Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love (36 page)

In her, Javier had not only found his brother again, but he’d found his forever.

The thought zipped lightning down his spine where it pooled in his gut and cooled
into contentment. Love wasn’t just the stuff of greeting cards, but rightness, belonging,
and certainty that made his heart fly. For the last year, he’d been dead inside. Now,
because of her, he felt like he could soar for the rest of his life.

Caressing her thigh and kissing the crown of her head, Javier carefully withdrew,
then glanced at Xander, who nodded and lifted London’s mouth from his cock.

“My turn,
belleza
.” Xander stood, then took hold of her arm. “Help me get her on the chair.”

Scrambling for his pants, Javier lifted his zipper with a quiet hiss, then assisted
London, knees first, into the chair, facing the back. When she tried to turn to sit,
he grabbed her hips until Xander came around, rolling on a condom.

“Stay, little one. You’re Xander’s, too. He’s also going to fuck that pretty, perfect
ass.”

Her breathing hitched as she clutched the back of the chair with white knuckles. “Hurry.”

“Right fucking now.” Xander ran a palm up her thigh, blanketed her body with his own,
the coat rustling between them. He gripped her hips and positioned himself, shoving
desperately into her soft, wet cunt. As he buried himself to the hilt, he clenched
his jaw, baring his teeth. He swiveled inside her slippery folds and slid his fingers
over her clit. London rewarded him with a gasp. Her pale skin flushed as she moved
back to take more of him. Watching them together was a thing of beauty—special, intimate—and
Javier couldn’t stand not being a part of it.

He walked around behind the chair and took her soft oval face in his hands, slanted
his lips over hers, and took her mouth in a possessive kiss that he hoped staked his
claim every bit as much as being deep in her body had. Javier was gratified when she
latched onto his shoulders for dear life and fell heart-first into the kiss.

“Arch your back,
belleza
. Push out for me.” Xander snapped the command at her gruffly.

Javier ripped his lips from hers. “Do as he says.”

Without pause, she did, and he watched over the length of her body as she slowly accepted
Xander’s thick, slick cock in her ass. Those gorgeous shrieks of her pleasure-pain
filled the air again, and London lifted her stare to him, somewhere between lost and
drowning.

“He’s inside you, little one, isn’t he?” At her frantic nod, he smiled. “So deep,
just like I was. Claiming you, just as I did. Take all of him, as you took all of
me. Because we want all of you. Every lovely inch, even the scars you’re hiding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t under—”

“I understand perfectly.” Javier gripped her hair. “You’re afraid and you don’t have
to be.”

Xander groaned as he pushed in again, obviously staving off the need to come by sheer
force of will. “Fuck, yes.
Bellez
a . . . Oh, baby. So tight. Hot. Fucking perfect. Javier is right. Surrender now.
Come and take me with you.”

Xander’s voice was damn near a plea, and his strokes picked up pace, gone from a smooth
slide to a ferocious shuttle in and out of her body. She’d feel well used and a bit
sore tomorrow, but Javier knew Xander would care for her, and he vowed to, as well—just
as they’d take care of her for the rest of her life if she’d let them.

Life before her hadn’t felt important because he hadn’t filled it with anything meaningful.
How was it possible that she’d cast a bright ray of sunshine into their lives in a
handful of days and taught them just how dark their existences had been? Javier didn’t
know or care. He just seized her mouth again, promising her with every brush of his
lips and every sweep of his tongue that she belonged to them.

Suddenly, she screamed into his kiss and stiffened. He looked up in time to see Xander
tossing his head back, sweat covering his chest as he gripped London and froze. The
snapshot of mind-bending ecstasy made Javier hard all over again. Damn, she could
turn them inside out, and he’d do anything to prove that, no matter what she thought,
she was the most beautiful woman to him ever.

Javier gripped her tightly as she shuddered in his arms with the shattering force
of orgasm. Her cries gave way to soft pants, and Xander pulled free but held her tight,
wearing an expression of contentment that had to be identical to his own.

As euphoria and harsh breathing gave way to sated lethargy, London sagged between
them. Javier eased to London’s side and sat on the cold tile, his back against the
side of the desk as he drew her limp body into his lap, wishing it was her soft skin,
not the starchy coat, against him.

After zipping up, Xander turned and came to his knees in front of her, cupping her
cheek in his hand. “You okay?”

She bowed her head. “Fine.”

Her assurance should have made him feel better. It didn’t. London was right here between
them . . . but he already felt her pulling away.

Before he could ask her to tell them what was on her mind, a knock sounded at the
door. If that was Thorpe, the bastard had terrible timing.

“Go the fuck away,” Xander demanded.

The door opened anyway, and Callie stepped in with a wry smile. “At least I waited
until all the grunts and groans stopped. Imagine if I’d come in a few minutes earlier.”

Xander growled out a creative threat, tinged with a few choice curses. Javier couldn’t
agree more.

“I’m serious, Callie. Go the fuck away or I’ll tell Thorpe—”

“He’s the one who told me to check on your girl.” Callie stepped farther into the
room, her black stilettos clicking along the tile. She bent to London, ignoring them
both, and smiled kindly. “Need a trip to the ladies’ room?”

Translation: Callie was giving London an escape from her lovers in case she needed
a few moments away. Javier had never been violent, but right now, he wanted to punch
Thorpe for his interference, no matter how well meaning.

“She’s fine,” Xander insisted. “Now go the fuck away.”

“This is one time I don’t have to do anything you say,
Sir
,” Callie returned tartly, then looked at London with a soft, seeking gaze. “You want
a moment to freshen up and put yourself back together?”

Javier tightened his arms around her, willing her to stay with them. But London nodded
and pushed back, rising to her feet and tying her coat shut. Xander stood. Javier
followed suit, reaching for London’s hand.

“Go ahead, little one. But if you’re upset or unsure, be prepared to talk to us when
you return.”

She shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze, then turned away. Javier feared he’d look
like an overly possessive caveman if he followed his instincts and grabbed her against
him. A glance at Xander told him that his brother was having similar thoughts. Usually
after sex, London was soft and happy, cuddly, warm. Now, she was distant. Some mood
rolled off her that he didn’t like. Regret? Sadness?

“It doesn’t matter to us. Your back,” he blurted. “I adore you as you are.”

Those words, meant to reassure her, seemed to have no impact at all. London didn’t
turn around. Instead, her shoulders shook. So did her voice. “It matters to me.”

Before he could reply, she was out the door. The little click behind them was like
a hatchet to the heart.

He charged forward. Fuck what Callie thought. So what if he was a caveman? But when
he opened the door, he caught only a glimpse of Callie with her slender arm around
London’s heaving shoulders. Thorpe blocked the doorway—and the rest of his view. Xander
stood beside him, looking like he wanted to punch Thorpe now and ask questions later,
but they both knew that would only get them tossed out on their asses.

“It’s a trip to the ladies’ room, not a hangman’s noose, so stop looking like someone
died.” Thorpe stepped in and shut the door, then made his way to sit in the chair
behind his desk. “Give London a few minutes. Whatever’s happened here tonight, she’s
shaken. Did you push past her limits?”

Xander raked a hand through his hair and paced. “She’s hiding from us. We’re trying
to reach her. She can’t be free until she accepts herself and believes that we accept
her, too.”

“And you can’t force that. You should know that can take months or years. If she’s
not ready, she’s not ready.”

Tell him something he didn’t know. Javier rubbed his jaw in frustration.

“Give her time,” the big Dom insisted.

In his head, Javier knew Thorpe was probably right. Trust couldn’t be forced; it had
to be earned. On the other hand, he couldn’t turn off the dread. He had a feeling
time had just run out.

The seconds dragged into minutes, one after the other. Xander still paced, staring
at the door. Javier wanted to dismantle it with his bare hands and find London now.
His instincts screamed that he was fucked.

As Thorpe poured himself a drink, Javier kind of wished the bastard would share. But
he needed a clear head to deal with London now. No way would he risk her to numb himself.

Thorpe frowned. “The two of you are strung tighter than a symphony orchestra. Relax.”

A cell phone beeped. Javier automatically reached for his, as did Xander. But Thorpe
was the one reading his screen with a frown. “Well, apparently your girl needs a little
more time.”

Javier resisted the urge to tear the phone from the other man’s hands. “Meaning?”

“London asked to leave Dominion. Callie is taking her somewhere safe and will stay
with her until she’s ready to return.”

The fury that fired through Javier’s veins didn’t make it to his tongue quite as quickly
as Xander’s. “Callie has no right to do that. London is
ours
.”

“So you married her? Or put a collar around her neck?” Thorpe asked sharply.

No, but in that moment, Javier wished to fuck he’d done both. He loved her. Further,
he genuinely believed that she loved him—even if she was afraid to admit it. He couldn’t
afford to panic. He’d dig up his patience and coax her tenderly, convince her that,
with him, she was safe. A glance at Xander said he felt precisely the same.

In the long silence, Thorpe sent them a chilly smile. “I didn’t think so. We don’t
condone anything nonconsensual here at Dominion. Ever. That includes keeping someone
against their will. You know that, Xander. Don’t worry. Callie will take care of your
girl until she sorts out her thoughts.”

“It’s not Callie being with London that we’re worried about. Please tell us where
to find her. She’s confused and probably overwhelmed. She needs comfort and reassurance.
We can’t give it to her from here,” Xander argued.

Thorpe shrugged with faint regret. “She doesn’t seem to want it just now. She gave
you her safe word. You fucked her anyway. And it wasn’t to make
her
feel better. It was about you. So now you get to back off and pay the price.”

A glance at Xander proved that his brother wanted to hit the club owner as badly as
he did. Javier had a good idea what might be running through London’s head, all of
it wrong and terrible. And at the end of all this thinking? Javier dreaded her conclusions.
As she’d walked out the door, the desolation in her tone had sounded a little too
marked to mean anything more than good-bye.

Chapter Eighteen

S
HE’S
gone.
Those two words resounded in Xander’s head over and over. Thorpe stared. Javier looked
somewhere between inconsolable and volatile. What the hell were they going to do now?

Fight for her.

“Goddamn it, tell us where she is!” Xander insisted. “She’s shutting us out and she
needs—”

“Space, obviously.” Thorpe reached for his chirping phone, and Xander saw Callie’s
name flash across his screen. “You love her, I get it. I think she has deep feelings
for you, as well. But sometimes, that’s not enough. That old saying, ‘If you love
someone, set them free . . .’ That applies here. If she doesn’t come back, it wasn’t
meant to be.”

“You know fucking nothing!” Javier stormed across the room at Thorpe, and Xander had
to restrain his brother by the collar to hold him back. Even as he struggled against
the hold, Javier kept screaming. “That’s what cowards tell themselves to make themselves
feel better about their loved ones slipping through their fingers. But I know the
truth. I let my own fucking wife go because I thought it would make her happier than
I could. It was my excuse for not trying harder, for not caring enough. And she’s
dead
because of it! Setting someone free is only an indication that you were too weak
to fight.”

In that moment, Xander couldn’t have agreed more. “If you want to pretend you don’t
give a shit that Callie is giving her devotion and her pussy to someone else, I can’t
stop you. But you’re lying to yourself. And I sure as hell can promise that we won’t
share your delusion. Tell us where the hell to find London right now.”

“Leave Callie out of this and calm down,” Thorpe shot back coldly.

The man clenched his jaw so hard, Xander was surprised it didn’t shatter. No doubt,
challenging Thorpe about Callie had pissed him off, but just because the club owner
didn’t want to see what was in front of his face didn’t mean that Xander was willing
to bury his own head in the sand. A decade and a half and thousands of women later,
he
finally
knew what—who—he wanted. He wasn’t letting her get away.

“We’re only pissed off at you. With London, we’ll be as calm and gentle as a lullaby.”

Thorpe rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it. Even if you did, what the hell could you
possibly say to her to change her mind? You wouldn’t be in this position if she trusted
you. She ran because she doesn’t, and you should be taking long looks in the mirror
and asking yourselves why.”

Pivoting on his heel, Thorpe turned away and strode out the door. He restrained himself
from slamming it, though Xander was sure he wanted to. Instead, he closed it with
a precise click. The resulting silence resounded like a mournful wail in his head.

“He’s right,” Javier said, sounding hollow, almost defeated. “She’s only known me
as an undisciplined drunk. I interviewed her drunk. I got so trashed her first day
on the job that she had to take care of me. I fucked her for the first time hung over.
Why would she trust her body or welfare with someone who has so little self-control?”

A week ago, Xander probably would have agreed with Javier. All that drowning his guilt
in vodka had nearly destroyed him—and everyone who loved him. But London had also
made him see parts of himself he hadn’t wanted to look at too closely.

“It’s my fault, too.” Xander frowned and clenched his fist, restraining the urge to
punch a wall. “I had no fucking purpose in life, so I made it my purpose to fuck.
It was the one thing I was good at. You’ve only been losing yourself in booze for
a few months. I’ve been drowning in pussy for more than half my life. I didn’t know
what else to do. No one needed me.” Tears sprang to Xander’s eyes, and it was the
most unmanly fucking thing he’d ever endured, but he couldn’t hold this in anymore.
Exposing his scars might not bring London back, but at least he’d take a step toward
healing and maybe be a better man. “Least of all you. I lived in your shadow. I spent
years just wanting to be important to you again, like when we were kids. When I wasn’t,
I became everything you despised just to see if you’d notice.”

Answering tears sprang to Javier’s eyes. “Sharing London with you . . . I’ve seen
past your playboy-without-a-cause routine. I’ve seen your pain. I shared it. Because
I couldn’t control it, I sank deeper and deeper into responsibility until I didn’t
care about anyone or feel anything, especially after I married Francesca. I knew I
didn’t love her. She knew it, too. I hid behind my job. I left you both to your own
devices. She paid the ultimate price for my neglect because she would have never been
with her killer if she’d been getting the attention she needed from me. And I can
never change that. Never fully atone. I have to live with that fact for the rest of
my life. It was easier to blame you for not training her than for me to accept responsibility
for her unhappiness. It was shitty.” Javier reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“This week has shown me how important you are—to me, to London. To the business, even.
I’m sorry for everything, especially being so distant for so long.”

“Apology accepted.” Xander grabbed his brother and hugged him. They gave one another
a hearty backslap, as if to make up for the tears flowing freely. He turned and tried
to surreptitiously wipe his eyes, but Javier had to have seen. “I knew you used to
grit your teeth every time one of the L.A. news outlets picked up on my escapades
and splashed them all over the page. I’m sorry for being an out-of-control asshole.”

“Yeah.” His brother swiped his eyes with his sleeve, then tried to grin. “I accept
your apology, too, but I’m sure you’ll have to apologize again at some point for being
an asshole.”

Xander laughed, their sudden banter lightening the mood and his heart. “Fuck off.”

Javier collapsed into the chair London had graced only a few minutes before and nodded.
“Yeah, you fuck off, too.”

The ensuing silence quickly filled with gravity. They’d repaired their rift, but London
was still gone, still out there alone thinking that she wasn’t beautiful enough for
them, and not trusting their words otherwise. That hurt Xander most of all. She didn’t
need to be alone now. She needed to know they loved her. She needed to see that the
flawed men they’d been before were better because her sweet spirit and her love had
changed them.

“We have a choice,” Javier said. “We either let her go and be the men we once were—”

“Fuck that!” Xander didn’t want to be that douche anymore. He’d been miserable and
lonely. Despite the fact that he’d fucked thousands of women, he’d been intimate with
no one until London.

“My thoughts exactly. There’s a bottle right there, and I could drink it all and forget
for a while . . . but my need for London would be there when the buzz wore off. I
can’t drink her away.”

Not like he had Francesca. Xander understood perfectly. Loneliness could be medicated
and masked until a man had something so real that nothing would ever make him forget.
“I’m sure I could find Whitney again and fuck her in every way known to man in the
next few hours. If she wasn’t enough . . . there are others in the club. But I’m not
interested and I’m not letting London down. She needs us to be stronger and better
so she can heal, finally give herself fully and be free.”

“Exactly.”

“What do we do? If she’s left Dominion, there seems no point in staying,” Xander pointed
out.

“Have you tried calling her?”

“Her phone is back at the hotel room. Even if she had it, I doubt she’d answer.”

Javier nodded. “You don’t happen to know where Callie lives?”

“No. That brat was always off limits to me because I knew how Thorpe felt about her,
even if the ass is too stubborn to admit it. Besides, Callie wasn’t up my alley. She
is a serious handful. I kind of feel sorry for her Master, whoever he is. He was probably
taken in by her baby blues and lush curves, and is just now figuring out that she’s
going to make him insane.”

“Then . . . I guess we head back to the hotel. Maybe she’ll show up there? We’ve got
all her stuff. If not, well . . . she knows how to call us if she’s ready to talk.”

True. And the fact their phones weren’t ringing scraped every bit of his composure
raw. His mood bled, and he wasn’t going to feel right again until he had London in
his arms, between him and Javier, making her feel both so good and so loved.

As they headed out of Thorpe’s office and grabbed their belongings from the playroom,
they headed back into the main part of the dungeon. Xander spied Callie’s Master and
Thorpe arguing with gestures as sharp as the crack of a whip. Idly, he wondered if
Thorpe realized that his unrequited need and jealousy were making him a real asshole.

With Javier beside him, they headed out into the sweltering night. Ignoring the fact
that it was nearly ninety degrees despite being after midnight, he kept his grumbling
to a minimum and hopped into the car, speeding through the night back to the Mansion.

The opulence and elegance of the Turtle Creek hotel didn’t register with Xander at
all. He prowled through the lobby, fishing out his key, then slamming it into the
slot once he reached the door. The moment he pushed it open, he realized the trench
London had been wearing when she left the club was strewn across their bed, along
with the shoes she’d been wearing. Stomach clenching with anxiety, Xander touched
the coat. It was still warm. Her clothing and her purse were nowhere to be found.

“She’s gone,” Javier said into the awful silence, scrubbing a hand across his terrified
face. “I pushed her too hard.”

Desolation swamped him. “She has to let go of that hurt and worry. We’ve got to help
her.”

“How? We have no idea where she’s gone. I doubt very much that she’s going to take
our calls or show up to the office on Monday. She’s not going to pretend that nothing
has happened.”

Javier was right. “One thing we do know is that she has no reason to come back here.
But I have a trick to track her down . . .”

“Oh?” His brother looked intrigued.

“She had problems with her iCloud account one day, so I helped her. She gave me her
e-mail and password. With that, I can track her iPhone. Let’s see where she’s gone.”
With a few clicks of his own phone, he tried to locate her device, but the app wasn’t
finding her. Cursing, he tried two, three, four times. Nothing. “Damn it! She’s turned
off her phone.”

With a heavy sigh, Javier sat in a plush chair. “Could anything say more eloquently
that she doesn’t want to hear from us?”

No, but that couldn’t be the end. “Too bad. I’m not letting her fester in self-doubt.
I’d bet money that, right now, she wants familiar people and comforts around her.”

“Agreed. Somehow, someway, she’s headed back to Lafayette.”

Xander nodded. “Let’s pack up and follow.”

His brother began gathering his stuff into a pile, shoving it into bags without a
scrap of organization or care. “What do we do when we find her?”

“Convince her that we’ll do anything for her and that we’re never letting her go.”

The words had barely cleared his lips when Xander’s phone rang. He yanked it from
his pocket, praying London was on the other end, that she missed him, that she wanted
to talk—something. When Xander glanced at the screen, he froze.

“Who is it?” Javier demanded.

“Someone I hired to help us with the security issue surrounding the log-ins Maynard
was bitching about. He’s more than qualified. Former military special forces. He’s
especially good with industrial espionage. If he’s calling in the middle of the night,
it’s not good.” Xander hit the button to answer his phone. “What’s up, Decker?”

“Hey. I followed the trail of those IDs down to their last access point near Cancun.
I found a guy by the name of Albert Carlton. That name mean anything to you?”

“Not to me,” Xander answered, then looked at his brother. “You know an Albert Carlton?”

“Yeah. He’s an employee. In R & D. He’s Sheppard’s work bitch, follows him around
from meeting to meeting like a dog in heat.”

“You hear that?” Xander asked Decker.

“Yep. And Sheppard is . . .?”

“The head of R & D.”

Decker grunted. “That puts a few things into place.”

Maybe for Decker, but Xander was confused as hell. “If he’s an employee, what’s he
doing accessing proprietary information in Mexico? Is he working on his vacation?”

“If he was, the vacation is now permanent,” Decker drawled.

“What do you mean?”

“I went out there to spy on the guy. Instead, I found a body. My guess is that someone
professional whacked him.”

“Professional? Like an assassin?” Xander tugged his fingers through his hair. “You’re
sure?”

“Yep. Carlton wasn’t in a hotel room in the tourist area, but in a house on the seedy
side of town, so normally I’d think robbery or drugs. But no one took his wallet,
phone, credit cards, passport, or his baggie full of coke. His printer, fax, and mouse
were all sitting on his desk. His computer, however, was missing. I suspect the killer
waited until evening rolled around and Carlton opened his window to the breeze so
there’d be no sign of forced entry or struggle. He finished Carlton off before the
poor fuck ever had a clue.”

“Think the neighbors heard the gunshots?”

“In that neighborhood, they’re used to drug dealers taking one another out. If anyone
had heard anything, they wouldn’t talk. But Carlton wasn’t shot. He was strangled.
The ligature around his neck is brutal and obvious. Rough rope, about two inches thick.
This killer is strong. Carlton died quickly and without mercy.”

Those words rattled around in Xander’s had. Strangled. By a pro. Who liked fat ropes.
Like Francesca. What were the odds of that?

“The good news is,” Decker went on, “I did some digging on the vic’s phone. I found
a list of his passwords. He paid for an online backup service, so I grabbed a fresh
computer and put a mirror of Carlton’s computer on that. It should be done now, so
let me see what we’ve got, then I might be able to tell you what got him killed.”