couldn’t imagine finding someone he loved that way. He definitely empathized with her need never to lose anyone violently again.
It was why she’d backed away from him. And it wasn’t a fear he was sure he could breach, no matter how hard he tried.
Patches whined, nudging his leg, and Jax nodded at her. “You’re right. I need to focus.”
She slid to the floor, looking dejected, and he wondered if she understood exactly what was happening with Keara, if she was just as upset over it.
Giving her one last pet, he clicked to the next result in the files Ben had sent over. Thirty years ago the FBI’s system to compare unsolved crimes was newer. There were fewer entries, so fewer possibilities to go through. But maybe he’d get lucky.
Because the thing he’d realized as he’d tried to find a way to distract himself from Keara’s departure was that he’d been right from the very beginning. The symbol meant something. And if it was being used by a single criminal, it was probably connected to that person’s childhood.
Working with the victims of a serial
