Theirs to Cherish

Chapter Six

THORPE did his best to act like he didn’t want to murder Sean Kirkpatrick—or whatever his name truly was—when the imposter walked into Dominion. The man shoved something in the pocket of his trousers and adjusted his stark white dress shirt. Decent suit and loafers, but not designer. His watch wasn’t Gucci . . . but it wasn’t Timex, either. Which reinforced Thorpe’s opinion that this man wasn’t after Callie’s money because he knew she didn’t have any.

He hoped like hell the address Tara had dug up was real and that Axel worked quickly. Thorpe needed to eliminate the man, then find the strength to take a step back from Callie so her life could resume its status quo.

Sean caught sight of him in the foyer, standing beside Sweet Pea’s empty desk. He’d sent his little receptionist on a meaningless errand because didn’t want her anywhere near potential danger.

The Scot glared. “Where is Callie? You said she’d be here.”

“In her room, waiting for you. But you and I are going to get a few rules straight first.”

“More bloody rules? I’m done playing by yours, Thorpe. You’re determined to believe the worst of my intentions because you’ve got your dick in a twist with jealousy, and she shed a few tears last night. If you truly care about the girl, you’ll back away and let me make her happy. She looks up to you. For her sake, you and I need to stop this arguing.”

The whole speech set Thorpe’s teeth on edge, but the name of tonight’s game was to lie low, not do anything to rouse the bastard’s suspicion. So he just smiled.

“I’d rather not fight with you, either. It distresses Callie, but I won’t be less than honest. I don’t like you. However, if you fulfill her and have her best interest at heart, I’m willing to try accepting you. Therefore, I’m allowing you to have time alone with her in her room. I won’t interrupt.”

“Behind closed doors?”

Thorpe dug his fingers into his thighs so he didn’t throttle Sean and nodded. “Don’t make me regret my show of trust.”

“Thank you. I came tonight intending to suggest a truce in Callie’s honor, so I’m glad you agree. She’s a stunning, bighearted lass. If you’ll let her make her own choices and keep your distance, I’ll give her all she needs. You’ve got my word on that.” Sean held out his hand.

“I look forward to seeing her smile again.” Thorpe was loath to shake Sean’s hand, but he had no choice.

If not for the information Tara had dug up on Kirkpatrick, Thorpe was sorely aware that he might really have been willing to take the lying asswipe at face value and try to behave civilly—at least when Callie was around.

But now, that option was off the table.

An awkward silence fell between them. Thorpe ignored it, turning his back on the man and drawing him down the private hall. With a series of card keys and pass codes, he finally reached the residential section of the club and headed to the end of the hall.

He gestured to Callie’s door. “She’s waiting for you.”

And Sean was in for a treat. Callie wore a bloodred dress that showed a healthy hint of cleavage, accentuated her small waist and petite stature, while revealing a lot of thigh. Matching lipstick and dark curls offset her fair face. When he’d seen her ten minutes ago, all Thorpe had wanted to do was strap her to his bed until she screamed out in pleasure for him—until he’d realized she was wearing that asshole’s collar again. When he’d questioned her about it, she’d been vague. Had she changed her mind about leaving?

Kirkpatrick knocked on her door. “Lovely?”

The second Callie pulled it open, Thorpe’s stare tangled in hers. He saw something in her eyes that set him on edge. Sadness? Before Thorpe could decipher her expression, she peeked over at the other man.

“Hi, Sean,” Callie murmured, lowering her gaze in a sweetly submissive gesture that made his cock stand tall. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would.” The Scot stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

Thorpe heard it lock. He wanted to rip the fucker’s guts out.

Instead, he leaned against the wall in the hallway and dragged in a breath, trying to calm his rage. Hopefully, in two hours or less, this shit would be over and this imposter would be gone for good. Then he could figure out what was troubling the girl and fix it.

The only reason he’d let Sean in Callie’s room was the knowledge that he could unlock her door himself in seconds. If needed, Axel’s musclemen could bust it down in two minutes flat. Her windows had bars on the outside to keep creeps out . . . or in. Zeb and Lance were stationed at either end of the hall, listening and watching, just in case. The whole plan was a giant calculated risk. Yes, he was assuming that Sean wouldn’t hurt Callie, since the prick had already had months if that’s what he wanted. Why would he do it now, when he was cornered with no escape route? Nor could he sneak her out with him past all these watchful eyes. She’d be safe; he had to believe that.

Before Thorpe gave in to the urge to punch the wall, he whirled on his heel and marched down the hall, texting Axel. Work fast.

As Thorpe passed Lance, he pocketed his phone and frowned. “Watch over the girl for me.”

Lance shot him a shrewd glance. “I’ll watch over your girl. Admit that’s what she is.”

He rubbed at his forehead where a bitch of a headache was forming. “Let’s focus on keeping her safe tonight and getting rid of the Scottish stallion. If we manage that, I’ll think about it.”

When hell froze over.

“If you won’t make Callie yours, why not let her be happy with someone who adores her?” Lance challenged. “You might not like Sean Kirkpatrick, but he’s in love with that little vixen.”

“You don’t understand.” Thorpe chafed, but the less he told the others about Callie and her secrets, the better.

“That you won’t claim her, but don’t want anyone else to have her? Sure, I do. It’s a damn shame that you prefer her being alone and unhappy to pairing up.”

Why did the other Dom have to bring up the point that pinpricked Thorpe with the most guilt?

“I don’t want her unhappy.” Though he didn’t hate the idea of Callie being alone if he couldn’t have her. And yes, he knew that was selfish as hell. “But she deserves the best.”

Lance shrugged. “Not arguing that. Just not sure he’s any worse than you encouraging her adoration when you have no intention of claiming her.” Thorpe opened his mouth to rebut, but the other man wagged a finger in his face. “Melissa, the ex-bitch, walked out on you, and it’s not an exercise you want to repeat. Got it. But use your fucking brain. If Callie stayed even after all the times you rebuffed her, I doubt she’s going to run out on you.”

Lance couldn’t be more wrong, but Thorpe didn’t dare say more. “You might be surprised.”

“Her heart is yours,” Lance insisted, scoffing.

“Not exclusively.”

And that bitter pill made Thorpe choke.

He’d had enough of this conversation. Forcing himself away, he tore into his office and tried to bury himself in paperwork. Nothing held his attention. Half-answered e-mails and discarded forms couldn’t make him forget that, right now, Callie would be pressed up against a man she didn’t really know. Sean might be ordering her to strip. She might be baring her body and soul for a stranger with sinister motives.

Damn it! Logically, having Callie occupy the asshole to flush him out made sense. But Thorpe hated this plan. It was wearing his nerves awfully fucking thin, as was Lance’s confrontation.

He stared at the clock, watching every drag of its hands. Thirty minutes took three days. Finally, his cell phone chimed. Yanking the device from his pocket, he saw Axel’s number on the display and stabbed the button to answer. “Talk to me.”

“I’m in. It’s his place, all right. I had to turn the place upside down to find anything, but . . . ” Axel paused. “You better be sitting. I’ve got bad news, boss. Really fucking bad.”

CALLIE trembled as Sean approached. “I’m glad you came.”

“Though Thorpe all but summoned me, I wasn’t going to say no, lovely. Any opportunity to see you is one I’ll take.”

She lifted the corners of her lips and hoped it looked like a smile. Knowing these were the last moments she’d have with Sean, that she’d already laid eyes on Thorpe for the final time, that tomorrow she’d be in another city and never see Dallas or the people who’d become her family again . . . Callie sniffled. She couldn’t afford these tears and her maudlin whinefest had to stop.

“Are you all right?” Sean asked, curling a solicitous hand around her elbow.

“I’m fine. Just allergies.” She forced herself to smile brighter, but it didn’t seem to be working. The concern in Sean’s frown deepened.

If he looked at her too hard, he would see that something troubled her. She didn’t want her last memories of him to be of anger or rebuke as he futilely tried to pry the reasons for her mood from her. She had a plan; she needed to stick to it. Everything was ready, including the spare key to her car since Thorpe had never given back the ones he’d swiped from her purse. The emergency pack she’d left Chicago with all those years ago, along with a few other things to aid her disguise, was stowed in the trunk of her car. The money she’d scraped together over the years was inside as well. She’d take nothing else with her, not even her phone, filled with pictures of everything and everyone she loved. As much as she wanted to, there was no way she could risk carrying around the memories.

Shortly after Thorpe had the burglar bars installed over the club’s windows, she’d loosened them just enough to wiggle through . . . in case she ever needed to leave. Earlier today, she’d tested them. She could twist through, but just barely. So even if she could take her memories with her, they would simply have to stay behind.

Besides, a clean break was always better. She’d been through this enough to know.

Callie turned to the glasses of wine she’d procured earlier from Dominion’s bar and handed him the one she’d doctored in advance with two Ambien. They wouldn’t hurt him, but they should knock him out and give her time to slip away. She should be at least an hour or more down the road before Thorpe discovered she was gone.

Ditching her little sedan and buying another would be her first priority. It sucked that tomorrow was Sunday. Most car dealerships in Texas were closed. She’d have to find a used lot somewhere and hope for the best. But that was later. She wanted to enjoy her last minutes with Sean. The yawning chasm of all her empty tomorrows stretched out in front of her, and she’d have to face it soon enough.

Handing his glass of wine to him, she grabbed her own.

He raised his. “A toast, lovely. To new beginnings.”

She tried not to cry at that irony. “To new beginnings.”

Hers would simply be far, far away.

Sean caressed her with more than kindness. Devotion and hunger lay in his smile, and she let herself bask in his gaze for a few precious seconds. If she’d been a normal girl with a normal past, she would give her heart to this man and be so grateful to have him in her life. As it was, she’d probably die alone in some big city she wasn’t familiar with. Whoever found her body would never know that she was Callindra Howe. They’d never really know the woman underneath whatever fake name she’d assumed. She’d be given a pauper’s burial. No one would come to her funeral because no one would care.

Gawd, she’d gotten good at depressing herself. None of that mattered. Pick up. Move on. Don’t cry.

“Bottoms up.” She clinked their glasses together and took a sip, watching as Sean swallowed some of the red wine.

“That’s a mite dry, just how I like it.”

Great news. Hers was super sweet, but the drugs had a bitter aftertaste, and she’d known that crushing two pills into the liquid would alter the vino’s flavor.

“I want to toast new beginnings because on my way in, Thorpe and I reached a bit of a truce,” he explained.

“That’s great!”

If they weren’t at one another’s throats once she’d fled, then maybe no one would be going to prison for murder. Thorpe would discover her gone, and it should be obvious that Sean had not helped her escape. He might be angry that Sean had been unable to stop her, but no way Thorpe could blame him. They might each look for her for a time. Separately, of course. They didn’t like one another well enough to do that together. But eventually, they’d give up. Their lives would move on. Hers would be forever marked by a few distinct events: her mother’s death shortly after she’d turned six, her family’s murder ten years later, and the day she’d left the two wonderful men she loved.

“It’s a start, anyway.” Sean shrugged. “I can’t say that I like the fact that you work for him and live under his roof. I know you have feelings for him, just like I know he wants you between his sheets.” He looked at her so intently. “I love you, Callie. You say you have feelings for me, too. But for us to work, you’ve got to choose.”

Oh, she’d chosen. Now she just had to muster up the will to go through with her plan. And never lose her resolve about not looking back.

“I know. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.” Callie downed her wine for some liquid courage, hoping it would encourage Sean to do the same.

“And?” he asked, then took another healthy swig of wine before setting his stem on the dresser and focusing on her.

No! He needed to drink more—all of it. But when he grabbed her shoulders and tugged her closer, she knew that wine was the last thing on his mind. Now, she could only pray that he’d imbibed enough of the drug.

Callie set her own glass beside his, then looked up into his strong, familiar face, doing her best to remember every detail. Soon, she’d have nothing left of him or Thorpe but memories.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

That was the last truth she could ever give him. Now she had to release him.

Falling apart inside, she threw herself against Sean’s broad chest, feeling the stalwart beat of his heart, and pressed her lips to his.

Sean ate at her mouth for a moment, his tongue ravenous, his lips possessive. Then he pulled back, panting and staring, seeming to pierce her soul. “I feel like I’ve waited half my life to hear you say that. Come away with me.”

His soft demand shocked the hell out of her. “What?”

“I mean it. We’ve never even seen one another outside this club.”

“I live here.”

“We’ll find a new place, room enough for two.”

She gaped at him. “I-I work here.”

“You don’t need this job, lovely. I’ll support you.”

Dumbfounded, she stared mutely. He cared for her that much? It broke her heart to shake her head.

“Callie, hear me out. We can’t truly grow together if Thorpe is always in our way. We need time alone, just the two of us.”

“I . . .” The offer was tempting, in a way. Maybe she could start over with Sean. Maybe he would agree to move somewhere else and . . . Harbor a woman wanted for murder? Hide her when his whole life would come crashing down for it? He already asked too many questions. Sean wasn’t dumb; it wouldn’t take him much longer to figure her out. “I can’t.”

Just like she couldn’t stand to break his heart now. If his feelings were genuine, he would hurt enough once he woke to find her gone.

Frustration flashed across his face. He clenched his fists. “Don’t you understand? As long as he’s dictating the terms, we can’t really be together. We can’t grow.”

If she wasn’t running for her life or also in love with the man Sean was trying to wrest her from, she might agree. She didn’t have that luxury now. “I’ll think about it. I just need time. This is really sudden.”

He sighed. “All right. I’ve been pondering it for weeks now and I’m ready to have you all to myself, but . . . I’ll try to be patient.”

“Thank you.” She batted her lashes at him. That was false, but she caressed her way up his shoulder and wrapped her fingers around his nape. Under her hands, he felt so very real.

“You’re mine, you know,” he declared, his tone strong and gruff and insistent. “I won’t give up.”

It shouldn’t, but his declaration made her heart flutter.

“Fuck, I can’t stand it. I’ve got to have you, lovely. Mark you as mine somehow. Strip for me.”

Callie tried not to lose her cool. If she gave more of herself to Sean now, the hurt would only be deeper later. Already, she felt so damn close to crumbling that she could barely hold herself together. But she couldn’t deny that she wanted to touch him one last time.

If she couldn’t give him the truth, then she could give him a part of herself. Besides, she had to distract him—fast.

Pulling off her dress, she laid it across the bed. Her champagne lace lingerie followed, and the low moan that came from Sean’s throat echoed with appreciation. She kicked her shoes off next and rolled down her stockings, teasing him with every movement. Callie stared at him over her shoulder, gently wiggling her hips.

“You’re a right heady siren.” He palmed her hip. “Every time I’m near you, I forget everything I should be doing. I can only think about making you mine.”

Callie knew exactly what he meant because he often derailed her better intentions.

Sending a shaky smile his way, she forced herself to stay on track. So she pressed one last kiss to his lips, then sank gracefully to her knees.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at her, his eyes heating.

Her stare rocketed up his thighs and lingered at the healthy bulge behind his zipper. She bit her lip, then forced herself to stare straight into his eyes. “Let me serve you.”

Sean sucked in a harsh breath. “Callie . . .”

She didn’t wait for him to refuse or command her to change course. She unbuttoned his trousers, then lowered his zipper with a hiss that throbbed in the silence. Without a word, he shed his jacket and shirt, casting them onto the floor, never taking his stare from her.

After she eased the charcoal trousers off his hips, they fell down his thighs. He kicked his shoes away and stepped out of the pants.

“I shouldn’t be letting you control this,” he said thickly. But that wasn’t stopping him. “I might paddle you for it later.”

Usually, she’d have a saucy answer for him. Today, she just couldn’t scrape one together, not when she was so close to falling apart.

Instead, she peered up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I need to please you right now.”

The hint of disapproval left his face, and he caressed the crown of her head. “I find I’m not very good at saying no to you, lovely.”

The answering smile she sent him perched softly on her lips. “I’m more grateful than you know.”

Before he could say anything more, Callie lowered his dark boxer-briefs down his legs, revealing the thick, long stalk of his cock. At the recollection of it between her lips, inside her hungry sex, her womb clenched. One final time . . . At least it was a small comfort to know that his last memories of her would be of pleasure.

“Suck me, then,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured and leaned forward to take him between her lips.

With a long swipe of her tongue, she laved him up the long shaft, over the bulbous head that looked somewhere between blue and purple, then swirled all around until he slid desperate fingers into her hair and moaned low.

Callie closed her eyes and sank into the moment, taking him even deeper inside. She sucked hard, putting all her love and determination into every pass of her lips and curl of her tongue over his hard flesh.

“Hmm.” He rocked a bit on his feet. “Feels so good. You’re making me dizzy.”

“Then I must be doing something right.” And so must the Ambien.

She redoubled her effort, whimpering at the taste of him so hot and potent, growing harder and thicker. Longer. He gripped her hair tight, pulling. The slight sting of pain roused her, as did the musky scent of his skin, pooling with masculine tang in the dips and crooks between his legs. Cupping his heavy testicles, feeling them draw up bit by bit in her palm, she gave herself totally to his pleasure and let his trembling fingers guide her up and down his length until his breath sawed out of his chest. His pants became grunts, each growing louder until he moaned aloud.

“Callie . . .”

Whimpering at his urgency, desperate to feel him explode on her tongue and taste the flavor of his satisfaction, she sucked harder, bathing him with her tongue one last time. Her heart stuttered as his cock pulsed. He grabbed her hair, then gave a hoarse shout of fulfillment.

His hot seed erupted on her tongue, salty and thick. Callie drank him down, digging her nails in his hair-dusted thighs and clinging with every bit of her need.

Why couldn’t this moment go on forever? Why couldn’t she curl up with him on the bed, watching him sleep in sated contentment, and think about what they’d do tomorrow?

Because she could never be Callindra Howe again. She couldn’t even be a woman with a real life.

Slowly, she worked her lips up Sean’s length, looking through her lashes at his flushed face. His chest heaved. His eyes slid closed. Gratification spread across his face.

“Oh, lovely . . .” His voice sounded low and faint. He stumbled on his feet.

Callie jumped to steady him, then eased him onto the bed. He tumbled back, head on her pillow, his breath evening out.

Her time with him was almost over.

“I love you,” he breathed out.

She leaned over him, drinking in his strong, relaxed features, firm lips, hard jaw. She cupped his face. Such a beautiful man . . .

And he’d never really know how much she loved him in return. Since he was moments from sleep, Sean wouldn’t remember anything she said now.

He’d be hurt by her abrupt departure. Callie caressed his face, tears forming and falling. She should be leaving right now, throwing on her dark clothes and shimmying outside, but the thought of tearing herself away voluntarily from this bed—from him—was ripping her chest wide open and splintering her heart.

“So tired . . .” He frowned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Callie wished she could leave behind a piece of herself for him. Maybe then, she could find the will to move on, knowing she’d done what she could to ease his hurt.

An idea flashed across her brain, and she leapt up, digging frantically in Sean’s pants until she found his phone. Then she shook him awake.

“Wha . . . ?”

Callie thrust his phone into his hands. “Unlock this for me. I need to make a call. My cell is dead.”

“Told you. Charge it.” He fought to peer at the screen and tap out the code.

On the third try, he finally managed. The phone clicked. His arm dropped to his side as deep slumber overtook him.

And that was it. Her last waking words to him were a fib. Leaving him a recording on his phone was the only way she could think to leave him the truth in her heart.

As she flipped through his apps, looking for a place to leave him a video message, she frowned when she stumbled over a picture of herself. But not a current one. It was the yearbook photo she’d taken her sophomore year, just before her family’s murder had forced her to flee Chicago and all she’d ever known.

Sean knew her identity. The thought beat through her brain. He knew. Her fingers went numb. She dropped the phone.

Every word he’d ever uttered to her was a lie.

Oh God.

Sucking in a terrified breath, Callie leapt away from him and fell to the floor. She fumbled through his pants. Was he a cop? An assassin? A private investigator? His trousers revealed nothing—no driver’s license, no wallet, no badge. She crawled over the carpet until she reached his coat. After patting it twice, she encountered a hard, cold lump. Folding back the fabric, she found the inside pocket and peeked down. A gun.

Callie bit back a shriek. Her heart beat a fast, staccato rhythm. Terror laced her veins with icy fire.

He knew who she was and he carried a gun. His plea for her to come away with him? He’d probably meant to kill her once he’d lured her away from Thorpe and Dominion. Whoever had shot her father and sister had come after her more than once to finish the job, but they’d never gotten close to her. This time, they’d found her weakness—her fucking foolish heart.

Sean Kirkpatrick, the beautiful Scot she’d stupidly fallen for, was trying to kill her. She bit back tears of betrayal and ran.

THORPE ended the call with Axel, stunned and blinking. A chill worked through his body.

Callie . . .

She was locked in her room with that son of a bitch.

Tearing down the hall, he rounded the corner, calling security as he ran and grabbing Lance, who still stood sentry in the hall.

“What the hell?” the other Dom asked.

As soon as Axel’s muscle picked up the phone in the booth, Thorpe growled, “Callie’s room. Now. She’s in danger.”

On the off chance this turned out to be a misunderstanding or a mistake, he’d worry about the repercussions of bursting in on them later.

Lance cursed. “What’s happened?”

Thorpe had a terrible feeling. God, why hadn’t he seen this coming? “Sean Kirkpatrick is a lying motherfucker. Nothing he’s told us about himself is true. And he’s here to take Callie.”

“Goddamn it!” Lance ran faster.

They reached her door at the same time as the security guards. Panic making his heart drum loudly in his ears, Thorpe pounded on the door. “Callie?”

No answer.

No, no, no . . . He couldn’t handle it. Please let her be asleep or in the shower or even busy with Kirkpatrick’s dick in her mouth. He couldn’t deal with her being gone.

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.