His to Take (19 page)

“Ahead of you,” Stone said. “He’s been identified as Joseph McKeevy. He’s a known,
longtime member of LOSS. He’s a real asswipe, by all accounts. He’s a known felon
with a couple of armed robbery charges on his rap sheet. But he has a special affinity
for crimes against women. He was convicted as a minor for raping a friend of his younger
sister’s. After a few years in juvie, they released him, but he turned out to be a
repeat offender. He was the prime suspect in a string of torture/rape/murder cases
near his hometown of Springfield, Missouri. He disappeared into Mexico for a while.
We think he spent time in Juárez, contributing to the body count of women assaulted
and snuffed out before being buried in the desert. He sneaked back into the country
a few years ago. I’m guessing LOSS has given him the green light to continue his sick
ways in the name of breaking up the USA. Great group of folks.”

“Any open warrants on him?” Joaquin asked.

“Please . . .” Stone rolled his eyes. “He’s been wanted for years. LOSS has managed
to shuffle him around and hide him well. If I had to guess, I’d say they take good
care of their number one assassin. Getting our hands on him won’t be easy.”

“Any idea where he is now? Still in Houston?”

“This morning, a traffic cam saw him leaving the city, getting onto 45 northbound.”

Toward Dallas. Joaquin felt as if Stone had punched him in the chest. His heart stuttered.
He couldn’t breathe. Why would McKeevy be heading to Dallas? His worst fear was that
this sick fuck was on the loose and looking for Bailey, with the idea of making her
his next victim.

Everything in Joaquin’s body rebelled. He’d do whatever he must to keep her safe.
Yeah, he wanted to nail the asshole who’d killed Nate. But his gut told him that ambition
wasn’t just about avenging his friend. If anything happened to Bailey . . . God, he
couldn’t even think it.

“I’ll be right back.” Sean disappeared with the sketch.

“Can you give us a minute?” Stone said to Hunter, who shrugged, then followed Sean.

“Now what?” Joaquin asked the moment he and Stone were alone in Thorpe’s office.

The muscled tech guy shrugged without a hint of apology. “That meeting I told you
about, the one to determine whether you’d been fired for misappropriating government
resources to work your personal case?”

Joaquin froze. “Yeah?”

“You came out on the losing end of that. Sorry, man.”

He’d been fired.
Fuck.
Seriously?
But Stone’s expression didn’t give him any hope the news had been a joke.

Work had been his life for the last decade. He couldn’t remember a time in his adult
life when he hadn’t been preparing for a case or working undercover on one. He’d shoved
aside anything that looked like a personal life to immerse himself in law enforcement.
After one “misstep” to solve a friend’s murder and keep women from dying, he’d been
tossed out.

He sighed, feeling his entire body sag. No idea what the hell to do with his life
now. “I wish the news had been better, but thanks for giving it to me straight.”

Stone shrugged his beefy shoulders. “That’s how I’d want it, too. What will you do
next?”

No idea. Really, he had nothing. Yeah, he had no place of employment anymore, but
he also had no responsibilities to live up to. His apartment was a shithole, mostly
because he was never there enough to care what it looked like. Every place he’d ever
had he had viewed as temporary. He certainly didn’t have a wife or girlfriend who’d
care if he couldn’t afford to take her out on Saturday night. No kids to feed and
clothe and take to the doctor. He’d been socking away more than half his income for
a decade. He could afford to live for years without working again. In the past, not
having a caseload would have bugged the shit out of his sense of purpose. Now? Well,
it gave him more time to make whoever had killed Nate pay. And to keep Bailey safe.

“Solve this case. Put some well-deserving assholes behind bars. Then . . . I’ll figure
it out.” Finding a new job was another problem to be handled in the future. The danger
to Bailey stared him in the face now. No contest what was more important.

Behind him, the door to the office opened again, and Sean strode in like a man with
purpose, Hunter right on his heels. They both looked agitated.

“We may have another development,” Sean said as he rounded the desk and sat again.

Callie drifted into the office, looking somewhere between worried and absolutely furious.
“That bastard is going to screw up our wedding, isn’t he?”

What the hell was Callie talking about? Joaquin turned to peer at her with a questioning
glance.

“Lovely . . .” Sean stood again and reached out a hand to her.

With a sigh, Callie went to him and put her palm in his. The man pulled her close,
then settled back into Thorpe’s chair, guiding her down into his lap.

“I’ve worked really hard to plan this event,” she pointed out.

“You should be more worried about why he’s trying to crash it.”

“Who?” Joaquin butted in. “Someone I need to know about?”

Sean tossed the police sketch back his way. “McKeevy. We’ve made every vendor working
the wedding submit bio information for every employee and contractor scheduled to
be at the event. Looks like he was hired last week to be one of the photographer’s
assistants when the other one mysteriously vanished. He’s going by the name Timothy
Smith.”

“That’s really fucking creative,” Stone drawled.

The assassin’s assumed name was the least of Joaquin’s worries, especially when Sean
set a picture on the desk—an eerie match for the police sketch. “Callie had this in
her files. I think he’s a dead ringer.”

Agreed. “You think he has any idea Bailey is here at Dominion? Or do you suspect he’s
planning some nefarious shit at your wedding?”

“Could be either.” And Sean looked absolutely livid about that.

“I eluded these people for years. I think it’s far more likely he’s got vengeance
on his mind and wants to hurt me,” Callie said. “How could he possibly know Bailey’s
whereabouts?”

“We’ve been very careful about that,” Sean added.

“Except the night the girls went to the front of the club while the members were playing.
Do we have a list of who was there that night?”

“Yeah. I’ll have Axel pull that. In the meantime, show this sketch to Bailey. Maybe
she saw this guy prowling around her house or her dance company before you intervened.
And it’s a long shot, but maybe, if he was involved in her family’s death in any way,
his face will trigger her memories.”

Joaquin took the sketch from Sean, wishing like hell he could spare Bailey all this
danger and drama and upheaval. Right now, he’d rather not show her the face of a dangerous
killer, then ask her questions about her distant past. She’d been so fragile tonight.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to break her; the investigator in him should have
sensed her weakness and pounced for blood. But the man in his skin now couldn’t bear
to hurt her anymore.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any other option if he wanted to keep her safe.

“I’m on it. I’ll let you know what she says. Anything else?”

Sean shook his head.

“Not from me.” Stone stood. “I’m heading down the street. I know a stripper who will
give me a decent blow job for fifty bucks. She doesn’t usually work on Tuesdays. See
you around.”

As he disappeared, Sean made his way to the door with Callie in tow, holding back
a laugh, then looked at Hunter. “Great coworker you’ve got.”

“Tell me about it.” Hunter scoffed. “Jack hires really brilliant former operatives,
but some have the personality of a bleeding hemorrhoid.”

“The way your brother tells it, yours isn’t much better,” Sean teased.

“Yeah? Logan can kiss my ass, too.”

The two men laughed before Sean stuck out his hand to Hunter. “Thanks for coming to
help make Thorpe’s day special. I think Callie and I are going to round up the old
man so he and I can tuck our lovely into bed.”

She smiled as if nothing would make her happier.

Hunter shook his hand. “Thanks for the invite. I’m going to take my wife and find
a hotel. It’s too late to drive back tonight.”

“Here.” Sean fished into his pocket and tugged out a set of keys. “Crash at the house.
There are six bedrooms. Thorpe, Callie, and I won’t be far behind you. If you see
your brother, tell him that he and Tara are welcome there, too. Xander, London, and
Javier are going to stay.”

“You sure?”

“What are friends for?”

Hunter pocketed the keys. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be back in the morning,” Sean said to Joaquin. “If you need anything—”

“I have your number.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Sean and Callie left then, presumably to find Thorpe so they could cuddle up for the
night. Joaquin felt a bit of envy. What would it be like to have a house to share
with loved ones? To invite friends to crash there for a night? To spread out and call
some place home?

“Do me a favor?” Hunter said now that the two of them were alone.

“What?”

“I know you have to see Bailey tonight and run that sketch by her. Go easy.”

“You’re just full of ‘helpful’ advice tonight.” His brother-in-law’s attitude crawled
up his back. “Obviously, you think I’m an unfeeling bastard. Why don’t you do me a
favor? Give it a rest until you know who you’re dealing with.”

Hunter looked equally annoyed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m pretty sure
I already know, and I wouldn’t have gone with unfeeling bastard. But since you did,
it’ll work. It pretty much describes how you’ve behaved.”

“You don’t understand the situ—”

“I do. Look, you lost a parent. It hurt. I get it. I lost my mom, too, and it—”

“Hold that fucking speech right there.” Joaquin’s anger climbed ten notches. He never
talked about his dad—and he refused to start now. “I’m talking about Bailey. My father’s
death isn’t relevant to that.”

“According to Kata, it’s relevant to everything. But I guess you have your head that
far up your ass because you like the smell. Whatever, man.” Hunter shrugged. “Bailey
is not my responsibility, and I know Thorpe is already up in your business about her.
Trust me when I tell you I’ll encourage him to stay there.”

“First, you warn me away from my own sister, and now you’re trying to tell me what
to say to . . .” What was Bailey to him? More than his captive. But she wasn’t his
girlfriend. Or his lover. He wanted to do more than protect her. He’d never even considered
forever, yet he couldn’t imagine letting her go. “Bailey?”

“I’m not trying to give you a hard time, just give you a hard truth. She wants you.
She’s attached to you. You’ve already put her through a lot. If you’re just going
to fuck-and-run, back off now. You’ll crush her if you don’t.”

Hunter didn’t wait for his reply, just left the room. Joaquin stared into the open,
empty hall, guilt a hot, stinging sludge in his veins. Would his father be proud of
him today? The thought came out of nowhere, but Joaquin didn’t even have to think
about the answer.

No.

Eduardo Muñoz had worked hard. He’d even given his life for his job, but he’d been
a family man through and through. He’d loved his wife and adored his children. Every
day, he’d let them know how much he cared. Joaquin remembered the special father-son
summer days they’d shared. His father could have chosen to do anything with that time—beer
with buddies, patrolling a crime-ridden neighborhood—but he’d chosen to spend it with
his son. Dad would never have approved of Joaquin’s workaholic ways. Eduardo would
have approved of the way he’d pushed all family and friends aside even less.

Joaquin hated Hunter in that moment for making him realize it.

With a curse, he grabbed the sketch and photo from Thorpe’s desk and exited the room,
taking a sharp left down the hall to Bailey’s room. He glanced at his watch. Nearly
an hour had passed. Perfect timing.

As he neared the door, he drew in a deep breath to calm his anger and center himself.
Hunter was right about Bailey, too. The girl didn’t need more shit, and Joaquin had
no doubt more would come her way before the case was closed. He refused to cause her
more pain than necessary.

Time to decide . . . fish or cut bait? Pursue her and try his hand at something beyond
sex or strictly protect her and keep his distance.

Joaquin knew what his gut was telling him as he neared her bedroom door. As he raised
his fist to knock, he heard wrenching sobs inside. Fuck knocking. He had to get to
her now. It was his responsibility to give her what she needed and make her world
right.

T
HE door to her bedroom rattled suddenly. Bailey sat up as Joaquin barreled inside,
holding a piece of paper, his face troubled.

She wiped her tears from her eyes and cheeks, wishing she could hide her red nose
and swollen eyes. “What?”

He set the piece of paper on the dresser just inside the door and headed unerringly
in her direction. “Baby girl . . .”

His pity hurt. Joaquin wasn’t an uncomplicated man. He wasn’t simple to understand—or
get along with. But he’d risked everything to keep her safe, no denying that. He’d
let her decide if she wanted to make the next move in their odd dance when she knew
damn well he hated not having control. The way he looked at her right now, as if he
would part the seas and scorch the earth just to reach her, made Bailey’s heart catch.

So, so dangerous . . .

He sat beside her, cupping her cheeks, his intent expression telling her that no one
else in the world mattered right now. “Talk to me.”

And say what? “Nothing to discuss.”

“Bailey, I know you feel alone, but you’re not.”

Lord, he’d figured her out so easily. She probably ought to be embarrassed, but she
simply felt too sad to care.

He peered down into her eyes, as if trying to crawl inside her head and read her every
thought. His hazel eyes looked so green beside that thick fringe of his black lashes.
They were almost too beautiful for a man that rugged. Normally, she fell into his
glittering gaze all too easily. Tonight, the compassion in those depths was too hard
to take.

“I have Blane. When all this is over and I can go home, I’ll make it up to him.”

He scowled. “Fuck Blane.”

“If I could grow a foot taller, shoulders like a lumberjack, a beard, and different
plumbing, maybe he’d be interested. But since that’s impossible . . .”

A lopsided smile crossed Joaquin’s face. “I’m glad it is. And don’t try to distract
me. I meant that you’re not alone because I’m here.”

Bailey had suspected he meant that, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. After all,
he wanted information from her that—if she even had it—sat locked deep in her memories.
He’d been pretty patient, too. That had to be running out. Besides, if he wasn’t going
to engage with his own family, she doubted he’d suddenly want to get involved with
her on any deep level.

She tried to squirm away. If she didn’t, the lure of his comfort would be too much
to resist. She’d throw herself against him and sob on his shoulder. He’d only feel
more sorry for her. Her eyes would only swell up more. None of that appealed.

Joaquin held tight.

“Don’t worry. I’m good,” she assured him, then leaned over to the nightstand and reached
for the box of tissues she’d brought from the bathroom earlier. He didn’t let go.
“Your sister seems nice.”

“You’re changing the subject again.” His tone sounded like a warning.

“Joaquin . . .” Bailey searched for the right words, something to make him shut up
without having to spill every worry and feeling. “Just leave it. I’m tired and frazzled.
There were a lot of strangers there tonight. That’s usually uncomfortable for me.”

He gave her a considering stare. “Did you feel out of place?”

“A little. I barely knew anyone. I’m introverted, so conversation with people I don’t
know can be tough.”

“If you wanted to leave sooner, all you had to do was say so. I thought you were excited
to be at the party.”

“I was at first. Then . . .”

Being an outsider in a room filled with overwhelming love had gotten to her. Crap,
she had to stop this little boo-hoo fest.

“Go on.”

“I don’t know. Callie said the party would be small, but it didn’t feel that way.”

“Yeah, you might have to take her concept of a ‘little’ gathering with a grain of
salt. Her wedding is intimate, but her ‘small’ reception ballooned to two hundred
people.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re feeling better now that
you’re back in this room?”

“Yeah.” Just more depressed than she wanted to admit. She was alive and had a better
chance at staying that way because of Joaquin. She had to stop thinking of the loved
ones she didn’t have and pull herself out of this funk.

He still wore a concerned frown. “Can I get you anything? You hungry?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been in a shame spiral since eating the bagel Callie brought
me for breakfast. I never wolf down that many carbs. I’m so far off my exercise regimen.”

“Don’t worry about that, baby girl.” He stroked her face again. “You look perfect
to me.”

Bailey couldn’t stop melting. If only he’d quit touching her and staring at her like
she mattered to him, maybe she could. He wasn’t coming on to her. His touch didn’t
feel sexual. The fact that he wasn’t trying to nail her but simply asking why she’d
been crying got to her more.

“You don’t have to babysit me. Go back to the party.”

Joaquin shook his head as if he knew better. “I’m not leaving you alone. I saw how
you looked at everyone, like you wished you were part of the group.”

New tears stung her aching eyes. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? “Please don’t
feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t. But I know you find it hard to be without family.”

Bailey tried to downplay the truth. “I know being with yours isn’t your thing. Most
of us seek connections to the people who have similar experiences and values. Believing
that someone has my back is huge to me.”

“I know what you’re saying.” He sent her a soft smile that made her heart turn over.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad. Your sister said you were just a kid. How old?”

“Almost thirteen, so it was a long time ago.”

“Kata said it hit you hard. Is that why you don’t see your family much now?”

“Bailey.” He took her chin in hand and snagged her stare with his. “I’m fine. I wasn’t
the one in tears tonight.”

But he stood apart from the people who would love him for a reason. “Just because
you don’t cry doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting.”

He released her and let loose a long sigh. “But when you’re crying, it definitely
means you are. I put you in this shitty mess. I haven’t been easy on you. I’m sorry.
Let me help.”

A couple of protestations ran through her head. He’d taken on the responsibility for
her safety, not her emotional state. She didn’t want to burden him. Bailey wasn’t
quite certain why her mood even mattered to him. Studying Joaquin, she tried to unravel
the mystery. He said he wasn’t giving her pity. Maybe he was bored? Lonely? Horny?

“I felt alone tonight,” she admitted. “But that’s not uncommon. I haven’t been really
close to anyone . . .” She sorted through her memories, then realized whatever she
thought she’d shared with her adoptive parents had been a lie. “Maybe ever. Joaquin,
let the people who care about you into your life. Your job is important, but it isn’t
everything.”

“Especially since I found out tonight that I’ve been fired.” He tried to shoot her
a self-deprecating smile.

She gasped in horror. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Because of this case?”

“It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. I’d still come find you.”

Not that she’d asked him to hunt her down and abduct her, but Bailey still felt vaguely
guilty. “I’m sorry that saving me cost you your job. You were only trying to do the
right thing and prevent me and other women from dying.”

He shrugged. “We’re both out of place now. Maybe . . . it’s time for me to think about
a life beyond work. I haven’t in over a decade. Longer, really. I got my first job
at sixteen to help my mom make ends meet.”

“Because your dad was gone and it was hard for her on one income?”

He froze, then nodded slowly. “She married a real asswipe not long after that, but
he put a roof over our heads. I didn’t like or trust him, so I kept working. When
my father was still alive, he would tell me all the time that if he wasn’t home, I
was the man of the house. At his funeral, I realized I’d assumed that position permanently.”

Bailey’s heart reached out to his. He’d been just a kid. “How did that make you feel?”

“The weight of my responsibility was daunting. My mom went back to work within a few
days of his death, so I found myself cooking and doing laundry. My sisters helped,
of course. There’s only twenty-one months between me and Kata, with our middle sister,
Mari, wedged between. But I became the father figure, disciplinarian, referee, and
caretaker.”

“At twelve?”

He shrugged, looking pensive, and Bailey wished she could read his thoughts. “I was
a month shy of thirteen.”

“I would have thought that experience would make you and your sisters really tight.”

After a considering frown, he shook his head. “Looking back, I took care of my family,
worried about them, did my best with them. Mari was a gifted student, so she was often
buried in homework and study groups. I think school was her escape from the hurt of
Dad’s absence. Kata was just always so damn independent. Constantly gone, hanging
with girlfriends, flirting with boys. I spent a few of her teenage years sure that
she was going to make me prematurely gray. But she turned out all right. Once they
were grown, I wanted to start living for me.”

“Growing up, you missed your dad a lot, didn’t you?”

Joaquin nodded. “Besides having to be a man before I actually was one, I missed his
humor and wisdom. He always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me realize
the error of my ways while making me laugh.”

“Your sisters would probably like to talk to you about him. I’m sure they miss him,
too.”

He didn’t even have to open his mouth. Bailey already knew that, not only did he avoid
talking to his sisters, he probably didn’t talk to anyone about his dad. So why was
he talking to her? He’d come to console her when he needed some cheering up himself.

Could he possibly be interested in her as more than a potential mattress tango partner?

“They’ve both got husbands now. Mari has two boys. Kata is having one soon. They have
normal jobs, community ties, connections with friends. We’ve got nothing in common
anymore.”

“Except that you’re a family. Do you know what I’d give to have one of those?”

He squeezed her hands. “Bailey, I’m sure your birth parents would be very proud of
who you’ve become. Accomplished, self-supporting, smart, gorgeous, kind.”

She teared up. “It kills me that I don’t remember them. When I see pictures of Viktor
Aslanov, it’s like a punch in the stomach. It was a shock to find out that I look
like my mother. I know next to nothing about her or my siblings. That hurts. What
would my life have been like if my birth father had never sold his research to LOSS?
I’ll never know.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed. “No. Fate had other plans, baby girl.”

“I had what I thought was a really normal upbringing. My adoptive parents guided me
and took care of me.” She teared up again and turned away. “It’s just hard to sit
here and question whether any of what they said and did for me over the years was
duty or love.”

Joaquin slid his cheek over her palm and turned her back to face him. “There’s no
way they didn’t care about you.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You’re
impossible to resist.”

Bailey’s stomach dropped out from under her. She blinked up at him, losing herself
in his eyes. Her heart thudded. For a man who had barely spoken to his family in years,
who’d deflected all but the most impersonal contact since puberty, he was opening
himself for her.

She took in a trembling breath. “Joaquin . . .”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was protesting his touch or inviting him closer.
She didn’t know if he genuinely cared about her, but the hope that he did lingered
in her heart, whispering to her, encouraging her to reach out for him.

Her head disagreed. Callie’s and Kata’s opinions aside, his primary interest in her
was still his case. Even if he’d lost his job, this man wasn’t suddenly going to wrap
his arms around her and want to spend forever with her. She was pretty sure that even
a night in his bed would just prove to her that she was in over her head.

Before she could make up her mind, regret crossed his face and he backed away. The
opportunity evaporated. Disappointment took its place, though she supposed keeping
distance between them was for the best.

“Are you too tired to look at something?” he asked, his tone far less personal. “It’s
for the case.”

Bailey hated that her hesitation might have stifled his urge to share his feelings
for the first time in two decades. Even if he wasn’t invested in her, she wanted to
help him end the murders so they could both move on. “Not at all.”

“Thanks.” He lifted himself away from the bed and made his way back to the dresser,
then returned, paper in hand. He thrust it in her direction.

It was a sketch of a man. “Who is that?”

“Does he look familiar at all?”

Bailey studied it for a minute longer. “Maybe. If it was an actual photo, I might—”

“Like this?” He put another image in front of her, this one a four-by-six color photo
of a bald man with a graying fringe around his head. A round face and flat blue eyes
dominated the picture. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, the sight of him filled
her with terror.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her voice shook.

“Where?” He grabbed her shoulders.

She searched her memories and came up empty-handed. “I don’t know.”

“Recently?”

Bailey thought back to all the people she’d met associated with the dance company,
everyone from benefactors to building employees. Nothing. No one she remembered from
her crappy waitressing job matched that face. The memory of him seemed fuzzy, distant.

“No.”

“Think about this. Focus. If you can picture his face, can you place where you might
have seen him?”

She tried. He hadn’t been a teacher or neighbor or pastor. No friend or coworker of
her dad’s.