His to Take

  remember a time when he might have shown you the dock or the painted fence? Or ever demonstrated how to find the ‘mouse’ he talked about?”

  Wasn’t that the question of a lifetime—literally? She blew out a breath and set her half-eaten slice of pie back in the box. Closing her eyes, she tried to think back, grab any memory that snagged her attention. They seemed awfully random. Mikhail putting a little toy truck down the toilet and clogging up the plumbing. Annika trying to help their mother cook and burning her hand on hot grease, requiring a trip to the emergency room. Her mother complaining about having to stay in a tent on a camping trip . . .

  “That’s it!” She sat up and blinked Joaquin’s way in excitement. “We went camping. I don’t know exactly when or where, but I remember my dad getting this idea that we needed a family vacation and packing everyone up in the car suddenly. My mother wasn’t the sort to ‘rough it,’ but Viktor wouldn’t hear of hotels on an outdoor excursion, so we bought a tent and took it from location to location. It wasn’t ridiculously hot or cold, so I’m guessing it was either spring or fall.” She tried to latch on to one of the memories swirling through her brain. “I think fall. I remember looking at big golden leaves at one of our campsites. Anyway, one morning, my dad took me fishing. I remember it now because my brother wanted to go and threw a hissy that my dad wouldn’t take him.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  She bit her lip. “We went to a lake, maybe.” Bailey shook her head, wishing the details weren’t so fuzzy. “We parked and got out. I remember being excited to be alone with my dad. That almost never happened. But then when he opened the back of the car, he didn’t have any fishing equipment, just a shovel.” The memory became sharper, and she sank into it, recalling more. “I was confused by that. When I asked, Viktor said he wanted to play a game instead.” The last of the recollection buzzed through her brain, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. “He wanted to hide something and show me how to find it. Oh my goodness . . .”

  “That’s it, baby girl.” Joaquin cupped her shoulders, seemingly to steady her, provide support. “Tell me everything you remember.”

  “We’d been camping for a few days already. It seems like we were moving somewhere new every day. We’d drive for hours. My dad would say he was going for a walk by himself, then he’d come back and . . . It seemed like nothing happened until the day he said he wanted to fish. That morning, we didn’t pack up and drive somewhere else. Instead, Viktor woke me up early, and we drove away together. We didn’t travel long before he parked, then we walked. He helped me climb a fence that had been painted green, I think. People had carved their initials into it and someone had painted over it again. Viktor stopped there and started singing to me. He wanted me to sing with him. I remember jumping left three times from the fence post over and over until I fell down giggling.”

  “Then what?”

  “We trekked a dirt path. He pointed out a sign to me about no lifeguard being on duty, then he dug a hole in the dirt and . . .”

  “And?” Joaquin quizzed.

  “I don’t know. The memory just stops there. Viktor presumably buried something, but I don’t know what or where that scene might have taken place. I don’t even know if that’s really a memory of him hiding the research.”

  He cupped her face. “One thing I suspect? He taught you the rhyme because he already had a plan and had decided to spare you. So he showed you exactly how to find his legacy when you were grown. That way, you could preserve it.”

  “Why not my older brother or sister? He can’t have been sure I would remember any of this.”

  “We’ll never know,” Joaquin said sadly. “It’s possible he couldn’t bring himself to shoot someone so young. Or maybe he thought LOSS would never believe you’d know anything about his work and would leave you alone. I’ve looked at a few of the records. Your brother struggled in school.”

  “Russian was his first language. I don’t think he spoke much English before he went to school. When I was little, my birth parents spoke mostly English. I remember my mother saying it would be better for us kids. But she hated the language.” In fact, Bailey remembered her mother tsking in the kitchen at what a silly language it was.

  “And your sister’s aptitude was largely in dance, according to what I’ve seen.”

  “Yeah. Even at seven, her dance instructors oohed and aahed about her abilities. I went to the same dance school. They weren’t nearly as excited about me.”

  “Looks like they were off base about that,” Joaquin pointed out. “But your school records indicate you were the one who did best in English-language organized academic settings. Maybe that’s why. Maybe he thought that someday, when you remembered his nursery rhyme and put everything together, you’d decipher his research or continue it.”

  Bailey shrugged. “And maybe we’re crediting a very desperate man with a lot more rational thought than he actually had.”

  “Like I said earlier, we’ll never know.”

  She shook her head. That made her sad all over again. “So now what? We know the rhyme wasn’t referring to any location near the house.”

  “And that’s why the FBI never found anything on the premises. They believe LOSS looked, too, because the crime scene was contaminated and the house trashed when the sheriff arrived. Sean said the FBI speculates that, after taking your father from the house, LOSS searched it from top to bottom. They believe that the sheriff arriving sooner than expected stopped the hunt, but after the murder scene had been cleared, they came back. Your aunt in Russia hired someone to clean it up and try to restore it as much as possible. The company reported that it had been ‘vandalized.’ But the walls lacked any sort of graffiti, as you’d expect if the culprits had been bored teenagers. They also didn’t find any drug paraphernalia, like you might find with addicts.”

  “It’s probably safe to say that LOSS didn’t find anything there.”

  “Right.” He sighed. “Do you remember anything you saw on this vacation with your family? Any landmarks?”

  “So far, no. I’ll keep trying. What will we do if we actually find the research? How does having it stop them from coming after me?”

  “I think we have to take a page from Sean’s book and be very visible and vocal about the fact that we’ve found what your father left and given it to the feds. Whatever we have to say to get these people off your back. I’m sure Sean and Callie will help.”

  She nodded. If they found her father’s mysterious research that so many had killed and died for, Callie would absolutely try to help. Sean had worked this case when he’d been an FBI agent. He knew the stakes. He’d jump in, too. It felt good to have friends.

  Bailey pondered the family camping trip, her past, her future . . . and the man in front of her, as she ate more pizza. Funny, she hadn’t eaten this stuff in two years. It was better than she remembered. Or maybe it just seemed that way because she ate it wrapped in nothing but a sheet while in bed with the man she loved.

  He polished off another piece, then wiped off his hands. “Feeling any better? Tired?”

  “Strangely happy,” she admitted. “I like being here with you.” She felt herself blush, then smiled. “But I’m also scared. How long can we search for something I may never remember how to find? What if we can’t find it? How long until someone catches up with us?”

  Joaquin shoved the pizza box out of the way, then dragged her against him. “We’ll figure that out if it happens.”

  “I can’t expect you to give up your life for a month or six or—”

  “I believe in you. You’re smart. You’ve made tremendous progress already, just in the past two days. I have no doubt it will come back to you. Relax. Be patient with yourself.”

  Bailey tried to follow his advice. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and melted against him. Desperately, she tried to clear her head, scuttle her anxiety, and let the memories surface.

  Nothing.
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  “You’re still tense,” he pointed out.

  “I need answers now. Later might not help me. McKeevy will probably be trying to kill me later. So waiting isn’t really an option.”

  “I’m going to protect you,” he swore. “We’re in this together.”

  “Why?” She stared into his hazel eyes, seeking an answer. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve definitely saved my life and helped me piece together a lot of my past that I’d been unable to figure out on my own. I appreciate it, but . . .” She paused, looking for the right words to explain. “You didn’t know me four days ago. Saving me cost you your job. I know you prefer to be alone, so this constantly babysitting me has to be a pain in your ass.”

  Joaquin pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “You didn’t cost me my job. I was pursuing this case even before I knew your name. I didn’t have any plans to stop, no matter what it cost me. I . . .” He grimaced, then cursed under his breath.

  “You weren’t going to let more women die so horrifically, I know. Your selfless sense of justice is one of the things I really admire about you.”

  “Wanting justice served for those victims he tortured and killed because he sought Tatiana Aslanov wasn’t really the reason I saved you. I had a friend.” He sighed heavily. “His name was Nate, a private investigator, but we met in the police academy.”

  Bailey watched him struggle for his next words. Whatever he was trying to say caused him a great deal of pain. It creased his forehead and clouded his eyes.

  “Tell me,” she murmured.

  “Kata wasn’t wrong when she said that I pulled away from my family after my dad’s death. I spent a lot of years wondering what the point of family and friends was. Eventually, you’d just have to endure the fucking terrible tragedy of losing them. In my head, the fewer people I gave a shit about, the less I’d have to hurt.”

  “But you have a mother and two sisters who love you. I’d give anything to have what you don’t want.”

  “And I never considered it from that perspective until you. I’d convinced myself I was just fine, that I was keeping life simple, that my family had moved on without me. Nate was the first person I cared about since my father. We were pretty good buddies. We drank together, did our share of barhopping. We trained together, became beat officers together. I never really realized how much he meant to me until one of McKeevy’s victims hired him. She feared she was being followed—and she was, by the long arm of LOSS. And as soon as Nate stumbled onto the truth, they broke into his house and double-tapped him in the head. After my shock wore off, an absolute cold fury set in. I’m not sure I’ve moved past that.”

  Bailey’s heart went out to him. “How long has it been?”

  “Less than a week.”

  She reared back and stared at him in stupefied shock. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been dealing with so much. The death, the danger . . . the long-lost orphan you had to babysit. You haven’t had time to grieve.”

  “I don’t think I really ever do.” He sighed. “I just shove it down.”

  Bailey hadn’t thought she could be shocked again, but Joaquin proved her wrong. “Did you ever cry for your father?”

  “No. I wanted to a few times, but I stopped myself. I had to be the man of the house. My mom didn’t need more children, much less a baby.”

  “Are you kidding me? Crying doesn’t make you a baby. I sobbed for weeks after my adoptive parents supposedly died. I stopped going to college and barely went to rehearsal. Heck, I hardly left my house for what seemed like months. Does that make me a baby? And don’t you dare tell me that it’s okay for me to cry because I’m female.”

  His sheepish expression told her he’d been ready to respond with an answer like that. “I guess I’ve always seen emotions as a weakness. I’m all . . . up in the air about Nate’s death. I couldn’t go to his funeral because I was trying to keep you from being the next victim. It was a guilty relief. I also know Nate would have approved. He always sacrificed to do what he could for others. That’s one thing I always admired about him.”

  “Was he married?”

  “No. A loner like me.”

  A frown wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

  He looked puzzled. “I don’t know. He never told me his life story. We survived the academy together, drank, and chased skirts. I didn’t let myself get close to anyone. We didn’t talk or bond or become besties. We just . . . understood one another.”

  Bailey didn’t think that sounded like much of a friendship, but who was she to judge? She only knew lots about Blane because he was an open book. He only knew stuff about her because he’d mercilessly pried it out of her. Maybe she’d shut a lot of people out in her life, too. But she wouldn’t do it anymore, not when she could see a future and a family in front of her with this man, if she could just get behind his protective walls and convince him to let go of his grief.

  “I’m sorry you lost him.” She hugged him and rubbed her cheek to his, reveling in his scratchy-soft stubble. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about him or your dad, your sister or whatever. You’ve been here for me, especially today.”

  “You’re not mad that I took you away from your life because of Nate? You don’t feel as if I did it for revenge?”

  Bailey shrugged. She could see how some people might interpret his actions that way, but she knew that under his anger at Nate’s death, he was the sort of man who wanted to stop the murders. He really did want to save people. Now she just had to show him that he didn’t have to stand apart as he did it.

  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. It felt good. Right. As she pulled away, she smiled at him. “You know, we’re kind of good for one another. You helped me find the truth about myself. And I pried your secrets from you.”

  “Yeah, then you encourage me to cry,” he quipped. “Great.”

  She winced. “I know that might not seem like a bonus to you. But really, you might not be able to move forward until you get it all out. I’ll even be happy to dry your tears.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you have to do that, I might as well hand over my man card.”

  “You’d never have to do that in my book. You are plenty of man.”

  Joaquin gave her a proud little grin, then it fell to a crooked scowl as he stared at the skin just under her chin. He swiped a finger across a tender spot. “I left a little bruise on you. Jesus, I’m sorry if I was too harsh. I get around you and I lose all my fucking finesse. Next time, if I hurt you, I expect you to say something.”

  Next time? He expected they’d be in bed together again? What if they found Viktor’s research soon? Would that be the end of them? Or was he just as addicted as she was?

  “Well, I know another way you could guarantee your man card with me.”

  He raised a dark brow at her. “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t you show me again how much man you are?” Bailey tossed off her sheet and lay back on the bed, blinking up at him with a sultry glance.

  Chapter Sixteen

  JOAQUIN sucked in a breath, his entire body tensing. His cock certainly stood, loud and proud, ready to go again. He’d had her an hour ago, tops. He wasn’t seventeen anymore. Yeah, he liked sex, but with the nature of his job, he’d gone without more often than not. So his obsession with Bailey made almost no sense . . . and he didn’t really care. It felt good. He wanted more of her. He didn’t want her feeling undesirable if he said no. Right, like that would ever happen.

  Flinging his own sheet off, he revealed just how much she aroused him, stroking his length lazily with one hand. “This manly enough for you?”

  She pretended to ponder him, but he heard her breath hitch and shallow, and he hid his smile. “I don’t know. Seeing you isn’t the same thing as feeling you. How do I know you’d be half as good for the second time tonight?”

  He liked her hint of tease. “You know, you might have a point. You’d be far more convi
nced of my abilities if I did more than stroke my cock. Let’s see . . . How would you like me to prove myself?”

  Bailey pursed her lush mouth. “I have an idea or two.”

  “I have more ideas than that,” he promised, abandoning his erection to stroke her nipple instead. “Wanna see?”

  “Hmm, maybe.” She looked up at him with those hungry blue eyes that damn near dismantled his self-control. Her hair spilled around her in a pale, golden-brown cloud, and he almost mounted and impaled her in a single breath. “I might have to hear them first.”

  “I’d rather surprise you. Will you trust me? Please.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Joaquin was even more relieved to see that she immediately grasped the shift from playful to serious. He cupped her face. “I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to . . . explore with you.” He wasn’t sure how else to say that he wanted to try so much of what he’d seen at Dominion