Shayla Black - Theirs to Cherish

Fucking fabulous time to admit how much he loved her.

Thorpe extracted her key from his pocket. His hands shook as he slammed it in, then turned the lock. Frantically, he twisted the knob. He couldn’t move fast enough, get to her quickly enough.

The moment he did, he took in the disheveled bed, a naked Kirkpatrick sprawled across it. Callie’s lingerie littered the floor. Her dress had been flung nearby. Her purse and phone sat on the dresser. But the window hung open . . . and the woman he loved was nowhere in sight.

TWO hours later, Thorpe had no doubt whatsoever that Callie was long gone. In addition to her car, she’d taken her laughter, her expressive blue eyes . . . and the other half of his heart with her.

Plowing his hands through his hair, he thought acidly that if he’d been going gray before, worrying about Callie would accelerate that process. Now, Kirkpatrick was his only hope for answers. So far, he’d been unable to shake the bastard awake. In the interim, Thorpe had rifled through every inch of her closet and each one of her drawers. He hadn’t come up with much.

The bottle of Ambien he’d gotten the doctor to prescribe her this summer had never been touched. He’d railed at her to take them and put a stop to her insomnia. The stubborn girl had refused. Suddenly, two of the tablets were gone. Between the wine on her dresser and Kirkpatrick still sacked out in her bed, Thorpe didn’t have to guess what had happened to them. Goddamn it.

Axel returned, and by the grim look on his face, his search of Callie’s few favorite haunts had turned up empty. He couldn’t call her cell phone or track it. She’d left it here. Ironically enough, with a full charge. She’d shed her siren red dress. It still smelled like her. In her wake, she’d abandoned every other stitch of clothing she owned, except the ones on her back. Also left behind were the cards and gifts she’d painstakingly packed away for the last four years, as if each one was a treasured memento. And she’d removed Sean’s collar, placing it in the center of the nightstand beside him, where he would certainly see it once he woke.

Thorpe knew exactly who was responsible for Callie’s abrupt departure. She’d been . . . well, maybe not perfectly happy, but content for the last four years. Kirkpatrick had entered the scene, turned her fairly ordered world upside down, and ultimately frightened her away. Then like a wild wind, she’d swept out the door. Only Callie and God knew where the hell she was.

Would she think she was all alone now that he wasn’t beside her to hold her hand?

“Nothing?” he asked Axel.

“Nada. I’ve looked everywhere. The guys have swept every inch of this place. The little minx crawled out the window—somehow—then she managed to avoid every one of the security cameras in the parking lot on her way to her car. The only images captured indicate that she wore black and drove out of the parking lot nearly three hours ago.”

How the fuck had his careful planning gone down the drain? What, exactly, had Kirkpatrick done to spook her and make Callie flee so suddenly? Thorpe intended to get answers.

“I’m going to find her.”

“I know you’ll try like hell.” Axel crossed his beefy arms over his massive chest. “I just don’t know where to go with the search from here.”

“I need to come up with some ideas. In the meantime, can you get me fake passports? When I find Callie, I’m going to move her out of the country. And I’m going to take care of her.”

Axel whistled. “The documents alone will cost you a small fortune.”

“I don’t care. Can you arrange it or not?”

“Yeah. But you have a business to run. How the hell are you going to do that from . . . El Salvador or wherever you wind up?”

“You said once that you wanted to buy me out. Here’s your chance.”

His head of security held up massive hands in a placating gesture. “You’re talking about throwing away everything you’ve worked for over damn near the last decade for a girl you haven’t ever fuc—”

“Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence. She’s had no one to truly rely on for too long. I’m going to change that.”

“If you’re caught, you’ll go to prison with her.”

Shock pinged through him. Axel had figured out Callie’s identity.

Thorpe narrowed his eyes and gave the big guy his most menacing snarl. “What are you implying?”

“Hey . . . whoa. Nothing, man. Reading Kirkpatrick’s documents tonight made it obvious who Callie really is. Blew the fuck out of my mind. But I figured you knew, too.” At Thorpe’s sharp nod, Axel went on. “Her behavior all this time makes sense now. How long have you known?”

“Almost two years.” Since that fateful December night when he’d finally put his hands and his eyes on the bullet wound that had carved a little nick out of her left hip—and confirmed all his worst fears. “You’d better not be counting that big bounty on her head.”

Axel looked almost hurt. “The idea of Callie shooting anyone, much less her own family, especially for money, is preposterous. I’d never stab either of you in the back for a buck.”

“I hope you’re not fucking with me. I’d hate to have to end you and dispose of your corpse at the bottom of a lake in the middle of nowhere.”

Axel snorted. “I won’t give you a reason to plot my murder. Is that what you have in mind for his fate?”

Thorpe followed the other man’s stare down to Sean, still all but passed out. “I’m considering my options, but I’m not ruling anything out.”

“If you don’t do something with him, he’s going to blab.”

“True. And I’ve got to remove him from Callie’s path for good. She needs to know that she’s safe, no matter where we go.”

“You’re in love with her?”

He figured that Axel was about the only one who hadn’t guessed before now. “I’m surprised Lance didn’t let you in on that. He’s apparently amused. And Xander just feels sorry for me.”

Being in Callie’s room when it felt so utterly devoid of the woman herself was killing him. Her touch was here and her scent lingered. Thorpe paced, but pain seeped into his chest. Every moment felt like torture, and it was fucking hard just to breathe. How would he close his eyes and sleep without knowing where she’d gone? How would he be able to face tomorrow without any idea if she was safe?

“There’s nothing funny about love when it goes to shit.” Axel sighed heavily.

Thorpe knew the guy had a story, but he had to focus on Callie now. “Will you help me or not?”

“Absolutely. You’ve squeezed me out of more binds than I can count. If you need me, I’m solid. Just give me a few days to get all the paperwork in order. Focus on finding her.”

“Yeah. Question is, where do we start?”

“Well, it’s not like we can file a missing person’s report . . .”

“No. And someone else was the last to see her before she bolted,” Thorpe pointed out.

They both looked down at Sean.

“I’ll make coffee. Good luck waking Sleeping Beauty,” Axel drawled.

With a nod, Thorpe sat on the edge of the bed. “While you’re at it, check in with your guys again . . . just in case they have anything new.”

“On it.” Axel sauntered to the door, then paused. “I won’t give up, either. We’ll do everything we can.”

It wouldn’t be easy. Callie had vanished into thin air many times over the years. She’d learned how to evade law enforcement, how to disguise herself well, how to connect herself with people who weren’t all that friendly with the authorities.

But she didn’t know how to escape a man willing to fight dirty and give anything to have her back. She’d soon learn that he’d never give up.

With a sour curl to his lips, he gave Sean a hearty shove. The man grunted, smacked his tongue in his mouth, then rolled away and resumed snoring.

Thorpe eyed him with annoyance. This shit had been going on entirely too long. He should have listened to his gut as soon as Kirkpatrick walked in the club and threw the bastard out.

Sighing, he dragged Sean to the edge of the bed and slung the man over his shoulder, fireman style. The fucker groaned and jerked, half awake and flailing.

Trudging to Callie’s small bathroom, Thorpe heaved the man into her empty tub. Sean’s head hit the porcelain with a little thump.

“That’s going to leave a mark.” Axel stood in the doorway with a considering stare.

“Oops.” Thorpe smiled tightly and reached for the faucet. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?”

“Already done. I rushed back. This is more entertaining.” With a bark of laughter, Axel considered Sean again. “If you’re going to splash cold water on him, be careful. I was a medic in the military. He could go into shock. I’ve seen it happen once after a few idiots drank too much tequila on leave, then tried to wake one another up.”

“Well, I only need this one alive for about two minutes. Then . . .” Thorpe shrugged.

“You have a really ruthless side, boss.” Axel smiled. “I like it.”

“I try.” Thorpe flipped the faucet on in Callie’s shower, blasting ridiculously cold water all over Sean, soaking his skin.

He came up sputtering, wiping water from his eyes and glaring. “What the fuck! Are you out of your mind?”

Well, well. Isn’t that interesting? No Scottish accent . . . The leopard was finally showing his true spots.

“Not at all,” Thorpe growled, then grabbed the back of Sean’s head by his wet hair.

“Get your bloody hands off me.”

And the accent is back. Thorpe rolled his eyes.

“Drop the act. I know you’re not Scottish. And I know you’re not a traveling businessman.”

Sean reared back. “I’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about. I’m from Edinburgh. I moved to Florida a few years back—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’d do what he says, if I were you,” Axel suggested. “He’s in a really bad mood.”

Sean’s blue stare zipped around the room. “Where’s Callie?”

“Well, that’s what I want to ask you since you were the last person to see her before she fled.”

* * *

WITH a ripe curse, Sean jerked away from Thorpe’s brutal hold and stood, turning off the freezing shower. He shook off the excess water like a dog, snickering when Thorpe and Axel both protested. Then they just looked angrier.

Well, fuck. Two against one, and I’m buck naked. The odds weren’t good. How did Thorpe know he wasn’t a Scottish businessman? And what else did he know?

Later. His sluggish brain was just now processing what Thorpe had declared.

His heart froze, then began pounding like a damn jackhammer.

“Fled?” He added the lilt, refusing to break cover, even if panic grated his insides. “How did you let her slip past you?”

Thorpe rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain the meaning of ‘the jig is up’ when Callie is back home safely. I’m asking how she slipped past you. After all, you were in the same room with her.”

Sean weighed his words carefully, trying to reconstruct the evening in his head, then he played the part of Kirkpatrick, as he had for months. “The lass must have drugged the wine she gave me. I don’t recall much. Then she . . .”

He let out a ragged breath. The part where Callie had swallowed down his cock and sucked him dry, all with such a sad look in her eyes, was crystal clear.

“What?”

“That’s between Callie and me, a private matter between a Master and his sub.”

Axel leaned out the door, then came back dangling Callie’s collar on one finger. “I don’t think she’s your sub anymore. She took this off before she shimmied out the window.”

The sight of Callie’s collar glinting in Axel’s hand staggered him like he’d fallen under the weight of a giant redwood. He stumbled back. Son of a bitch, he should have listened to his instinct and pushed Callie for answers. He’d known something was troubling her.

Sean grabbed the collar from Axel and clutched it in his hand, then glared Thorpe’s way. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing I hate worse than a fake accent,” the club owner muttered to the security beefcake. “I admit it had me fooled for a long time, but now it just makes me grit my teeth.” Finally, the man regarded him again. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“The kind where you explain to me what you did to distress my wee lovely. She’s been upset since last night, when you saw us together in the dungeon. She seemed more than a mite on edge tonight.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m the one who ran her off?”