the
information could help save lives. You and Sean can be beside her every moment.”
“I’ll consider it. I’d like to talk to Tatiana.” Thorpe phrased it like a request,
but it wasn’t.
Joaquin hedged. “She’s probably showering now and she needs some food first.”
He didn’t understand the protective instinct that suddenly filled him. No, it wasn’t
quite something protective that nagged at him. Instead, it was almost . . . possessive.
That made even less sense. From everything he’d heard, Thorpe was devoted to Callie,
so he wasn’t likely to proposition anyone else. Besides, Joaquin barely knew Aslanov’s
daughter. She was just someone he had to keep alive, nothing more.
But he enjoyed the thought of covering her fragile body with his own and filling her
with his cock. In fact, parts south stiffened and rose at the idea. He held in a curse.
Thorpe paused. “I’ll make sure she gets food. While she’s eating, she and I will chat.
I’ll keep it friendly.”
Despite those assurances, Joaquin still wanted to say no. But Thorpe held him by the
balls. If he wanted to keep Tatiana someplace secure and talk to the people who could
tell him about the group responsible for these murders and their motive, then he had
to play by the club owner’s rules. It fucking grated on him.
“She’s afraid.”
“I’m sure.” Thorpe looked at him like he was an idiot for stating the obvious.
Despite all the praise the Edgington brothers had heaped on Dominion’s owner, Joaquin
wasn’t sure he liked Thorpe at all.
“You took her from her bed and brought her in here unconscious,” the club owner pointed
out. “I don’t approve.”
I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Mr. Stick Up Your Ass.
“I didn’t have better options.”
“Well, now you have forty-eight hours to make your . . . guest consent to being here
or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
Joaquin gritted his teeth and watched Thorpe walk away. He stalked down the hall in
the opposite direction.
Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He could study the evidence again, but he’d
done that a thousand times. Without fresh eyes or clues, he was no closer to knowing
exactly who had killed Nate or why. Small mercy they hadn’t tortured him terribly.
And if he didn’t want to see the woman in Thorpe’s room reduced to a bleeding heap
of flesh, he needed to bite his tongue. He also needed to figure out how the hell
he was going to convince Tatiana to consent to being here in the next two days. He’d
given her his evidence. He didn’t have a lot of other avenues left.
So he found the bar instead. With the club closed, he didn’t see anyone except a muscle-bound
guy with a square face, a cleft chin, and a fuck-off attitude. The guy took up the
space behind the bar on a step stool, looking at a security camera behind a plastic
dome in the ceiling.
“You work here, man?”
The big guy didn’t look at him, just directed a screwdriver at the camera’s protective
bubble. “Yep. I’m Axel, head of security. If I’d gotten a vote, I wouldn’t have let
you come in here with an unconscious woman who hadn’t consented to be here with you.”
Get in line
. “You’ll be happy to know that Thorpe doesn’t approve either.”
“I have zero tolerance for bullies and even less for rapists.”
“Whoa, I’m a federal agent protecting someone who hasn’t figured out she’s in danger
yet.” And why was he explaining himself to this guy? Because Axel kept this place
safe.
Damn it.
“Is it possible to get a beer around here?”
“We don’t serve much booze. Things like restraints, wax, and fire play don’t mix well
with intoxication.”
Joaquin’s temper ignited. He rattled Axel’s step stool. “I’m trying to save a woman’s
life. Not rape her. Not get drunk. Why the fuck am I the enemy?”
Finally, Axel looked his way, his blue eyes sharp. “Why should I give
information could help save lives. You and Sean can be beside her every moment.”
“I’ll consider it. I’d like to talk to Tatiana.” Thorpe phrased it like a request,
but it wasn’t.
Joaquin hedged. “She’s probably showering now and she needs some food first.”
He didn’t understand the protective instinct that suddenly filled him. No, it wasn’t
quite something protective that nagged at him. Instead, it was almost . . . possessive.
That made even less sense. From everything he’d heard, Thorpe was devoted to Callie,
so he wasn’t likely to proposition anyone else. Besides, Joaquin barely knew Aslanov’s
daughter. She was just someone he had to keep alive, nothing more.
But he enjoyed the thought of covering her fragile body with his own and filling her
with his cock. In fact, parts south stiffened and rose at the idea. He held in a curse.
Thorpe paused. “I’ll make sure she gets food. While she’s eating, she and I will chat.
I’ll keep it friendly.”
Despite those assurances, Joaquin still wanted to say no. But Thorpe held him by the
balls. If he wanted to keep Tatiana someplace secure and talk to the people who could
tell him about the group responsible for these murders and their motive, then he had
to play by the club owner’s rules. It fucking grated on him.
“She’s afraid.”
“I’m sure.” Thorpe looked at him like he was an idiot for stating the obvious.
Despite all the praise the Edgington brothers had heaped on Dominion’s owner, Joaquin
wasn’t sure he liked Thorpe at all.
“You took her from her bed and brought her in here unconscious,” the club owner pointed
out. “I don’t approve.”
I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Mr. Stick Up Your Ass.
“I didn’t have better options.”
“Well, now you have forty-eight hours to make your . . . guest consent to being here
or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
Joaquin gritted his teeth and watched Thorpe walk away. He stalked down the hall in
the opposite direction.
Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He could study the evidence again, but he’d
done that a thousand times. Without fresh eyes or clues, he was no closer to knowing
exactly who had killed Nate or why. Small mercy they hadn’t tortured him terribly.
And if he didn’t want to see the woman in Thorpe’s room reduced to a bleeding heap
of flesh, he needed to bite his tongue. He also needed to figure out how the hell
he was going to convince Tatiana to consent to being here in the next two days. He’d
given her his evidence. He didn’t have a lot of other avenues left.
So he found the bar instead. With the club closed, he didn’t see anyone except a muscle-bound
guy with a square face, a cleft chin, and a fuck-off attitude. The guy took up the
space behind the bar on a step stool, looking at a security camera behind a plastic
dome in the ceiling.
“You work here, man?”
The big guy didn’t look at him, just directed a screwdriver at the camera’s protective
bubble. “Yep. I’m Axel, head of security. If I’d gotten a vote, I wouldn’t have let
you come in here with an unconscious woman who hadn’t consented to be here with you.”
Get in line
. “You’ll be happy to know that Thorpe doesn’t approve either.”
“I have zero tolerance for bullies and even less for rapists.”
“Whoa, I’m a federal agent protecting someone who hasn’t figured out she’s in danger
yet.” And why was he explaining himself to this guy? Because Axel kept this place
safe.
Damn it.
“Is it possible to get a beer around here?”
“We don’t serve much booze. Things like restraints, wax, and fire play don’t mix well
with intoxication.”
Joaquin’s temper ignited. He rattled Axel’s step stool. “I’m trying to save a woman’s
life. Not rape her. Not get drunk. Why the fuck am I the enemy?”
Finally, Axel looked his way, his blue eyes sharp. “Why should I give
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