The elegant Green Room in San Francisco’s War Memorial Veterans Building was a bustle of activity. From behind a green and gold-trimmed Corinthian column, Jax watched the waitstaff move with the vigor of a beehive. China clinked, crystal chimed and silverware pinged, each sound combining to make an oddly soothing melody.

Jax checked her watch. In just a couple of hours, two hundred and fifty of the senator’s closest friends and supporters would arrive. Each one had paid three thousand dollars for a twenty-dollar cut of beef or hunk of Pacific salmon, as well as the privilege to chatter and pump hands with the upper crust. Of course, those friends would also remind the senator whose hard-earned cash had funded his last three terms as California’s only Republican senator.

Rowland was a rare breed in California—a conservative politician who’d prospered despite the “anything goes” attitude of young adults exercising the right to vote. His opponent, a Democrat whose charm and slick words had captivated the city for years, had an abundance of public peccadilloes. Rowland had exploited them mercilessly.

During a recent FOX interview, he’d very famously stated, “Family is the foundation of our country. If you erode that, we have nothing.” Then he’d calmly informed the public why he’d been unconcerned when his opponent, San Francisco mayor Johnny Mercer, declared his intentions to run against him.

“You’ve trusted me for eighteen years—a man who served his country loyally in Vietnam, a man faithful to his wife, and a devoted dad who coaches his daughter’s soccer games; how could you possibly trust a philandering mayor, an admitted louse who preyed on the wife of his own brother? What message would that send?”

When the interviewer had asked him about his opponent’s allegation—that Rowland had used his political muscle to squash a grand jury investigation against his old college buddy Walter “Waldo” Cummings—Rowland had publicly sworn on his daughter’s life that Waldo had had no idea when he’d recruited members for investment opportunities that he’d been intentionally debunking Californians out of their hard-earned money.

Rowland had gone even further, opening his own books and showing that he, too, had lost a chunk of change in the investment.

That had taken some balls. For that alone, Jax was looking forward to meeting Rowland.

Jax backed slowly out of the room and onto the long, columned loggia. Ornate potted palms, brought in specifically for this event, stood sentinel between the columns, giving the illusion of security. They filled in the gaps between the columns, breaking the stiff Pacific breeze. Despite the leafy barrier, the warm, sultry scents of summer wisped around her nostrils. Dressed in a short black sheath, she found the temperature perfect.

Though the function tonight was not black tie, it was formal. Nonetheless, she’d dismissed wearing a fuller-length dress. She wanted optimum mobility if she had to take off after anyone for any reason.

Jax smiled.

Besides, she thought, she had great legs, and the dress showed them off to their advantage in the classic black Jimmy Choo peek-a-boo pumps she wore. The only problem with the attire there was no place to conceal a gun, so she’d strapped a short knife to the inside of her right thigh.Still, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. Literally. Her wide gold bracelets broke down into Chinese throwing stars, and the double finger starburst ring on her right hand clicked into razor-sharp brass knuckles. She could do a lot of up-close damage. Those little trinkets and her hands would have to do the job tonight if she found herself or any of the Rowlands in a bind.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled. She could almost smell the expensive smoke of imported cigars as the gentlemen excused themselves after dinner and hashed out deals in the dimly lit alcoves. She loved the smell of a good cigar; it reminded her of her maternal grandfather. He was one of the reasons she’d become a cop. She’d wanted to be just like Pappy when she grew up. She shook her head and cursed. He would have disowned her if he had lived to see her disgrace.

Jax slipped between a palm and a column and walked to the edge of the balustrade, where she gazed out at City Hall. Inhaling deeply, she slowly exhaled. But if Pappy saw her now, he’d be proud. He’d understand. Everything happened for a reason, her Nana used to say. She’d had to endure Montes to be here, where she served a greater purpose. She shifted her gaze to the vast open areas between the labyrinths of buildings that made up the performing arts center in San Francisco—the opera house, the symphony hall and this one, the Veterans Building, which encompassed its own group of impressive rooms. It was the perfect place to throw a mega fund-raiser.

Security-wise it sucked.

Too many entrances and exits. Too many stairways and back-room elevators. Out here on the loggia with all the potted palms enclosing the space like a comforting glove, there were plenty of places to hide. But the senator wanted the lavish event to give his guests a sense of privacy and security. Yeah, Jax thought, a perfect sense of security for anyone who wanted to take a potshot at the senator or snatch his daughter.

Despite the foliage, Jax made a perfect target. To a mediocre sniper, it would be like pointing a shotgun into a barrel of fish. Her gaze traversed the span of space between where she stood and the rest of the city. Was Cross out there at this moment, watching her? Was she in his crosshairs? A slight shiver ran along her spine up through her neck and along her arms. What if he was? Her lips pulled back into a tight grin. Raising both hands, she gave him the universal salute he would have no problem deciphering.

But she wasn’t worried about anyone taking a shot at the senator. Tonight was not the night Senator Rowland needed to worry about. At least not for his own safety.

His wife and daughter were another matter. Lazarus needed the senator alive. Family was a different story. They were leverage, and if taking out one didn’t do the trick, there was always the spare. If she’d been Lazarus and had to take out one or the other, she’d have taken the wife out first. Surviving the loss of a spouse was easier than surviving the death of a child. It made more sense for the wife to be the next target. Then, with the senator’s most precious possession left, he would do what most parents would do: capitulate. Jax snorted. At least most dads would move heaven and earth to save their child from harm. Jax’s sperm donor wouldn’t have lifted a finger for her unless there had been something in it for him.

Yeah, “Fast” Eddie Giacomelli would not win any father of the year awards. The prick had taken off when she’d been a toddler, then drifted in and out of her life when he’d wanted something from her mother. Jax crossed herself when she thought of her mother. God rest her soul. There hadn’t been a gentler, kinder, more loving woman on earth than Carolina Giacomelli. And every time Fast Eddie had shown his snake charmer face, the woman who’d refused to divorce him had given him what he’d wanted, whether it had been food, booze, money or . . .

Jax squeezed her eyes shut. She’d heard her mother’s sobs the mornings she’d woken to an empty bed. He’d never stayed for breakfast. Twice, before Jax learned to hide it, she’d found her piggy bank empty after he’d skulked out in the middle of the night.

Jax shook her head and the bad times out of it. She had a job to do.

“This place is a security nightmare,” she said.

“Tell me about it, mate; once this room fills up we’ll be elbow to elbow,” Shane said.

“Down here isn’t much better,” Dante said from his position downstairs in the main vestibule. Jax felt a fleeting pang of guilt. Gage had been gone when she’d woken. Neither Dante nor Shane mentioned his absence. For the tact she was thankful.

“We have our work cut out for us tonight,” Jax groused. Returning to the balustrade, she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Tonight was going to be tricky. Rowland had refused to hire more security, insisting only on L.O.S.T. and his personal detail of three ex–Secret Service gorillas. They were good. But Jax felt they weren’t enough. She and her team needed to be proactive, not huddled around the senator waiting for lightning to strike. So they had split up the detail: Dante would take Mother Goose duty, while Shane acted as eyes and ears and backup where needed, and she was given the task of keeping Cross occupied, and in so doing convince him to make an introduction to Lazarus.

Jax shook her head not liking the odds one bit. If Grace was her kid, she’d lock her up. But she understood the senator’s point of view. He was a public official running for reelection. He had to be visible along with his family. Despite the fact he had kept them out of the limelight for most of his career. Now he had no choice. Mercer was running a nasty campaign, and Rowland had no choice but to put his family out in the public eye and show himself as the family value candidate he proclaimed to be.

Mercer. Jax couldn’t help grimacing in distaste as she thought of the man.

Even though Rowland had navigated the Where’s Waldo scandal, his bid for reelection would be no slam dunk. Johnny Mercer was smart. He was slick. He was solidly plugged into the masses of liberal constituents, as well as the still popolar sitting but termed-out liberal president. Even if he didn’t have political clout behind him, Johnny had other intangible assets. He could charm the panties off just about any female who came near him at the same time garnering slaps on the back from every man who’d crossed or thought of crossing the adultery line.

Jax shook her head. So much for righteousness and justice. If Rowland lost his bid for his fourth term to a snake like Mercer, it would prove once again how imperfect the system was. Why did that surprise her? It had failed her, miserably. Somehow, she doubted the state of California would benefit as she had.

She glanced at her watch. An hour until showtime. She looked up at the pale waxing moon. By this time next month, Joseph Lazarus and Marcus Cross would be but names on a couple of headstones at Arlington.

Jax shivered when she thought of Cross and what he was: on one hand, a superhuman with a blood fixation that repulsed her—but there was the adrenaline junkie in her that was beyond intrigued. What would it be like to work beside a man like that? Her mind wandered to taboo thoughts. Would he be as voracious in bed as he was when he killed? Would he execute a woman’s body as precisely as he executed his marks? Instinctually Jax knew the answer to her unasked questions. He would be insatiable. He would wreck her, body and soul. And she’d beg him for more. “Shit!” she hissed. She didn’t like where her thoughts were headed, and more than that she didn’t like that she was intrigued by him. He was public enemy number one.

What concerned her as much was knowing they had some type of unspoken connection, and she was unsure what that meant or how it worked.

Her body tightened, and suddenly she felt cold.

She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms and hurried back into the warmth of the room, trying to push away the evocative thoughts of Marcus Cross that bled into her brain.

You cannot hide from me.

Jax stumbled, then stopped in her tracks, nearly falling over in the five-inch heels. “Who said that?” she demanded of her team.

“Repeat, Cassidy,” Shane said, his voice clear and distinct. Jax shook her head.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Dante piped up. Jax shook her head again. Not Dante. Not Shane.

“Must have been one of the staff. Never mind,” Jax said, looking around her and still seeing no one close enough to have been heard so clearly.

“What’s your 20?” Shane asked.

Jax recentered and answered, “North corner of the Green Room.” Her gaze swept the room. She felt no small sense of relief when she caught Shane’s concerned gaze.

He was hard to miss even though he was dressed in formal black and white like every other waiter. He nodded as he entered the room from the south door that led to the kitchens.

“Dante? You copy?” she softly asked.

“I copy.”

“Your 20?”

“Main entrance.”

As complicated as the game was, their plan was simple. Watch closely, stick close to their subjects and engage Cross at every opportunity. Keep him off his game. Keep Grace Rowland alive.

As much as Jax anticipated playing cat and mouse with Marcus Cross, she was just as intrigued by Sophia Rowland. There was something compelling about an heiress who had run off with the baddest boy in town, then deserted her firstborn child, buried her second husband, and had managed despite her stigma as a wild child to land the ultraconservative William Stanton Rowland. How was it that a force of nature had taken a quiet backseat to the conservative California senator?

But what intrigued Jax the most about Sophia Rowland was the question of how a mother abandoned her own flesh and blood. Did Cross know who she was? Jax couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sympathy for Cross as a boy abandoned by the woman who’d given birth to him. But now? He’d become a lethal killing machine for a man who gave no consideration to anything or anyone but his own desires. Did that man know about Cross? Of his difference? Jax shook her head, still denying the undeniable. She’d look harder at Cross tonight. Watch for the slightest telltale sign of weakness, then exploit it.

Jax paced the numerous floors, killing time and familiarizing herself with the floor plan, just in case anything went to shit. The next time she glanced at her watch, it was almost time.

As she came up the service elevator to the Green Room, her skin shivered.

He was here.

She sensed his dark energy. It encompassed her with deadly allure. For a long moment she didn’t move. Not because she was afraid but because she needed time to collect herself. To remind herself he was a cold-blooded killer and it would be her pleasure to end his life.

Showtime.

She shook her long hair off her shoulders. The room played out in slow motion before her. The melding of guests, the glimpse of shadows swirling here and there, voices converging inot white noise, the steady beat of her heart. No sign of Cross.

A warm breath along her bare shoulders startled her. She whirled around, eyes narrowed, hands positioned to shove him back, but the space behind her was empty. How could that be? She’d felt his breath.

“The senator and his entourage are coming up the back service elevator. We’ll meet you in the south anteroom,” Dante said into her earpiece. Jax nodded to Shane, who hustled a tray of champagne between the growing swell of glitzy guests.

Jax slid past the guests and back toward the elevator she had just come up on. The anteroom was twelve steps from the front of the elevator to the right. She’d checked out the room, and though there was window exposure, it was locked. There was no way to gain access unless you were a mountain goat.

Her first impression of Senator Rowland as he stepped from the elevator was that he looked older than his dossier photos. Deep stress lines dug into the corners of his tired gray eyes. Jax smiled, locking gazes with him and extending her hand. “Jax Cassidy, sir. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

He smiled, and the gesture changed everything. The stress lines deepened, but they lifted his tired face, showing a glimpse of a handsomeness that had been marred by the strain of his public service. White teeth flashed in a practiced but genuine smile. “I’ve heard good things about you, Miss Cassidy. I appreciate your vigilance.” He glanced at the gorgeous platinum blonde standing hauntingly beside him. “My wife, Sophia.”

Jax extended her hand as she looked directly at Sophia Rowland. Her body jerked as the woman’s icy blue eyes, so much like her son’s, stared back. Jax took an immediate dislike to the woman.

“Tell me, Miss Cassidy, who do you work for?”

The question caught Jax by surprise. Hadn’t the senator informed his wife? Or had he, like many men in positions of power, kept the ugly truth from his family? Either way she understood the choice. Her loyalty was to the senator.

Jax just smiled and left the explanation to the senator.

“Darling,” the senator said, “I told you that was classified. Now leave it alone.” His tone was final.

Sophia shrugged, as if she didn’t really mind that her husband had slapped her down in front of a stranger. “I think my husband is afraid of ghosts.”

More than a ghost, Jax thought.

Sophia Rowland raised one elegant brow and cocked her head. Her diamond earrings glittered beneath the harsh light in the room. They complemented the woman’s smooth alabaster skin and her cool blonde hair.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Cassidy?”

Jax smiled again. “I’m always open to the possibilities.” By the way, did you know your son is a souped-up killing machine?

Sophia Rowland smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, Miss Cassidy. It’s smart to keep one’s mind open to all possibilities.”

“Indeed, ma’am, it is,” Jax agreed.

The senator cleared his throat, then reached over his wife to the blonde-haired girl partially hidden behind Mrs. Rowland, gently drawing her forth. “My daughter, Gracie.”

Rowland’s eyes beamed with love and pride.

Jax smiled in response to the girl’s. Her blue eyes twinkled in innocent excitement. For a minute, Jax held her breath, unable to break her stare. Those eyes again. Instead of cold and emotionless like her mother’s, the daughter’s shone with the joie de vivre of a young woman about to embark on the exciting journey of the rest of her life. The vision of Marcus Cross destroying this beautiful life, his own flesh and blood, infused Jax with instant anger, but more than that, a fierce protectiveness consumed her. Gracie Rowland would not die on her watch.

While Gracie Rowland was all golden and smiles, she was a beautiful young woman who, despite her conservative, high-collared navy blue dress, had a bit of a rebel in her. Jax noticed Gracie’s right ear and the many piercings that went from the lobe up into the high cartilage. That must have really pissed off her father.

The small, warm hand on hers tightened, pulling Jax out of her thoughts. She smiled deeper and said, “I’m happy to meet you, Gracie. I’m Jax. I’ll be hanging around all night. If you need anything, just let me or Mr. Jackson there know.”

Jax met Dante’s stony stare. He stood beside Rowland’s private security. He nodded subtly, then looked beyond the small group to the closed door.

“Yes, well, thank you,” Mrs. Rowland said as she turned to her husband. “Alex and Colin are waiting to have a few words with us before you make your grand entrance.”

Senator Rowland nodded and said, “It was nice meeting you, Miss Cassidy. Thank you.”

Jax nodded as the small family, preceeded by the security detail and followed by Dante, made their way from the anteroom to another private room. Alone, Jax stared at the closed door. Beyond it was the Green Room. And Cross. Her body thrummed with excitement.

As she stepped out into the room, she immediately noted the smells. Perfumes, colognes and body odor combined in a heady scent. Amazing how powerful the combined scents were.

But one scent overrode them all. It pulled her into the room. Jax’s heart thumped against her chest. Ghostlike, she skimmed across the floor, weaving in and out of the crowd until she stood in the middle of the room. She looked up and caught her breath. Across the room, directly in front of her, crystalline eyes glowed with power and passion. He was dressed entirely in black. The suit fit his muscular build as if the threads had been sewn onto him. He didn’t move but stood like a statue, his gaze locked to hers. And God help her, she couldn’t fight his pull.