His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(88)
Author: Shayla Black

“Do you have everything packed?” Joaquin asked as he glanced around the room they’d shared last night, his stare lingering on the bed.

“There wasn’t much.”

“True.” One look at her face, and he sighed. “Baby girl, don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Sean will continue working on this end to keep Callie safe with the help of Jack Cole and his guys.”

She was scared, but probably not as much as she should be. Joaquin had already proven that he was smart and one step ahead of McKeevy. Her bigger regret was losing people she cared for.

Story of my life . . .

“I know.”

He lifted a borrowed backpack filled with their stuff with one hand. With the other, he reached for hers. She appreciated his comfort. As hard as it was to leave all her new friends, being without this man would be far more devastating.

What would she do when he no longer had to bodyguard her and he left her to save someone else or seek his next mission? Bailey didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t let a man she’d known a handful of days have her heart or the ability to crush her. She cared, yes. Maybe she was even falling in love. But she would carry on once he’d gone. Sadly, she already knew he would, just as she knew his departure would hurt like hell.

As the two of them left the bedroom behind and made their way down the empty hall, they passed through the dungeon. Someone had already cleaned up after the party. Even the garish blow-up doll had been deflated and lay in a plastic puddle on the bar, tacky lingerie piled on top. In the middle of the room, Logan scanned all around and finally picked up a woman’s purse near the table where the gifts had rested.

He glanced up as they entered. “Good luck, you two. Kata really does miss you, man.”

Beside her, Joaquin tensed. “Thanks. That purse a new look for you?”

Bailey blinked. He’d resorted to guy humor, rather than acknowledging the truth Logan had given him. His father’s death must have been incredibly traumatic. Why hadn’t he healed? Why couldn’t he seem to engage with his own family?

God, her life was full of so many secrets, wrapped inside mysteries, all shoved into conundrums right now. Between that and lack of sleep, exhaustion weighed on her. The soreness between her legs was a potent reminder of the man beside her, too. Still, all she wanted to do was touch Joaquin again.

“Ha!” Logan shot back sourly. “Tara and I got a little carried away last night. She left her purse here and texted me to find it. But personally, I think gray and black are my colors.” He held up the bag with a cheesy smile. “It’s even got these nifty pockets so I can insert whatever weapons . . .” He tilted the purse sideways. Out spilled a small collection of baby toys, all tumbling to the ground in a clatter. A pair of pacifiers, a multicolored rattle, some cloth books with Velcro characters stuck on haphazardly, and a little ball that played music.

Bailey froze when she heard it. Her blood ran cold.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing.

Logan held up the toy, just now finishing its little ditty. “A ball.”

“No, that song.”

“‘Hickory Dickory Dock.’” He reared back. “You’ve never heard it?”

“Her parents were Russian,” Joaquin tossed back in a voice that warned Logan to back off.

“No, I’ve heard it. How does it go? Can you sing it?”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Joaquin set the backpack down and wrapped an arm around her in a silent show of support.

“It’s something . . . A memory. I can’t put my finger on it.” She grappled for the memory and came up empty. She sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. Please sing it.”

Logan nodded. “Hickory Dickory Dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one. The mouse ran down. Hickory Dickory Dock.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. “It sounds less stupid when I’m singing it to infants.”

Bailey shook her head. “Those aren’t the words I learned.”

“Maybe your parents sang it in Russian?” Joaquin suggested.

“No. It was . . . something about a fence, a big tree, a barn, and turning three times.” Bits of the memory rolled through her mind.

Confusion crossed Logan’s face. “I’ve never heard that version.”

“Viktor Aslanov taught it to me.”

“Who knows?” Joaquin hefted the backpack over his shoulder and guided her toward the door. “It’s probably nothing. We’ll be going now. Bye.”

She stared at him. Why had he been so abrupt?

“Can I take that?” she asked Logan before Joaquin could pull her away. “I’ll send it back as soon as I can.”