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hell he was.
Joaquin took Bailey’s face in his hands. “Look at me. I won’t let them hurt you, baby girl. I’ll figure out how to stop them.”
“We will,” she insisted. “If these bastards are ruining my life, I’m going to help put a stop to them.”
Gumption and guts—she had both. He liked that about her. But he wasn’t about to have her in more danger than she already was. “I’ve got it.”
“The best thing you can do is stay here and keep your profile low,” Thorpe advised. “It kept Callie alive for four years.”
Bailey didn’t look happy with that advice, since she pursed her lips together stubbornly, but she didn’t argue. Yet. But despite her fear, Joaquin wasn’t sure how long he could keep Bailey from jumping into the battle to fight for her tomorrows.
Chapter Seven
BAILEY paced the bedroom. Joaquin kept walking in and out with Sean and Thorpe. They’d ask questions, then leave again. That didn’t do anything to cure her nerves. Then Axel arrived from Houston to show her the pictures of her devastated house in person. The images freaked her out all over again. Just knowing that someone who wanted to kill her had been in her home made her tremble with fear.
But her volcanic attraction to Joaquin scared her almost as much. Every time she turned around he was there, hovering, his hazel eyes dark with concern and desire. Though he hadn’t touched her in hours, he made her yearn. She could still feel his lips shoving hers wide apart, his tongue surging deep, his hot fingers curling around her breast, his body heavy as he covered her own and ground his cock against her needy flesh. God, he was big all over.
It was official. She’d gone crazy, lusting dangerously after a guy she’d known less than twenty-four hours, one who had ripped her entire world apart. On the other hand, he was the first person in her life to be truly honest about everything—her identity, the killers on the loose, the lengths they’d go to in order to capture her . . . the fact that he wanted her.
Pacing, Bailey swallowed and cast her nervous gaze to the door again. Would he come back to this bedroom tonight and want to finish what they’d started earlier? If so, what would she do? She’d never experienced anything like him. Their sparring sent her head buzzing, her blood humming. She wanted more.
Bailey glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nearly eleven o’clock. Most likely, she’d be alone tonight. That should make her happy, and she was perversely pissed off that it didn’t.
Behind her, the latch clicked suddenly. The door opened. Bailey whirled around, her heart pounding. Instead of Joaquin in the opening, she was a bit let down to find Callie. The heiress wore a lovely red corset-looking top that had her breasts nearly spilling over and a skirt so short it bordered indecent. She had the sort of soft curves Bailey had always wished for. But a glance down at her own chest confirmed that the Boob Fairy had passed her by.
“Hi,” Callie said softly. “Want some company?”
It beat the hell out of wondering what to do next. “Sure. Come on in.”
“Sean and Thorpe caught me up on everything that’s happened in the last few hours.” Callie came closer, surprisingly graceful on stilettos. “I’ve been through it myself, so I really do understand. If you need an ear . . . I’m here.”
“Thank you. I—” Have no idea what to say. Besides murderous bad guys, Bailey had nothing on her mind except Joaquin. She really couldn’t expect the woman to help her sort out her confusion about how she felt. “It is what it is.”
Callie shrugged. “That’s one way of looking at it. But now that you know who’s after you and why, would you rather be anywhere but here?”
Zing. The brunette didn’t mess around or mince words. “No. It might chafe me to be away from home, dance, and my friends, but here is safe.”
“It is. I’m living proof of that. I’m sure you’re worried about the men chasing you.”
“I’d be an idiot not to be.”
“True, but you can’t do anything about them right now,” Callie pointed out. “Sean, Thorpe, and Axel have this place on lockdown. I don’t know Joaquin well, but he seems as paranoid—excuse me, cautious”—she rolled her eyes with a hint of humor— “as the rest of them.”
“Pretty much,” she admitted. “It’s not Joaquin’s fault that LOSS wants information they think I have. I don’t, but I doubt they’d ever believe that.”
“Nope. They’d torture you until they felt sure you’d coughed up whatever you knew, then they’d end you.”
Bailey shuddered. “I know. I saw the pictures.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you focus on that crap. You hungry?”
“No. Joaquin keeps bringing me meals that would be a lot for even him to eat, then frowning at me for not inhaling the whole feast.”
Callie laughed. “Sean and Thorpe probably had a hand in that. They’re convinced I don’t eat enough to keep a flea alive, too. The pair of them are always trying to tempt me with some savory or sweet dish. But I have my ways of distracting them.”
At her wink, Bailey wasn’t sure whether to gasp or giggle. “Neither looks like they’d be easily led around by their guy parts.”
“Not often,” Callie admitted. “Sean compromises a little. And under Thorpe’s hard-ass exterior, there’s a softie only I get to see.”
Her blue eyes, rimmed in charcoal, twinkled. A smile curled her rosy lips. But it wasn’t Callie’s makeup or anything she wore that made her beautiful; it was her joy. The woman glowed with it. Not only did Callie have a man who knew and loved her through and through, she was doubly lucky to have two. That sparkling rock on her finger was a symbol of Sean’s claim, and she seemed every bit as smitten with the FBI agent as she was with her former boss. Bailey didn’t know a lot about that relationship, but she’d bet the bling around Callie’s neck was Thorpe’s collar.
“How about . . .” Callie tilted her head to one side, studying her. “You’ve had a hell of a day. Want to get out of this room for a bit?”
That sounded like heaven. Being cooped up in this one space for twelve hours, she was getting a case of cabin fever. But . . . “Is it safe?”
“Sure. We won’t leave the place or anything. Maybe just grab a glass of wine?”
Even better. She rarely allowed herself an alcoholic treat. The extra calories showed when she wore only a leotard. But right now, as she wondered when—or if—she’d ever resume her normal life to put on spandex or dance for a crowd again, booze sounded fabulous.
“Please,” Bailey all but begged. “I’m so keyed up.”
“I totally understand that. Follow me.” Callie led her out the door and down a long hall.
Odd, but it didn’t look like any house Bailey had ever seen. More industrial, perhaps. But maybe that was the stained concrete floors and long hallway. Then again, some people liked that sort of thing.
She glanced around, waiting for Joaquin to jump out of a corner or one of the other guys to follow them. “They’re really going to turn me loose without an armed escort?”
The woman’s heels clicked down the hall as she cast a surprised glance over her shoulder. “You’re with me. Besides, there are security cameras all over this club. They’ll be watching and they’ll know immediately if something is wrong.”
“Club?” Though Bailey kept walking, everything inside her froze. She could only think of one club Sean, Callie, and Thorpe would all spend time in.
Callie opened a portal that led to another hall, this one with doors lining the left of the corridor. Each of the portals was closed and the lights overhead turned down low. “You didn’t know?”
“Are you saying we’re—”
“Pet?” A male voice farther down the hall and beyond an open door drawled.
Callie dashed to the portal. “Yes, Sir?”
Bailey came up behind her to find Thorpe sitting in what looked like his office, behind an enormous desk. Sean lounged opposite in a plush chair, holding a tu
mbler of Scotch.
“Where are you taking Joaquin’s guest, lovely?” her fiancé asked with a nonchalance Bailey didn’t believe at all.
“Did you have Joaquin’s permission to remove her from her room?” Thorpe sent her a smile that looked a lot like a challenge.
“She wants some fresh air. I promised her a glass of wine. She’s had a terrible day.”
They both looked to Bailey for confirmation, their gazes a silent demand. She wondered how the hell Callie didn’t stammer or falter under the weight of those two intent stares.
“I’m just really nervous, worried . . .” Bailey didn’t know how else to describe the restless edge of fear biting into her.
Sean nodded, then sipped at his drink, as if weighing his words. “You know, Bailey, that bad things await you outside these walls. You wouldn’t use my lovely’s good heart to try to escape now, would you?”
Ouch. He might look like the more easygoing of the two, but Bailey was beginning to think that looks could be deceiving.
“No. I have no interest in playing hide-and-go-seek with ruthless psychopaths bent on my destruction. I swear.”
The two men exchanged a look before Thorpe nodded in permission, then addressed Callie again. “I’ll be letting Axel know you’re on the floor. Don’t dawdle and don’t mingle. Keep Bailey behind the bar and away from prying eyes. No one needs to see her.”
“Absolutely,” Callie promised. “The last thing I want is someone recognizing her and showing up to ruin my wedding.”
At that, Sean smiled. “I don’t care if the ceiling is coming down and there are twenty terrorists chasing us. You’re not wriggling away from the altar until you’re my wife.”
“I’d hold the ceiling up and shoot them myself.” Callie grinned.
The men laughed, then Thorpe called back to them. “Ten minutes. You two come back by then or—”
“I have a clear picture of the ‘or,’ Sir. You’ve made that crystal over the last few months.”
He smiled smugly. “Excellent.”
As Callie turned away with a giggle, Bailey just blinked. She still was a little stunned by their unusual relationship.
“Who else knows? About the three of you, I mean?” Bailey murmured as they walked away. She’d heard whispers in the press, but never imagined it was more than innuendo or rumor.
Callie shrugged. “We don’t flaunt our relationship. Of course, we don’t go far to hide it, either. Sean likes public displays of affection, so when we’re all out, he’s more likely to hold my hand or kiss me. Thorpe is very private. He usually smiles at me in public. Sometimes he puts an arm around me or kisses my forehead. That can be construed in a lot of ways.”
Wow. It sounded complicated to Bailey, but she had enough to worry about in her own life without tangling her brain up in the bride-to-be’s.
At the end of the latest hall, Callie stopped before another door and pushed it open as if it weighed a ton. As she held it, Bailey slipped under her arm and into an open area. The space was dark and loud—and obviously public.
“Are we seriously in Club Dominion?” she shouted over what sounded suspiciously like people striking flesh, followed by moaning.
Callie nodded. “Where did you think we were?”
“At your house or . . .”
Over the din of the music, Callie laughed. “No. The house isn’t nearly as secure as this place. Besides, Sean and Thorpe wanted to keep an eye on you and Joaquin. There’s no place better for observation than here.” Reaching back, she grabbed Bailey’s hand. “Look down so your face is hidden.”
Bailey didn’t question that suggestion. She jerked her gaze down and followed as the other woman led her along a shadowed walkway. Then they headed through a flap that swung back and forth on a hinge. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a bar. People stood behind it, drinking mostly water bottles or cans of soda. The slaps of leather and the sounds of both pleasure and pain sounded louder now. The reality clicked with Bailey then.
“Holy cow . . .”
Callie spun her away from the bar and the crowd of people beyond, putting them at their backs. “You okay?”
Define “okay.” Bailey’s heart pounded. Joaquin had brought her to a BDSM club where people . . . did whatever it was they did to spice up their sex lives? Oh, shit. He had. They were surrounded by sex. God, she could even smell it in the air.
“Any particular wine you like?”
“Um . . .” Her brain wouldn’t work. Bailey desperately wanted to turn around and see what she’d always been wretchedly curious about. “Anything white.”
“Sure.” She sounded amused.
Vaguely, Bailey heard Callie uncork a bottle, followed by the clinking of a glass and the splash of liquid. Instead of paying attention, she kept trying to peek over her shoulder at everyone and everything behind her. Surely, no one here would be a crazy foot soldier for LOSS. She had no ties to Dominion or to Dallas. Why would anyone think to look for her here? It made her feel brave enough to turn to get a better look.
A big man wearing all leather had a woman in a G-string folded over his lap. He landed slow whacks of his palm onto her bright-red butt. After each, she bit her lip, then her lips moved as she apparently counted. Beyond those two, a vaguely familiar man toyed with a gorgeous woman’s nipples, then clamped them with dangling jewels that were almost as gaudy as the wedding ring on her finger. A forty-something woman dressed in wickedly tall thigh-high boots dragged two young men around by leashes. Bailey stared, not sure she even blinked.
“Is this all new for you?” Callie murmured, handing her a glass.
A million replies raced through her head, but she could only wrap her brain around one. “Yeah.”
The other woman laughed. “I thought so. We’ve got a few minutes left. Want to observe from somewhere you can’t be seen?”
Bailey bit her lip. She shouldn’t. She didn’t need more curiosity about BDSM or sex right now. She didn’t need to wonder why Joaquin had brought her here. She especially didn’t need that pang of desire cramping low in her belly.
“Please.” She sipped at her wine, not really aware of the taste, other than the fact that it landed light and fruity on her tongue.
“You got it. We just can’t be too late. I’ll risk five minutes, though. It’s worth the spanking.”
Bailey looked at the man smacking the woman’s ass, then back to Callie. “You like that?”
She gave a secretive smile. “Given by the right man in the right way, it’s an incredible pleasure.”
Frowning, Bailey looked at the heiress. She supposed it made sense. Callie had lived here for four years. She was in love with Thorpe, a man who gave even someone with Bailey’s limited knowledge an obvious Dom vibe. She supposed Sean must have a similar bent because, while seemingly quieter on the outside, he’d also given off an air of authority.
Kind of like Joaquin.
Bailey almost dropped her wine.
At the last minute, Callie shoved a hand under the stemless glass for the save. “Something wrong?”
She didn’t even know how to answer, couldn’t even manage a shake of her head.
Callie led her up some stairs and unlocked a door, and they entered another masculine domain with a sofa, a few chairs, and a huge observation window overlooking the entire main floor of the . . . What did one call a place like this?
“Spit it out, doll. You’ve got questions.” Callie nodded at her.
Bailey blew out a big breath. A million. Then she realized that the other woman wasn’t holding a glass. “Where’s your wine?”
Wrinkling her nose, she held up a water bottle. “I feel so dehydrated. Been running all day. I just need water. Besides, I have to fit into my dress on Saturday.”
With a nod, Bailey turned back to the windows and caught sight of the familiar man who’d moved from attaching body jewelry to his bound wife to giving her a soft, almost lazy flogging.
Bailey watched ecstasy cross the woman’s face. Obviously, she was enjoying every slow strike of the strips of cloth or leather
