His to Take (Wicked Lovers 9)

“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.

A family emerged from a minivan, looking road weary. Mom herded the three kids and all their toys toward the entrance while Dad grabbed the luggage.

From inside the hotel, a couple emerged. The woman glanced around clandestinely, then turned to the man. He kissed her passionately. When they broke apart, she looked at her watch and fished into her purse for her keys. She wore a wedding ring. He didn’t. They headed toward separate cars. Bailey wondered if that woman’s husband had any idea that she had a lover or if he’d been ignoring the signs of problems at home.

Another man in a hoodie parked near the front of the hotel and hopped out of a silver sedan, hands shoved in the jacket’s front pockets. Was he the woman’s cuckolded husband? Bailey wondered, as he scanned the parking lot. His gaze fell on her for a long, frightening moment. His flat eyes looked dead. Bailey shivered. But he quickly looked away, as if still seeking something or someone. She blew out a sigh of relief.

From inside, Joaquin walked through the double doors and headed to his SUV. “We’re around back on the bottom floor. There’s also a two-lane road that ends at the interstate, just in case.”

She was glad he’d thought of such things. Honestly, all she’d been considering right now was a hot shower and a bar of soap so she could wipe away the grime of the day. Too bad it couldn’t remove the stain on her soul.

“Thanks.”

With a nod, he started the vehicle and put it in gear. She scanned the area for the man in the hoodie, but he was gone. He’d likely headed into the hotel. With a shrug, she glanced in the other direction and saw the married woman driving away. Her lover stood rooted in place beside his sporty coupe, watching her go. He looked ripped apart.

Bailey suspected she’d feel that way when Joaquin finally realized she’d become attached to him and he walked away.

Sadness dragged her down, even as the day’s tumult still stirred her up. This odd jumble of emotions made her feel as if she overflowed with everything bad and wrong in life. She had a dark past, had lived through a lie of a childhood. Why couldn’t she have one good thing right now?

Joaquin stopped the SUV in a corner of the lot, parking it as close to the back exit as he could. He handed her a key and picked up the backpack. “Room 192. You unlock the door and let me sweep the room before you go in.”

She’d seen this tactic on TV and didn’t understand how anyone might have broken into their hotel room, but if it made him feel safer to follow procedure, fine. In fact, given the feeling of uneasiness she couldn’t shake, maybe caution was a good thing.

As she approached the door, she glanced around the parking lot, but didn’t see anyone, so she shoved the key in the lock. The light turned green, and she heard a little click. Joaquin pushed on the door and extracted h

is gun from the small of his back, flipping off the safety. Bailey held her breath as he searched every corner, the closet, the bathroom, under the bed.

“The coast is clear.” He motioned her inside.

She entered, letting the door shut behind her. He sloughed off the backpack and threw home the deadbolt.

“Take your shower. I’ll find the phone book in this joint so I can hunt down something that resembles food.”

With a nod, Bailey stumbled into the bathroom. It was utilitarian, but if it had hot water and shampoo, that was all she really needed.

After stripping down, she stood under the hot spray and let it melt her stress. Warmth cascaded over her scalp, through her tresses, rolled down her skin. She grabbed the little bar of soap and glided it over her body, then lathered her hair. In her mind, she did her best to wash away her biological father’s terrible act of questionable mercy, the nightmares that had plagued her for years, the uncertainty of not knowing where tomorrow might lead her.

But instead of the choking emotions dissipating, more roared through her. She’d done her best to tamp them down and not fall apart in the car, but now? They rushed her like a tidal wave. All the hurt, confusion, disbelief, and sadness poured in. A trickling of tears sprang free. It became a steady drip, which then turned into a small stream. Finally, the dam of her self-control broke and her tears transformed into a downpour that squeezed her heart until she couldn’t breathe or think or move. She couldn’t do anything but crumple to the edge of the tub and sob.

Bailey had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, half under the spray of the shower, before Joaquin knocked.

“Baby girl?” he called through the door. “You okay? I’ve got a line on some good pizza.”

She heard the words, wanted to tell him that she couldn’t think about food now, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing she managed was to drag in a shuddering breath, then let loose an uncontrollable, heaving sob.

He didn’t bother knocking again, just shoved the door wide open and burst into the room. Bailey tried to curl into herself. The sense of vulnerability nicked and sliced her until she felt as if she bled from every inch of her skin. She didn’t want him to see her as a victim, a sad case, a tragic girl to pity.

But how else could he possibly see her right now?

Another sob wracked her. He bolted across the tiny bathroom in two big steps and straddled the side of the tub, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his warm body.

“Bailey . . . Don’t cry. Oh, baby girl.” He cradled her tight. “I’m here.”

“I’m b-broken.” She managed to shove the words out between tears.

“Never,” he swore. “You’ve had a tough day. I know a lot of men who wouldn’t have made it through this shit half as well as you.”

Maybe. Bailey didn’t know if he spoke the truth, and her brain was too muddled to consider it. She stared at the water pelting the bottom of the tub. Joaquin’s big, bare foot was drenched, as was the bottom half of one pant leg. She must be saturating his shirt with her wet skin and sopping hair. Still, he didn’t show any signs of leaving her side or saving his clothing from a thorough soaking. He just held her and crooned.

“I can only imagine what you’re going through. You’ve been carrying this secret for so long. To know that it’s been locked inside must be terrible.”

“I feel . . . I don’t know how to put it.” She shook her head. “Responsible? But I don’t think, at five, I could have stopped what happened.”

“No. If Viktor hadn’t told you to hide, you would have died that day, too. Either he would have ended you as he did the others or McKeevy would have tortured you to see if you knew anything helpful before he killed you.”

Everything he said was true, but that didn’t make the words easier to take. “I wish I had been able to tell everyone sooner maybe. I don’t know. Done something.”

“That wouldn’t have changed anything, either. What you wish is that you’d had more power in the situation, both then and now.”

Bailey hadn’t thought of it like that, but he was right. He understood exactly what she wanted. “Yes. I feel like I’ve done them a disservice by not speaking the truth sooner. And now I’m so angry with Viktor, LOSS, McKeevy . . .”

“And probably me. I’ve forced you into this.”

“You were trying to save lives. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t saved mine. Probably dead. And I would never have known the truth. Thank you for being my white knight.”

He took her face in his hands and looked down at her as if he wanted to say something. But Bailey saw what she needed in his eyes—his strength, his comfort, his sense of right. For the first time, she knew what it was like to choose someone with her heart. She couldn’t change either set of her parents or the way those relationships had ended. She’d drifted through a lot of friends, too. In retrospect, Bailey figured that she’d cleaved onto Blane because he’d been funny, interesting, and so helpful with dance. But Joaquin . . . He filled her heart like no one ever had.

No denying that she loved him.

He might stay tomorrow—but probably not. She couldn’t control that. All she could do was be with him now. He was a balm to her battered soul. He was the warmth that chased the chill from her heart. He made her feel alive, and she needed that so badly right now.

“Will you kiss me?” she breathed.

He pressed his lips to hers softly, lingering for just a moment before he pulled back.

Bailey wanted more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her lips to him, plunging her tongue inside.

Joaquin tensed and pulled back. “Bailey, you need food and sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re upset. I won’t take advantage of you.”

She loved his sense of right and wrong. It might be skewed to some people, but she understood. For him, the righteous end could justify the terrible means. He wasn’t the kind of man to kidnap her lightly. Just like he wasn’t the sort to take from her when he thought she couldn’t spare anything to give.

“You’re not. I’m asking you to fill me up with your touch, your affection. Replace all these bad memories with something good. Help me.”

He frowned, his stare contemplative as he delved deep into her eyes. Finally, he rose and leaned over her, cutting off the shower. Then he helped her onto the bath mat and wrapped a towel around her, squeezing the water from her hair before it dripped on the floor.

Gently, he yanked on the strands falling down her back. “I don’t have any condoms in the room. I picked some up today, but they’re in the car. If this is what you really want, I’ll go get them.”

He should. She should let him.

“No.” The word slipped out.

Bailey couldn’t imagine letting him out of her sight. She couldn’t be parted from him for even a moment. It wasn’t logical. Then again, desperation wasn’t. She needed to feel him in the most elemental way, man to woman, natural and real.

Nothing between them.

“I don’t want you to wear one.”

He hesitated. “Bailey, I don’t think—”

She lunged up and melded her lips to his, her hands tearing into his jeans. She didn’t want to think right now. She didn’t want him to think, either. She simply wanted to feel. So what if she was reckless? Everything else in her life had gone to hell through no fault of her own. Just one moment with him. A pure connection no one could erase, something she’d never forget. Was that asking for too much?

He pulled back and gripped her wrists before she could lower his zipper. “I want you, too. So damn badly. When I sank deep inside you, the feel of you around me with no barriers was the most pleasure I’ve ever felt. I’d give anything to have that again. But if you got pregnant?”

Joaquin opened his mouth as if he had more to say, but she cut him off. “I know. I just don’t care right now. My entire day has been surro

unded by death. I have to feel alive. I don’t want to feel latex. I need to feel you. You keep saying you’ll be here for me. Do it. Please . . .”

His fingers tightened on her as he scanned her face. She saw the moment he chose to give in, and elation spiked, sizzling up her blood.

“Fuck,” he muttered, then lifted her into his arms, carrying her out of the bathroom.

Seconds later, he dropped her to the mattress. Before she even stopped bouncing, he gripped her thighs and tugged, pulling her down to the edge of the bed and spreading her legs wide. With jerky movements, he tore off his T-shirt and knelt. Bailey barely had time to guess his intent before he fitted his lips over her pussy and swiped his tongue through her moist flesh, flattening his tongue over her clit.

She cried out at the instant jolt of sensation. But he didn’t