Jaded (8 page)

Otis laughed. “Twenty-four hours, Ruby Leigh. Twenty-four hours.”

A loud crash, followed by a scream, moved Jase into action. Not wasting any time, he tried the front door and it opened. He stepped through and nearly collided with Otis Thibodeaux.

The other man pushed past Jase with a sneer and said, “She’s all yours, mister.”

Jase reached out to stop him, but Jade’s voice stayed his hand. “Let him go.”

Against his better judgment, Jase allowed Otis to leave. He closed the door behind him, wanting to go after the bastard, but instead he moved down the hall.

The sound of running water led him to the kitchen. What he saw when he entered the room struck him speechless. Jade stood at the kitchen sink, her hair a wild mess around her shoulders, her dress ripped at the right shoulder, exposing the high curve of her breast. His gaze moved to her face and his blood heated. Her left eye swelled and she held a towel to her lip.

The cop in him wanted to go after Thibodeaux and kick his ass before he arrested him. The man in him moved to Jade, wanting to comfort. To protect. Jase raised a hand to pull the fabric of her dress up to cover her chest. She flinched, a primal snarl escaping her lips. Part fury but mostly fear.

While he didn’t make another move toward her, he wasn’t deterred. She was like an abused kitten, hissing and spitting at any hand that sought to touch. Something deep inside him was moved at the sight of this proud wounded woman.

“I won’t hurt you, Jade. Let me fix your dress.”

Wild-eyed, she shook her head and stepped farther back until she could go no farther, the counter impeding her escape. Without breaking her stare, she used her free hand to pull up the shredded fabric. The minute she let go it slipped back down, this time exposing the edge of a rosy nipple. Jase growled this time. He stepped past her and pulled a towel off a hook next to the sink, opened it, then gently laid it across her chest.

She watched with haunted eyes. Her breathing increased and her breasts heaved as if she’d just run a marathon.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, his voice soft, his tone soothing.

Slowly, he reached out and pulled the towel away from her mouth. “Son of a bitch!” Her lip was split and bleeding. “That asshole is mine,” Jase said.

He turned to go after Otis, but Jade grabbed his arm. “Let him go,” she said, her voice tired.

Jase turned back to her, his eyes narrowing. Her hands recoiled as if he’d burned her. “What the hell is going on here?”

Jade shook her head and pressed the towel tighter to her lip. She flinched under the pressure. “A misunderstanding. He thinks I’m someone I’m not.”

“Ruby Leigh?”

“If you eavesdropped, why are you asking me?”

“I want the truth.”

She stood silent, staring at him. Her face swelling.

Jase cursed and stepped over to the Sub-Zero fridge, grabbing a handful of ice from the ice bin. He took the towel from Jade and wrapped the ice in it, then handed it back to her. He made his way quickly around the kitchen for another towel and filled it with ice. Gently, he placed it against her eye. “You’re going to look like a boxer after a knockout.”

Jade jerked away from him and eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

“I heard your twelve o’clock canceled.” She slapped him. Jase grabbed her hand but quickly let go of her. “What’s the going rate for rough sex these days?”

“If you think your opinion means anything to me, Detective, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“It should. I could arrest you right now.”

“For what?”

“Impeding an investigation.”

“I’m impeding nothing. If you’re going to arrest me, do it now so I can call my lawyer. Otherwise, leave.”

Jase took another step back, giving her space. It was obvious, despite what she’d just been through, that she’d rebounded, and his intimidation tactics weren’t working. As a man he didn’t like using them on a woman, but as a cop he had no such compunction.

She was a fighter, he’d give her that. He looked closer at her face again and despite the swelling and the soon-to-be bruises, she was stunning. A stunningly beautiful hooker. In any other place he’d never guess it of her. Maybe a wayward princess or runaway debutante, but a hooker? No way. And it bothered him. A lot.

Hookers were at the bottom of his food chain when it came to women, and he had more respect for her than that. But he’d heard what he’d heard, and he was going to get her. His gaze swept the gourmet kitchen.

Casually, he leaned against the oak butcher block. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

“I’ll be happy to answer them with my lawyer present.”

“Did you have a date with Townsend the night he was murdered?”

Jade’s good eye narrowed. She was going to have a hell of a shiner in the morning. She didn’t answer.

“I want the last three months of the parking lot surveillance tapes.” Jade opened her mouth to speak, but he put a hand up, stopping her. “I can have a warrant in two hours.”

She smiled at that and winced for the effort. “What judge is going to appreciate you waking him up in the middle of the night for something that can wait until tomorrow?”

Touché. “I suppose in your business it pays to know all the loopholes.”

Jade shook her head. “I told you, we haven’t used the cameras since Mr. Morton took over, and the tapes before he came have been destroyed.”

“Why?”

“Use your cop brain and figure it out.”

“Were you with Townsend Saturday night after midnight?”

“He left with Genevieve.”

Jase smiled and moved in a few inches. “You’re a very smart lady, Jade Devereaux.”

Jade shrugged. “I’m educated.”

“Educated and smart aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

“I graduated cum laude from Stanford. I speak five languages and can calculate algebra in my sleep.”

“Impressive. Now that we have established you understand English, answer my question.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did, and be happy I didn’t insist on my attorney sitting next to me.”

Jase smiled tolerantly and moved another few inches closer to her. She had fully recovered from the shock of her encounter—gone was the skittish kitten, gone was the fear in her eyes, gone was her uncertainty—now a spitting, hissing she-cat, poised to pounce, faced him. He liked her better this way. He was never comfortable consoling people, especially women.

“I asked you if you were with Townsend after midnight last night, not who he left with.”

Jade smiled, the gesture pure saccharine. “I gave you my answer.”

She tossed the towel into the sink and turned back to face him. “I’d like you to leave now.”

Jase decided he’d rather have her think he was satisfied, then push. Instinctively, he knew she wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll go, but I’m advising you not to take any out-of-town trips until we have this case solved.”

“Are you saying I’m a suspect, Detective?”

“I’d call you a person of interest.”

“As in, you think I killed Andrew Townsend?”

“The evidence will prove who killed him.” Jase turned to leave but turned back to her, noting that the swelling on her face had increased despite the ice. “I think you should see a doctor.”

Jade shook her head and moved past him. “No thanks. I’m going upstairs to clean up, when I come back down here I want you gone. And lock the door on your way out.”

She swept past him and ran up the staircase.

Detective Sergeant Jase Vaughn disturbed Jade on several levels. He was a cop, he was smart, he had her pegged as Andrew’s killer, and she was attracted to him. What unnerved her the most was her attraction to him. Sex was a weakness, a weakness that had cost her more than she cared to admit. Yet her body did things in his presence it had never done before. It felt…good. She wanted him. She wanted him on the most basic of levels. The admission stunned as much as it terrified her. Her body shivered in excitement and fear.

Intuitively, she knew Jase wasn’t the type of man to abuse a woman. In fact, he seemed to be the type of man who delivered the opposite, but there was a dark undercurrent to him. He didn’t trust easily, either, and because of that he was convinced she was a prostitute, and a murderer.

She strode into her bedroom, her sanctuary, the one place she could relax. But not tonight. Otis’s presence cast a pall over her home. Andrew’s death cast a pall over her life. A hard tremor jerked through her entire body. She felt as if the world were closing in around her.

Jade stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom and stared. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut and her lip was twice its normal size. She blanched at the sight. Great. She wouldn’t be able to show her face at the club tomorrow night. Not like this.

She slid the towel off her shoulder and smiled. She had to hand it to Jase, even with her body parts exposed his eyes hadn’t lingered. She respected him at least for that.

She slipped out of her dress and held the silky sheath in her hand. It wasn’t repairable. She opened her fingers and let it drop to the floor, where it pooled at her feet. She slipped off her thong undies and stepped into the roomy shower. It was what she loved about her town house. It was open and spacious, almost 2,500 square feet. But out of the entire space, only her bedroom gave her comfort. Tina’s bedroom had been stripped of her sister’s essence. Yes, there was a room for her when she came home for breaks, but Jade wanted her to stay away. She needed to be away from Jade and her life. She didn’t want her baby sister to know what she did for a living. Or what she had done in her past.

Sighing heavily, Jade stepped into the shower and, in robotic mode, she washed herself. She refused to think about Townsend, except for wanting to call in a favor and find out how he died.

If she were responsible? It was an open-and-shut case of self-defense. The question was, would she take her chances and admit it? And with the admission take the chance of losing Tina forever. For Jade there was only one answer. If she had to, she’d lay low. She could not prove she defended herself against Townsend’s attack. There were no witnesses to her attack, but there were to his threats earlier that evening, and first thing in the morning she’d get rid of the knife.

Showered and feeling a trifle better, Jade pulled on a pair of comfy PJs. She tossed the multicolored pillows from her bed to the floor and pulled back the soft downy comforter. A soft knock on the door startled her; she started and turned around. Jase stood at the doorway, her .357 dangling from his fingers.

“I hope this is registered in your name.”

Jade flung her wet hair over her shoulder and strode up to him, holding out her hand, palm up. “Actually, it isn’t.”

Jase cocked a dark brow. “I could take this with me.”

Jade cocked a brow. “But you won’t.”

He handed it to her butt first. “Get it registered.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jase looked around. “Nice room. I like it better than downstairs.”

“This is me, downstairs is Jade Devereaux.”

“Who
are
you?”

“A very tired woman.”

She set the gun down on top of her dresser and said, “I’m going downstairs for some drugs and ice. I’ll see you out.”

Jase didn’t argue. He could see she was tired, beat-up, and if he pushed harder she’d push back more. Patience was his friend. Besides, if he was going to follow her tomorrow he’d need some sleep, as well.

Bright and early the next morning, Jase sipped his coffee and watched the garage door of Jade’s town house open and the black BMW back out. From what he could see, Jade had on a baseball cap and oversize sunglasses. She headed south on Hurst. He followed. He had the GPS device in hand and would take the first opportunity presented to attach it to her car.

It didn’t take long. She pulled up in front of a large nondescript home in south San Jose. He called in the address to Dispatch.

After a moment he had his answer. “Seventeen, that is the Lost Lambs Shelter for Battered Women and Children.”

Jase whistled. Was she going as a victim? Despite what Shannon had divulged about her suspicions that Jade had been raped, Jade didn’t strike him as a victim of anything. But Jase knew all too well victims of sexual assault could keep their trauma buried deep for years.

He wondered then, as he watched her knock on the door and after several minutes saw her allowed in, if that was why she was a prostitute. Weren’t prostitutes victims of men, of life, of drugs? Did she let her walls down here?

He took the GPS device out of the box and opened a tube of epoxy. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Jase globbed on a bunch and hurried across the street to the BMW. Nonchalantly, he bent down out of sight of the shelter and slid the device under the driver’s door, pressing it up and under the chassis, holding it in place for a few minutes. The street was quiet, but if anyone asked, he’d say he dropped his keys and was looking for them.

Letting go of the device, he smiled. Now he could monitor her.

Jade sadly smiled down at Beatrice Mendoza as she carefully brushed damp bangs from the bandage on the girl’s forehead. Bea’s poor sweet face was unrecognizable beneath the kaleidoscope of colors, the bruising and the swelling.

“Bea, what happened?”

The little girl, no more than eight, shook her head. Tears slid from the slits that were her eyes.
“Mi papá.”

Fernando Mendoza. It amazed Jade how he could be such an absentee father yet show up to use his only daughter as a punching bag. Jade understood the cycle of violence more than Bea knew. In a world where men ruled and women had no skills it was almost impossible to escape. Jade sat up straight. But
she’d
escaped. Barely.

By sheer willpower, desperation, and yes, fear, she’d taken her sister and run. She ran as far and as fast as she could from a life that would have chewed them both up.

It took ten-hour days cleaning toilets and going to night school to carve out a little life for her and Tina. She was only fifteen in an unfamiliar world. But she’d risen above her poverty. She grew up, and swore never again would she bend to a man’s will.