Sharply contrasting the color in his cheeks, the pale blue of his worn plaid shirt drew her attention. It was a shirt she had seen so often. Jax could barely believe he still had it. A shirt that looked so touchably soft, she nearly reached out...But, as in the past, she flexed her self control. She could do this. She was stronger than her desire, she reminded herself. She'd had enough practice resisting him in the past.

Resistance. One of those precious abilities that she'd definitely been blessed with. Resistance and self control. Her heart could, for all the world, feel like it was leaping in her chest. But she would never let it show. Be it training, or church, or natural ability, she had herself under control at all times. It drove a lot of her dates crazy. She wasn't the type to simper and gush over them. Her lack of insecurity in herself seemed to upset them too. Like she owed it to them to apologize for her existence. She rolled her eyes at the thought. At those men who puffed themselves up to be so important and special. But all they really were were men so insecure that they needed women to cower in a hole so they could feel worthwhile.

Intense as her upbringing had been, her strong willed mother refused to allow her daughter to feel anything less than confidence. "That's how they win," she'd often whispered to Jax as she brushed her long hair. Life taught her that she owed nothing to these men.

Not seeing Lance for five years made it a little easier to maintain her control. Tricking her own mind into believing that he was one of those men, those useless peacocks was easy. That distance had given her a strength she'd not expected. But, she knew that such a discipline was no longer a necessity. In fact, in the interest of her current case, it was a good idea to get quite close to him. Her captain encouraged it. Get close. Get intel. Get out.

Of course, it was wholly unprofessional and inappropriate for any actions to be fueled by her feelings. Undercover cops still had to lie. But they never made it out of their assignments unscathed. Emotional scars for life, she'd been told. But how much of this did she really need to report? How much did she need to tell her captain about the baggage she was carrying into this assignment?

"Lance, I'm here for more than one reason." Hesitation. A glance down and the empty glass. Let him see you falter for a second.

"Oh?" Suspicion confirmed. But that plurality of reasons...that "more" gave him hope that there were things they could discuss later. "And, how can I help you?" This was going to lead to more than one meeting, to more time spent together. More of these...he looked her up and down...outfits. Devils below, where did she learn to dress like that?!

He took another drink. A big one. He didn't know how to continue to think of her respectfully at the moment. And he hated himself for it. She was so much more than physical beauty. Anyone who couldn't see that wasn't worth her time. Starting at her hands seemed safe, so that's what he did. Brushing her hair out of her eyes. Picking at her jewelry. These little habits drew him like a moth to flame. No other choice than to gaze longingly at the dancing fire until he burned.

Jax casually got the bartender's attention and ordered another round. Her wimpy little sips up til now weren't going to cut it for this. The way Lance was gazing at her made it hard to keep her mind on the matter at hand.

Kip bored deeply into Jax’s eyes as he set fresh glasses on the bar. He was a little concerned about her. In the years he had known her, he'd never seen her blush. Who was this man? He was attractive, sure. And not in the peacock, studly way that the men who usually met Jax here were. He seemed more simple than that. Warm, attractive. Not leering at her in a disgusting way, but peering at her with respect. Almost adoration. Kip decided he liked this guy for her, and poured him a double.

Jax exhaled deeply as Kip walked away to chase more of the bubbly blondes off the premises. She wasn't sure what drew them in tonight, but she did appreciate that he was distracted. He knew her well enough to know she was probably in some deep trouble with the Greek god sitting here next to her.

Might as well jump into it now. "I need work. The precinct...they let me go…well, they actually fired me. Lance I-I've been blackballed across the next 5 states. I need cash, and I need it fast." She was a natural born liar. Always so easy to manipulate the fools. But lying to him? It was a practiced habit, and it made her heart ache.

His eyes tightened, almost imperceptibly. Finally, they could talk about this. "Okay…I'll have to get some of my guys to check your facts, of course. But, I know your history. Your work for my club was always exemplary. It shouldn't be a problem to find you...something...to do." This was not at all what he had expected. He'd thought she was going to ask for drugs. Maybe the stress of the job had gotten to her? Or maybe she wanted a false lead. Increase her credibility with the big wigs so she could get a promotion? But a job?

It had been driving him crazy since Lazlo told him--How the hell had she gotten fired? She was such a stickler for the rules. Such a by-the-book girl. She must have really messed up. She'd changed so much.

His mind was reeling.

Somehow he'd always thought of her as his. His Jax. His Jasmine. Sure. He'd been married to Marissa. But he never owned Marissa like he owned Jasmine. From everything he’d heard from her and seen of her tonight (and by God, seeing her was as intoxicating as his whiskey), she wasn’t his Jax anymore.

"Something?" The sharpness of the word snapped him out of his whiskey dreams of her belonging to him in every way. "I don't want grunt work, Kozlov." She allowed the tiniest bit of venom leech into her tone. Just enough to let him know that she meant business. "You know I am better than that." Her chin lifted.

A low chuckle seemed to rise from the depths. "You'll never change, will you Jax?" Covering her hand that had somehow found its way onto his forearm and ignoring the bliss, he continued. "It won't be easy, though. You know that. You know how my men are. Tell me something, Jax. Do you trust me?" He'd finally started to feel the liquid courage doing its thing.

Reflexively, she nodded. Against all reasoning, she did. Jax trusted Lance. A silly sentence in her mind. The cop trusted the bad boy. His hand was so warm over hers. Too warm. His blush was the only reason she didn't think to check for a fever.

Bad boy...such a flimsy term for one of the leading drug lords up and down the coast. In the few years since she'd seen him he quit his day job, and ventured down a life she barely expected. She'd watched his progress from afar. First as a beat cop on her patrols, and now as a detective. From everything she'd seen he was not the man she used to want.

She paused. "Wait. Who's Darius?" In the haze of seeing him, in the blur of the bar, in the dream of the whiskey, she'd not cottoned on to the name. She had to make it seem like she had no understanding of the intricacies of his operation. Darius the enforcer, the hothead, the second in command. From all the reports, Jax couldn't understand why Lance kept someone like that so close. The only reason she could ever come up with was that he needed someone to do the dirty work he had no stomach for. But even then, Lance always did what needed to be done. So to her, it seemed fishy.

"Darius? He said you dropped off the note with him..."

She chuckled. "That guy's name is Darius?! Jeez. I thought he'd have a more meaty name than that...Bruce or Brick or something."

Lance's laugh burst from him like the sharp wind of a sea storm making most of the other bar patrons jump in their seats. Ignoring the table of judgmental older ladies looking down their noses at them, Jax closed her eyes at the sound. There he was. There was her Lance. Her Professor Kozlov. The man against whom she compared all other men. God. Why did he have to laugh like that? Against all odds the man that she had loved so long ago still existed. How she knew it by just a laugh, she had no idea. But he was there.

All the long talks from those years ago, those long lunches, the office hours...Somehow after all that time spent together, one simple laugh told her that he was still in there somewhere. Still wanting her. Still...how had he said it? "I'll wait for as long as it takes for you to be ready for me." Waiting. He was still waiting.

God. Just remembering him saying those words made her ears heat up. He'd said he would still be waiting for her. But then he'd gone and become...well...this. A drug lord. That ridiculous term...a drug lord? The Godfather. The head of a cartel. A criminal. She shuddered at that thought. He betrayed her, when they didn't even have anything real. The second he’d taken that first step down that road to that lifestyle, she cut him off. She stopped seeing him. She put an end to it.

But her Lance was still in there.

How was she ever going to explain that in her report?