His to Take (25 page)

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know where it is,” she protested automatically.

“Sean can tell us.”

He probably could, but . . . “LOSS has had something like fifteen years to search
the place. If my biological father hid the research there, wouldn’t they have found
it? Wouldn’t the place be occupied by someone else or torn down or something?”

“We’ll find out. But if I’m going to spark your memory, I have to hope that something
on the property will seem familiar. You could be looking at . . . anything and have
a flashback of your past. The photo of McKeevy worked wonders.”

Bailey couldn’t argue with that, though she wished otherwise. “I’m scared.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve never been able to face the house I grew up in. You lost
your whole family and you don’t know what this will stir up. You’ve been nothing but
brave since I took you from Houston. Can you do it a bit longer? For me?”

His speech was part wheedling, part blackmail. Bailey sighed. But what choice did
she have? If she wanted a life, she had to explore every possibility.

“Yes.”

*   *   *

JOAQUIN called Sean as they headed north. Beside him, Bailey slept. They’d stopped
for some fast-food breakfast and coffee. When they’d handed him a greasy bag at the
drive-thru window, she’d wrinkled her nose; then she’d picked off all the cheese and
nibbled delicately at the sandwich.

He smiled at the memory, then sent her a glance. No idea why he felt so . . . attached
to her. Everyone else in life he’d been able to just walk away from. His mother had
his sisters. His sisters had their husbands. None of them needed him.

But Bailey? She did.

It wasn’t pity that kept him with her, though. Far from it. He didn’t like being away
from her, even felt weirdly off-kilter when she wasn’t near. He liked to see her smile,
got hard when she laughed. Seeing her so serene now filled him with peace. What the
hell was up with that?

“You two all right?” Sean said by way of greeting once he answered.

“Fine. Thanks. Just driving,” he said in low tones so he didn’t wake Bailey. “Do you
have the address of that farm she lived on with her parents?”

“You going there?”

“I don’t know what else to do. But she makes a good point that LOSS has had years
to comb the place.”

“The feds, too. They took all kinds of equipment—sonar, X-ray, infrared cameras—and
didn’t find anything except a colony of mice by the barn.”

“The one thing you didn’t have was Bailey’s memories.”

“You got us there. It’s worth a try.”

Sean rattled off the address, then caught him up to speed on their plan to keep the
wedding safe. Joaquin knew that Bailey really hated to miss it. Honestly, he kind
of did, too. Sean and Callie deserved a good start to their marriage, and Joaquin
had never seen a committed relationship with three people, but with Thorpe’s iron
will, Callie’s devotion, and Sean’s ability to negotiate truces, they’d have a great
future.

Joaquin wondered what the hell he’d do with his life when this case was over. He had
no job now. His shithole apartment didn’t really qualify as a home. He’d drifted from
his family, and the one close friend he’d had was dead. He was over thirty . . . and
had nothing to show for it.

Jesus, listen to him. He had to pick up his whiny ass and move on. He’d find another
job, another case, another shithole, maybe even more friends.

But not another Bailey.

The thought hit him right between the eyes.

“Hello?” Sean asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Joaquin tuned back into the conversation. “Sorry. My cell skipped out for
a minute. Can you repeat that?”

“Sure. Be careful. If we come across anything else, we’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks, man.”

“And you let us know how you’re doing. Callie is worrying herself into a frenzy.”

And wouldn’t that touch Bailey’s heart?

Joaquin felt his throat close up. “Thanks.”

As they rang off, Joaquin thanked his lucky stars he’d bought his vehicle with a GPS
program. He punched the address into the system and out spit directions. Only twelve
hours and some change to go . . .

*   *   *

HOUR after hour rolled by in the car. Bailey stared out the window at the slowly changing
scenery. The flat land seemed to simply stay flat. The foliage changed. The air turned
colder. Spring may have mostly sprung in Texas, but up north, they hadn’t quite gotten
the memo.

After Little Rock, hints of civilization became fewer and farther between. The northeast
corner of Arkansas still had snow. Missouri still looked miserably wintery, considering
it was April. She still hadn’t asked where exactly Joaquin was taking her.

In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

With every mile that passed, her stomach knotted tighter. Every cell in her body clenched
with dread. What if seeing her childhood home sparked memories? What if it didn’t?
Or what if she remembered the bloodbath McKeevy had unleashed on her family? Bailey
could only believe that she had escaped because her father had sent her outside to
hide and LOSS hadn’t paid that much attention to the number of children Aslanov had
sired.

“You’re too quiet,” Joaquin said finally.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t feed me that line of shit. You’re worried.”

“I am,” she admitted. “What does that change?”

He sighed as they crossed into Illinois. “Are you hungry at least?”

“Are you going to feed me more fast food?” The idea made her stomach revolt.

“Probably. I’m trying to reach our destination before nightfall. No sense searching
the property in the dark.”

“We won’t have much time before sunlight runs out anyway. You must be tired. You’ve
been driving all day. And you can’t have gotten much sleep last night.”

“I don’t regret that for a second. What about you?”

Heat rose up her cheeks. “I enjoyed it. I certainly understand the fuss about sex
now.”

Bailey would have thought that most men would preen when a girl praised their prowess.
He frowned. “So I was good in bed but it didn’t mean anything?”

“No, I . . .” Why did this man fluster her so easily? “I’m running for my life. And
you won’t stay around. Your sister made that really clear last night. So why does
it matter?”

He just grunted. “We’ll table this discussion until we figure everything else out,
but I’m not done.”

Great.

They stopped and had a sort of healthier lunch. Sub sandwiches with processed meat
wasn’t her definition of power food, but she loaded hers up with veggies and did the
best she could. If she miraculously got to audition next week, she didn’t want to
be hugely out of shape. After that, they continued in relative silence, and she fiddled
with the radio as each station played tunes then became static as the miles rolled
on.

Late afternoon had almost spilled into evening when Joaquin turned the SUV down a
dirt road. Her stomach clenched tight, and she wondered if she’d lose her lunch. Somehow,
she knew the trek down this road wouldn’t be more than a mile or so. It seemed to
take forever, yet it wasn’t long enough.

It didn’t take long before he slowed. The GPS indicated their destination was on the
left. Bailey pressed her hands to her stomach, looking at the seemingly innocuous,
if neglected, farmhouse that had become a house of horrors in her nightmares.

The structure was still painted a white, though time and weather had peeled it in
spots. The swing set she saw on one side of the house in her dreams had rusted out
and looked like something ready for a Dumpster. The remnants of her brother’s fort
between the two trees tilted and gaped. If she hadn’t known it had once stood there,
she would have never guessed from its appearance now. A curtain sagged from the front
window, which Bailey knew was in the kitchen. In fact, the drape was a print of little
teacups and saucers. The roof had seen better days.

The whole place looked haunted.

“You’re pale. Does anything look familiar?”

Sadness assailed her. Rage followed. LOSS had taken everything from her. Now that
she sat here looking at the home, she remembered laughter. Her father had liked to
tickle her in the mornings. Her mother had been teaching her and her sister to dance
in the living room.

One organization’s need to wedge the world into the order they sought had wiped out
all she held dear in the blink of an eye.

“Everything.” Her voice shook.

Joaquin bolted out of the car and ran around to open her door. “If you’re too tired
to do this today, we can come back tomorrow.”

She shook her head. If she had to leave and live with a night of dread, knowing she’d
return to this tragic spot . . . “We’re here. Let’s get this over with.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something but refrained. Instead, he held out his
hand and helped her to her feet. “You ready?”

No.
“Why not?”

“Three days ago, you had no idea you’d been born Tatiana Aslanov. If memories are
coming back, too, everything must be overwhelming.”

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.