His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(72)
Author: Shayla Black

A couple of protestations ran through her head. He’d taken on the responsibility for her safety, not her emotional state. She didn’t want to burden him. Bailey wasn’t quite certain why her mood even mattered to him. Studying Joaquin, she tried to unravel the mystery. He said he wasn’t giving her pity. Maybe he was bored? Lonely? Horny?

“I felt alone tonight,” she admitted. “But that’s not uncommon. I haven’t been really close to anyone . . .” She sorted through her memories, then realized whatever she thought she’d shared with her adoptive parents had been a lie. “Maybe ever. Joaquin, let the people who care about you into your life. Your job is important, but it isn’t everything.”

“Especially since I found out tonight that I’ve been fired.” He tried to shoot her a self-deprecating smile.

She gasped in horror. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Because of this case?”

“It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. I’d still come find you.”

Not that she’d asked him to hunt her down and abduct her, but Bailey still felt vaguely guilty. “I’m sorry that saving me cost you your job. You were only trying to do the right thing and prevent me and other women from dying.”

He shrugged. “We’re both out of place now. Maybe . . . it’s time for me to think about a life beyond work. I haven’t in over a decade. Longer, really. I got my first job at sixteen to help my mom make ends meet.”

“Because your dad was gone and it was hard for her on one income?”

He froze, then nodded slowly. “She married a real asswipe not long after that, but he put a roof over our heads. I didn’t like or trust him, so I kept working. When my father was still alive, he would tell me all the time that if he wasn’t home, I was the man of the house. At his funeral, I realized I’d assumed that position permanently.”

Bailey’s heart reached out to his. He’d been just a kid. “How did that make you feel?”

“The weight of my responsibility was daunting. My mom went back to work within a few days of his death, so I found myself cooking and doing laundry. My sisters helped, of course. There’s only twenty-one months between me and Kata, with our middle sister, Mari, wedged between. But I became the father figure, disciplinarian, referee, and caretaker.”

“At twelve?”

He shrugged, looking pensive, and Bailey wished she could read his thoughts. “I was a month shy of thirteen.”

“I would have thought that experience would make you and your sisters really tight.”

After a considering frown, he shook his head. “Looking back, I took care of my family, worried about them, did my best with them. Mari was a gifted student, so she was often buried in homework and study groups. I think school was her escape from the hurt of Dad’s absence. Kata was just always so damn independent. Constantly gone, hanging with girlfriends, flirting with boys. I spent a few of her teenage years sure that she was going to make me prematurely gray. But she turned out all right. Once they were grown, I wanted to start living for me.”

“Growing up, you missed your dad a lot, didn’t you?”

Joaquin nodded. “Besides having to be a man before I actually was one, I missed his humor and wisdom. He always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me realize the error of my ways while making me laugh.”

“Your sisters would probably like to talk to you about him. I’m sure they miss him, too.”

He didn’t even have to open his mouth. Bailey already knew that, not only did he avoid talking to his sisters, he probably didn’t talk to anyone about his dad. So why was he talking to her? He’d come to console her when he needed some cheering up himself.

Could he possibly be interested in her as more than a potential mattress tango partner?

“They’ve both got husbands now. Mari has two boys. Kata is having one soon. They have normal jobs, community ties, connections with friends. We’ve got nothing in common anymore.”

“Except that you’re a family. Do you know what I’d give to have one of those?”

He squeezed her hands. “Bailey, I’m sure your birth parents would be very proud of who you’ve become. Accomplished, self-supporting, smart, gorgeous, kind.”

She teared up. “It kills me that I don’t remember them. When I see pictures of Viktor Aslanov, it’s like a punch in the stomach. It was a shock to find out that I look like my mother. I know next to nothing about her or my siblings. That hurts. What would my life have been like if my birth father had never sold his research to LOSS? I’ll never know.”