Theirs to Cherish

Chapter Seventeen





AFTERNOON had come and gone when Sean and Thorpe finally stepped into the little galley. Callie had long ago stopped pacing, stopped trying to recall the terrible night of the murders . . . stopped hoping that her men hadn’t found anything.

As they stepped into the small space, filing in through the doorway and looking at her with a gravity that scared the hell out of her, she stood and felt her stomach drop to her toes. “You know why someone is after me? Why they killed my family?”

“We think so, yes,” Sean said heavily.

“How bad is it?” No sense in dancing around the truth or letting them BS her. Someone was after her, and she was damn tired of running, of not knowing why her life was in shambles, or not understanding how all her tomorrows had fallen apart at once.

If she was reading their faces right, anything that might resemble a happy future was nothing but a pipe dream.

“Sit down, lovely,” Sean said softly.

So whatever they’d discovered was not just bad, but awful.

“I don’t want to sit down. I’ve been doing that for hours. Damn it, just tell me.”

Sean glanced at Thorpe. Though Callie wouldn’t have thought it possible, he looked even more grim. Her caretaker for the last four years firmed his jaw as if steeling himself.

Panic slipped an icy chill through her bloodstream. “I’m already expecting bad, but you two are scaring the hell out of me. What is going on?”

“Your Master gave you an order, Callie.” Thorpe pointed to the chair.

Did they think she was going to faint? She plopped down into the little aluminum chair with the bright blue vinyl seat and glared.

Before she could demand that they spit it out, Sean dropped to the floor in front of her and took her hands in his. He swallowed. “How much do you know about the research your father paid for when you were a child? What was Dr. Aslanov supposed to do exactly?”

“Find a cure for cancer. That’s all Dad ever said. Is this . . . about the research?”

Sean hesitated, so she looked up at Thorpe. He nodded. “Your father didn’t just want to find a pill or treatment that would make cancer disappear. He told Aslanov to find a way to cure it genetically to ensure that no one ever had to hear again that they or a loved one had a disease that would eat away at them from the inside. Aslanov wasn’t just a researcher; he was a controversial young Russian geneticist. He had theories many of his colleagues eschewed. Turns out he was right. And wrong.”

“Aslanov figured out how to genetically prevent cancer from ever happening?” Callie had to pick up her jaw. Was that even possible?

“Not exactly,” Sean hedged. “If we’re reading your father’s notes right, Aslanov took the principles of genetic engineering used in fields like agriculture and medicine and expanded them with mixed results. Your father later described this sort of genetic research as the ‘lawless frontier’ of science. But he didn’t know that’s what his money was buying until it was too late.”

“What do you mean?” Callie gripped Sean’s hands, her stomach tightening in knots. “Aslanov killed him?”

The guys exchanged another cautious look that made her heart stutter.

“No,” Thorpe finally supplied, looking as if he had more to add. But he clammed up.

“When your mother first got the diagnosis, she apparently wasn’t given more than eighteen months to live. Your father searched for someone who believed they were close to a cure or something at least to put her in remission. But he couldn’t find anyone willing to bypass all the safety precautions and government regulations to test their solution on your mother. Knowing that she was going to die if he did nothing, he veered in another direction and found Aslanov. In the previous five years, the Russian had been to some third-world countries that wouldn’t bind him in a lot of red tape. According to Aslanov, he performed his research on others with great success. He told your father that with a little research and funding, he might be able to save your mother. Of course, that didn’t happen.”


“Her cancer progressed faster than expected.”

“But Aslanov insisted he was close, so your father continued funding him for another four years.” Sean paused, then glanced at Thorpe again, whose mouth took a grim turn.

“If you’re editing this speech in your head, don’t,” she demanded.

“We’re not, pet,” Thorpe promised. “It’s just complicated.”

“All right, then. How did this research lead to the killing of my family?”

Sean stood, paced, obviously agitated. Thorpe took over the storytelling. “In researching to cure cases like your mother’s, he stumbled onto additional genetic changes that your father wouldn’t be interested in . . . but others would.”

Callie frowned. “What others? Spit it out. I’ve waited nine years to find out what the hell happened to the family I loved and to stop looking over my shoulder every five minutes because someone wanted to kill—”

“Aslanov had a wife and three children—and financial problems. While researching for your mother, he claimed to have found ways to mutate the genetic structure of a person to improve their immunity, stamina, strength, and even their intelligence. No idea if that was true, but he sold that bill of goods to someone else, we think in the military because there were notes about an investigation on a camp somewhere in Latin America, experiments being done to soldiers using some of the initial research. But exactly who was behind that isn’t something your father outlined.”

None of what Thorpe said computed. “Wait. You’re telling me . . . what? That Aslanov sold his research to someone in the military, who later killed my family?”

“I’ve always said that you’re quick.” Thorpe nodded. “Eventually, yes.”

“But why?”

“Your father found out what Aslanov had done and ordered him to stop,” Sean continued. “He pulled the plug on the research and threatened to blow the whistle. Aslanov bowed to the pressure and gave the remaining research his money had paid for back to your father, who burned it, according to his notes. But Aslanov had apparently already sold the information to his military contact, who was expecting delivery. Here’s where we have to guess a bit what happened, but it makes sense. This military contact went to Aslanov for the most recent data he’d purchased. When the scientist no longer had it to give, they killed the man and his whole family.”

“Even the children?”

Sean and Thorpe wore identical expressions that didn’t give her a happy feeling, before Sean finally spoke. “That’s the assumption. The bodies of two of the three children were recovered at the crime scene. The third was a five-year-old girl, but she’s never been found. The Aslanov case is something I’ve been looking into as a possible tie-in to the murder of your family because they shared a professional connection and the execution of the crimes was so similar. I could never prove they were linked, however. What we found on the SD card isn’t a smoking gun, but we’re getting closer.”

Callie couldn’t sit still. The information pinged around in her head like a pair of dice, rolling and tumbling. She paced, clenched her fists . . . felt Sean’s and Thorpe’s gazes watching her every move.

“Talk to us, pet.”

“My father tried to do a good thing. He tried to save my mother and end cancer. It was probably Pollyanna and too ambitious, but someone killed him for it? I don’t understand. And why would they kill my sister, too? She didn’t know anything more than I did.” Callie scoffed. “She probably knew less, even. Dad paying Aslanov for all that research happened when she was just a tyke and—”

“Collateral damage,” Sean said softly, rising to embrace her. “That’s why they killed your sister and Aslanov’s family. They were all witnesses these scumbags didn’t need. Whoever paid for that research had no idea what Charlotte might have known and if they’d asked . . . well, then she could have identified them. I’m sure they saw her death as a precaution.”

Callie saw the whole thing as senseless—her father’s murder, Charlotte’s slaughter. For DNA research? Logically, she could connect the dots. Emotionally, she just couldn’t understand anyone capable of pulling the trigger. “Whoever killed my family and the Aslanovs . . . what can they do with this research?”

“Piecing together the puzzle from what your father wrote? I’d say someone wanted to build a faster, better soldier. Maybe even a whole army.”

Super-soldiers? The implications of that were astonishing. Possibly world altering. She’d already known they weren’t dealing with amateurs or people likely to give up. But this information terrified her beyond anything she’d ever felt.

Suddenly, Thorpe’s arms were around her, fitting her back against his broad chest. Warmth, comfort, protection.

Sean cupped her face in his big hands. “You’re trembling, lovely. Deep breath. You’ll never be alone in this.”

“We’re by your side,” Thorpe promised. “Until you’re safe, we always will be.”

Callie wanted to burrow deeper between them and pray that the danger went away. Or shove out of their embrace and rail at the world until something changed. “Safe? There is no safe. We have to start being realistic here. Given who and what I’m up against, it’s a miracle I’ve escaped them for this long. But can I really do this for the rest of my life? Like you said once, I’m alive, but I’m not living. I’ve already done this for nearly a decade. How much longer—”

“We’re going to get this information into the right hands at the FBI.” Sean stared down into her eyes, determination stamped all over his face. “I’ll figure out who we can trust. We’re going to work until we make you safe. I put a collar around your neck. Someday, I’m going to put a ring on your finger. Don’t for one instant think I’m going to let anyone harm you.”

His vows were staunch and so lovely that they made her heart sing. They were also most likely hopeless.

Behind her, Thorpe tensed—and remained utterly silent. He made no such promise for the future. He cared, but he didn’t love her. And he’d probably never tell her why.

Hell, she might not even be alive long enough to miss him.

“If whoever this is finds out that you two have been secluded with me, I won’t be the only one they kill,” she pointed out.

“Stop that speech there,” Thorpe growled. “We’re not leaving you to handle this alone and we’ve already amply covered that point. Don’t bring it up again.”

“Precisely,” Sean added. “You may not see the way to safety now, but there must be one. We’re going to find it, and it starts with getting this information into the right person’s hands. I’ll figure out who that is. But without Internet, we’ll have to deliver it in person.”

That made sense, though it scared her half to death.

“I think we start by leaving here at first light. As soon as I can see well enough to dock the boat, we’ll sneak back onto land. I’ll find a secure cell signal then and I’ll start making phone calls. At that point, we’ll arrange something, whether they send reinforcements to us or direct us to a safe house—something. We’ll prove you weren’t involved in the murders. They’ll protect you while we figure out who killed your family and the Aslanovs, then—”

“That’s a lot ‘ifs’ and ‘thens.’ How do we know we can trust everyone at the FBI? How do we know that we’ll ever have enough information to figure out who was willing to kill so many innocent people for that research?”

“Leave all that to me,” Sean insisted.

Callie stared out the galley window to see the sun setting. She had no idea what the actual time was, but she wished she could stay here forever with these two amazing men who held her heart. She wished she could give them a lifetime of love, kneel and obey . . . and get into trouble now and then just for the fun of it. She wished she could pour out her heart to Sean every day and be the best wife and submissive possible. She yearned to heal Thorpe so that he could be whole again, so he might stay with her and fill that other missing part of her. None of that looked likely now.

But they were right about one thing; running wasn’t the answer, not anymore. Whether she had eight hours or eight decades left, she wanted to spend as much of them with people she loved. These murderers had taken away her family and her past. By damned, she wasn’t giving them her future, too.

She nodded at them. “All right. What’s next?”

***

BY that evening, they’d packed up everything they needed to take when they debarked, secured the egg and the SD card, and eaten a light dinner. They sat around the galley’s little table in near silence, drinking a bottle of red wine.

Thorpe couldn’t help but fear that tonight would be their last together.

He swallowed, his finger rimming the top of the glass. Hearing that Sean intended to save Callie, no matter the personal risk, wasn’t a blow. Thorpe felt the same. But the other man’s declaration to marry her had been like a wrecking ball to his solar plexus. Once they left here and the FBI got involved, Callie wouldn’t need him anymore. Oh, Thorpe knew he might give her more boundaries than Sean, but the fed would catch on. He was a smart guy. He wasn’t going to let her flounder or need for long. Sharing a road trip with Sean had convinced him of that much.


Downing the rest of his vino, Thorpe thought about fighting for Callie or at least trying to stay with them both. But he knew his limitations. A woman like her deserved to be with someone who could be by her side step for step. As the years went past, he’d become less able. But long before then, she’d want someone who could show her in every way how much he adored her. With his body, yes. Every day, every night, every chance she gave him. With his words? This f*cking hang-up of his was so frustrating. He needed to get over his shit. Callie wasn’t Melissa; she wouldn’t leave him over three little words. Even more important, she wasn’t like—damn it, he even hated to think her name.

Suddenly, Callie stood, her chair scraping the floor. “I can’t stand the elephant in the room. Whatever happens next is going to be dangerous.”

Thorpe turned to Sean, who nodded. “Likely. We don’t know if we were followed to the lake. I don’t think so or they’d already be all over us. But they aren’t going to give up. When we step on shore tomorrow . . . anything could happen.”

Wishing like hell he could refute those words, Thorpe only nodded.

Callie looked nervous, stricken, scared. But resolute. “Then I need to say a few things.”

Her voice shook, and she looked like she was trying to hold it together. The belief that she might not live through the end of this was written all over her face.

Thorpe’s heart lurched in his chest. “Pet . . .”

“Please let me.” She shook her head. “I need to get this out. I won’t break.”

“Go ahead.” Sean took her hand, his thumb making soothing circles across her knuckles.

“The two of you stuck with me when sane people wouldn’t. You came for me, despite the hell I put you through. You didn’t sell me out when you could have. After Holden, I didn’t want to trust anyone—ever. But you kept proving yourselves over and over.” Tears flowed and fell down her cheeks, and damn if that didn’t break his heart. “I’m sorry if I was difficult and stubborn. But you two reminded me what it was like for someone to care, and I hadn’t had that in so, so long. Thank you. I will always be incredibly grateful. And I will always love you.”

“Callie.” Sean reached for her.

She stepped aside. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight, right? No docking in the dark?”

“No. I’m not expert enough with a boat this size.”

“No making phone calls now?”

The fed shook his head. “Not until I can figure a few things out, like exactly who to trust.”

“Then I want tonight to be about the three of us. I want to give you both what I’ve never been able to give anyone.” She drew in another trembling breath, her nervous gaze bouncing between him and Sean. “All of myself.”

His cock stood up and partied. The idea of having Callie in ways he’d only fantasized about made his blood rush south, his head swim with dizzy anticipation, and his veins sizzle. It also made him ache. As she’d done before, she was leaving a chunk of her soul with them as good-bye.

The thought that he might lose her to a bullet tied his guts up into an army of painful knots. The thought that, if the danger passed, he’d have to give her over exclusively to Sean made him want to scream and spit nails and beat himself up for not being the right man for her.

“Are you sure, lovely?” Sean cupped her cheek.

“Yes. I trust you. I want to do one thing right. I want to take one really good memory with me tomorrow in case it’s my last. Please.”

How the f*ck were they supposed to say no to that?

Sean cast a concerned glance his way. Thorpe sent it back, then stood. If this was the last time he got to touch Callie, he wanted to experience her in every way she’d let him.

And to give her all the love he couldn’t with his words.

“To the bedroom, then.” Thorpe heard the rough note in his voice. He was trying to hold it together.

“Off with you, lovely. Once you get there, kneel and wait. We’ll be along.”

Those big blue eyes of hers looked Sean’s way, her stare a caress, before settling on him. Her expression told him that underneath her determination to experience what might be her final night to the fullest, her heart was breaking.

F*ck, so was his.

He grabbed her shoulders and stared hard. If he kissed her now, he’d take her here in the galley. He’d ravish her over the little table and bang away at her like there was no tomorrow. Because there really wasn’t.

Somehow, Thorpe managed to restrain himself and merely pressed his lips to her forehead. Sean grabbed her hand and nuzzled her neck. Callie held her breath and froze. Eyes closed, she appeared to drink in the moment. He inhaled her scent and did the same.

Why did this hurt so f*cking bad, way beyond the pain of Melissa leaving him? Even more than what the terrible bitch before her had done? Callie had told him once that he would be her biggest regret, but damn it, she would be his.

The moment passed, and she left the room, head held high. A thousand thoughts crowded his head. Even more emotions crushed his chest. He clenched his fists, wanting to beat the f*cking wall. But it wouldn’t do any good. Tomorrow was going to come.

“We can’t leave her alone for long or she’ll fall apart,” Sean murmured softly so Callie couldn’t overhear on the small boat.

“Agreed.”

The other man swallowed. “Let’s get down to it, then. She struggled for months before she allowed me to fully restrain her. If she wants to submit everything, we’ll have to push her.”

“I say we cut off most of her senses. There’s no way she can fully put herself in our hands until we take away her sight and sound. Force her to rely on touch, on what she’s feeling.”

“She’ll surrender every part of herself, I think.”

Thorpe nodded. “We have to give her this one night of freedom, really let her fly.”

“She’s asked us for almost nothing else. So if we can save her from whoever’s trying to kill her, I’ll probably never refuse her anything again.” Sean’s smile was self-deprecating.

“It will be to your detriment, I promise. She’ll fight you, but she will want to know that you have her firmly in hand.”

“Why won’t you stay and make sure she is?”

The truth was on the tip of his tongue, but even if he blurted it out, it would change nothing. And Sean wasn’t the one to whom he owed this truth. “It doesn’t matter.”

The fed looked ready to argue, but didn’t. “I think you’re making a grave mistake by walking away from Callie, a mistake you’ll regret to your dying day.”

“I’m sure of that. Why aren’t you calling your boss tonight and asking for an armored escort to safety come first light?”

Sean sighed, clearly not happy with the change of subject. “My boss hasn’t been forthcoming with information. He’s fed me some lines that set off my bullshit meter. I’m really not sure who we can trust, so I won’t give away our location until we have a plan B and a good escape route. I’d rather walk into the Vegas field office where there will be lots of witnesses. Trying to off Callie will be a lot more difficult then.”

“All good points. Let’s go find her.”

Sean nodded, but began digging around in the galley. He picked up a few items that made Thorpe smile faintly. “I need some damn ear buds.”

“I’ve got some in my briefcase, in the bedroom.”

“Perfect.” The other man headed out of the galley and toward the bedroom. “I’d like to surround her tonight. Make her feel the safest and most loved she’s ever been.”

Exactly what he’d been picturing. Thorpe nodded.

“We should make love to her together.” Sean stopped in the little hall and turned, his expression sober. “Not like we did before, not taking turns. At the same time. I want to fill her completely.”

God, he’d love that. But there were complications . . . “I don’t think she’s ever taken a man anally.”

“Probably not.” Sean pressed his lips together. “I’ve f*cked a woman that way before, but not recently. I’m guessing you’ve had far more experience than me in that department.”

Lots and lots and lots. During the wild years of his adolescence. Even more during his angry postdivorce phase. And probably more than his fair share in his early thirties when he’d decided to control every damn facet of his life and lost his ability to really give a shit about anything.

Until Callie had walked through his door and changed everything.

“Not so much practice in the last few years.”

“The last four, maybe?” Sean asked knowingly.

Hell, he really was transparent.

He just smiled tightly. “Shut the f*ck up and get to her.”

With a brittle laugh, Sean closed the distance to the bedroom. When they walked in, Callie knelt by the bed, head bowed, eyes down, dark hair cascading all around her slender body. She looked nervous but strangely at peace.

Thorpe retrieved his ear buds from his briefcase, along with his iPod. He kept it mostly for his visits to the gym, but he’d equipped it with some alternate playlists, including one for dungeon play. Without a word, he handed them to Sean, who’d already set the items from the galley on the nightstand.


It chafed to turn over control of Callie’s submission to another—not really because he couldn’t stand Sean touching her. Because he wanted to have her under his control at least once. But he hadn’t earned it. Nor did he deserve to take that much from her if he wasn’t going to stay.

“You’re still dressed,” Sean pointed out.

“I debated, Sir. But you didn’t tell me to strip.”

“So I didn’t. I think tonight we’d prefer to do it ourselves.”

“Definitely,” Thorpe added.

Sometimes, he and Sean were so thoroughly on the same page, it was scary.

“Stand for us,” the other man ordered softly.

Callie did so on wobbly legs. Now Thorpe could really see her nerves. It endeared her to him even more, knowing this meant so much to her.

Sean lifted the plain white shirt up her torso and over her head, exposing her bare breasts and their plump nipples.

Thorpe brushed his fingers over one peak. “Close your eyes, pet.”

She did so without hesitation, and Sean stepped up, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was clean and useful.

As he knotted it at the back of her head, he walked a semicircle around her, then tilted her chin up to him. “Your safe word?”

“‘Summer,’ Sir.”

“After your childhood horse?”

“You knew that?” Surprise rang in her voice.

“I know so much about you on paper. I want to know everything about the real you for myself. Thank you for the beautiful gift of your submission. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“No, but I need to do this.”

“I know,” Sean assured. “And I need to have it.”

“So do I,” Thorpe said thickly, walking behind her and grabbing her wrists. “Give me your hands.”

Callie took a deep breath, then as she let it out, she released all the tension from her body and gave herself over completely. She’d always been beautiful to him, but watching a woman who had never truly trusted anyone now surrender her all both stunned and humbled him.

Thorpe took her wrists in one hand. With the other, he reached around and tilted her head back so he could plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “You move me, pet. I can’t even tell you how much. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

A soft smile lifted the corners of her lips. Thorpe bent to press his cheek to hers. So silky, so female. Callie was the woman he’d never dared to dream about.

As Sean passed him a couple of pillowcases knotted together, he tied off her wrists at the small of her back. Then he caressed her shoulders, lifted the hair from her neck, and kissed her soft nape. Every time he touched her, something swelled in his chest. F*ck, he hated that tonight would be the last time he had her.

In front of Callie, Sean gripped the ear buds and flipped through the iPod’s playlists. “Which one?”

Thorpe chose a classical mix, instrumentals that were both reflective and passionate, that throbbed and swelled before finally crashing to a dazzling end. He used it as drinking music when regret buried him. The words to tell Callie how he felt were stuck in his heart, but some part of him hoped that she would hear his feelings through these songs.

Sean nodded, then directed his attention back to Callie. “You can’t see?”

“No, Sir.”

“And you can’t move your arms?”

She wriggled her shoulders, attempting to work free. Thorpe smiled. He didn’t know everything, but he damn sure knew how to secure a sub’s wrists so that she’d be comfortable, but immobile, until he was ready to let her go.

“No, Sir.”

“I’m going to cut off your hearing now. You’ll hear music. But you’re not to use it to tune us out. It’s to quiet your head so you can feel what we’re doing to you. And feel how much we care.”

She tensed. “Sean—”

“No, lovely. Try again.” His voice, low and encouraging, was meant to soothe, but it was also full of backbone. “Will Thorpe and I hurt you in any way?”

Callie didn’t hesitate. “No, Sir.”

“After all we’ve done to keep you from harm, do you think we’ll let anything happen to you?”

Palming her shoulders, Thorpe gave her a little squeeze. “Pet?”

“Never. I just wanted to ask you not to make the music too loud. That usually gives me a headache.”

Her answer filled him with relief, and he glanced over at Sean, who shook his head ruefully and fitted the ear buds in place as the music started.

He let it play for a moment, then removed one. “How’s the volume?”

“Perfect,” she assured. “The music is beautiful.”

“Very good.”

After gently fitting the bud back in her ear, Sean affixed the iPod, attached to the armband he also used during his trips to the gym, around her delicate biceps. It looked far too big on her, but it held.

“She’s a damn amazing woman,” Sean mused aloud.

Thorpe had known that almost the instant she walked through Dominion’s door. He wanted to tell Sean how very lucky he’d be to have Callie in his life, if they could just get her past this danger. But he choked and barely managed a nod.

The moment dissipated as soon as Sean kissed Callie’s rosy lips—a peck, a brush, then a lingering press, before he dove into her mouth with a stroke of tongue. Thorpe left a string of kisses along her neck and shoulder, bracing his hands on her hips and pressing his cock against her lush ass, desperate for the chance to be inside her again, to take something she’d never given another man. Wanting it this much was selfish, but he didn’t bother to deny how desperately she made him ache.

Sean broke the kiss to caress Callie’s breasts and thumb her nipples. Her breathy gasp heightened Thorpe’s anticipation. And when the other man bent to tongue one of the berry tips, he tilted her head back and captured her next gasp with his kiss. Sweet, sultry, so tempting. She gave to them, the raw surrender so heartfelt, it made his damn knees weak. Women had submitted to him for longer than he wanted to admit. But they’d largely done it for their own reasons, mostly selfish. Now that he felt a submissive truly giving her soul simply to please, Thorpe wondered how he’d ever be satisfied with anything less.

Or anyone else.