But she remembered the twenty-three-year-old he had been ten summers before, the year she turned seventeen. Popular, wild as the wind, and as charming as any rogue could hope to be. He’d been at her parents’ New Year’s party, and after that he’d become a regular visitor.
Her brothers were at first amused, then irritated. She’d heard of the warnings Jazz had been given where she was concerned. But he’d only had eyes for her. He’d flirted, smiled; he’d lie for her when she hid from her brothers at the gatherings and laugh if they became angry over it.
Once, long ago and far away, she’d been out there, dancing and laughing, secure and certain of her place.
Long ago and far away—
So long ago.
Now Kenni moved in the shadows, watching Jazz, tracking him. Once, she’d attended these weekend get-togethers with her brothers and cousins.
Kenni remembered laughing, flirting, being the social butterfly everyone called her that last summer she’d been home. And as she did all those things, Jazz had watched. He’d smiled when she caught him watching, winking and laughing at her brothers’ wrath.
She would have smiled at the memory if it didn’t hurt so bad.
She hadn’t flirted or danced just for the joy of it, and in the two years since she’d been back in Loudoun she’d learned nothing had changed really. She was still far too attracted to the man who had held such fascination for her when she was younger.
She avoided him, but that didn’t keep her from watching him now as he strode slowly past the bonfire in the center of the clearing. Like a conqueror, a warrior from centuries long gone, he strode past the flames, fierce and unconquerable. Untamed, sexy as hell, sexually renowned, and far too dominant for any woman to ever completely control.
Firelight flickered over his hard features, loved the broad planes and angles and shadowed them perfectly. He looked brooding, intent, and dangerous.
Jazz.
She’d watched him over the past two summers, trying to decide how closely he was tied to her family. Watched as he moved through the gatherings like a panther while everyone else mistook him for an overgrown tomcat. It was almost funny how they missed the animal that lurked around them, always watching, listening, waiting—determined to strike if an enemy showed itself.
At sixteen, almost seventeen, she’d been completely mesmerized by the twenty-three-year-old Jazz. Six and a half feet tall, neon-blue eyes, and rich, thick black hair. He was every girl’s dream, including hers.
She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was an adult and she’d learned just how dangerous it was to need anyone. Jazz was a weakness she simply couldn’t afford. No matter how intent he was on seducing her. But she knew she needed him. And she needed him for something far different from any physical desire that might torment her.
It actually surprised her that he’d stayed in Loudoun though. At thirty-three he’d never married, had no children. The young man had matured into a powerful, dangerously honed adult male cleverly disguised by laughter, jokes, and a facade of innocent, seductive fun.
He’d changed, though. He barely resembled the young man she had known in her teens.
Regret burned inside her chest at the knowledge that she had no idea what had caused those changes in him. She’d been away for eight years with no contact with friends or family and no way of knowing why the Jazz she had known, the one she’d been certain would one day be hers, had lost the gentle softness in his gaze.
Even after her return two years before there was no catching up, no asking why or how or when, because no one knew who she was. The identity she’d returned with would have no cause to know how he’d changed, or why. If anyone here knew who she had been, it would be a death sentence.
The fear of being detected was so strong—and growing stronger by the month now—that she sometimes felt she was becoming paranoid. That the sense of someone watching, waiting, had to be fear rather than fact.
This was the feeling that had her tracking Jazz, had her finally admitting she may need help, despite the terror the thought of revealing herself brought.
She’d been watching him for nearly three months, trying to learn how closely connected he was to her family and the mountain militia group known as the Kin. A group very few people who weren’t a part of were actually aware of.
She’d been back in Loudoun two years and still she hadn’t done what she’d come here to do. She was still hiding, still watching, still wishing …
Still searching for the reason her life had been destroyed. Admitting she couldn’t do it by herself hadn’t been easy. The thought of going to Jazz, or even Jessie’s husband, a former FBI agent, for help, never failed to send panic tearing through her.
She had no idea if these men, adults now, hardened and obviously far stronger than they had been when she’d actually known them, could still be trusted.
Their ties to the Kin had been strong, and those ties were apparent now, but they’d changed. She just couldn’t be certain how.
Jazz chose that moment to stop, laughing at something one of his friends called out to him, distracting her from her thoughts. He was amused, cheerful, and seemed to be as immersed in having fun as everyone else. But there was a tension in his shoulders, a tightness she’d glimpsed in the curve of his lips earlier.
He wasn’t having fun.
As she watched his head turned, his gaze raking along the crowd and the trees that bordered the clearing as though searching for someone, or something. He didn’t look long enough for her to determine who he was searching for, before returning his attention to the conversation. Of course, he knew she was watching him, she’d figured that out months before. Jazz was too well trained by the Kin not to be aware of it. And though she had been trained as well, she hadn’t spent nearly as much time being tutored as he had in the past.
The instincts he’d learned to use in the mountains were so well honed now that there was no way to watch him with anything other than lust and he not be well aware of it. Following him without him knowing it would be all but impossible, even for someone well versed in doing so. She was much better at running than hunting though. The prey rather than the predator.
Admitting she knew how to be no more than the prey was enough to piss her off, too. So much so that the decision to go to Jazz for help still had the power to rake her pride. The damned alley cat.
He was a wild man. He always had been. So tall and muscular and so savagely handsome, like some hero in those crazy romance books. He made a woman feel far too feminine and hungry inside. Her legs weakened, her stomach did all those jumpy acrobatics, and her mouth went dry while another part of her part became so damp and heated it was embarrassing.
Kenni was no different from the throng of lovers he’d had over the years when it came to her fascination with him. He was playful, teasing, seductive. And she was as drawn to him now as she had been that summer. Just as drawn to him as every other woman in his vicinity it seemed. And no woman had a chance at holding his attention, let alone stealing his heart.
No one woman lasted long in his bed, but none left it with a broken heart. Regretful, yes, but they all loved Jazz. He was their best friend and their secret crush, their confidant and their greatest sexual fantasy.
She would never be able to leave his bed and his life without a broken heart, Kenni knew. If she ever became weak enough to allow him to seduce her, then walking away without the agony ripping her apart would be impossible.
Then she’d just have to kill him.
And all that was moot if she didn’t first finish what began ten years ago.
She wasn’t going to do that until she could prove to herself that he wouldn’t betray her. She had little reason to trust the Kin. But then, it was impossible to trust a group that had been trying to kill her for ten years.