His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(21)
Author: Shayla Black

She didn’t have any reason to believe him. For all she knew, Thorpe and Joaquin—the name fit his rugged, macho kind of vibe—had a good cop/bad cop thing going on. It might all be an act, and the pair of them might be playing her. But her gut told her no.

Spearing some asparagus, she popped it in her mouth. She had to believe that they wouldn’t talk until her ears bled about keeping her alive, only to then poison her. “I’m not eager to be an easy target. But Joaquin didn’t say a word to me before shoving a needle in my neck and dragging me here.”

Thorpe’s lips pursed in disapproval. “We’ve exchanged words about his methods. He knows I’m not happy. This place is mine, and I made it clear that while he’s under my roof, he’ll be playing by my rules. I’ll make you a promise, too. Nothing will happen to you that you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be here at all.”

“I understand. Give him two days to work this case and see if he can solve the problem so you can walk out of here without a threat hanging over your head.”

“I can’t put my life on hold for two days.”

“I’m sorry. I know this is difficult.”

But Thorpe wasn’t going to change his mind or help her escape. “I have a rehearsal today. I never miss them. Then my friend Blane is coming over tonight, and I’ll need to let him know I won’t be there.”

“That’s not my decision. I’ll speculate that Joaquin won’t give you a phone so you can tell the world where to find you, but you’re welcome to ask him.”

“How could I tell anyone where I am when I don’t even know?” she pointed out. “How do I make you understand? Blane will report me missing if I don’t show up or tell him I’m somewhere safe.”

“And maybe that’s for the best.” Thorpe stood. “These killers are watching. If you disappear, maybe they’ll hesitate or make a mistake. You don’t want to give them any reason to pay Blane a visit and try to extract information from him, do you?”

After that photo Joaquin had shown her on his phone? “No!”

“That’s what I thought. Now I’ll leave you in peace.”

She recoiled from the urbane man. As GQ as he looked, she sensed there was far more under his surface and that she’d just been manipulated.

“Wait!” Bailey bit her lip until he turned to face her with an inquiring brow. She got the distinct impression he wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. “Why should I trust you?”

A little smile broke across his face. “Let me put it to you this way: I have no reason to lie and everything to lose if I don’t keep my promise. You may not believe me yet, and that’s fine, but you will be safe.”

*   *   *

ABOUT twenty minutes after Thorpe’s departure, Bailey heard a click of the door again and spun around to see Joaquin enter, a plastic grocery sack in hand. God, it was stupid, but she almost gaped at him. It felt ridiculously schoolgirl of her, but he’d showered and shaved, and the absence of stubble showed off every sharp angle of his jaw and chin. He wore another pair of jeans and another tight T-shirt that showed off his muscled physique. The fact that he was physically gorgeous wasn’t enough to interest her, though. Her reaction now was about the totally new warmth in his eyes.

“Hi.” He entered, setting the bag down on a nearby bookcase and locking the door behind him.

“Hi.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry about earlier, if I scared you. If.” He snorted. “I’m sure I did. Whether you believe me or not, I don’t want to see you wind up like the others.”

“So it’s okay to abduct me?”

“Strictly speaking, no. But I figured better kidnapped than tortured and murdered. The lesser of two evils.” He shrugged. “Not a perfect choice, but I didn’t have many other options in the few hours I had before this sick bastard came for you.”

And she supposed that pointing out once more that he could have talked to her first would again fall on deaf ears. Besides . . . would she really have listened? She’d probably have written him off as a psycho.

“That government agency you work for condone kidnapping, Joaquin?” She couldn’t resist taunting him a little.

He did a double take, then frowned. “So Thorpe told you my name? Fine.”

After jerking something from his pocket, he flipped open a little leather case to reveal a badge of sorts and an ID that stated his name was Joaquin Muñoz and he worked for the NSA. Bailey stared. Even though he could have forged it, the document looked pretty official. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but seeing his credentials made her believe that he probably wasn’t a completely crazed weirdo—just mostly.