His to Take (26 page)

Each memory seemed crystal clear now. How had she forgotten so much of her past for
a moment, much less for years? Even more came rushing back. Her mother had often wrapped
up her long hair and danced through the house when she’d thought her “baby” was napping.
Bailey used to sneak out of her bed and watch. Her siblings had often liked to play
hide-and-seek indoors, especially when it snowed. If their father was watching TV
or studying his research notes, he’d sometimes lose his temper and bluster. But spats
would always end in hugs, tickles, and giggles.

As Joaquin eased her from the dining room into the kitchen, she stopped. Faded linoleum
countertops in a graying white sat on top of oak cabinets with old-fashioned scalloped
trim. Some of the doors hung off the hinges now. Idly, she supposed that all the food
had been cleared out or the stench would be unbearable. The white refrigerator still
stood in the corner, no longer humming. The stove had been ancient fifteen years ago,
and now looked like a relic.

Her memories of her mother were strongest here. She hadn’t been much of a cook, according
to her father, but he’d always appreciated her effort. Mama would toil for hours,
trying to cook a special stew or soup, especially when winters turned cold. Daddy
had often smiled at her effort, but looked as if he were choking on the result.

Bailey felt her lips lift in a little grin. So many good memories here. So many forgotten
ones, like her brother’s last birthday party and the cake that had somehow plopped
onto the kitchen floor before anyone had taken a bite. Her last summer here, an old
dog had wandered into their yard one day, sans identification tags. Her bother had
named him X-Man. The big German shepherd mix hadn’t lasted long before age took him,
but Bailey remembered loving the big, protective canine and crying the day he died.

“You all right?” Joaquin asked softly beside her.

Tears welled, but she nodded. “So much is coming back to me. I don’t know . . . This
whole time in my life was blank. Now that I’m standing here, I remember everything.”

He stroked a tender hand down her hair. “I’ll stay with you. If anything scares you,
just grab on to me. If you remember something about the case . . .”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Or if you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

Joaquin guided her out of the kitchen, through the little family room that overlooked
the backyard. She recalled running out there in the sprinklers. Of course, everything
was dormant now at the end of a long winter, the overgrown brown weeds nearly obscuring
the back fence.

On the other side of the room, she caught sight of the part of the house she’d most
dreaded—the hallway that led back to the bedrooms. As she stared into the opening,
a lump of terror gathered in her belly. Whatever she didn’t want to remember had happened
on this side of the house.

“You ready?”

They were losing the light, so she had to be. Slowly, she nodded, feeling that lid
to Pandora’s box creaking open in her head.

He stepped through the opening into the hall first. The moment his athletic shoes
hit the worn parquet floor, she pictured another man standing on that same surface.
She closed her eyes and followed the memory. Her father had picked her up that afternoon
and cuddled her, sung his version of the nursery rhyme with her, then made her promise
never to forget it. Finally, he’d sent her outside through the back door at the end
of this hall.

Bailey didn’t want to open her eyes and look down that long strip of house that led
to the portal, but there was nowhere else to look. Dark, musty, seemingly innocuous.
But the moment she lifted her lids, a vision from the past assailed her. The walls
splashed with red. The wooden floors slick with the warm, oozing liquid. Blood everywhere.
She’d seen it after her father had been dragged away, after she’d come in from her
brother’s fort. Had the stranger simply come in and shot everyone?

She frowned. The memory seemed so close, but she couldn’t access it. Something stood
in her way . . .

“Do you need to pause here for a minute or do you want to move on?”

Bailey wanted to leave the house altogether, but that wasn’t an option. She’d have
no future if she didn’t confront the past. “Let’s move on.”

The first bedroom on her right was her brother’s. Tiptoeing to the opening, she found
herself staring at the faded blue walls. A
Star Wars
poster had been ripped nearly in half, even as the edges clung to the wall. His bunk
beds had been stripped of bedding. But she couldn’t miss the huge red stain marring
the mattress on the bottom bunk. And she couldn’t escape the memory of her brother
in his bed, lifeless, bleeding from a bullet to the head. He’d turned nine a few weeks
earlier.

Bailey felt her body buckle. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Mikhail, my brother,
was murdered in his room.”

Who would do that to a child? Why?

She couldn’t look anymore and jerked from the doorway. Joaquin was there to support
her, wrapping his arms around her body, easing her head to his chest. He crooned nonsensical
words. She didn’t care that she couldn’t understand what he said because his touch
made it clear that he would stand with her no matter what. It didn’t feel like he
just wanted answers or to solve a case. Bailey would have sworn that he genuinely
cared.

Flinging her arms around him, she sobbed quietly into his chest. He edged them away
from the opening of the bedroom and leaned against the far wall, removing her another
precious few inches from the tragedy.

For long minutes, he simply let her shock have its way. As she grieved, he lent her
his strength and support. She sniffled, dreading what she’d find next, but a quick
glance around proved that the sunlight was waning and their time was running low.
She didn’t think she’d find the mental muster to come back here tomorrow, so she had
to tough it out for the rest of this wrenching house tour. Bailey had no idea if she’d
remember anything of value, but she had to try.

“I’m fine.” She pulled back.

He tightened his arms and braced a finger under her chin, lifting it. After a long
scan of her face and a deep glance into her eyes, he blew out a breath. Obviously,
he didn’t like this, but he knew what had to be done. “Come with me.”

Together, they made their way down the hall before pausing at the next door on the
right—the room she had shared with her sister, Annika. The walls were no longer a
sunny yellow. The grime on the windows and the setting sun made the darkening room
look gloomy, shadow-filled. The child-size kitchen set and tea party equipment had
all been taken away. The pale carpet still bore the scars of bloodstains splattered
on the far side of the room. The closet door stood ajar, a terrible reminder.

As with the scene in Mikhail’s room, Bailey remembered that horrific evening. Her
older sister had tried to hide from her murderer in the closet, but he’d found her.
So had Bailey, later, all huddled and crumpled in a corner of the dark little space.
Some bastard had hunted her down and snuffed out her life. Annika’s last moments must
have been terrifying.

Bailey wondered why she had been spared when none of the others had.

“I have to get out of this room.” She turned and bolted back into the hall.

Joaquin followed. “Was that your room?”

She nodded. “My sister and I, yes. I had the top bunk.”

In fact, she’d remembered awakening that morning early and seeking out her mother,
begging for pancakes.

Her mother.

Bailey’s heart stopped as she headed toward the final room off the hallway. Her parents
had shared that bedroom. She remembered sometimes hearing them arguing. Sometimes
she’d heard moans and grunts, which she suspected now had been their lovemaking.

The cozy queen bed had been stripped bare, the mattress now a dingy white. The nightstands
were devoid of the clock and jewelry that had always graced her mom’s side of the
bed. The bench near the window still had the needlepointed seat of flowers, but looked
like a neglected antique.

Bailey inched closer but couldn’t make herself enter the room—couldn’t stop remembering
her mother lying in a pool of blood, as if she’d come to check on the gunshots and
Annika’s screaming, then been gunned down herself.

More of that evening drifted back to her. Bailey recalled coming in from the cold
and wandering down the hall, finding the carnage in each bedroom more horrifying than
the last. Then she’d seen her mother, bloody and lifeless, on the floor. She remembered
trying to shake her mother awake, somehow so terrified by the woman’s open, sightless
eyes. She’d screamed, thrown herself against her mother and hugged her tight, pleading
for Mama to hug her, assure her that the world hadn’t ended.

Into the dead silence, she’d fled the house in horror, wondering if the bad man would
come for her next. When she’d darted back down the hall, she’d slipped in the blood
and peeled off her socks before pushing out the back door, into the snow. The rest
of the events fit her dream, all the way until the concerned couple in the blue sedan
had discovered her. Then . . . nothing again before her life with Bob and Jane Benson.

“Baby girl?”

“My mom was killed right here.” She pointed to a spot barely a foot away. “I found
her body. I remember finding them all dead.”

Joaquin pulled her close, and she could feel his ache of sympathy for her. “I’m here.
Cry or get angry or . . . whatever you need.”

What she really needed was to leave.

“There’s nothing else to see in this house. I have to go.”

“I’m with you. I’ve got you.”

He led her to the yard, out to the blessedly fresh air. Standing in the yard, he cupped
her face in his hands as the sun dipped lower toward the horizon. The golden rays
made the olive planes of his face glow like rich bronze. The concern in his hazel
eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

“I won’t push you anymore if you can’t do it,” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”

“I’ll be fine.” She had to be. “Let’s finish this.”

He nodded. “Did your dad utilize the barn for any reason?”

“Like research?” She shook her head. “My mother cleaned it out so we could play there,
but we kind of thought it was creepy. It was falling down even then, so we didn’t
use it much.”

“So he didn’t research in there?”

“Never. I can count on one hand the number of times I remember anyone even going in
there.”

He nodded grimly. “I need to look inside, just make sure there isn’t some obvious
place Viktor could have hidden his research. Granted, someone else should have found
it by now if it were that simple, but I’ll try anyway. Do you want to stay here or
come with me?”

Bailey didn’t want to be alone, but Joaquin needed to take advantage of the waning
daylight. The remnants of her brother’s fort, wedged between the two trees, tugged
at her. She should check there while she still had sunlight. No idea when her father
would have had time to stash something in this area that day. The timeline jumbled
in her head a bit. She didn’t remember her father being outside until McKeevy had
shown up and dragged him out.

“Go ahead. I’m sure both the feds and LOSS have turned every inch of this whole farm
upside down, but I’ll try checking over here.” She thumbed in the direction of the
makeshift playhouse.

Joaquin looked reluctant to leave her, but he finally nodded. “Yell if you need anything.”

She appreciated him more than she could express. “Thanks.”

As he strode away to the barn behind the house, Bailey turned and blew out a deep
breath before inching her way to the trees. Most of the metal pieces that her brother
had tried to lean together or tape into something resembling fort walls were gone.
Some had scattered across the yard. Some were nowhere to be seen.

She knelt between the trees, recalling that fateful day. Her father had sent her outside
with the instructions to hide quietly, sing her song in her head, and stay out here.
She remembered asking if they were playing a game. His smile had been strained as
he’d nodded and answered that it was a very serious game. Could she be a big girl
and play along?

She’d nodded happily, wishing her mom would have made more pancakes, not stew, for
dinner. Then . . .

Bailey lowered herself to the ground and braced her back against the larger of the
two trees, gathering her knees to her chest, as she’d done that afternoon. She closed
her eyes and tried to remember anything else her father might have said to her. Anywhere
he might have gone or hidden his research. Would it have been boxes of paper? Something
smaller, electronic maybe? She really had no idea. She also had no memory of anything
except her father kissing her, telling her that he loved her, then heading grimly
into the house.

What she remembered next made her gasp. She choked, unable to breathe. Her thoughts
raced. Her heart roared.

Bailey drew in a huge, jagged breath and screamed.

J
OAQUIN heard the bloodcurdling cry from the side of the little farm. He pulled his
SIG from the small of his back, clicked off the safety, then bolted to Bailey’s side,
panic charging through his veins.

He found her alone, curled up against a tree, trying to make herself as small as possible.
She’d closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide. Tears streamed from the corners of
her eyes and her body shook as if jolted by an electric shock.

Falling to his knees, he scooped her up into his arms and pulled her against him.
“What is it? Tell me.”

She shoved at him and scrambled to her feet. “Get me out of here.” Across the yard
she spotted his SUV and ran for it. “I need to go!”

He chased her down and lifted her against his chest. “Talk to me. Did someone show
up just now? Startle you? Threaten you?”

“No.”

So she battled her memory, not a flesh-and-blood foe—at least for the moment.

“Good. We have to lock up the house, then we’ll go. Take a deep breath.” As he opened
the passenger door, he sank into the seat and cradled her against him. “I won’t leave
your side until you’re relaxed. Just breathe.”

Her tears fell harder. Concern stabbed him, slicing him down deep. How much more could
she take in a short period of time? He’d ripped apart her entire world. Yes, to save
her. Mostly to avenge Nate, to rail against the injustice of some asshat shooting
the only friend he’d let himself have.

Now guilt ripped him a new one.

“I can’t.” She struggled to inhale, but kept tripping over her tears.

Her sobbing had destabilized her respiratory system. She looked too pale, her eyes
too blue in her haunted face. He fucking had to help her.

Joaquin gripped her shoulders. “Baby girl, look at me. Right into my eyes. You have
to take a deep breath. Yes . . .” He praised when she finally managed. “Now, let it
out and tell me what scared you.”

She hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She cried quietly now, but she
still cried all the same. He fucking wished he could take this pain from her. If he’d
never crashed into her life and had somehow managed to catch McKeevy and LOSS without
destroying her world . . . But then he would never have met Bailey. She wouldn’t have
had the chance to completely change him the way she had.

Damn it, he was in love with her. Fine fucking time to realize it.

“Bailey?” he prodded softly.

She curled up into a tighter ball and shook her head. “Lock up the house. I’ll get
myself together.”

He hated leaving her for even an instant, but he didn’t see a choice.

“I’ll be back in less than two minutes. Do you want me to give you my gun?”

Her eyes flew open, filled with terror. “No! Take it. I can’t . . . Go.”

With a grim nod, Joaquin tucked his gun away, then barreled to the house, where he
ensured the back door was secure before he let himself out the front, locking it behind
him and depositing the key inside the lockbox again. A glance back to the car proved
that she hadn’t moved, hadn’t really found her way out of shock yet.

Charging back toward her, Joaquin couldn’t deny he was happy to leave the house, too.
It had an ominous vibe; the tragedy of three senseless deaths still scarred the surfaces
and disturbed the air. He had to get Bailey away from this place.

By the time he made his way to her once more, she looked even more pale and troubled.
He’d seen enough. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” she insisted. “I remembered something . . .”

Her body started shaking again. Sandwiched between the seat and the roof of the vehicle,
Joaquin had no way to get to her so he flipped the lever that reclined the seat until
she lay back nearly supine, then he leaned over her and cupped her cheek. “We don’t
have to talk about this here.”

She nodded vigorously and miserably. “I know what happened to my family.”

“You don’t have to relive McKeevy coming into the house and shooting your loved ones.
I understand.”

“But he didn’t.” She took in a shuddering breath. “M-my father did.”

“Viktor Aslanov killed your family? You’re saying
he
shot them?”

“Yes. I remember everything now. He told me to hide outside quietly, sing my song
in my head, and not come back inside. After that, he hugged me, told me he loved me,
then went back inside. I heard gunshots, screaming, then more gunshots. Terrible silence
followed. I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do. I sat, rocking back and forth. Then
McKeevy arrived, wearing some sort of blue military uniform. He busted into the house
and yanked my father out, and shoved Viktor into his car. I never saw him again.”

Another rough breath later, Joaquin couldn’t stand that lost look in her eyes. “Ah,
baby girl, I don’t know what to say. You lived through hell.”

“I lost everyone.” She sounded bleak, so alone. New tears fell.

Joaquin knew what it felt like to lose. He remembered the awful night his mother had
sat him down and told him that his father had been killed. The shock of it had been
like a steel bar to the solar plexus. Numbness, denial, rage . . . He remembered every
emotion, every step. He’d been nearly thirteen, old enough to understand the concept
of death and the reasons behind his father’s ultimate sacrifice. Bailey had been barely
five and completely ill-equipped to comprehend death at all, much less that violent
tragedy.

When he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d imagined she was a fragile little thing. Now
he knew just how damn strong she truly was. He’d crumbled after his father’s death,
then cut himself off. Somehow, she’d managed to pick up, make a life, grow up a relatively
happy kid. Even after losing the people she’d believed had given birth to her she
had continued to persevere.

“Not everyone,” he swore. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving.”

She looked at him with wary eyes, like she didn’t quite believe him. And why should
she? After everything his sister had said and all he’d admitted, trusting his words
would be tough. But he intended to prove himself.

What was he thinking here—something beyond comforting her in this moment? Did he want
a girlfriend? A wife? Did he really want to be tied down to one woman?

No, but with Bailey, he didn’t look at it as being tied down as much as connected
to someone who made a difference in his life. She brought light. She made him feel
again. He didn’t think he could do without her.

“The thing is . . . Viktor Aslanov taught me that nursery rhyme we were puzzling through
earlier. Only me. He told me to hide inside while he”—she took a moment to gather
herself again, and he cupped her shoulder to lend support—“went inside and shot the
rest of his family. Maybe he knew LOSS was sending someone for him.”

Joaquin nodded. “He must have known he couldn’t hide indefinitely with a wife and
three children. He probably realized they would employ some terrible tactics to get
the information they sought, so rather than making his family suffer or letting them
use his loved ones’ suffering to coerce him, he killed them as humanely as he knew
how.”

“It seems so surreal. Viktor Aslanov wasn’t a violent man. He laughed. He loved. He . . .”
Bailey dissolved into tears.

Joaquin felt helpless to ease her burden, and that frustrated him even more. “He was
backed into a corner and he did what he thought he had to do, most likely. He probably
died with a lot of regrets, but selling information to LOSS that he couldn’t or wouldn’t
deliver had to be the biggest. His last day with all of you must have been so bittersweet.”

“He sang that song to me over and over. He made me sing it with him. He told me never
to forget it.”

“It must mean something.”

Bailey nodded, her eyes glassy. She looked so lost. He’d seen similar expressions
on people who’d witnessed too much violence or the horrors of war. No wonder she’d
had nightmares for so many years.

“I think it must. Sing whatever you can remember to me again.”

She groped around for the ball and handed it to him. He bounced the spongy orb against
the dashboard. As he caught it, he listened. Bailey closed her eyes, turned inward,
and focused. Joaquin didn’t interrupt her.

“Hickory in the park. The mouse hides in the dark. At the painted fence, jump three
steps left. Follow the path to the sign near the dock.” She shrugged. “That’s it.
I was confused before, but . . . that’s it.”

“It’s a verbal map.” He ducked from the SUV and looked around the farm. “I don’t see
a park, a painted fence, or a dock. If ‘hickory’ means a hickory tree, I’m not seeing
one in this yard.”

She scanned her surroundings. “I don’t know where we were when he started teaching
me the song. I’m exhausted. Maybe if I get some rest and think about it a bit more . . .”

Joaquin just hoped they had the time before McKeevy caught up to them or Bailey broke
down. He knew she’d do her best, but the emotional stress she bore was more than almost
anyone could take.

“Do you know of any bodies of water nearby that might have a park with a dock?”

She paused, then shook her head in silent misery. Bailey needed a good meal, a glass
of wine, a good night’s sleep—and for him to hold her. As much as he wanted to find
all the answers now, she wasn’t trained for missions.

“Let’s go. We’ll find a detailed map of the area online and see if something rings
a bell.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“Oh, you’re not, baby girl. Far from it. You pushed yourself today to remember so
much. It must have been so difficult, but you kept fighting. I’m really proud of you.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Let’s go find you some real food and a bed to crash
in. How does that sound?”

She blinked up at him, her blue stare clinging. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Absolutely. Every moment you need me—and probably more than you want.” He tucked
her into the car, then shut her door and ran to the driver’s side, slipping in beside
her. “Just lie back and close your eyes. You deserve a break. Once you’ve rested,
we’ll come back to this and look at it with fresh eyes. Maybe we’re missing something
obvious or maybe another memory will jump out at you.”

“Maybe.” She sounded distant, tired.

Joaquin grabbed her hand and peeled away from the little house filled with hugely
horrific memories. As he did, he dialed Sean, intending to let the man in on Bailey’s
revelations. The phone rang, and Joaquin glanced at the quaint farmhouse in the rearview
mirror. He sincerely hoped she never had to come here again. If she did, it would
definitely be too soon.

*   *   *

BAILEY stared out the window of the speeding SUV, watching the scenery slowly morph
from rural to suburban. She really had no idea where Joaquin intended to take her.
Did it matter?

Numbness dulled her senses, leaving behind only baffled disillusionment and shock.
Why hadn’t she realized before now that Viktor had killed his own wife and two older
children? Had the FBI known and simply chosen to cover up that fact? Bailey wondered
what other terrible truths lurked out there for her to recall or stumble onto.

“You want some dinner first? Or do you just want to sleep?”

Before they’d visited her childhood home, she’d been starving. Now she didn’t think
she could eat a bite.

“A shower.”

She wanted to feel clean—not like the girl who’d been sired by a dad crazy or desperate
enough to kill his family. That kind of heartbreak usually kicked off the evening
news or splashed across the front page of a newspaper. When she’d heard similar endings
before, Bailey had always believed the family must have had problems all along. Why
hadn’t someone seen the signs and found help? Why did people bury their heads in the
sand instead? In her case, none of that was true—at least not to her recollection.
And she ought to know. All she’d been doing today was resurrecting her long-lost memories.
If there had been any strife or violence in her family prior, certainly she would
have remembered that today.

“A shower. Sure. Let me put some gas in the car and find a place.”

After a brief stop at a filling station, Joaquin ran in to pay cash and peered at
his phone. A few moments later, he emerged with a couple of bottles of water in hand.
“There’s a decent place not far from here. You can clean up, then decide if you want
food or sleep.”

“You’ll need something to eat,” she pointed out. Worrying about him was so much easier
than thinking about her terrible day.

“I can take care of that later.” He reached for her hand. “Right now, I’m here for
you to lean on. Whatever you need, okay?”

Bless him, he really had been her pillar today. He hadn’t left her side once. Even
more, he’d seemed to understand that she couldn’t yet talk about what had happened.
Bailey almost believed that when she needed an ear later, he’d still be there for
her.

Welcome to delusion. Enjoy your stay!

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “You didn’t exactly sign up for my drama and—”

“You didn’t sign up for my abduction. Or for me to force you to acknowledge a whole
new identity. Or take you to a BDSM club, introduce you to my sister, spank you . . .”
He winced.

In spite of all the strain of the day, his self-deprecation made her smile. “Put that
way, you sound like a real Prince Charming.”

“I know, right? What can I say?” He shrugged. “I take the notion of sweeping a girl
off her feet literally.”

She sent him a faint smile. Joining in on his jokes felt far more comfortable than
replaying the deaths of her family in her head over and over.

“Maybe you could try a little less hard next time?” she quipped.

“I’m usually a full-throttle guy, but I’ll see what I can do.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way to a budget chain hotel. Joaquin pulled into
the parking lot and left to secure the room, keeping her hidden in the SUV. Bailey
stayed behind the tinted windows, wishing she could close her eyes and make the horror
of today disappear. Since returning to her childhood home, she’d had a nagging uneasiness
she couldn’t shake. She stayed alert for anyone around her who looked suspicious.