His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(93)
Author: Shayla Black

She supposed that was logical, but the fact that he’d considered her feelings at all touched her. Far cry from the man who had awakened her while she’d been chained to a stranger’s bed at Dominion.

“Yeah.”

He tucked her hand in his. “I’ll be beside you.”

“Isn’t anyone else living here?”

Joaquin grimaced, his hazel eyes reluctant. “No. Sean did some digging and found out it’s been vacant all this time. Your father left the house and everything in it to your mother’s sister, who still lives in Russia. Apparently, she’s refused to sell it, hoping that someday you’d be found and might want it.”

The fact that some relative she’d never met cared about her from halfway around the world touched her, but Bailey knew she could never spend another night in this place. “So you’re saying she left a key somewhere?”

“The feds did. Sean told me how to access it.”

He led her to the side of the house. On the back door, the one she’d darted out of in her dreams over and over again, a lockbox hung from the knob. With sure fingers, Joaquin punched in the code and the little tray opened, producing a key.

Joaquin took it between his fingers. “You want to do this?”

“No. Walking into the house is going to be hard enough. You go first, please.”

God knew what it would look like. Had anyone scrubbed the walls or replaced the carpet after the murders? If the evidence still existed, would she be able to deal? Damn, she found it hard to breathe.

“Follow me. If you need to stop or take a break or talk about it—”

“I appreciate that. Can we just get it over with?”

Because if she waited too long, she would probably throw up.

He nodded, looking tense. No, worried. “However you want. I got you.”

Funny how he liked to take away her control in bed and he assumed total responsibility when her safety was on the line, but with something this traumatic and emotional . . . he simply stayed by her side, so supportive. So compassionate.

“Thanks. I know this case has already cost you a lot, and you’ve done so much to keep me alive. Your sense of justice is amazing. What you’ve sacrificed to help me and try to save women you never knew is nothing short of incredible.”

Joaquin waved her off and shifted his gaze around the side of the house. Finally, he stuck the key in the side door, but it didn’t turn. “This must unlock the front.”

“I guess.” She shrugged.

Tugging gently on her hand, he led her to the front of the house. The lock gave him no resistance, and as Joaquin turned the old handle, the door squeaked open. Cold air from inside rushed her face, assaulting her. A shiver originated deep under her skin, all the way from the core of her being.

He pushed the door wider and stepped inside. As Bailey approached, stale air hit her nostrils, nearly making her knees buckle.

“I wonder how long it’s been since anyone has stepped foot in here.” He recoiled from the odor.

She wrinkled her nose and peered inside. “Smells like a long time.”

The little living room still looked so much like the memories that suddenly rushed back to her. Chocolate-brown carpet that had seen better days still covered the floor. A plaid sofa in tones of blue that didn’t match at all hunched against the wall. A small end table covered with a lacy scrap still sat beside it. A scarred coffee table the color of honey rested in front, still marred with the grooves from her brother’s toy trucks. Everything looked caked with inches of dust.

Bailey wrapped her arms around her waist. The temperature wasn’t the only thing cold in here. The vibe of the place iced through her veins. The terror that had permeated the house that day still lingered and plagued.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her fraying nerves. She’d never thought of herself as terribly brave, so being here tested her. Everything inside her wanted to flee. She couldn’t and she knew it.

“You all right?” he asked, pulling her closer.

Thank goodness Joaquin stood by her side. No way she would have made it without him. He might not be the man who stayed forever, but she’d be grateful to him for standing beside her now.

“I-I’m trying.”

“Ready to walk through the house? I’ll leave the door open.”

That might help with what she otherwise knew would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever endured in her life. She gave him a shaky nod.

A few more steps through the living room had them at the opening of the dining room. The pale fabric on the chairs still showed signs of stains from the children who had once eaten here. Her gaze lingered on the seat beside her mother’s. It had been her own. The faint pinkish stain on the corner had once been red from a fruit punch spill. Her father had always plunked himself at the head of the table and quizzed her older siblings about homework.