His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(70)
Author: Shayla Black

“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 . . .”