His to Take (11 page)

Of course, until he figured out how to stop the crazies at LOSS from chasing after
her, she wouldn’t be dancing for anyone. But one glance at her and Joaquin knew she’d
been born for it. Her soul would wither without it.

He still wanted to avenge Nate, but he needed to fix this for her, too. How and why
she’d become important he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t going to examine it, just admit that
she was now a priority. He would make it better for her, period.

She sent him a tremulous smile, her pillowy mouth curling up. “Thank you. You know
it’s really twisted that you abducted me, and yet I’ve had more meaningful conversation
with you than I had with my last three boyfriends put together. File me under Patty
Hearst.”

Joaquin laughed. Bailey was unpredictable—and he kind of liked that about her. The
last colleague he’d tried to date? Snorefest. He’d known what she’d do next way before
it had even crossed her mind. But this little ballerina seemed constantly full of
surprises.

“Maybe it would help if you think of me not as a kidnapper, but as someone who just
wants you to live to dance another day.”

Her eyes lit up. “I like that. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans before he grabbed
her again and kissed her breathless.

She took a half step toward him like she might want the same thing. Joaquin sucked
in a harsh breath. If he touched her now, he’d lose his damn mind and peel her clothes
off. As good as fucking her senseless sounded, she was too raw. She needed to process
the revelation of her identity. He didn’t need to give her something more to deal
with.

But even with perfectly sound logic rolling through his head, Joaquin reached down
to cup her face as she lifted it to him. Hell, he could drown in her eyes. She retained
an innate sweetness he could almost taste on his tongue . . .

Christ, listen to him. Next he’d be drinking red wine and reciting poetry while taking
long walks on the beach. What was up with that?

Still, he really didn’t give a shit how stupid he sounded as long as he got to taste
Bailey again.

He leaned in, closer, dropping his lips near hers. His cock stiffened. His heart pounded.
His breathing turned sharp. Just another inch until he had her mouth under his again . . .

A knock at the door startled him, and he jerked upright to find Thorpe barging inside
again. He swore. Jesus, this guy had the worst timing ever. Hell of a bad trait for
a Dungeon Master.

“What?” Joaquin barked, stepping close to Bailey. Shielding her as if he had to protect
her from Thorpe? Where was his head? Well, besides in her panties . . .

“Just had a call from Axel.” Thorpe sounded grim.

Joaquin looked over his shoulder at Bailey, but she met his gaze head-on. Despite
all the bad news she’d already had today, she hadn’t totally fallen apart. The woman
was made of stern stuff.

“You ready to hear this?” he asked, double-checking.

“If it has anything to do with the people looking for me, then yes. I need to get
back to my life so I can figure out what that’s meant to be.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she didn’t have to wade to a conclusion
all alone, but he stopped himself. After this case was over, probably in the next
day or two, it was unlikely he’d ever see her again. He might not be a peach, but
he refused to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Good,” Thorpe said into the silence, shutting the door behind him. “Here’s what I’ve
got. You have an elderly neighbor on your west?”

Bailey stepped up beside him and nodded. “Mrs. Lester. She’s kind of a busybody, but
she means well. Why?”

“Magically, Axel charmed her into talking.”

“No, she likes to talk.”

“Maybe that’s it, because Axel doesn’t have a charming side. Anyway, she’s been watching
your place all day. Seems she got suspicious when men started showing up at your house.
She said that you having so much male company was out of character.”

She didn’t deny it. “Except Blane. She’s used to seeing him.”

“Apparently, Mrs. Lester saw you snooping around yesterday, Joaquin. She got pretty
indignant when she didn’t see you leave and assumed you’d spent the night.” Thorpe
chuckled.

He didn’t see the humor. “Who else dropped by?”

“When Blane showed up looking for Bailey today, Mrs. Lester realized he had no idea
where she’d gone, so she went from annoyed to alarmed.”

“Mrs. Lester likes to bake cookies for Blane. She says he reminds her of her son.
Poor thing has no notion that he can’t keep his dance regimen and eat those cookies.”

“After Blane left, she kept watching your place. Then it got interesting . . .” He
grimaced. “A soldier she’d never seen before knocked on the door. She said she saw
him walk around the house and peek in the windows. She was about to call the police
until he knocked on her door and explained that he’s your uncle Robbie, home for a
surprise visit.”

“I don’t know a soldier, and I don’t have an uncle Robbie.” Horror spread across her
face.

“That’s what I thought. Axel asked her to describe your ‘uncle’s’ uniform. What she
said was bang on with what Callie had seen before. They sound exactly like the uniforms
the nut jobs of LOSS wear.”

So their speculations had been right. Someone who’d tried to dig up Aslanov’s research
and silence Callie had turned their attention to the scientist’s long-lost daughter.
That didn’t particularly make Joaquin feel better. “Thanks for the confirmation, man.
It’s what we expected. Did anyone send a sketch artist to Mrs. Lester so we can try
to ID this guy?”

“Already on it,” Thorpe said. “We should have something by tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t exactly set me at ease that someone snooped around my house.” Bailey’s
voice sounded a little thin, thready. Afraid.

“It gets worse.” Thorpe whipped out his phone and opened his text messages. A small
collection from Axel contained pictures of the inside of Bailey’s little quirky, historic-charm
house. It had been trashed—every room, every surface, every nook and cranny. All of
it turned upside down and inside out. A broken chair, papers scattered, dishes in
shards.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The silent devastation all over her face
was like a mule kick to the gut. “Why?”

“All of the previous victims’ houses have been thoroughly searched. They’re looking
for whatever they can find about the victim and her ties to Aslanov’s research. And
since you weren’t home, I’m sure they poked around for e-mails or travel arrangements—anything
to indicate where you might be. You’re next on their list.” Without thought, Joaquin
wrapped his arm around her.

“But they don’t know I’m Tatiana Aslanov.”

“None of the other women they’ve slaughtered were, and that didn’t stop them.”

Bailey began quaking against him. “Did Mrs. Lester see who did this?”

“We’re speculating ‘Uncle Robbie’ is the culprit, but she didn’t see him enter the
house, so not definitively,” Thorpe murmured, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Whoever it was also didn’t leave behind any prints to identify him. The police checked.
They only found yours and Joaquin’s.” Another damn dead end.

Chances were that “Uncle Robbie” was also the killer or his right-hand man. Either
way, he was a person of great interest, worth hunting down and grilling. They had
to figure out who the hell he was.

Joaquin took Bailey’s face in his hands. “Look at me. I won’t let them hurt you, baby
girl. I’ll figure out how to stop them.”

“We will,” she insisted. “If these bastards are ruining my life, I’m going to help
put a stop to them.”

Gumption and guts—she had both. He liked that about her. But he wasn’t about to have
her in more danger than she already was. “I’ve got it.”

“The best thing you can do is stay here and keep your profile low,” Thorpe advised.
“It kept Callie alive for four years.”

Bailey didn’t look happy with that advice, since she pursed her lips together stubbornly,
but she didn’t argue. Yet. But despite her fear, Joaquin wasn’t sure how long he could
keep Bailey from jumping into the battle to fight for her tomorrows.

B
AILEY paced the bedroom. Joaquin kept walking in and out with Sean and Thorpe. They’d
ask questions, then leave again. That didn’t do anything to cure her nerves. Then
Axel arrived from Houston to show her the pictures of her devastated house in person.
The images freaked her out all over again. Just knowing that someone who wanted to
kill her had been in her home made her tremble with fear.

But her volcanic attraction to Joaquin scared her almost as much. Every time she turned
around he was there, hovering, his hazel eyes dark with concern and desire. Though
he hadn’t touched her in hours, he made her yearn. She could still feel his lips shoving
hers wide apart, his tongue surging deep, his hot fingers curling around her breast,
his body heavy as he covered her own and ground his cock against her needy flesh.
God, he was big all over.

It was official. She’d gone crazy, lusting dangerously after a guy she’d known less
than twenty-four hours, one who had ripped her entire world apart. On the other hand,
he was the first person in her life to be truly honest about everything—her identity,
the killers on the loose, the lengths they’d go to in order to capture her . . . the
fact that he wanted her.

Pacing, Bailey swallowed and cast her nervous gaze to the door again. Would he come
back to this bedroom tonight and want to finish what they’d started earlier? If so,
what would she do? She’d never experienced anything like him. Their sparring sent
her head buzzing, her blood humming. She wanted more.

Bailey glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nearly eleven o’clock. Most likely,
she’d be alone tonight. That should make her happy, and she was perversely pissed
off that it didn’t.

Behind her, the latch clicked suddenly. The door opened. Bailey whirled around, her
heart pounding. Instead of Joaquin in the opening, she was a bit let down to find
Callie. The heiress wore a lovely red corset-looking top that had her breasts nearly
spilling over and a skirt so short it bordered indecent. She had the sort of soft
curves Bailey had always wished for. But a glance down at her own chest confirmed
that the Boob Fairy had passed her by.

“Hi,” Callie said softly. “Want some company?”

It beat the hell out of wondering what to do next. “Sure. Come on in.”

“Sean and Thorpe caught me up on everything that’s happened in the last few hours.”
Callie came closer, surprisingly graceful on stilettos. “I’ve been through it myself,
so I really do understand. If you need an ear . . . I’m here.”

“Thank you. I—”
Have no idea what to say.
Besides murderous bad guys, Bailey had nothing on her mind except Joaquin. She really
couldn’t expect the woman to help her sort out her confusion about how she felt. “It
is what it is.”

Callie shrugged. “That’s one way of looking at it. But now that you know who’s after
you and why, would you rather be anywhere but here?”

Zing
. The brunette didn’t mess around or mince words. “No. It might chafe me to be away
from home, dance, and my friends, but here is safe.”

“It is. I’m living proof of that. I’m sure you’re worried about the men chasing you.”

“I’d be an idiot not to be.”

“True, but you can’t do anything about them right now,” Callie pointed out. “Sean,
Thorpe, and Axel have this place on lockdown. I don’t know Joaquin well, but he seems
as paranoid—excuse me, cautious”—she rolled her eyes with a hint of humor— “as the
rest of them.”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “It’s not Joaquin’s fault that LOSS wants information
they think I have. I don’t, but I doubt they’d ever believe that.”

“Nope. They’d torture you until they felt sure you’d coughed up whatever you knew,
then they’d end you.”

Bailey shuddered. “I know. I saw the pictures.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you focus on that crap. You hungry?”

“No. Joaquin keeps bringing me meals that would be a lot for even him to eat, then
frowning at me for not inhaling the whole feast.”

Callie laughed. “Sean and Thorpe probably had a hand in that. They’re convinced I
don’t eat enough to keep a flea alive, too. The pair of them are always trying to
tempt me with some savory or sweet dish. But I have my ways of distracting them.”

At her wink, Bailey wasn’t sure whether to gasp or giggle. “Neither looks like they’d
be easily led around by their guy parts.”

“Not often,” Callie admitted. “Sean compromises a little. And under Thorpe’s hard-ass
exterior, there’s a softie only I get to see.”

Her blue eyes, rimmed in charcoal, twinkled. A smile curled her rosy lips. But it
wasn’t Callie’s makeup or anything she wore that made her beautiful; it was her joy.
The woman glowed with it. Not only did Callie have a man who knew and loved her through
and through, she was doubly lucky to have two. That sparkling rock on her finger was
a symbol of Sean’s claim, and she seemed every bit as smitten with the FBI agent as
she was with her former boss. Bailey didn’t know a lot about that relationship, but
she’d bet the bling around Callie’s neck was Thorpe’s collar.

“How about . . .” Callie tilted her head to one side, studying her. “You’ve had a
hell of a day. Want to get out of this room for a bit?”

That sounded like heaven. Being cooped up in this one space for twelve hours, she
was getting a case of cabin fever. But . . . “Is it safe?”

“Sure. We won’t leave the place or anything. Maybe just grab a glass of wine?”

Even better. She rarely allowed herself an alcoholic treat. The extra calories showed
when she wore only a leotard. But right now, as she wondered when—or if—she’d ever
resume her normal life to put on spandex or dance for a crowd again, booze sounded
fabulous.

“Please,” Bailey all but begged. “I’m so keyed up.”

“I totally understand that. Follow me.” Callie led her out the door and down a long
hall.

Odd, but it didn’t look like any house Bailey had ever seen. More industrial, perhaps.
But maybe that was the stained concrete floors and long hallway. Then again, some
people liked that sort of thing.

She glanced around, waiting for Joaquin to jump out of a corner or one of the other
guys to follow them. “They’re really going to turn me loose without an armed escort?”

The woman’s heels clicked down the hall as she cast a surprised glance over her shoulder.
“You’re with me. Besides, there are security cameras all over this club. They’ll be
watching and they’ll know immediately if something is wrong.”

“Club?” Though Bailey kept walking, everything inside her froze. She could only think
of one club Sean, Callie, and Thorpe would all spend time in.

Callie opened a portal that led to another hall, this one with doors lining the left
of the corridor. Each of the portals was closed and the lights overhead turned down
low. “You didn’t know?”

“Are you saying we’re—”

“Pet?” A male voice farther down the hall and beyond an open door drawled.

Callie dashed to the portal. “Yes, Sir?”

Bailey came up behind her to find Thorpe sitting in what looked like his office, behind
an enormous desk. Sean lounged opposite in a plush chair, holding a tumbler of Scotch.

“Where are you taking Joaquin’s guest, lovely?” her fiancé asked with a nonchalance
Bailey didn’t believe at all.

“Did you have Joaquin’s permission to remove her from her room?” Thorpe sent her a
smile that looked a lot like a challenge.

“She wants some fresh air. I promised her a glass of wine. She’s had a terrible day.”

They both looked to Bailey for confirmation, their gazes a silent demand. She wondered
how the hell Callie didn’t stammer or falter under the weight of those two intent
stares.

“I’m just really nervous, worried . . .” Bailey didn’t know how else to describe the
restless edge of fear biting into her.

Sean nodded, then sipped at his drink, as if weighing his words. “You know, Bailey,
that bad things await you outside these walls. You wouldn’t use my lovely’s good heart
to try to escape now, would you?”

Ouch.
He might look like the more easygoing of the two, but Bailey was beginning to think
that looks could be deceiving.

“No. I have no interest in playing hide-and-go-seek with ruthless psychopaths bent
on my destruction. I swear.”

The two men exchanged a look before Thorpe nodded in permission, then addressed Callie
again. “I’ll be letting Axel know you’re on the floor. Don’t dawdle and don’t mingle.
Keep Bailey behind the bar and away from prying eyes. No one needs to see her.”

“Absolutely,” Callie promised. “The last thing I want is someone recognizing her and
showing up to ruin my wedding.”

At that, Sean smiled. “I don’t care if the ceiling is coming down and there are twenty
terrorists chasing us. You’re not wriggling away from the altar until you’re my wife.”

“I’d hold the ceiling up and shoot them myself.” Callie grinned.

The men laughed, then Thorpe called back to them. “Ten minutes. You two come back
by then or—”

“I have a clear picture of the ‘or,’ Sir. You’ve made that crystal over the last few
months.”

He smiled smugly. “Excellent.”

As Callie turned away with a giggle, Bailey just blinked. She still was a little stunned
by their unusual relationship.

“Who else knows? About the three of you, I mean?” Bailey murmured as they walked away.
She’d heard whispers in the press, but never imagined it was more than innuendo or
rumor.

Callie shrugged. “We don’t flaunt our relationship. Of course, we don’t go far to
hide it, either. Sean likes public displays of affection, so when we’re all out, he’s
more likely to hold my hand or kiss me. Thorpe is very private. He usually smiles
at me in public. Sometimes he puts an arm around me or kisses my forehead. That can
be construed in a lot of ways.”

Wow. It sounded complicated to Bailey, but she had enough to worry about in her own
life without tangling her brain up in the bride-to-be’s.

At the end of the latest hall, Callie stopped before another door and pushed it open
as if it weighed a ton. As she held it, Bailey slipped under her arm and into an open
area. The space was dark and loud—and obviously public.

“Are we seriously in Club Dominion?” she shouted over what sounded suspiciously like
people striking flesh, followed by moaning.

Callie nodded. “Where did you think we were?”

“At your house or . . .”

Over the din of the music, Callie laughed. “No. The house isn’t nearly as secure as
this place. Besides, Sean and Thorpe wanted to keep an eye on you and Joaquin. There’s
no place better for observation than here.” Reaching back, she grabbed Bailey’s hand.
“Look down so your face is hidden.”

Bailey didn’t question that suggestion. She jerked her gaze down and followed as the
other woman led her along a shadowed walkway. Then they headed through a flap that
swung back and forth on a hinge. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a bar.
People stood behind it, drinking mostly water bottles or cans of soda. The slaps of
leather and the sounds of both pleasure and pain sounded louder now. The reality clicked
with Bailey then.

“Holy cow . . .”

Callie spun her away from the bar and the crowd of people beyond, putting them at
their backs. “You okay?”

Define “okay.”
Bailey’s heart pounded. Joaquin had brought her to a BDSM club where people . . .
did whatever it was they did to spice up their sex lives? Oh, shit. He had. They were
surrounded by sex. God, she could even smell it in the air.

“Any particular wine you like?”

“Um . . .” Her brain wouldn’t work. Bailey desperately wanted to turn around and see
what she’d always been wretchedly curious about. “Anything white.”

“Sure.” She sounded amused.

Vaguely, Bailey heard Callie uncork a bottle, followed by the clinking of a glass
and the splash of liquid. Instead of paying attention, she kept trying to peek over
her shoulder at everyone and everything behind her. Surely, no one here would be a
crazy foot soldier for LOSS. She had no ties to Dominion or to Dallas. Why would anyone
think to look for her here? It made her feel brave enough to turn to get a better
look.

A big man wearing all leather had a woman in a G-string folded over his lap. He landed
slow whacks of his palm onto her bright-red butt. After each, she bit her lip, then
her lips moved as she apparently counted. Beyond those two, a vaguely familiar man
toyed with a gorgeous woman’s nipples, then clamped them with dangling jewels that
were almost as gaudy as the wedding ring on her finger. A forty-something woman dressed
in wickedly tall thigh-high boots dragged two young men around by leashes. Bailey
stared, not sure she even blinked.

“Is this all new for you?” Callie murmured, handing her a glass.

A million replies raced through her head, but she could only wrap her brain around
one. “Yeah.”

The other woman laughed. “I thought so. We’ve got a few minutes left. Want to observe
from somewhere you can’t be seen?”

Bailey bit her lip. She shouldn’t. She didn’t need more curiosity about BDSM or sex
right now. She didn’t need to wonder why Joaquin had brought her here. She especially
didn’t need that pang of desire cramping low in her belly.

“Please.” She sipped at her wine, not really aware of the taste, other than the fact
that it landed light and fruity on her tongue.

“You got it. We just can’t be too late. I’ll risk five minutes, though. It’s worth
the spanking.”

Bailey looked at the man smacking the woman’s ass, then back to Callie. “You like
that?”

She gave a secretive smile. “Given by the right man in the right way, it’s an incredible
pleasure.”

Frowning, Bailey looked at the heiress. She supposed it made sense. Callie had lived
here for four years. She was in love with Thorpe, a man who gave even someone with
Bailey’s limited knowledge an obvious Dom vibe. She supposed Sean must have a similar
bent because, while seemingly quieter on the outside, he’d also given off an air of
authority.