His to Take (Wicked Lovers 9)

from her hiding spot. Unwinding from her crouched position, she inched out of the fort and tiptoed to the back door.

Inside, it was even more quiet. No TV, no laughter, no sounds of cooking.

She wandered from room to room, frowning at the red all over the walls, staining the floor of the hall. As she stepped into her parents’ bedroom, she peeled off her socks, then . . .

Everything faded. Then suddenly, she was running for the back door with her shirt stained. Wind blew the portal wide, and she sprinted for the road in bare feet. Her teeth chattered until a nice couple in a blue sedan found her. Bailey climbed inside their warm car, rocking back and forth in confusion. She didn’t know what to say.

Bailey woke with a gasp.

She sat up. Hand pressed to her chest, breathing hard. Her heart thundered.

The nightmare she’d had all her life had come back to haunt her again. This time, she’d seen visions that had never appeared before, like Viktor Aslanov. Never before had she acknowledged him in her dream as Daddy.

She’d also never seen the stranger who’d made Viktor bleed before dragging him away, which was clearly what her adult mind told her had happened. She knew the Russian had been tortured, then eventually killed, his body dumped on the side of a road.

But somehow, the stranger who had taken him away looked familiar.

“Bailey?” Joaquin sat up beside her. “Did you dream?”

She nodded absently, trying to piece it all together. A sick feeling assailed her. “Where is that photo?”

He wrapped an arm around her and eased her against his body. “Of McKeevy? On the nightstand. I’ll get it.”

“No.” Lunging out of Joaquin’s embrace, she stood and turned on the nightstand lamp. Just like in her dream, the air held a nip. Her feet felt frozen. Her hand shook as she reached for the photo.

Yes, she’d definitely seen those mean, pale eyes.

Bailey trembled harder. She started to sweat.

Joaquin leapt to her side. “What is it? Tell me.”

“This man was in my dream. He never had been until tonight, but I saw him this time. He barged into our house and dragged Viktor away.”

“Did he kill everyone else in the house first?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” It was all so fuzzy to her.

“What did he say when he broke in?”

“I wasn’t inside. In my dream, Viktor had sent me outside to hide in my brother’s makeshift fort. He told me to stay there. But after this man dragged him away, I went back inside.” Bailey shook her head, then blinked up at Joaquin. He represented protection and comfort now. She needed those. “I’ve never had that part of the dream before.”

“Anything else new?”

“Not really.” She frowned. “There’s a bit of a blank spot in between me coming back to the house and me running outside again, this time all covered in blood. I can’t see that part.”

He wrapped her in his arms. “You’ve kept the memories locked away for years because they’re traumatic. You’re starting to remember. Maybe seeing McKeevy’s face jarred something? You’re sure it was him in your dream?”

“I’m sure. He was younger, a little less bald, but those cold eyes were the same.”

Joaquin kissed the top of her head, and she let his heat seep into her. “You’re shaking.”

“The dream has always scared me.” She looked up at him, big and strong, somehow her anchor in this crazy, upside-down world she now inhabited. “This time, I’m terrified.”

“I know. Come back to bed.” He tried to take the photo from her grip.

“No. I need to think about this.”

She clutched the glossy picture of the man who had probably murdered her whole family. On the surface, he didn’t look particularly evil or even remarkable. If she’d seen him in person now, she probably would have thought he was a teacher or bank teller—some occupation where he had to be polite. He wouldn’t like putting on a nice face and would more than likely have cursed his students or customers in his head. But looking at him now, assassin fit.

“We know he left Houston and headed north. We don’t know exactly where he is at the moment, but we’re pretty sure where he will be on Saturday.”

“Callie and Sean’s wedding.” Bailey was afraid for her new friend.

He nodded. “I need to call them, tell them about this development. We knew McKeevy was a member of LOSS and probably a threat. But to be ninety-nine percent sure he killed your family and that he broke into your house in Houston, too . . . that’s a game changer.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” she protested.

“I don’t care. This thing is coming to a head. I don’t know why he’s chosen now, after all these years. But maybe, with some insight from Sean, I can figure it out.”

Bailey touched a hand up to his big shoulder. “Wait.”

She knew the minute he called the others, the danger would only become more real. She’d been living in a bubble these past few days. The last twenty-four hours had almost felt as if she’d started a whole new life. But her past had collided with her present. If she wanted a future, she had to bust out of her cocoon and meet this head-on.

Joaquin led her back to the bed and cuddled up beside her before he reached for his phone. “It’s not quite four. I’ll wait an hour, but no more. My gut tells me that time isn’t on our side. McKeevy is on the hunt.”

And because she knew what the sick killer had done to her father, seen what he had probably done to the victims Joaquin had been trying to save, she couldn’t disagree. His offer of an hour of peace sounded like utter bliss. But he was right. The price of waiting now might be too steep.

“Never mind. Go ahead and call.”

Joaquin nodded and dialed Thorpe. Fifteen minutes later, he, Callie, and Sean entered the club. Hunter and Logan were right behind him. Apparently, Axel had never left.

The group gathered in the main dungeon, still dressed in the trappings of Thorpe’s party, as Joaquin explained Bailey’s dream to the others. As soon as he mentioned the McKeevy connection, the room went dead silent.

“It’s a dream,” Hunter pointed out. “That doesn’t mean it’s true. Otherwise, Logan would have giant Tootsie Pops licking him while he sings One Direction songs.”

“Hey!” Logan whapped his brother on the shoulder. “I would never sing shit from a British boy band.”

“But we all know you’d be more than happy to be worshipped by lollipops,” Thorpe drawled.

“Can we focus?” Joaquin growled. “Everything that’s happened in Bailey’s dream before now has been substantiated as fact.”

“But isn’t it possible the suggestion of this picture”—Thorpe held up the photo of McKeevy—“somehow made her incorporate him into the dream?”

“Anything is possible,” Joaquin conceded with clenched teeth. “But—”

“The dream has always felt more like a memory,” Bailey cut in. “And I’ve always known I was missing pieces. I still am. The whole middle just fades away from me. McKeevy being there, though, fits.”

Joaquin nodded. “The torture is up McKeevy’s alley.”

“He didn’t employ his gruesome routine on any Aslanov but Viktor,” Sean pointed out. “The rest of the family was simply shot.” He winced Bailey’s way. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. She mourned the loss of a family, but she didn’t remember them.

“Maybe he was in a hurry. Maybe he got interrupted. Maybe . . . we don’t know,” Joaquin insisted. “It wouldn’t be the first time the asshole dusted someone without taking them apart first.”

Bailey frowned. What was he talking about? Who? She made a mental note to ask Joaquin later.

“The truth is, as soon as I saw the picture, I knew he was familiar and frightening. I had no doubt I’d seen him, then my dream supplied the answer,” she told Sean. “I know this all sounds insane, but I’m telling the truth.”

“It all fits,” Joaquin insisted. “LOSS has been seeking Aslanov’s research for about fifteen years. If they thought the scientist himself had kept a copy, they would have paid him a visit, threatened his family, and tortured him to extract its location. They also would have hunted Callie, hoping she knew something, before they eliminated that loose end. Only they could never find her until it was too late. That would have really pissed them off, especially McKeevy.”

“I’ve been thinking . . . ” Sean scrubbed a hand down his face, then looked at Callie. “I think we should postpone the wedding.”

She shook her head, her dark ponytail brushing her shoulders. “Those bastards have defined my life for too long. I’m not letting them take my future away, too.”

“Lovely . . .”

“We can protect her.” Thorpe crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll be right beside her. I’ll be right beside you.”

“Tara and I are coming,” Logan swore. “I’ll help your guys secure the perimeter.”

“Unless Kata goes into labor, we’ll be there, too,” Hunter assured Sean. “I’ll do everything I can to keep Callie safe. Hell, most of the Oracle team will be in the pews, and you know Jack is a scary motherfucker when it comes to anyone threatening women. We’ll lock the place down and use it as the perfect opportunity to catch McKeevy.”

“Hell, I’ve got an idea on how to capture him before Callie even walks down the aisle. It won’t even disrupt the wedding,” Logan added.

“Please, Sean . . .” Callie reached out for her fiancé’s hand.

He gripped it. “I don’t like it.”

“I want to be married to you now. And I’d like to wear my wedding dress before my baby bump makes that impossible.”

“I’d rather have you alive than dead,” he retorted.

“I doubt McKeevy would really try to off her in the middle of a high-profile event. I don’t think LOSS wants that kind of attention,” Hunter said.

Sean nodded. “That’s probably true.”

But he obviously wasn’t sold on that thought.

“Besides, everything Callie once held secret is out in the open, along with the fact that her father destroyed his copy of the research. So maybe this is a recon mission or some other fishing expedition,” Joaquin suggested and turned to Bailey. “Or maybe they’ve figured out that you’re in Dallas with Callie. Maybe McKeevy is hoping you’ll turn up at the wedding.”

“And make yourself easy pickings,” Axel added. “Because if he has to choose between offing Callie for revenge and torturing you to find Viktor Aslanov’s research, guess what he’ll take?”

The thought of seeing that man in person—even in a crowded church—made her stomach twist with anxiety until she thought she’d be sick. Being cornered alone with him . . . Utter panic filled her.

“I don’t think we should stay here anymore,” Joaquin said. “We know McKeevy broke into your house and trashed it, then left Houston, headed north toward Dallas. If he suspects at all that you’re here, he’ll stop at nothing to get to you.”

Bailey didn’t want to put anyone else at risk, especially people who felt a lot like friends.

Logan nodded. “In your place, I’d be shoving Bailey in a car and fucking flooring it to Timbuktu, if I could.”

“Ditto.” Hunter lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t see what offing Callie gets him at this point except a cheap revenge thrill. But Bailey . . . That’s high stakes.”

“You’re truly the last living link to that research,” Axel reminded her.

Thorpe and Sean exchanged a glance, then looked at Joaquin, who nodded. “We’ll be leaving.”

Bailey wanted to cry. How ironic that she’d come to Dominion terrified out of her mind and wishing to be anywhere else. In a couple of short days, she felt as if she’d grown closer to these people than she had to anyone else in years.

“Any ideas where you’ll go?” Sean asked.

“No. But we’ll figure it out.”

“We know of a good houseboat just outside of Vegas.” Thorpe winked at Callie.

“Mitchell! That was low-down.” She huffed, trying not to smile. “And kind of wonderful.”

“Only kind of?”

Sean looped an arm around her and kissed her temple.

“A lot,” she confessed with a dreamy sigh.

Joaquin just shook his head. “I have some ideas on location. No matter what, we’ll be out of your hair in the next two hours.”

He stood and helped Bailey to her feet. She was loath to leave but didn’t see any other way.

“Thanks for everything.” He stuck out his hand to Thorpe, then to Sean. “Best of luck with your wedding and your future.”

Sean gripped his hand. “When the danger is off, come back to see us.”

“You two are welcome.” Thorpe smiled and turned to Bailey, who fought the urge to cry. “Take care of yourself.”

“Thank you—all three of you,” she said from the bottom of her heart.

Callie rose, her blue eyes sad as she held out her arms. “Be careful. Stay safe.”

Bailey nodded and hugged the woman, knowing she had no way to keep such a promise. She couldn’t even be sure she’d have a chance to reconnect with these people. “I will. You’ll make a beautiful bride and a great mother. Congratulations.”

She wanted to say more, but Hunter shot Joaquin a pointed glance. “What should I tell your sister?”

“Nothing to say right now.” He wrapped his hot fingers around Bailey’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirteen

IT didn’t take long to gather up their stuff. She and Joaquin had arrived at Dominion with next to nothing. Other than the few items Callie had given her, she was leaving empty-handed. Though she would have loved some of the comforts of home, Bailey knew McKeevy had destroyed much of it. Another reason to despise him. Besides Blane and dance, she wondered if she had anything worth going back to.

“Do you have everything packed?” Joaquin asked as he glanced around the room they’d shared last night, his stare lingering on the bed.

“There wasn’t much.”

“True.” One look at her face, and he sighed. “Baby girl, don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Sean will continue working on this end to keep Callie safe with the help of Jack Cole and his guys.”

She was scared, but probably not as much as she should be. Joaquin had already proven that he was smart and one step ahead of McKeevy. Her bigger regret was losing people she cared for.

Story of my life . . .

“I know.”

He lifted a borrowed backpack filled with their stuff with one hand. With the other, he reached for hers. She appreciated his comfort. As hard as it was to leave all her new friends, being without this man would be far more devastating.

What would she do when he no longer had to bodyguard her and he left her to save someone else or seek his next mission? Bailey didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t let a man she’d known a handful of days have her heart or the ability to crush her. She cared, yes. Maybe she was even falling in love. But she would carry on once he’d gone. Sadly, she already knew he would, just as she knew his departure would hurt like hell.

As the two of them left the bedroom behind and made their way down the empty hall, they passed through the dungeon. Someone had already cleaned up after the party. Even the garish blow-up doll had been deflated and lay in a plastic puddle on the bar, tacky lingerie piled on top. In the middle of the room, Logan scanned