Chapter 28
For the second time, Viviana woke up reaching for Jax, terrified that he was gone. A surge of ugly memories flooded her fuzzy brain. Fighting to make sense of the hideous images, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard his voice.
“I’m here, Viviana. Right beside you . . . where I’ve been for most of the night.” He paused, then added coolly, “That is, after your team freed you from the thugs who were preparing to rape and kill you.”
His ugly words and ironic tone broke through the fuzziness in her brain. She tried to sit up but fell back against the pillows, groaning at the pain that shot through her body. Unable to muffle her cry, she glanced up at the stern man standing beside the bed. His narrowed gaze and rigid jaw confirmed that the memories of him holding her throughout the hideous night were a thing of the past. His gentle solicitousness was clearly missing. It had been replaced with hard, cold anger.
“Good morning, Sergeant. I’m glad to see that you are awake. Make that I’m glad to see that you are alive. Given the experience you endured last night, the chances of you living through it were iffy at best. But, ever the trooper, the indomitable Enchantress has once again survived death-defying odds worthy of her Marvel clone. I’m impressed, Sergeant.”
As much as his cutting sarcasm hurt, it was the pain shadowing his eyes that made Jax’s rebuke so upsetting. Viviana remembered enough about her capture to know that she’d come damned close to being killed. Even if the memories were blessedly sketchy, the fact that merely shifting her position was excruciatingly painful confirmed that it was a miracle she’d survived. Make that a miracle that Jax and his team had once again managed to save her, no matter how many roadblocks she’d put in their way.
His crisp order cut through her recriminations, making it clear that the imposing man glaring at her was not the man who’d held her battered body in his strong arms throughout the night, whispering gentle words of comfort. No, it was Jaxton Hughes, the SJPD chief of police, the man who would decide if her latest misadventure would be her last as a member of the elite police force.
Tossing what look like sweatpants and a tee shirt on the bed, Jax motioned for her to get up. When she shoved herself to a sitting position on the side of the bed, trying to stifle the groan that escaped her lips, Jax’s expression hardened, making it clear that she was on her own.
“Okay, Sergeant. This is where we are going from here. Your team is here, waiting for you. You know who they are. They are the men, including me, that you refuse to call or bring into your fucking confidence, no matter how dangerous your mission is.” Nodding to the clothes he’d thrown on the bed, he said, “Please put these on and make yourself presentable. As presentable as you can, given that you were nearly beaten to death last night, and there isn’t a square inch of your body that isn’t bruised, cut, or swollen.”
Viviana eased herself to a standing position with the help of the bedside stand. Struggling for a shred of dignity, she met Jax’s implacable gaze. Holding the clothes against her naked body, she raised her chin, refusing to give in to the pain threatening to take her down, and stumbled into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she cautiously made her way to the vanity counter and stared in horror at her reflection in the mirror. Dear God, she had known that she was hurt. Every goddamned nerve ending in her body told her that. But even so, she was shocked at the battered woman clinging to the edge of the counter.
She knew that Jax had put her in a steamy bath last night and vaguely remembered him washing her hair and cleaning her body. She remembered his strong hands and tender words as he rubbed medicinal ointments and soothing creams over her injured body. But as much as she’d hurt at the time, she wasn’t prepared for the myriad bruises, scrapes, and cuts that, as Jax had said, seemed to cover every square inch of her body. Knowing that a group of angry, skeptical men were waiting for her, not the least of whom was the hard-eyed chief, Viviana’s pride flared. Glancing in the mirror, she shot the pale woman a hard glare. She’d be damned if she would face her team cowed and beaten. Yes, she looked like hell, and there wasn’t a whole lot she could do to repair the damage. It was clear from the extent of her injuries that makeup and clothes could only do so much.
Yanking her disheveled hair into a ponytail, she pulled on the sweats and tee shirt Jax had thrown her. At least the shirt and pants covered some of her injuries. Swiping a smear of gloss on her lips, she wasn’t sure the dash of color helped. In truth, the glossy shine only served to emphasize how swollen her lips were, not to mention the jagged split on her top lip. Deciding that cosmetics would only make matters worse, she tossed her makeup bag on the counter and gingerly made her way down the hallway to her waiting inquisitors.
Raising her chin, she walked into the room. Mick, Greg, and Francis were sitting at the dining room table. Jax was leaning against the bar, his narrowed expression hard, closed. The three men at the table all looked up when she entered, and to a man, their shock was visible. She heard Francis’s startled cry and watched in horror when he buried his head on his arms and gave in to muffled, shoulder-shaking sobs. As challenging as that was, it was nothing compared to the agony she saw on her partner’s face. She and Mick had been to hell and back together, but she’d never seen him look as shattered as he did now. Only Greg Bannon, clearly the more intrepid warrior, was able to mask his feelings. But the pain she saw in his eyes was all too real and difficult to see, knowing that she was the one who’d put it there.
Standing in the doorway, Viviana felt faint. The sight of her challenged comrades was too much. It called on more bravado than even she could conjure up. Leaning against the wall, she fought the dizziness flooding her, determined not to fall. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Jax was almost instantly at her side. How he traversed an entire room in mere seconds only spoke to his omnipotence. Wrapping his arm around her, he half carried her to the table and sat her on one of two empty chairs. She saw him nod to Greg, who jumped up and returned from the counter with a pitcher of water and a glass. Continuing to hold her arm, Jax took the chair at the head of the table next to her. With his free hand, he poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. His slate-hard eyes gave her no choice but to take a cautious sip. Gratified that she’d swallowed it without choking, she tipped up her chin and met his gaze, praying that he wouldn’t make any more of a spectacle of her than she already had.
Jax glanced around the table, visually confirming that as shocked at Viviana’s appearance as they were, Greg and Mick were ready to continue. Not surprisingly, Francis couldn’t meet his gaze. Turning back to Viviana, he forced himself not to give in to the anguish he felt. knowing what she’d been through, he focused on an unavoidable fact. They were here at this hideous juncture because once again, Viviana, the woman he loved more than anything in the world and whom he would die to protect, was unwilling to confide in him. That knowledge stoked the smoldering coals of rage in his gut that threatened to flare at the least provocation. Pinning a hard glare on Viviana, Jax laid down his marker.
“First, Sergeant Moreau, in your own words—without leaving out a goddamned thing—I want you to describe the case that you have been working for the last three weeks. The one you have refused to share with your commander, your partner, or . . . with me, your police chief. Given that, I want to know in specific detail what you and Francis have learned and how you learned it. I want to know why Ariel left the shelter and why that was such a big fucking deal. I also want to know how Annabelle Simpson is involved, who the hell Penelope and Rodney Williams are, and how are they involved . . . if they are. Finally I want you to tell me why you agreed to go with those dangerous men last night and who you think hired them to kill you.”
Jax paused for a long moment, then waited until Viviana stopped studying her hands and looked up and met his eyes. Narrowing his gaze further, he allowed his voice to drop lower. The implicit threat undergirding it was audible to his ears, and from the tortured expression on Viviana’s face, also to hers. “Listen to me, Viviana, and listen well. You and I have been here before. The same consequences that were on the table then are here now. If anything, they are more likely. All it will take is one lie, one hesitation, one shading of the truth, to end this conversation. At that point, Sergeant Moreau, the discussion will be between you, currently a sergeant in the SJPD Violent Crimes Unit, and me, the SJPD chief of police.” He paused for effect, then said, “And you already know what the resolution of that conversation will be.”
Jax was surprised that Viviana could get any paler. Knowing how close to the edge she was, that she did so encouraged him as much as it alarmed him. He waited for a moment, and when she still didn’t answer him, he said carefully, “Nod if you understand.”
When she pressed her lips together and nodded, visibly fighting the tears swimming in her azure eyes, he blew out a hard sigh and continued. “Good, I’m glad we understand one another.” Turning to include the others, he said, “After you have relayed every detail of your dangerous mission that almost got you killed, you, Commander Bannon, Detective O’Reilly, and this man who used to be my friend”—he nodded to Francis, who’d ducked his head, refusing to meet Jax’s impassioned gaze—“are going to work with me to figure out how we are going to take those sons of bitches down.”
Viviana didn’t know where she got the strength to answer him, but having no choice, she began. She spoke slowly at first, without emotion, as though she were reading from a script. She stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with any of them, especially Jax. She started with Ariel leaving the shelter and didn’t try to explain why that had bothered her as much as it did, knowing that none of them except Francis would understand. When she detailed the hideous abuse that Ariel had suffered, she heard Mick’s gasp and felt Jax’s body tense.
At that moment a wave of fatigue hit her, and she didn’t know if she could continue. Jax filled her glass of water and pressed it into her hand. He waited a moment, then asked the question she’d asked Ariel. The question that had turned her world upside down and brought them to where they were today.
“Why did Ariel leave the shelter? What did that have to do with her earlier abuse?”
Not expecting him to understand, she looked up at him. “Because she saw Miss H and the man who abused her at the shelter.” At Jax’s startled reaction, she said flatly, “They were on the wall in the library.” Seeing his questioning frown deepen, she added, “In the photograph of the shelter’s board of directors.”
For some reason the rest of the story flowed more easily. She realized she was too tired to care what any of the men at the table thought. She started speaking faster, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush of detail. She didn’t care if it made sense; she knew Jax thought she was crazy, so why not confirm his beliefs. When she told them how she recognized Rodney Williams’s voice and was sure that the woman’s voice belonged to Miss H, then concluded with their order to Hank and Davie to kill her after they found out if she’d told Jax what she knew, she stopped. She took a deep breath, then blew it out. She was glad she was done. She didn’t think she could talk anymore.
She looked up in surprise when Jax reached for her hands and forced her to meet his gaze. His expression was hard to read. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was concerned. He frowned and then said carefully, “Sweetheart, I know you are exhausted, but you lost me. We need to go back to when you jumped to the assholes who captured you last night. I need to understand how you figured out that Williams and Miss H knew one another and that they were large-scale child pornographers.”
Viviana stared at him in disbelief, not understanding why he couldn’t appreciate how evil the hideous pair was. Fighting her fatigue and not knowing how much more she could talk, she asked impatiently, “For God’s sake, Jax, the FBI has been looking for the Lolitas Unbound for five years. Isn’t that large enough scale for you?”
She saw his expression harden and didn’t need the pressure of his grip to know that something was wrong. From the rigid set of his jaw, she knew it was serious. His voice was curiously soft, unreadable. He even hesitated for a minute, then nodded and asked, “You went to the FBI, Viviana, with this case?”
She was too tired to understand why he seemed surprised, then wondered if she’d forgotten to tell him about her visit to the FBI office. She gave a weary shrug, then said slowly as though she was repeating part of the story that they already knew, “Yes. Remember, that’s when I confirmed that Ariel was one of the Lolitas Unbound and that the FBI had been looking for the perpetrators for over five years.”