juvie, they released him, but he turned out to be a repeat offender. He was the prime suspect in a string of torture/rape/murder cases near his hometown of Springfield, Missouri. He disappeared into Mexico for a while. We think he spent time in Juárez, contributing to the body count of women assaulted and snuffed out before being buried in the desert. He sneaked back into the country a few years ago. I’m guessing LOSS has given him the green light to continue his sick ways in the name of breaking up the USA. Great group of folks.”
“Any open warrants on him?” Joaquin asked.
“Please . . .” Stone rolled his eyes. “He’s been wanted for years. LOSS has managed to shuffle him around and hide him well. If I had to guess, I’d say they take good care of their number one assassin. Getting our hands on him won’t be easy.”
“Any idea where he is now? Still in Houston?”
“This morning, a traffic cam saw him leaving the city, getting onto 45 northbound.”
Toward Dallas. Joaquin felt as if Stone had punched him in the chest. His heart stuttered. He couldn’t breathe. Why would McKeevy be heading to Dallas? His worst fear was that this sick fuck was on the loose and looking for Bailey, with the idea of making her his next victim.
Everything in Joaquin’s body rebelled. He’d do whatever he must to keep her safe. Yeah, he wanted to nail the asshole who’d killed Nate. But his gut told him that ambition wasn’t just about avenging his friend. If anything happened to Bailey . . . God, he couldn’t even think it.
“I’ll be right back.” Sean disappeared with the sketch.
“Can you give us a minute?” Stone said to Hunter, who shrugged, then followed Sean.
“Now what?” Joaquin asked the moment he and Stone were alone in Thorpe’s office.
The muscled tech guy shrugged without a hint of apology. “That meeting I told you about, the one to determine whether you’d been fired for misappropriating government resources to work your personal case?”
Joaquin froze. “Yeah?”
“You came out on the losing end of that. Sorry, man.”
He’d been fired. Fuck. Seriously? But Stone’s expression didn’t give him any hope the news had been a joke.
Work had been his life for the last decade. He couldn’t remember a time in his adult life when he hadn’t been preparing for a case or working undercover on one. He’d shoved aside anything that looked like a personal life to immerse himself in law enforcement. After one “misstep” to solve a friend’s murder and keep women from dying, he’d been tossed out.
He sighed, feeling his entire body sag. No idea what the hell to do with his life now. “I wish the news had been better, but thanks for giving it to me straight.”
Stone shrugged his beefy shoulders. “That’s how I’d want it, too. What will you do next?”
No idea. Really, he had nothing. Yeah, he had no place of employment anymore, but he also had no responsibilities to live up to. His apartment was a shithole, mostly because he was never there enough to care what it looked like. Every place he’d ever had he had viewed as temporary. He certainly didn’t have a wife or girlfriend who’d care if he couldn’t afford to take her out on Saturday night. No kids to feed and clothe and take to the doctor. He’d been socking away more than half his income for a decade. He could afford to live for years without working again. In the past, not having a caseload would have bugged the shit out of his sense of purpose. Now? Well, it gave him more time to make whoever had killed Nate pay. And to keep Bailey safe.
“Solve this case. Put some well-deserving assholes behind bars. Then . . . I’ll figure it out.” Finding a new job was another problem to be handled in the future. The danger to Bailey stared him in the face now. No contest what was more important.
Behind him, the door to the office opened again, and Sean strode in like a man with purpose, Hunter right on his heels. They both looked agitated.
“We may have another development,” Sean said as he rounded the desk and sat again.
Callie drifted into the office, looking somewhere between worried and absolutely furious. “That bastard is going to screw up our wedding, isn’t he?”
What the hell was Callie talking about? Joaquin turned to peer at her with a questioning glance.
“Lovely . . .” Sean stood again and reached out a hand to her.
With a sigh, Callie went to him and put her palm in his. The man pulled her close, then settled back into Thorpe’s chair, guiding her down into his lap.
“I’ve worked really hard to plan this event,” she pointed out.
“You should be more worried about why he’s trying to crash it.”
“Who?” Joaquin butted in. “Someone I need to know about?”
Sean tossed the police sketch back his way. “McKeevy. We’ve made every vendor working the wedding submit bio information for every employee and contractor scheduled to be at the event. Looks like he was hired last week to be one of the photographer’s assistants when the other one mysteriously vanished. He’s going by the name Timothy Smith.”
“That’s really fucking creative,” Stone drawled.
The assassin’s assumed name was the least of Joaquin’s worries, especially when Sean set a picture on the desk—an eerie match for the police sketch. “Callie had this in her files. I think he’s a dead ringer.”
Agreed. “You think he has any idea Bailey is here at Dominion? Or do you suspect he’s planning some nefarious shit at your wedding?”
“Could be either.” And Sean looked absolutely livid about that.
“I eluded these people for years. I think it’s far more likely he’s got vengeance on his mind and wants to hurt me,” Callie said. “How could he possibly know Bailey’s whereabouts?”
“We’ve been very careful about that,” Sean added.
“Except the night the girls went to the front of the club while the members were playing. Do we have a list of who was there that night?”
“Yeah. I’ll have Axel pull that. In the meantime, show this sketch to Bailey. Maybe she saw this guy prowling around her house or her dance company before you intervened. And it’s a long shot, but maybe, if he was involved in her family’s death in any way, his face will trigger her memories.”
Joaquin took the sketch from Sean, wishing like hell he could spare Bailey all this danger and drama and upheaval. Right now, he’d rather not show her the face of a dangerous killer, then ask her questions about her distant past. She’d been so fragile tonight. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to break her; the investigator in him should have sensed her weakness and pounced for blood. But the man in his skin now couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have any other option if he wanted to keep her safe.
“I’m on it. I’ll let you know what she says. Anything else?”
Sean shook his head.
“Not from me.” Stone stood. “I’m heading down the street. I know a stripper who will give me a decent blow job for fifty bucks. She doesn’t usually work on Tuesdays. See you around.”
As he disappeared, Sean made his way to the door with Callie in tow, holding back a laugh, then looked at Hunter. “Great coworker you’ve got.”
“Tell me about it.” Hunter scoffed. “Jack hires really brilliant former operatives, but some have the personality of a bleeding hemorrhoid.”
“The way your brother tells it, yours isn’t much better,” Sean teased.
“Yeah? Logan can kiss my ass, too.”
The two men laughed before Sean stuck out his hand to Hunter. “Thanks for coming to help make Thorpe’s day special. I think Callie and I are going to round up the old man so he and I can tuck our lovely into bed.”
She smiled as if nothing would make her happier.
Hunter shook his hand. “Thanks for the invite. I’m going to take my wife and find a hotel. It’s too late to drive back tonight.”
“Here.” Sean fished into his pocket and tugged ou
t a set of keys. “Crash at the house. There are six bedrooms. Thorpe, Callie, and I won’t be far behind you. If you see your brother, tell him that he and Tara are welcome there, too. Xander, London, and Javier are going to stay.”
“You sure?”
“What are friends for?”
Hunter pocketed the keys. “Thanks.”
“We’ll be back in the morning,” Sean said to Joaquin. “If you need anything—”
“I have your number.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Sean and Callie left then, presumably to find Thorpe so they could cuddle up for the night. Joaquin felt a bit of envy. What would it be like to have a house to share with loved ones? To invite friends to crash there for a night? To spread out and call some place home?
“Do me a favor?” Hunter said now that the two of them were alone.
“What?”
“I know you have to see Bailey tonight and run that sketch by her. Go easy.”
“You’re just full of ‘helpful’ advice tonight.” His brother-in-law’s attitude crawled up his back. “Obviously, you think I’m an unfeeling bastard. Why don’t you do me a favor? Give it a rest until you know who you’re dealing with.”
Hunter looked equally annoyed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m pretty sure I already know, and I wouldn’t have gone with unfeeling bastard. But since you did, it’ll work. It pretty much describes how you’ve behaved.”
“You don’t understand the situ—”
“I do. Look, you lost a parent. It hurt. I get it. I lost my mom, too, and it—”
“Hold that fucking speech right there.” Joaquin’s anger climbed ten notches. He never talked about his dad—and he refused to start now. “I’m talking about Bailey. My father’s death isn’t relevant to that.”
“According to Kata, it’s relevant to everything. But I guess you have your head that far up your ass because you like the smell. Whatever, man.” Hunter shrugged. “Bailey is not my responsibility, and I know Thorpe is already up in your business about her. Trust me when I tell you I’ll encourage him to stay there.”
“First, you warn me away from my own sister, and now you’re trying to tell me what to say to . . .” What was Bailey to him? More than his captive. But she wasn’t his girlfriend. Or his lover. He wanted to do more than protect her. He’d never even considered forever, yet he couldn’t imagine letting her go. “Bailey?”
“I’m not trying to give you a hard time, just give you a hard truth. She wants you. She’s attached to you. You’ve already put her through a lot. If you’re just going to fuck-and-run, back off now. You’ll crush her if you don’t.”
Hunter didn’t wait for his reply, just left the room. Joaquin stared into the open, empty hall, guilt a hot, stinging sludge in his veins. Would his father be proud of him today? The thought came out of nowhere, but Joaquin didn’t even have to think about the answer.
No.
Eduardo Muñoz had worked hard. He’d even given his life for his job, but he’d been a family man through and through. He’d loved his wife and adored his children. Every day, he’d let them know how much he cared. Joaquin remembered the special father-son summer days they’d shared. His father could have chosen to do anything with that time—beer with buddies, patrolling a crime-ridden neighborhood—but he’d chosen to spend it with his son. Dad would never have approved of Joaquin’s workaholic ways. Eduardo would have approved of the way he’d pushed all family and friends aside even less.
Joaquin hated Hunter in that moment for making him realize it.
With a curse, he grabbed the sketch and photo from Thorpe’s desk and exited the room, taking a sharp left down the hall to Bailey’s room. He glanced at his watch. Nearly an hour had passed. Perfect timing.
As he neared the door, he drew in a deep breath to calm his anger and center himself. Hunter was right about Bailey, too. The girl didn’t need more shit, and Joaquin had no doubt more would come her way before the case was closed. He refused to cause her more pain than necessary.
Time to decide . . . fish or cut bait? Pursue her and try his hand at something beyond sex or strictly protect her and keep his distance.
Joaquin knew what his gut was telling him as he neared her bedroom door. As he raised his fist to knock, he heard wrenching sobs inside. Fuck knocking. He had to get to her now. It was his responsibility to give her what she needed and make her world right.
Chapter Eleven
THE door to her bedroom rattled suddenly. Bailey sat up as Joaquin barreled inside, holding a piece of paper, his face troubled.
She wiped her tears from her eyes and cheeks, wishing she could hide her red nose and swollen eyes. “What?”
He set the piece of paper on the dresser just inside the door and headed unerringly in her direction. “Baby girl . . .”
His pity hurt. Joaquin wasn’t an uncomplicated man. He wasn’t simple to understand—or get along with. But he’d risked everything to keep her safe, no denying that. He’d let her decide if she wanted to make the next move in their odd dance when she knew damn well he hated not having control. The way he looked at her right now, as if he would part the seas and scorch the earth just to reach her, made Bailey’s heart catch.
So, so dangerous . . .
He sat beside her, cupping her cheeks, his intent expression telling her that no one else in the world mattered right now. “Talk to me.”
And say what? “Nothing to discuss.”
“Bailey, I know you feel alone, but you’re not.”
Lord, he’d figured her out so easily. She probably ought to be embarrassed, but she simply felt too sad to care.
He peered down into her eyes, as if trying to crawl inside her head and read her every thought. His hazel eyes looked so green beside that thick fringe of his black lashes. They were almost too beautiful for a man that rugged. Normally, she fell into his glittering gaze all too easily. Tonight, the compassion in those depths was too hard to take.
“I have Blane. When all this is over and I can go home, I’ll make it up to him.”
He scowled. “Fuck Blane.”
“If I could grow a foot taller, shoulders like a lumberjack, a beard, and different plumbing, maybe he’d be interested. But since that’s impossible . . .”
A lopsided smile crossed Joaquin’s face. “I’m glad it is. And don’t try to distract me. I meant that you’re not alone because I’m here.”
Bailey had suspected he meant that, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. After all, he wanted information from her that—if she even had it—sat locked deep in her memories. He’d been pretty patient, too. That had to be running out. Besides, if he wasn’t going to engage with his own family, she doubted he’d suddenly want to get involved with her on any deep level.
She tried to squirm away. If she didn’t, the lure of his comfort would be too much to resist. She’d throw herself against him and sob on his shoulder. He’d only feel more sorry for her. Her eyes would only swell up more. None of that appealed.
Joaquin held tight.
“Don’t worry. I’m good,” she assured him, then leaned over to the nightstand and reached for the box of tissues she’d brought from the bathroom earlier. He didn’t let go. “Your sister seems nice.”
“You’re changing the subject again.” His tone sounded like a warning.
“Joaquin . . .” Bailey searched for the right words, something to make him shut up without having to spill every worry and feeling. “Just leave it. I’m tired and frazzled. There were a lot of strangers there tonight. That’s usually uncomfortable for me.”
He gave her a considering stare. “Did you feel out of place?”
“A little. I barely knew anyone. I’m introverted, so conversation with people I don’t know can be tough.”