Theirs to Cherish

Chapter Nine





SEAN thanked God that Thorpe had rich friends when they landed in Las Vegas a few hours later. After Logan’s pronouncement that Callie was at large somewhere in Sin City, he and Thorpe had both been ready to crawl out of their skins. Two minutes later, Thorpe had placed a call to Xander Santiago. Sean remembered him, his brother, and the pretty blonde sub they shared from their visit to Dominion over the previous summer—mostly because Callie had left the club with the other woman and disappeared for damn near twelve hours.

That turned out to be a bonus. Because Callie had taken such good care of Xander and Javier’s wife, London, the billionaires had been more than willing to lend him and Thorpe their plane. It had been fueled up and jetting to Amarillo, Texas, in no time. They hadn’t waited long at all before the small luxury plane arrived to spirit them away to Vegas.

After a fitful catnap in midair, they touched down around noon. As he tossed his carry-on over one shoulder, Sean raced Thorpe to the exit and down the airstairs. Thorpe had shoved some necessities of his own in a briefcase and now clutched it in his fist as he sprinted for the parking lot. Anything they needed and hadn’t packed they could buy—except time. And every moment that ticked by they spent away from Callie made it less likely they would find her at all, much less before some uniform who already seemed half a step ahead of them did. At the twenty-four-hour mark, it was likely the trail would grow cold, and they’d already eaten up half their time on f*cking travel.

“We’ve got our plan,” he reminded Thorpe, tamping down his anxiety. “Let’s stick to it.”

The club owner nodded absently, running for the stranger waiting in the distance. Logan’s friend Elijah was big, bald, and menacing. The former SEAL didn’t look like someone he’d want for an enemy. Nor was he much for small talk, which suited Sean just fine.

Within seconds, they’d taken the keys to the man’s truck and paid him to rent a car. The idea wasn’t perfect, but it wouldn’t leave a completely obvious trail for anyone to follow. Since someone in a uniform had known to follow Callie to Vegas, the guy might also be keeping an eye on him and Thorpe, too. They’d have to lie really f*cking low in order to both find her and figure out who followed her.

The moment they reached Elijah’s Jeep, Sean slipped behind the wheel. He’d done an undercover stint in Vegas about two years ago and knew his way around the city reasonably well. The second Thorpe’s ass hit the passenger seat, the man had his burner phone open and was calling folks in the local fet community. Sean doubted that Callie would fall back into a kink environment. She might find it comfortable, but he suspected she would choose to be as unpredictable as possible. It had kept her alive and free this long.

In the meantime, Sean pulled out his own phone as he tore away from the airport and started calling some less-than-legal guys he’d met here previously. He asked questions delicately because he wasn’t about to tip off known criminals about a woman with a two-million-dollar bounty on her head. No one had seen a new girl in town working the seedier side of life who matched Callie’s description, but Sean didn’t think it would be long. She hadn’t had time to plan her escape to the last detail. She’d have to fall back on existing skills for fast cash until she could come up with a better plan.

Thorpe slammed his phone on the console with a curse.

“I take it that means you came up empty-handed?” Sean asked.

“Yes, damn it. I know a club owner named Talon who’s connected to nearly everyone in the life here in Vegas. But he hasn’t seen or heard about anyone new who fits Callie’s description in the last day or so. Then again, she’ll already have some sort of disguise.”

Undoubtedly. He and Thorpe would have to factor that in. “We’ve made our initial contacts. Now we’re going to have to split up. You hit the fet joints and kink bars, make the rounds there in case she’s hiding out. I’ll hit dive bars, nightclubs, restaurants—anyplace that might have filled the need for quick help in the last day or so. We both just need to look past any disguise for that familiar face.”

“Absolutely. She won’t get away from me again.

“Callie won’t be working on the Strip,” Sean warned. “She’ll have found somewhere just off, maybe downtown, somewhere with a bit less sophisticated security, where she could make money without drawing too much attention to herself.”

“I’ll check into a few bars I know. If I come up empty, we’ll keep trying until something works.”

“And if you find her, you better not skip the f*cking country. You got that?” Sean threatened. “It’s likely going to take more than one person to protect her, and if someone in a secret branch of the military wants her, then you bet your ass they can reach you down in South America.”

“I know,” Thorpe said, obviously resigned. “I’ve already thought of that.”

Sean nodded grimly and drove straight for the downtown area that had seen its glory days early in Vegas’s history, sixty years ago. Overall, the hotels were a little seedier, as were the people. Callie could easily get lost in this sea of humanity. A wig, a few new clothes, some colored contacts . . . No one would know her—or care. She wouldn’t stay long in this city. Callie must know that he and Thorpe would come looking for her. And if she knew someone official sought her and had shaken Logan’s protection, then she would want out of this city even faster. They had a few days. A week, tops. As soon as she saved a little money, she would slip out of town. Or out of the country.

“F*ck,” he muttered to himself and stepped on the gas, lurching the car into heavy traffic.

***

TWO hours later, Thorpe had indigestion from a lousy piece of pizza he’d eaten while pounding the sidewalks. The two kink-oriented bars he knew were both half empty during the afternoon. It had taken forever to search the cavernous places. He’d seen some pretty girls with Callie’s height and build . . . but not the woman herself. Talon had greeted him at the Slip Knot with a drink in hand. Thorpe had declined the scotch and asked his friend to keep a lookout.


Finally making his way outside, he pulled out his phone and called Sean. Voicemail picked up after a couple of rings, and he took a taxi back to the parking lot of the hotel where Sean had left Elijah’s vehicle. When he got there, the Jeep was empty. No Sean. No keys. Great. Now he either had to stand here and wait or pound the pavement more.

As he pushed away from Elijah’s silver SUV, a realization hit him. Picking up his stride, he dialed Sean again, who picked up on the first ring.

“Jesus, I just finished listening to your voicemail. A little patience.”

“I think I’ve got an idea. Where are you now?” Thorpe had no more than asked the question when he looked up to see Sean striding through the parking lot.

They both hung up, and the fed looked at him with an expectant brow. Thorpe tried not to bristle.

“We’re not being smart,” he told Sean.

“Then enlighten me. What are we not doing right?”

“Think about it. Callie drove to Logan for help, but he put her on a plane. She doesn’t have a car.”

“I see where you’re going with this.” Sean’s eyes lit up with possibilities. “She won’t waste money taking a taxi to and from whatever job she’s managed to scrape together. And she would have had to lay her head someplace last night.”

Thorpe looked around the area with a look of horror. “Where the hell would she stay in this neighborhood?”

“Not at a casino hotel. They’re too public and probably a bit expensive. She likes extended-stay hotels, especially ones that aren’t part of a chain,” Sean reminded him. “I know this area. I can think of a few off the top of my head. I’ve got an idea. Follow me.”

God, wherever she was, it was likely a dive, some motel that doubled as a rent-by-the-hour haven for local pimps. Thorpe gritted his teeth and followed after Sean. They walked the pavement until they came to the first place.

The exterior was a faded pink. The sign advertised color TVs and air-conditioning as its big selling features. The tarred parking lot had long ago cracked and buckled under the heat of punishing Vegas summers. Iron railings overlooking droopy balconies were covered in rust. The swimming pool was an off-putting shade of blue-green.

The old man behind the counter looked half asleep, and he couldn’t have cared less that he had customers. He barely lifted one eye away from the little TV. His jowls hung over his wrinkled hand as he glanced their way.

“We’re looking for a missing person who might have checked in yesterday. She’s twenty-five and petite, with a fair complexion. Very pretty. May or may not have black hair and blue eyes.”

“Look, I rent rooms, not girls. Back in my day, I would have liked a broad like that, too, but I haven’t rented a room to anyone under fifty in at least two months. And I definitely haven’t had a dreamboat want to stay here. Can I get back to my show now? I’m missing Final Jeopardy.”

“Thanks for your time. If she comes by, can you please call this number?” Sean jotted his digits down on a sticky note that lay on the cluttered counter, then slid it toward the old man. “It’s urgent.”

“Sure.” But he didn’t look away from his show, listening instead to Alex Trebek.

Thorpe gritted his teeth as he and Sean exited. “That was a waste.”

“Maybe not. Callie might skip around for a while to confuse everyone on her trail. We’ll visit this old fart again in a few days if we haven’t found her.”

Trying not to be disheartened or give into exhaustion, he nodded. “Where to next?”

Sean led the way to a handful of motels that advertised weekly or monthly rates. All dives he didn’t ever want to call home. All looked as if they’d had their heyday during the golden age of the Rat Pack. Both gave them similar speeches. No one new renting here who fit that description, yadda, yadda, yadda.

“We need a plan C,” he told Sean.

The other man sighed heavily and raked a hand through his dark waves. “We’re both exhausted. I’m famished. Let’s take a load off and talk this through.”

Food didn’t hold much appeal for Thorpe now, but he could use a cup of strong coffee.

They made their way to a little greasy spoon. As long as they were there, they inquired about Callie. Of course, they came up empty-handed.

“I still can’t figure out why someone military might be looking for her,” Sean said quietly once seated at a table in the corner.

“I’m as lost there as you,” Thorpe vowed. “It barely makes sense to me that the FBI wants to keep tabs on her. I guess the fact that her father was a multibillionaire is noteworthy, but . . .”

“Why does the bureau care? Like I said, I don’t have any answers. And anyone in the military hunting her down seems way out in left field.”

“Exactly. I don’t see how she could have gotten mixed up with anything or anyone under my roof. Before you came, I watched Callie just about every moment of every day. And if I didn’t have eyes on her, Axel or one of his guys did. I did my best to protect her and keep her out of trouble.”

“You did.” Sean sighed. “Let’s assume this pursuit has something to do with her family’s murders. They were carried out by professionals. You could almost say with military precision.”

That didn’t make Thorpe feel better. “Any chance they’re trying to protect her from something?”

“Why wait nine years to even try?”

Good question, one without a logical answer. “When you put it like that . . .”

“Let’s assume they’re after her and that they’re dangerous. I’m guessing they just now got a lead on her. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have come after her at Dominion?”

“But how the hell did they find her in Vegas before she’d even arrived?” Thorpe asked.

“I’ve wondered that, too.”

“We don’t know how Logan got her onto the plane, but he’s a clever bastard. He could have somehow managed to bypass the security screening. Or maybe she used ID from a previous alias.”

“It’s possible that something at the airport alerted whoever is hunting Callie. But there’s another scenario. Tell me, how much can we really trust Logan?”

“Implicitly. I’d vouch for him all day long.” When Sean still didn’t look convinced, Thorpe tried another tactic. “Why would he set Callie up with a safe haven and volunteer all the information to us if he just wanted to collect the bounty?”

“You’re right. Hell, I feel like I’m grasping at straws. Nothing makes sense.”

With a frown, Thorpe leaned across the table, pausing when the waitress came by to pour more coffee. “Let’s come back to how they found her later. The other big question is, why are they after her? Did her father have anything to do with the armed forces? Did he have any money in defense contracting? Have any sway with senators on the Armed Services Committee? Rub elbows with generals?”

“I’d have to go back and double-check her file, but none of that rings a bell.” Sean sighed. “I don’t want it, but I need some f*cking sleep.”

As much as Thorpe would rather keep searching for her, he needed some shut-eye, too. He would be no good to anyone until he got it, and neither would Sean.

He looked at his watch. Late afternoon. “There’s a good chance that wherever Callie is now, she’s lying low and resting. If she’s singing, she’ll likely be doing it at night.”

“I agree. Since that will be her first choice of jobs, rather than serving food on her feet all the time, let’s go with the idea that she’s not working right now. After a nap, you and I will meet up again. Six sound good?”

Thorpe didn’t want to pause, but they both needed to be sharp. “Yeah.”

In silence, they walked to a cheap hotel nearby and secured a couple of rooms. The place was decent but older, took cash, and didn’t ask many questions since they’d paid for a week in advance. It was hardly the Ritz, and he couldn’t have cared less.

Once inside, Thorpe made a few more phone calls, one to Xander, who hooked him up with Javier. Carefully, he asked questions about Daniel Howe without mentioning Callie herself. The elder Santiago brother had been in the defense contracting business for over a decade, but he’d never heard anything about Callie’s father dipping his toe in that water, financing such a venture, or hobnobbing with influential senators or military officials. Another dead f*cking end.

Next door, he could hear Sean talking as well. F*ck, this place was musty and old. Normally, he’d never stay here, and it broke his heart to think of Callie curled up someplace even dumpier than this.

Why had she run without talking to him at all? Had she truly believed that he didn’t care enough to keep her safe?

With a tired sigh, he wedged himself into the small shower and tried to wash his funk away. No such luck. His mood was still crashing. He felt every single second that ticked by and started to picture the rest of his life without Callie. God, even the thought made him insane. No way he could do without her in his life. He’d move mountains, part oceans, rip his own damn heart out of his chest to have her back.


But even if he did, he still wouldn’t be the right man for her.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a threadbare white towel around his waist and plodded over to his bed. Just as he sat in exhaustion to call himself every kind of dumbshit for letting her slip through his fingers, his phone rang. The number looked like Logan’s.

“Hi. You got something for me?” he barked.

“You sound f*cking miserable.”

“I am, Logan. I’m in a rattrap with a splitting headache. I need sleep, and all I can think about is Callie out there, believing that she’s totally alone. What if the military brass looking for her found her before we did? I don’t even want to think it, but I don’t know why they want her, where they would have taken her, or—”

“Take a breath, man,” Logan cut in. “Callie made it out of the airport in one piece. I just got off the phone with Elijah.”

“You’re sure?” Hope sprang inside him for a sweet moment.

“Yeah,” Logan assured. “He found someone in airport security who was willing to let him view the footage of the terminal just after her flight landed. She came off the plane in different clothing, complete with a fake belly and somehow smaller boobs. No idea how she managed that. She’d ditched the hat, donned a blond wig, put on a crap-ton of makeup and sunglasses. Elijah said it took him a few passes through the footage to spot her, but he did.”

“Callie managed to prepare for this trip, at least a little. Her resourcefulness shouldn’t surprise me.” But it sure relieved the f*ck out of him. She’d gotten away from her potentially dangerous enemy—at least for now.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, either. The Callie I knew only excelled at wanting her way and throwing a hissy until she got it. But I only saw the same bratty act she peddled to everyone else. You know the real woman.”

Thorpe closed his eyes. He did, but it had taken a long while to learn her. After she’d gotten a bit comfortable with him and Dominion, she’d slowly let her guard down. She’d let him in a bit more when she’d laughed at his jokes, passed time with him on the sofa, or chatted with him when she couldn’t sleep. Then again when she’d had the flu, disagreed with him about her sometimes disrespectful behavior, or teased him about his “stodgy” music. And still more when he’d bound her for demos, held her, kissed her . . . barely stopped himself from claiming her when she wasn’t his. He had seen her heart and that’s when he’d fallen in love.

“I’m glad she got away,” he said thickly.

“Clean,” Logan confirmed. “After stopping off at the first bathroom inside the terminal, she walked out no longer carrying her backpack. She’d gotten a red duffel from somewhere. According to Elijah, she dragged it behind her and made her way toward the meet point in baggage claim. She intended to follow through with my plan. I can only guess that she took precautions on the plane just to be safe, then realized the man in uniform just outside the terminal was looking for her. She changed course and walked right past my buddy, then out the door. In the last frame of footage she’s viewable, she’s walking down the long line of taxis. No idea which one she eventually got in.”

So they couldn’t track the vehicle.

Every word felt like a death knell to Thorpe’s hopes of finding her again. “Goddamn it, Logan. She’s got to be terrified out of her mind. And I can’t even f*cking find her to help her. She’s alone and worried, maybe even running out of money. Does she even know where she’s going to sleep tonight? She might even be making plans to get out of Vegas now. And I’m too clueless to help her. What kind of protector am I?”

“Cut yourself some slack. You’ve done everything you can to find her. I’m going to look for this military asswipe. Elijah is checking the airport security footage for a picture of him, so we can piece together who he is and why he wants Callie. If we get something, I’ll send it your way. Elijah is local if you need more assistance in your search.” Logan tried to sound both calm and reassuring. “Callie is smart and she knows how to stay alive. We’ll find her and bring her home.”

As Thorpe hung up, he hoped that was true. The alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

***

SEAN dragged his ass out of bed. He could have slept more. His body screamed for it, but Callie’s face haunted him. The feel of her in his arms, the sounds of her saucy laughter in his ear, the haunting beauty of her expressive eyes locked with his as he filled her body . . . Shit, how had he gone on a simple baby-sitting mission and ended up in love?

For over a decade, he’d been married to his job. He’d lost a fiancée once upon a time to his badge. He’d lost touch with all his old pals, his cousins, and anyone who had once occupied his “normal” life.

But in barely more than a handful of months, Callie had rewired his priorities. She mattered. She filled the half of him he hadn’t even known was empty. She’d resurrected him just by being her sweet, bratty, kind, unpredictable self. Damn it, he had to find her—before someone with intentions between nebulous and nefarious did.

All through his blistering-hot shower, he groaned under the spray and tried to think of places he might look for his lovely. After he and Thorpe had caught a nap yesterday afternoon, they’d resumed their search that evening, pounding the pavement and opening the door to nearly every casino, dive bar, and twenty-four-hour diner they could find within walking distance. At four a.m., they’d finally agreed to pause again. He’d told Thorpe he would work on a new plan, but the truth was, he was running out of ideas.

Where the hell could she be? Worry knotted his guts and pinged in his head like a pinball bouncing between bumpers, setting off one alarm bell after another.

Thirty minutes later, Thorpe scooted into a booth across from him in the hotel’s diner. Though dressed immaculately, the man didn’t look any better rested than he felt.

“Anything new from Logan or Elijah?” Sean asked hopefully.

Thorpe answered with a grim shake of his head. “Nothing new since yesterday. Maybe Callie is on the Strip.”

He’d been over this mentally a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours. “Highly unlikely. Anyone who’d employ her down there would insist on having proper identification. Since Callie left her fake driver’s license back in Dallas knowing we’d track that name, she’d have no use for it now. It’s possible she has another alias, but she wouldn’t keep it for long and she wouldn’t have asked Logan for help if she felt secure in the identity. Besides, the video surveillance on the Strip will be far sharper and more sophisticated than anything in the older section of town. The security presence in joints up there is palpable. Callie wouldn’t go there voluntarily. She’s too smart.”

“That makes sense.” Thorpe sighed tiredly, then absently thanked the waitress who took their orders and filled their coffee cups. “Seems like we’ve combed every inch of these streets. I don’t know where else to go.”

The only places downtown left to search were the really unsavory and unpalatable. The dangerous haunts for the depraved and criminal element. But he kept that to himself. Thorpe already looked ready to lose it. The strain of being unable to locate Callie was wearing on him, too. If Sean had ever had any illusions about Thorpe’s feelings, he didn’t now. As much as he hated to admit it, the man genuinely loved her.

“I’ve got a few more possibilities.” Sean tried to shrug casually. “You get any sleep? It’s going to be another long day.”

“I crashed for three hours. After that . . . off and on.” He took a swig of coffee, wincing as the steaming brew hit his tongue. “I kept having dreams about Callie needing help, being alone, crying. I couldn’t take it. I know she’s a very capable woman, but . . .”

Sean shot him a rueful smile. “I’m in the same camp, man. I woke up wondering if I’m crazy. How well do I know this girl? I know the person she showed me. I loved that woman. But is she the real Callie?”

Thorpe paused for so long, Sean wasn’t sure he intended to answer. “I want like hell to lie to you and tell you that everything you saw was BS. But that’s not what’s best for her.” He sighed. “Yeah, you saw the real Callie, especially that last night on the dungeon floor. She lowered her walls for you. With anyone else, she’d gnaw her own arm off before trembling or showing vulnerability. She’d avoid that kind of eye contact, and run screaming from that much . . . intimacy. She cared what you thought, how you felt. Her taking off probably doesn’t say that to you, but I know Callie better than anyone else. Believe me, you saw her.”

Suddenly, Sean understood one of the many things that ripped at Thorpe’s guts. “You’re not used to sharing that soft, secret side of her. You wanted it for yourself.”

The big man across the table paused, froze, then crushed the empty plastic creamer container in his fist. “If I couldn’t have any other part of her, I was willing to accept that. Seeing her wanting to please someone else felt like a never-ending kick in the balls. But you’re better for her, so . . .”


Yeah, he should probably let that go. It was in his best interest to let Thorpe think he’d ruin Callie or whatever bullshit trolled through his head. But the man had been brutally honest with him today, and they’d been through too much in the last thirty-six hours for that crap. They weren’t friends, but they shared a new respect forged in fire. Both of them knew bone deep that the other would do anything—everything—to keep Callie safe.

Sean swallowed. “You’re not bad for Callie. She looks to you for so much—comfort, security.” He had to force out the next truth. “Even love. She wants you in her life. I’m probably the interloper here.”

With a tight squeeze of his eyes, Thorpe blocked him out, looking as if he worked hard to hold himself together. “I love her more than I believed myself capable of loving any woman. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to say that, but I feel compelled to confess since you called me a coward and rubbed my nose in my feelings like dog shit. I’m painfully aware that Callie needs the tenderness you’ve given her. I’m not capable of it.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Ask my ex-wife, for starters.”

“Tenderness isn’t all she needs.” Sean prayed he had everything inside him she required to be whole. Nights at Dominion when he’d wondered exactly how to give her boundaries that would both bind her to him and let her fly free . . . That’s when he’d felt unsure. That’s when he’d wondered if Thorpe was the better man for her.

“Oh, she needs a lot more.” Thorpe snorted. “Starting with a thorough paddling.”

“Damn straight.” He picked up his coffee cup, and clinked it against Thorpe’s, who still clutched his in hand.

They each took a sip and resorted to silence, as if this much getting along was unnerving.

Their food arrived, and Sean wasn’t terribly hungry. By the way Thorpe pushed his eggs around his plate, it looked like the other man couldn’t find his appetite, either. Still, they forced the meal down, knowing they’d need the energy. Nothing was said about how long they would stay here and what they would do if Callie was still missing in a week, in a month . . . or longer. Sean wasn’t about to give up, and he’d bet his badge that Thorpe wasn’t either.

“I’m trying to decide if it’s good or bad that we haven’t run into anyone in a uniform looking for Callie,” Thorpe said suddenly.

“I’ve had the same question, but I have to think it’s good.”

“I know she managed to leave the airport without a hitch, but how do we know someone hasn’t already found Callie and . . .”

Captured her? Killed her? Sean swallowed. F*ck, Thorpe was all but reading his mind. But he didn’t want to voice any of those fears. “We just need to keep looking. Stay strong and be persistent. We have one thing going for us that no one else does.”

Thorpe lifted miserable gray eyes to him, looking like the gloomiest day. “What? Give me anything to feel good about.”

Sean was no cheerleader, but in this case, he refused to believe anything except they’d gotten a jump on the a*shole hunting her down for one reason alone. “Callie isn’t just a case to either of us. She means something. Hell, everything. We know her desires, her habits, her secret yearnings. She can’t bury all those parts of herself forever. When she needs . . .” Sean nodded, willing Thorpe not to lose faith. “When she comes up looking for a sense of home or connection or affection—whatever—we’ll be waiting.”

But twelve hours later, he was losing hope. They’d hit even the worst of the worst places downtown. Terrible, seedy, dirty, filled with the dregs of humanity. He couldn’t picture Callie here. She’d shine too bright, be too beautiful. No way she could hide here for long.

As they continued pounding the pavement, they stumbled across a motel with a blinking turquoise neon sign that proclaimed it Summer Wind. Given the fact that this was Vegas, it had to be a nod to one of Sinatra’s classic tunes, but its faded fa?ade made Thorpe stop in his tracks.

“Callie’s favorite season,” Thorpe murmured.

“‘Summer’ was her safe word, too.” Sean swallowed, hope brimming.

Thorpe zipped a sharp stare in his direction. The knowledge looked like it hit the big Dom right in the gut. “It fits. We have to look here.”

It was a crapshoot, but Sean totally agreed.

The place looked beyond run-down. It had to be cheap. But it seemed like the first place in over twenty-four hours that made sense for Callie to have come.

He and Thorpe pushed their way inside. Wow, it was easily one of the crappiest motels he’d ever seen. The windows hadn’t been washed in the last two decades. In the lobby, the carpet beneath his feet was sticky. The air reeked of cigarettes, vomit, urine, and cheap disinfectant. Rent by the week or the hour—apparently the management wasn’t picky about how long anyone stayed as long as they paid.

Inside stood a woman who was probably in her late thirties but had lived so damn hard she’d easily be mistaken for fifty. She lounged against a scarred white Formica countertop permanently stained yellow, wearing a thrift store castoff of a tank top that showed cleavage wrinkled from too much sun. The woman’s lined lips wrapped around a slim smoke and she sucked in hard before blowing the smoke his way with a bored stare.

“You two looking for a room?” Her voice rattled from her lungs. “If you need more than an hour for your ‘business,’ you might have to come back. We’re pretty full up.”

Beside him, Thorpe choked, looking ready to throttle the woman. He sliced her his most displeased Dom face. In seconds, the woman lowered her cigarette and stared at him warily.

Sean stepped between them, shooting Thorpe a glare that told him to be f*cking reasonable. “No. We don’t need a room to share. Or any room at all.” He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his badge. “FBI. I’m looking for someone.”

The bleach blonde with the gray roots looked ready to piss her pants. “I swear I told Johnny to be careful who the hell he hired. Who is it, the new repairman? I suspected he might be a con man, but I didn’t know.”

“Focus, woman,” Thorpe snapped. “We’re asking the questions. You will answer us precisely and honestly. You will not speak unless spoken to. If you’re dishonest, we’ll have problems, you and I. Is that clear?”

The woman gave a rattled bob of her head. “Um . . . yeah.”

Thorpe turned to him with a grim smile. “Proceed.”

The situation wasn’t funny, but Sean repressed the urge to grin. Thorpe had gotten the woman’s attention, that was for sure. After a handful of words, she couldn’t wait to give him a healthy dose of respect. He supposed Thorpe’s commanding presence was one reason so many subs sought him as a Dominant. And it was probably one of the reasons Callie had latched on to him. Deep down, she needed to believe that someone watched over her, looked out for her, and would rein her in if she’d gone too far. She ached to know that someone could save her if push came to shove. But Callie was so damn headstrong that whomever she turned to would have to truly exert his control before she’d heed it. Thorpe would have no problem doing that. He’d relish it.

The thought niggled at his brain as he withdrew a recent picture he’d printed of Callie, one he’d clandestinely snapped on his phone at Dominion. She wore a little Mona Lisa smile, her full, rosy lips somehow taunting and affectionate at once, tempting him. Her eyes glittered with life and vitality. Her glossy black hair shone against her pale cheek. Inch after inch of the most unspoiled skin he’d ever touched drew his stare all the way down to the hint of her cleavage. His memory supplied the rest—sweet pink-berry nipples, flat belly, slender hips, sleek thighs, snug p-ssy. Sexual power in a petite dynamo of a female.

Thorpe nudged him. “Get on with it.”

Pulled out of his musings, Sean nodded, then sat the image down on the counter in front of the desk clerk. He held his breath.

Her eyes flared with recognition, and she looked at him, suddenly in a hurry to be forthcoming. The apprehensive glance she slid Thorpe’s way explained why. “Yeah, I know her.”

“And? Go on. When did she check in?” Sean demanded.

“Two days ago. Middle of the night.”

Bingo! “Go on.”

“She was dragging a red duffel. I think she’s a blonde now.”

He and Thorpe exchanged a glance. She’d disguised herself, as they’d suspected. But his excitement was reflected in the other man’s gray eyes. They were finally getting a lead on Callie. Sean’s heart pumped. His skin tingled. Hell, even his cock engorged. Instinct told him they were close.

Thorpe braced his hands on the counter with deceptive calm. He stood tall and imposing. His mood stretched tighter than wire suspending a bridge. The woman’s jaw went slack as she stared up at him, blinking so rapidly, Sean was surprised her false eyelashes didn’t take flight.

“You’ll tell us everything you remember,” Thorpe commanded. “Now.”


The woman bobbed her head again. “Sh-she asked for a corner room near the stairs. I happened to have it. She asked about a place to eat and somewhere to find work. I sent her across the street to the diner.”

The one that had seen better days decades ago and had a collection of homeless drunks littering the parking lot.

“She’s waitressing there?” Thorpe barked.

“N-no. My cousin Marty runs a club about two blocks down and he’s always looking for pretty girls, so I sent her there.”

“Did she go?” The Dom’s voice dripped ice.

“Yeah. She’s working until two a.m. Marty . . . um, called me to thank me about an hour ago. After less than three shifts, she’s already a customer favorite. He called her a gold mine.”

Thorpe gritted his teeth, and Sean could only imagine what was running through the man’s head. Probably the same what-the-f*ck thoughts dashing through his own.

“The name of the club?” Thorpe wasn’t sounding any warmer.

The brassy blonde swallowed and stared up, almost pleading silently for Thorpe’s leniency. “G-glitter Girls. Go out the door, take a right and head—”

“What the f*ck kind of place is that?” Thorpe cut in with a growl.

“I know exactly where it is.” Sean discreetly elbowed the Dom as he smiled at the clerk. “What’s her room number?”

She focused on him and softened. Sean shoved down his fury to send her a gently encouraging expression. If good cop-bad cop worked, he was all for it.

“Two-seventeen,” she murmured. “Out the door, to the left, then up the stairs. It’s right at the top.”

“Key.” Sean held out his hand.

“I-I’m really not supposed to—”

Thorpe raised a menacing brow, promising retribution if she continued to protest. The woman jumped to action, reaching under the desk with trembling fingers to extract a key. She dropped it in Sean’s hand, then cut her gaze to Thorpe, her eyes pleading for approval.

“Is her room paid?” the Dom demanded.

“Through tomorrow night.”

Damn, had Callie intended to skip town in another twenty-four hours or less?

“Very good. You can consider her room vacant in the next hour.” The smile Thorpe bestowed on her then was brilliant, praising as he tapped her chin gently. “Thank you for your help . . . Your name?”

She lapped up that smile like a kitten with fresh milk. “Doreen. Sir.”

If anything, Thorpe’s smile widened. “You’ve been very helpful, sweet girl.”

“I tried,” she breathed with a wobbly smile.

Sean tried to hold in his astonishment. Instead, he leaned across the counter to the clerk and slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter between them. “And you never saw us, Doreen.”

She looked at him blankly, then back over to Thorpe. All the man did was send her an expectant stare, and she nodded vigorously. “Never.”

Sean palmed the key and turned to Thorpe, still holding the woman all but hypnotized. “Let’s go.”