Page 100 of Lethal Danger

But Jazz was about to gag if she had to keep pretending to buy it. Desmond Patch may be one of the most convincing con men she’d met, but what he said didn’t make any sense. It was too unbelievable.

“I can see you still have doubts.”

Got that right.

“And I can see that for you, your best life would mean being surrounded by people who love you.”

Her breath caught. How did he know that?

“The pursuit of the best life I spoke of, learning from the stars and leaving worldly cares behind—we do that together, Jazz.” His mouth curved in a closed smile that carried so much sweetness and understanding that it caused an ache in her chest. “I, too, know what it is to search for a family. For people who will love you for who you are. Forever.”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes gripping her. “That is what your best life will be here, Jazz. We are your family. We are the people who understand you and love you like no one else.”

With every word, Jazz’s pulse thumped a little harder and faster. Hope ballooned around her heart, increasing the ache there as he held her in his gaze.

“I can see how special you are, Jazz. You belong with us. That is why you haven’t found your home yet. Why you’ve always been rejected and hurt by everyone you’ve given your heart to.”

How could he know? Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at him, still unable to look away.

It was like his dark eyes were piercing her soul, seeing all her pain and wounds laid bare. And he wanted to heal every one of them.

“Join us, Jazz.” His voice deepened and smoothed even more. “Give us the opportunity to prove our love to you. I promise you will not be disappointed.” He stood and moved closer to her, reaching down to lift her hand from her lap.

The touch, though warm and almost paternal, broke the spell.

A spell was what it had to be. Or something like hypnosis.

Wow. Hawthorne had said Patch was charismatic, but this was ridiculous.

The man had taken her nearly to the point of tears by spitballing guesses that could’ve been accurate for ninety percent of the human population. Everyone had been rejected by people they’d loved. Lucky guess for him that Jazz had tasted the pain of rejection more than most. He might’ve managed to buy her soul and gain all her financial assets with that tactic.

The man was more than a con artist. He was a magician. A magician who stole and used up lives, from what she’d gathered from this meeting and Hawthorne.

But he wasn’t going to get hers.

She blinked to clear away the moisture and resisted the urge to pull back from the thumb caressing her hand in an increasingly less paternal way. She looked up at him with what she hoped was an innocent expression. “Thank you. That helps a lot.”

She bit her lip and extracted her hand to brush her hair behind her ear. “But I’m still a little concerned about some things I’ve heard in the news.”

“Indeed?” He chose a new spot to sit. Right next to her on the too-small sofa. The position brought his face close enough that she could see he had some wrinkles to go with the gray streaks in his black hair. He had to be at least twenty years older than her, but that apparently wasn’t going to stop him from trying to get cozy. He must think he was charming, too.

She pretended not to see through his player move and faked a concerned expression. “I’ve heard the police are looking into Best Life in relation to the awful things happening at the Tri-City Fair. I heard they think someone here might be involved?”

A flicker sparked in his eyes before he doused it. Guess he hadn’t seen that topic coming. “Someone found a Best Life pin at the fairgrounds, but I explained to the police that those pins could be in the possession of anyone who ever stayed here, even for a brief time.”

Did Desmond know Jazz was the one who’d found the pin with her K-9? Could he have hired hitmen to silence her because of it? He’d have enough money, given how he somehow managed to convince everyone who joined the cult to hand over all their financial assets. And he’d have a lot at stake if it was proven he was behind the sabotage and her aunt’s murder.

“No one in the Best Life community is guilty of any violence, I assure you. Violence is the antithesis of everything we stand for.” Said the man with enforcers who held people hostage and, if she’d read between the lines of Hawthorne’s words correctly, treated kids roughly.

She nodded, pretending to believe him. “I’m only concerned because…well, my aunt. She was the one who was killed in the explosion at the Skyride.”

“Oh, Jazz.” The creep used the excuse of her grief to take her hand again, this time between both of his.

She fought the urge to pull away or break his arm.

“I’m so sorry. That is truly awful. This is the kind of thing that we can help you through. If you’ll let us.”

“Even though she died at the fair? I heard you don’t like the fair.” Jazz injected her voice with a thickness that suggested tears, rather than accusation. “That you think it’s bad or something.”

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