Page 49 of Lethal Danger

Career Army. Was that the reason for the pain tightening her features? Maybe the lifestyle? Wasn’t easy on kids, from what he’d seen among his Marine buddies who had families. “Did you move around a lot as a child?”

“Sure. Typical Army brat.” She took a long drink, looking away again. She lowered the thermos and set it on the bench. “Until my dad figured out he didn’t have to take me along at all.”

Ouch. Hawthorne hid a wince, not sure if he should ask what that meant.

“But in a way it was better, I guess.” Her tone lifted slightly. “That’s when I found my first home. The fair.” A partial smile lifted her lips, her eyes seeming to gaze far off at something not in front of them.

“He left you there?”

Her glance hopped to Hawthorne’s face, as if surprised to see him. “Oh. Not at the fair.” She chuckled. “Not exactly. He sent me to live with my aunt and uncle. The mighty Cracklens of Minneapolis.”

“Oh. That’s nice you had family that wanted to host you.”

She laughed, sardonic. “They never wanted to. I’m still not sure how my dad got them to agree to it. Aunt Joan was his sister, so maybe she felt some sense of obligation? But I found Nevaeh here, my best friend. Spent more time with her family than mine. Summers were the best.”

A wistful smile played on Jazz’s lips. “Nevaeh and I would run all over the fairgrounds, playing games and getting into trouble. The vendors took us under their wings and gave us treats and things. Aunt Joan was busy, so she let us have complete freedom.”

Now that was something Hawthorne could understand. Something he’d missed in the latter half of his childhood. The freedom to be a kid.

Sounded like she’d had an idyllic childhood. If he ignored the pain that had been so evident as she told the earlier parts of her story. And the sense of dysfunction and lack of stability that undergirded her tale of even the happy times.

A well-loved child didn’t need to escape to a fair with a friend and a bunch of strangers to find belonging.

The best heroes and heroines were often wrought through painful histories. But the real Jazz Lamont wasn’t a fictional character. She was a lovely person he found himself wishing he could help somehow. Maybe alleviate some of her pain.

“And now she’s gone, too.” Jazz’s eyes fixed on some distant point again.

It took Hawthorne a second to remember who she’d been talking about a moment ago. Her aunt. “I’m sorry, Jazz.”

She drew in a breath and rolled her shoulders back as if trying to rid herself of some burden. The eyes that turned on him were slightly moist. “I should be the one apologizing for dumping so much on you.” She gave him a shaky smile. “I have no idea why I spilled my whole life history like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to know, remember?”

Her brow furrowed as she peered at him. “You’re a good listener. I suppose you use that on all your interview subjects for your writing. Like a superpower.”

He laughed. “Never thought of it that way, but I wouldn’t mind having a superpower.” He sobered. “I am sorry about your aunt.”

Jazz pressed her mouth into a firm line and looked unseeingly past him again. “She dedicated her life to the fair. In a way, I owe her for making it what it was. And I can’t let all those years of work she poured into the fair be for nothing. I can’t let anyone destroy it now.”

Admiration warmed Hawthorne’s chest—that and a little thrill from seeing an ideal heroine come to life in front of his eyes. “What are you going to do?” He felt as if he were asking his character the question, but she was standing in front of him, real as life.

“I’m going to figure out who did this and make them stop.”

He would’ve written the line as bring them to justice, but he couldn’t ask for more heroic spirit and spunky determination than she embodied.

“After I beat you to the top again.” She started for the climbing wall.

He grinned as he followed. She was a perfect blend of serious and tough but fun and playful. Full of life and energy, despite the troubled background that haunted her. “Hey, I was just getting warmed up. Didn’t want you to feel badly right out of the gate.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Her laughter said she didn’t believe him. “What would you say if I told you I am not left-handed?” She dramatically switched the hand gripping the rope from her left to her right, holding the supposedly useless left appendage in the air.

He laughed so hard at the unexpected movie reference to The Princess Bride that she got in one of her jumpstarts again before he’d left the ground.

He pushed to catch up, cutting his previous climbing record to a new personal best, he was pretty sure. But he still touched the floor after her, once again.

She threw him a brilliant grin as soon as he landed.

An odd sensation pinged through his chest. Probably because he was about to have a heart attack. He held up a hand. “I know.” He breathed much more heavily than he should need to. “Five out of five.”

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