His to Take (Wicked Lovers 9)

Outside, the day was clear, chilly, breezy. They hopped into the SUV, and Joaquin maneuvered onto the road. Within moments, they blended in with the traffic, until they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot.

After nice plates of eggs, bacon, and fruit, they eased back into the vehicle and onto the road. Belly happily full, Bailey lost herself in thought. If they found Viktor’s research at this lake, then what? Would Joaquin send her back to her ordinary life and return to his own? Or were they simply too entwined now to part?

She glanced over at his strong profile, blade of a nose, full lips, enviously long lashes. He seemed focused on the road with an occasional glance back in the rearview mirror. Tension rolled through him. Joaquin had done an exceptional job of hiding it previously, but now she felt the gut-knotting tightness hanging in the air.

“Tell me. Best-case scenario if we find this research?”

“We turn it over to the feds. I don’t know after that. Maybe LOSS stops looking for you if they know you no longer have what they’re seeking. Maybe we have enough to convict McKeevy.”

“Worst case?”

“Witness Protection maybe. That’s if LOSS doesn’t find you first, of course. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I know.” And Bailey did.

When Joaquin had first abducted her, she hadn’t trusted him for a moment. He’d drugged her and taken her from the comfortable and familiar, then he’d forced her to look under the façade her adopted parents had given her and truly see herself. She’d hated him for it. How had everything changed in less than three days?

“I know those are terrible options,” he murmured.

They were, but they didn’t shock Bailey. “So there’s a very slim chance I come out of this with a normal life?”

He hesitated, gripped the steering wheel. “I’d love to say it’s both possible and likely, but I’d be lying to you.”

Now probably wasn’t the time to ask about this, but there might not be a later. “What if I’m pregnant?”

“We’ll deal with it, whether you have to testify against members of LOSS the feds can convict or we’re in Witness Protection.”

Bailey’s jaw dropped. “But if you came with me, you’d be giving up your family, probably for the rest of your life.”

“A week ago, that wouldn’t have fazed me at all. Now . . . yeah, it would bother me not to see my mother again or meet her new husband or hold Kata’s baby. But I’d still choose you.”

His words yanked on her heart until her chest felt ready to implode. In every way except verbally, Joaquin had told her that he loved her. The sentiment warmed every bone in her body.

I love you, too.

The miles and the minutes dipped by. Highway 15 became something else, then they dumped onto Interstate 81 on the outskirts of Harrisburg. From there, they continued northeast, through some deeply scenic territory. Even a few weeks ago, the trees would have looked nearly bare—the ravages of winter taking their toll. Now most spouted the makings of rebirth. Small and tentative and green, the leaves would soon grow and bloom, filling the trees with life again until the next season browned and felled them in preparation for winter once more. The circle of life, she supposed.

Bailey wished she knew where her circle was headed. Hopefully not for an early grave. Or decades of loneliness.

Joaquin veered onto Interstate 80 next, and she swore things were beginning to look familiar.

“We’re not far. Do you need a restroom break?”

“I could use one. And maybe more caffeine.”

“Ditto.” They exited and found a fast-food joint, now dead in the middle of the afternoon.

Bailey turned and saw a silver sedan. Had she see that same car at the hotel? Or was she being paranoid?

“See that car parked at the edge of the parking lot?” she asked him without looking at the vehicle in question, just in case.

Joaquin had the same idea. “The grayish one. Yeah. I’ve seen him a few times. He seems to stop when we do.”

A faint sense of unease became full-on fear. “Do you think—”

“I don’t know. The one thing that’s keeping me from being too suspicious is that they kidnapped the other victims, then asked questions. I can’t think of a reason they’d change their M.O. with you.”

She bobbed her head, conceding his point. “We’re headed to the Poconos. It’s a vacation destination. Maybe he’s looking to get away for a few days. We are stopping pretty close to the highway.” She tried convincing herself. “Maybe he has the same ideas about where to eat and pee.”

“We’ll find out.”

* * *

WHEN they piled back in the SUV to drive the last half hour to the lake, Joaquin watched the silver car. As they pulled back onto the highway, it remained empty and in the parking lot. He relaxed. A red truck and a white hatchback soon pulled onto the highway with them. He kept a cursory glance on the vehicles while trying not to worry what fate had in store for Bailey’s future.

For the first time in his adult life, he wanted more than work. He saw the point of coming home to one woman. He’d be thrilled to have a rug rat with her and make certain he or she didn’t grow into a defiant teenager. It scared the hell out of him, but he wanted roots and a future with Bailey.

What if LOSS found her and ended that future before it could begin? What if she died while growing the life they’d created together inside her?

The thought made him homicidal and filled him with paralyzing terror at once. Just imagining what it would be like to lose her and the family they might have begun gutted him.

Joaquin reached over and squeezed her hand, reveling in her warm, soft skin. He needed to assure himself that she was well and whole. As he glanced her way, he noticed she looked awfully nervous, too.

“You all right?”

“Evading antigovernment loons isn’t exactly as much fun as hanging out with a few friends and sharing a bottle of wine, but I’m managing.”

He sent her a faint smile. “Anything look familiar?”

“Not any one thing in particular. I just remember thinking the road up to the lake was a beautiful place. But I’m sure time has changed things.”

“Of course.”

“And the seasons. It was probably October when we came. I remember lots of fall colors. But now, spring is budding.”

“I know. Just keep watching for anything that seems familiar.”

A moment later, Joaquin’s phone rang. He pulled it from the console and glanced at it before pressing a button to enable the speakerphone. “Hunter?”

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I’ve got some answers for you.”

Joaquin’s guts knotted up. “Hit me.”

“I found a few possibilities. The one that seems most likely is a campground that closed about six years ago. One of the local sporting goods places I called and played dumb with said he remembered a green fence near a dock. Someone else bought the place a few years back and started fixing it up. They’ve opened the main structure on the grounds as a restaurant. I’ll text you directions.”

When Joaquin’s phone dinged a minute later, he thanked Hunter. “We’ll see what we can find. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Knowing you had your hands full, I called Sean to advise him that you might be onto something. He’s alerting the FBI in Philly. They’re going to have agents on standby. Call this number I’ll text you next if you find anything. They’ll get to you in less than an hour.”

Another little ding sounded. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I wish you had some backup. I’d feel better if you had more than one set of eyes on Bailey.”

Joaquin’s first instinct was to bristle, but he knew Hunter only spoke from a position of caution. “When we left, I wasn’t sure what we’d find, if anything. Now we can’t afford to wait.”

Hunter grunted like he didn’t want

to agree but couldn’t argue the point, either.

“Besides,” Joaquin went on. “Staying in Dallas wasn’t an option with McKeevy all set to help at Callie’s wedding.”

“Maybe not. The photographer who hired him said his new assistant stopped answering calls, so he left a message telling ‘Timothy Smith’ that he was fired. Sean and a few feds went to his known address, but it turned out to be a dump—literally. He listed some city’s garbage facilities as his home.”

“Charming.”

“That’s McKeevy, a delightful sociopath.” Hunter huffed. “Keep me posted. If you don’t, I’ll let your sister kick your ass next time you see her.”

Joaquin couldn’t not laugh. The idea of a pregnant woman still a good six inches shorter than him beating him up was ridiculous, but if anyone would try, it would be his spitfire sister. “Heaven forbid. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news.”

They hung up, and Joaquin began following the driving directions to the campground Hunter had texted from his phone. The roads turned twisty and windy, the scenery absolutely stunning. He’d never been to this part of the country, but he wouldn’t mind exploring here more. Fall was probably a gorgeous time of year to come.

Within a few minutes, they reached the old campground. It had been converted into a bar and restaurant, but the place looked empty now. He glanced at his phone: 3:38. As he curled an arm around Bailey’s tiny waist and led her to the door, he saw that the sign posted said they didn’t open until five.

He looked around the parking lot, down the landscaped perimeter, all the way to the lakefront. “Anything look familiar?”

“I see a fence. And a dock.” She bit her lip, looking tense, worried. “I don’t know. If this is the right place, things have changed a lot. This parking lot wasn’t here. It was just a dirt area. The big tree I remember doesn’t seem that big, after all.”

“Remember, you were smaller, so your vantage point would have been here.” He crouched down. “And since it was fall, the tree would have been full of leaves, not just a bunch of spindly branches.”

“True,” she conceded, easing down to his level and staring up at the treetops. “Is it hickory?”

“I’m not an arborist. It’s possible.”

She sighed. “It’s also possible this is a wild-goose chase.”

“Yeah. But in case it’s the real deal, we’ve got to press forward.”

Bailey rose and meandered to the fence, stroking her fingers along the top of the pickets, now stained a dark cedar color. Joaquin headed for an old, beat-up sign near the shore that read No Lifeguard on Duty.

She looked his way, and her eyes lit up. “I remember that sign.” She glanced between it and the fence again. “It was about that far apart, too. If this fence was still green . . . it would look awfully similar.”

“There’s a path to follow.” He pointed.

“It’s concrete now, but if I come to this support post and jump three times to my left . . .” She demonstrated—and wound up precisely in the middle of the path.

And everything seemed to fit into place. A wave of dizziness overcame her.

Joaquin reached out to steady Bailey. “Whoa. You okay?”

“I remember now—and I think we’re in the right place. In my head, I see Viktor talking me through this little dance before he headed back to a tiny lump of dirt he’d just made at the base of the tree.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly the kind of recollection we need.”

“Mentally removing the trappings of everything that’s changed, I’m thinking we might actually find whatever he buried somewhere around the trunk of the tree. Did we bring a shovel?”

Well, shit. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to dig.” He took a mental inventory of the items in his car. “I’ve got an idea. It’s not perfect, but it might do the trick.”

He jogged back to the car, disappearing behind some foliage for a bit. He hated to leave Bailey for even a moment, but he couldn’t see a soul in sight, just lots of nature’s wonder.

A green compact that had seen better days speeded into the lot, swinging around a corner and almost tilting over on two wheels. Joaquin tensed as he saw the female driver heading single-mindedly to the lot behind the building, closer to Bailey’s position.

A moment later, a harried brunette bolted from her car, carrying an apron and juggling her keys as she locked her vehicle and ran for the back door of the restaurant. The woman let herself into the place, then locked the door behind her with an audible click. With the restaurant opening in just over an hour, it stood to reason that someone had to start cooking or getting the tables set.

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, then retrieved the necessary item from the back of his SUV. Then he noticed something that made his blood run cold—the red truck they’d spotted on the highway just after their last stop. Jogging over, he took a quick glance inside. It appeared empty.

After making a mental note of the license plate, he dashed back to Bailey, implement in hand. He was damn glad it would double as a weapon. It would make a nice backup for the SIG shoved into his waistband at the small of his back.

He told her about the truck parked on the other side of the building.

Worry wrinkled her brow. “You think it’s the same red truck we saw?”

“Looks like it. But then again, it might be another employee or the owner. Let’s stay focused on our task, but we’ll definitely keep our eyes open, too.”

Her body tensed. She curled her arms around herself. “I wish we could just forget this. I don’t have a burning need to know about Viktor’s research. So many people have already killed and died for it. Unearthing it may end up being the worst thing we can do for humanity.”

“Secrets don’t stay buried,” he warned. “If we don’t find this, someone else will. And we have no idea how unscrupulous that someone might be. You need to dig up whatever he buried and bring light to it. If those are the original—and last—notes about his research, we’ll have to make sure everyone knows they’ve been turned over to the proper authorities. You’re the only one with memories of Viktor’s plan. Only you can end this.”

“I know.” She looked crushed by that fact. “Let’s just get this done.”

He understood how she felt and wished he could take this monkey off her back. “Do you remember on what side of the tree he buried this . . . whatever?”

She studied the tree, wrinkling her nose. “Not exactly. I doubt he did it on the side facing the river. Let’s try over here.”

When she pointed to the left of the tree, near some protruding roots, Joaquin crouched down to examine the ground. “You sure?”

“No. But he would have avoided either of these sides.” She pointed to the back and right of the tree. “Erosion. I’m guessing he wouldn’t have put it in front of the tree, knowing that angle would be most likely to be encroached on by people doing things like building a parking lot. Don’t you think he’d choose the least accessible side?”

“Yeah.” She had been through a lot, and it wasn’t over, but she just kept impressing him with her wit, grit, and determination. “Good point. I’ll start digging here.”

He jammed the crowbar into the soil. The tool didn’t wedge free easily. Time and footsteps had packed the dirt down tightly.

Joaquin dug for seemingly endless minutes, Bailey helping out with her bare hands. A sweat broke out at his temples, under his T-shirt, at the waistband of his pants. Beside him on the tar lot, he made a pile of earth. His hands were a filthy black. The sun was heading down and would soon fall behind a nearby mountain.

“I’m starting to wonder now . . .” he admitted. “Maybe we are in the wrong place.”

“We’re talking about years ago, and I recall that Viktor dug for a while. I really think we’re where we should be.”

Joaquin had his doubts, but he didn’t have more appealing options. If they gave up on this spot, what would he do with

Bailey next? Find another hotel room tonight? Take her to bed again and relentlessly plow her delicate curves until neither of them could think straight? Get up tomorrow and procure a shovel so they could cruise around the lake, hoping that something else looked familiar to her? That plan sounded as good as any.

“Ten more minutes. Then we’ll have to give up for today. Once the sun dips behind that mountain, it’s going to look pretty dark.