His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(68)
Author: Shayla Black

“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.”