Free His to Take by Shayla Black Page A

possibly have committed this murder.”
    Bailey wanted proof and waited while he flipped through his phone until he came to
     a local news station from Oklahoma City. The grisly discovery was front page news.
    She scanned the story. The coroner estimated the time of death somewhere between nine
     and eleven that morning. If authorities could have found this girl just a bit sooner . . .
     But given the picture Joaquin had shown her, this killer had been working his personal
     brand of gross on her for hours.
    Since Bailey wasn’t sure if she was still in Houston or elsewhere, she couldn’t state
     absolutely that Joaquin hadn’t driven to Oklahoma City, committed this crime, then
     come back to her. On the other hand, even if he had moved her somewhere near the scene
     of the crime, he would still have had to come back here, clean up, have a conversation
     with Thorpe, and appear in front of her looking perfectly calm. It seemed unlikely.
     She also didn’t buy that Joaquin would abduct her, bring her somewhere pretty swanky,
     feed and promise to protect her if all he intended to do was slice and dice her.
    “It’s terrible,” she murmured.
    “I didn’t do this.” His tone looked every bit as adamant as his expression.
    “Trust me. I’d prefer to believe you.”
    “There’s no way I could have killed this girl by even nine a.m., driven the three
     hours from Norman to Dallas, showered, and appeared here beside you
before
noon. It’s not physically possible.”
    “So we’re in Dallas?” She latched onto the little fact with hope. It wasn’t much,
     but it was something.
    “Yeah.”
    “How do I know that’s not just a story to make me trust you?”
    “Are you kidding?”
    Was
he
? “I didn’t know you yesterday at this time, and the first time we met, it’s because
     you abducted me. And I’m supposed to simply trust you? Really?”
    “I don’t know whether to applaud or paddle you.”
    “Paddle?” She shot him an incredulous stare. “Like I’m a bad little girl and you’re
     going to put me in my place?”
    The whole time she spoke, he punched something into his phone. Into the silence afterward,
     he didn’t say a word. Finally, he lifted his head. “No, like you’re a stubborn woman
     who I wish would see reason, and if softening up your ass would do that . . .” He
     shrugged. “It would be my pleasure.”
    Bailey blushed. The idea of him spanking her made her both furious and a bit shivery,
     which was strange. Then again, everything right now was.
    “Not happening.”
    He gave her a smug smile that said they’d see what happened, before he held his phone
     under her gaze again. “Here.”
    She looked down at his screen. It was an app that located an iPhone. He’d used it
     to trace his own. The map showed them smack in the middle of Dallas.
    “Do you believe me now?”
    Bailey didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He confronted her, confounded her.
     He’d taken her, threatened her. And yet . . . everything he said about the murders,
     their location—it all seemed to be true. It could be a hoax, yes. At this point, it
     would be a really elaborate one. Why would anyone bother?
    But that didn’t mean he was right about everything. She wasn’t a dead Russian scientist’s
     daughter.
    “If you didn’t come here to show me a picture of another body, why did you come?”
    “To check on you. To bring you those clothes Thorpe promised.” He stalked across the
     room and retrieved the bag he’d brought when he first entered, then he thrust it into
     her hands. “To see if you needed any goddamn comfort.”
    Bailey took the bag and peeked inside. Clothes, just like he’d claimed. The frustration
     in his tone made her feel a little guilty, which was probably stupid. But if he was
     right and someone else might mistake her for Tatiana Aslanov and kill her, then he’d
     risked his ass to help her. She bit her lip.
    “Thanks,” she muttered.
    “Go see if that