His to Take (37 page)

His mind screamed that he’d lost Bailey and his life would never be whole or right
again.

Sean’s radio filled with curses, another explosion, then static. Everything sounded
chaotic—lots of fumbling and disbelief.

“Let’s get back to the main highway and find someone to call for backup and emergency
services.” Sean pulled Joaquin away from the carnage.

He couldn’t leave Bailey dead here like she hadn’t mattered. Like he accepted that
she’d simply become a part of the ground. Was he supposed to just leave behind his
heart? The potential seed of his family and future?

Please God, let me have a miracle. Let her be alive.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew better.

The numbness of shock gave way to the crushing wall of pain then. Bailey was gone.
Dead. No more. He hadn’t been good enough, fast enough. He hadn’t saved her. Her tragic
childhood, her lie of an adolescence, her finally learning the truth of her identity—all
for nothing.

Joaquin didn’t know how he’d live without her. This crippling agony felt like his
father’s death, only worse. As a boy, the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness
had been hard to swallow and difficult to process. As a man, this twisting anguish
was impossible to comprehend or accept.

He’d. Failed. Her. No way to sugarcoat that.

Yeah, he supposed he should take comfort that an explosion had probably taken Bailey,
rather than McKeevy’s blade, but he couldn’t be grateful for a single fucking thing
right now.

“I lost her.” His voice sounded gravelly and raw as he sank to his knees.

Standing right beside him, Sean helped him to his feet again. “You don’t know that
for sure. It’s possible that explosion is meant to deter the agents or she wasn’t
near the actual blast.”

“Bullshit!” He whirled and focused all his disbelief and fury on Sean. “You said yourself
they’d rigged the whole compound to blow. An explosion that big is the whole fucking
place going up in flames. They committed mass suicide and took her with them. She’s
dead. And I fucking didn’t stop it.” He pointed to himself. “I took her from her bed
and I dragged her into this shit—”

“She would have died days ago in Houston if you hadn’t abducted her. I know it’s awful.
I know you’re angry. I wish I could say something to change that. Maybe . . . it was
just her time. You did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t good enough.” He beat his chest. His eyes stung. “I never let myself care
because the pain of loss is too fucking difficult to bear. She slipped under my guard . . .
Her and those dancing shoes, those blue eyes, her big fucking heart . . . The one
goddamn time I let myself care, I led her right to her death. She’s probably up in
heaven right now hating me.”

God, the pain was enough to implode him.

Joaquin dropped his face into his hands. Shockingly, tears fell. They pricked his
eyes like a dozen needles, scalded his cheeks like trails of flame. When he swiped
them away, more of the fuckers just tumbled. Why wouldn’t they stop? How the hell
did he shut this down? How could he get back to being numb and alone, not giving a
shit about anything or anyone?

“She’s not hating you.” Sean tried to console him. “I won’t give you false hope. She’s
likely gone. But the Bailey I knew cared about you too much and wouldn’t want to see
you hurting.”

Joaquin heard the man. Sean might even be right. But he just couldn’t take more solace
now. Maybe not ever. He didn’t deserve it. “Go the fuck away.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Do it. Just fucking do it!” He clenched his fists. “I don’t want you. And don’t send
Hunter. I don’t want anyone. Do you fucking hear me?”

“Stop this, man! You can’t bury yourself with—” Sean stopped, looked at something
over his shoulder, then charged past him.

Joaquin turned. Silhouetted against the sun now kissing the horizon ran a slender
woman with a beam of light shining from a flashlight in her hand, her long hair blowing
wildly in the breeze, glinting with a hint of gold. He knew the outline of that face,
of that body. Dirt smeared across one cheek. Blood pooled on her chest.

He blinked. His jaw dropped. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. He was hallucinating.
She was a ghost. Something.

But she kept coming closer.

“Bailey?” His voice came out no louder than a whisper.

She nodded, sucking in a sobbing breath, then ran for him. He crept closer, still
stunned with disbelief.

She crashed into him, throwing her arms around him and nestling her head on his shoulder.
Her chest heaved with another sob and she curled closer as if she took comfort in
his nearness.

Joaquin stood unmoving. Tears still rolled down his face.

Sean spoke into his radio, telling the agents that Bailey had escaped the blast.

Seconds later, Caleb and Hunter jogged onto the scene. Hunter pulled her away and
held her by the shoulders. He and his father asked questions. Yes, she was mostly
unharmed. McKeevy had definitely been in the compound. So had the disk with the research,
as far as she knew. Sadly, there had been other people inside, including women and
children. Bailey began crying again and Hunter pulled her in close, soothing her.

Joaquin stood, unblinking. Thank God she was alive. For that miracle, he could kiss
the ground, repent all his sins, and be grateful every day for the rest of his life.

But he couldn’t endure the agony of losing her again.

Within minutes, a slew of black SUVs roared up to the scene. A horde of agents climbed
from their vehicles and charged toward her. They would take her away now. They would
ask hours of questions. She would be in far better hands than his.

Hunter and his father shadowed her protectively as the feds asked many of the same
questions the Edgington men already had. Joaquin watched, shock and pain still reverberating
through his system.

Sean sidled up to him. “Go to her. She’s going to need your strength.”

“I don’t have any to give her,” he mumbled, unable to take his eyes off her. Even
after a harrowing near-death experience, she still had to be the most graceful, beautiful
woman he’d ever seen.

“You’re just in shock and talking nonsense. You need one another,” Sean insisted.
“Especially now.”

He jerked his head from side to side. “I don’t need anyone, and she’s better off without
me.”

Emergency vehicles arrived then. The local sheriff stepped out of his car, gawking
at the destruction as smoke rose high above the fire, painting the sky orange.

An EMT cleared a path to Bailey with a gurney. Another followed along, and the pair
of them helped her onto the table. As FBI agents continued to bark questions, the
medics forced them aside, taking her blood pressure as they inquired about her injuries.
She pointed to her chest. Joaquin desperately wanted to know what had happened and
how bad it was, but he’d be less crazy if he didn’t.
Downshift, dismiss, divorce your mind.

It didn’t take long before they hoisted her into the ambulance and shut her inside.
Joaquin flinched as they slammed the doors, then he steeled himself and turned away.

“Aren’t you going with her?” Sean asked incredulously.

Why? So he could worry himself into a panicked frenzy and ruin her life even more?
She’d have a nice future without him. He’d check on her in a month or two—from a distance—make
sure she hadn’t gotten pregnant. If she had, well . . . he had to find another job.
He’d pay her whatever she wanted in child support promptly and like clockwork.

“How the hell do we get out of here?” he asked.

Sean shook his head, but managed to grab someone with keys. Together, they shoved
Joaquin into the vehicle.

“I think you need to see a doctor,” Sean suggested. “You really are in shock.”

Yes, but not medically. This was the sort of shock from which he knew he’d never recover.
“Not at all. I’m perfectly myself again.”

Sean shook his head and settled back in his seat, then directed his attention to the
other agent. “Can you take us to the hospital?”

So he would see Bailey again, ache to hold her, worry himself sick, and fall a little
more in love? No, thank you.

“On your way, drop me off someplace I can catch a fucking shuttle to the airport.
I’m done.”

*   *   *

BAILEY woke in the hospital, her lashes fluttering open slowly. The room wasn’t big,
just very white. The bland beige drapes had been closed against the dark of night.
A blue privacy curtain cordoning off her area from the other empty bed in the room
had been thrown back. She wasn’t alone.

Hunter, Kata, and Sean all hovered nearby, along with a man who looked like Hunter
in twenty years. She didn’t see Joaquin.

She remembered instantly what had happened. The explosion still rang in her ears,
jarred her bones. She remembered running down the dark tunnel, dirt crumbling in on
her head. She’d been terrified that she’d be buried alive. She’d literally run into
the end of the tunnel, fumbled around for a catch, then pushed a metal door out, relieved
to see Joaquin waiting for her. She’d known then she would be all right. Curling up
against his chest, she’d been sure she could set McKeevy and her past as Tatiana Aslanov
to rest. That her world would finally be perfect.

“How are you feeling?” Kata asked.

Her head hurt a little. She felt somewhat groggy. But otherwise . . . “Fine.”

“Good.” Hunter jumped in. “We’ve been worried. Hell, my dad has never even met you
and he’s been pacing.”

The older man smiled and introduced himself. “Sorry. Once a father, always a father—even
if you’re not my kid.”

She smiled faintly. “I appreciate that. Where’s Joa—”

“The doctor has been to see you,” Kata cut in. “He says you’re in good shape. He was
able to put a butterfly bandage on your foot. Your chest needed two stitches and you’ve
got a bit of bruising, but otherwise, you’re okay.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hunter cut in sheepishly. “I lied and told him that you’re
my sister so he’d update us on your medical.”

Some people might feel as if Hunter had invaded her privacy, but he’d been concerned.
They all had. Bailey found it touching and didn’t mind at all. She just wanted to
know where Joaquin was. In the bathroom? Getting coffee? Hurt?

That possibility washed her with panic. She tried to shove herself to a sitting position.

Caleb put a hand on her shoulder and eased her back down. “You can’t put too much
pressure on those stitches, hon. Relax.”

“Okay.” She glanced around the room with a frown. “I’m just wondering, where’s—”

“The doctor will be around again to discharge you soon,” Kata assured her. “They gave
you a mild sedative while they stitched you up. Apparently, you already had something
heavier in your system?” She spoke the statement like a question.

Bailey nodded. “McKeevy drugged me.”

And she didn’t want to think about him more than that. Already she knew she’d have
nightmares about the psycho and the terrible day she’d spent at his “mercy.” Honestly,
she didn’t wish death on anyone, but she could say unequivocally that she was glad
he no longer walked this earth. She hoped he met all his victims in the afterlife
and they gave him hell.

“I’ve spoken to the agents on your case,” Sean offered. “As soon as the doctor consents,
they’ll be coming around to ask you some questions. Just so you know, the LOSS compound
was utterly destroyed.”

She thought of Destiny, her swollen belly, and her little boy. Such a terrible, saddening
waste. “A girl helped me escape the compound. The only thing she asked of me was to
contact her mother. I put her address in my jeans.”

Sean smiled. “Actually, Destiny has already called her mother. Apparently when some
of the women figured out the men meant to blow up the compound with everyone inside
so no fed could ‘sully’ their premises, many of them grabbed their children and ran
into the mine. Nearly thirty people escaped. They also rescued a few other prisoners.
Those people will be able to provide us a lot of information about LOSS’s operations,
finances, weaponry, and plans, along with their uses for Viktor Aslanov’s research.
In fact, one of the men they freed was a former soldier they’d once made into a research
subject.”

“McKeevy told me about him.”

“His name is Dante. He’s been there for nearly a year. The doctors are running tests
on him now. I’m sure he’ll be transferred to D.C. at some point for future testing.”

“So my father’s research really worked? This man’s DNA has been altered?”

“We don’t know for sure. Based on Dante’s statement so far, I’d say it’s possible.”
Sean shrugged. “Time will tell. But since LOSS didn’t have any electronic e-mail or
file storage system, the research Viktor was killed for died with McKeevy and that
group of fanatics. As far as we know, there are no more copies. So your past should
never come back to haunt you.”

She could close that chapter of her life. It would be impossible to forget that she’d
been born into this world Tatiana Aslanov, but she could spend the rest of her days
as Bailey Benson in peace.

“Thank God,” she breathed. “I’ll bet Callie is thrilled, too.”

Sean nodded. “Best wedding present she could have, I think. She’s ready to be a ‘normal’
girl—as much as she’s capable of that.”

“There’s a media storm gathering,” Caleb warned. “Once you’re discharged, we’ll have
to sneak you out, but we’ll get you out of here and on a plane back to Texas tonight.”

That sounded fabulous. If she could return to any sort of decent shape, she had an
audition in Dallas next Tuesday. Beyond that . . . all she wanted was to spend her
days and nights with Joaquin forging a future. Who knew? Maybe someday, she’d be Mrs.
Muñoz. But right now, she was happy to take things one day at a time, find out what
their new normal together was. And she couldn’t wait to get started. All she needed
now was Joaquin himself.