by Shayla Black
Twitter. “This is her feed for the last week. Four days ago, she posted a picture of her suitcase.”
Axel read the caption that said she was excited she’d be visiting her aunt soon. “Shit.”
Heath scrolled and came to another picture of a plate of Mexican food posted two days ago. The accompanying verbiage indicated she was so happy to be getting some of the cheesy-gooey goodness, which was hard to find in London. The picture seemed harmless enough, but the menu with the restaurant’s name and location stood up on the table in the background.
He looked up at the other man with accusing eyes. “Why aren’t you preventing her from posting this?”
“I’ve tried.” Heath winced. “I can suggest all the reasons it’s a terrible idea, but I’m not her father, and he hasn’t seen fit to forbid her to use social media. He claims it’s good for her career, that she needs to be visible.”
“Not if it’s going to get her killed,” Axel grumbled.
“That’s where I come in. I’m simply supposed to be more vigilant, you see,” he said wryly. “Perhaps after this incident, he’ll grasp the scope of the danger.”
Heath scrolled again, revealing the next post. No picture, just one hundred forty characters or less explaining that she was curled up in her hotel room and looking forward to receiving some new personal effects of her mother’s.
When he would have scrolled again, Axel grabbed Heath’s wrist. “Wait. Read that again.”
The other man did and shrugged.
“Does she often post things about her mother?” Axel asked.
“No . . . but, of course, it tends to cross her mind more as we approach May twelfth.”
The anniversary of her mother’s death. Less than a week away. “That’s natural. I’m wondering if that has anything to do with the reason Mystery has been targeted. After all, it’s an unsolved case.”
“I’ve looked into it extensively. Personally, I think Julia Mullins was intentionally pushed off that mountain. Perhaps I’m wrong, but—”
“I don’t think so. I’ve thought it, too,” Axel said. “Just like I’ve considered that Mystery’s kidnapping might have something to do with her mother’s murder. I might be wrong, and proving it would be a long shot, but no other violence has befallen the family. I know Mullins believes the abduction had something to do with his celebrity, but why didn’t someone send him a ransom demand when Mystery was held captive?”
“Or flash this picture to the world to show off what they’d done if they were so bloody proud of their ‘accomplishment’?”
Axel nodded. “Whoever took her prisoner has been damn quiet these last six and a half years.”
“Precisely.”
“So why would this douche suddenly start making noise again? What else is on her Twitter feed?”
“Very little.” Heath scrolled and paused over another picture, this one of the Dallas skyline, probably from her hotel room. She’d posted it this morning. “Bloody hell. I hadn’t seen this yet.”
“She might as well draw everyone a fucking map and tell them how to find her.” Axel shook his head.
“If I weren’t a gentleman, the things I would say and do . . .”
Yep. She needed a damn good spanking, and when she wasn’t so upset and scared, Axel intended to give it to her and make it clear that, until they’d solved this shit, her social media was off limits.
“Assuming the police will find nothing about who broke into her room—which is what I’m anticipating—what are our next steps?” Heath asked.
Axel didn’t really like his attention to Mystery, but he also couldn’t disagree with the way the man thought. “She can’t stay here tonight.”
“Of course not. Everyone knows where to find her.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t seen all the shit on TMZ yet, either.”
Heath just closed his eyes and shook his head. “Well, pardon my French, but what a fucking debacle. And if I can’t keep her safe, her father will have my balls.”
“Mullins is intense, for sure, especially where his daughter is concerned. I know where we can hide Mystery for a few days while we figure out what’s going on and how to stop it.”
“But Aunt Gail is expecting me tomorrow,” Mystery cut in, clearly finished talking to her father. “She’s leaving on that mission trip to Indonesia on Saturday. I can’t miss seeing her. I’d like that stuff my mom left for me, and I don’t know when I’ll be back in the country.”
“I don’t think a jaunt to Kansas wise,” Heath began. “You can visit her when she returns from Indonesia. But go home now.”
Axel snorted. “He’s being polite. At this point, you’ve told everyone—including the people coming after you—that you’re planning to visit her. Go the fuck back to London.”
“You’re assuming these people read my Twitter feed,” she protested. “I only have fifty thousand followers. Maybe whoever is threatening me found out some other—”
“That’s fifty thousand potential whack-jobs you’re telling what you’re doing and where you’re going. Have you put this information anywhere else?”
“Everything I post to Twitter loads to Facebook. I also have an Instagram account. I don’t use it much.”
“Shuttle them all,” Axel demanded.
Instantly, she balked. “I have a book releasing in six weeks. I use my social media accounts to promote—”
“You won’t be doing that if you’re not alive to use them, Mystery.”
“Wait. Perhaps we shouldn’t change her patterns so abruptly,” Heath suggested. “If she suddenly closes everything down, not only do we alert this bastard that we’re onto him, but we also lose our means of communicating any message that might help us.”
Axel opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. “You’re right. We should be using the accounts to misdirect this asshole and take the heat off her.”
“Precisely.” Heath nodded.
“I like that idea,” Axel admitted. “Post now that you’ve had a change of plans and you’ll be returning to London tomorrow.”
“But my aunt—”
“You can call her and tell her privately that you’re still coming.” He held up a hand to ward off her protest. “But to the rest of the world, you’ve had a great if short visit, but you need to get home.”
Heath shook his head. “People will see her at the airport tomorrow if she boards a flight not heading to London. And it’s not as if she’s going to New York or Chicago, where she might be catching a flight to the UK from there.”
“Good point. Can you cancel her Kansas City flight?” Axel asked the other man.
“On it.” He took his phone back from Axel’s grip.
Mystery put a hand on her hip. “So how are we getting to Aunt Gail’s?”
“Normally, I’d say we could drive, but it’s not as if you can stop at McDonald’s for a restroom break and lunch without potentially being spotted,” Axel pointed out.
Heath muted his phone. “Private charter.”
Axel pointed at the Brit. “That’s the ticket.”
“I’ll find one for the two of us as soon as I finish with the airline,” her bodyguard supplied.
“I know who can arrange one.” Thorpe could get anything handled. And as far as Axel was concerned, the smaller the paper trail that led back to Mystery, the better. “And all three of us are going.”
“No.” Heath looked decidedly pissed off at that suggestion.
Too fucking bad.
Axel crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve evaded this son of a bitch before. I know more about how he thinks. If we play this right, I might even be able to figure out what he wants. So I should stay with her.”
Heath hesitated, then looked at Mystery. “Sweetheart?”
She bit her lip, indecision all over her face. Likely, she was weighing her sense of personal safety when she had him nearby versus the tongue-lashing he intended to give her as soon as they were alone.
As she strolle
d into the nearby bathroom, she flipped on a light, then reached for a little elastic band. She gathered her damp hair over her shoulder and returned, braiding the mass. Axel watched in fascination as her nimble fingers worked at the tresses covering her neck, falling softly over her breast, hanging around her waist. He imagined that sleek, soft mass all around him, caressing his skin, as she straddled him and rode his cock. Or him gathering all those strands in his fist as he took her from behind, her ass deliciously pink from the slap of his bare palm over and over . . .
“Is that okay?” she asked.
Fuck, what was the question? He’d been fantasizing about her and missed every word she’d said. “Repeat that.”
Mystery loosed a frustrated sigh. “I said my father indicated he’d feel better if you could stay close to me.” She hesitated, and her cheeks flushed. “I’d like it, too.”
Given the way she’d left his house as if her ass were on fire, that surprised Axel a little. But he’d proven once that he could keep her safe. She knew he could, and that was a point in his favor now. If that fact gave him opportunity to spend time with her? Done.
“Then I’ll be coming with you. Now post to your Twitter that you’re flying back to London ASAP.”
Mystery reached for her phone and tapped out a quick post. “All right. I did.”
She no sooner spoke the words when someone knocked on the door. Automatically, Axel shoved her behind him. Heath waited until she was out of sight before he approached the door and peeked through the hole.
“The police,” he muttered.
“Let them in,” Axel replied.
Heath did, along with the hotel’s security director. Room service rolled up, too, clearly never having received the memo that shit had gone down.
The next hour was filled with questions about what she’d seen or heard. After a grilling from the cops and the security director, they all left, promising to follow up. The hotel’s manager also stopped in and offered Mystery a different suite.
“That would be great,” Axel answered, sending the man in his shiny gray suit and wingtips away to make the arrangements.
As soon as Heath closed the door after them all, he stared at Axel. “Have you gone mental? We agreed she can’t stay here.”
“Of course she can’t.” Axel nodded. “But until we know if someone associated with the hotel is helping the enemy, it’s in her best interest to keep the employees here guessing.”
“True.” But Heath didn’t look as if he liked it.
“Pack up your things, princess. Be ready soon. We’ll concoct a story, then get you out. I rode my motorcycle here, and we can’t all leave on that. They’ll be watching for your town car. A taxi will be too easy to trace . . .” Axel ran through the possibilities. How could he get Mystery out of the hotel with no one the wiser?
“What about my bags? I can’t leave them here. I have some jewelry of my mother’s. Some of her pictures and—”
“Okay. I’ll think of a way to sneak the bags out, too. Just give me some time to work on a plan. You should probably pack up, too,” he told Heath. “We’ll need to be ready to pull out at a moment’s notice.”
Heath hesitated, clearly not liking Axel’s suggestion, however rational.
“I’ll return in five,” he finally said, shutting the door behind him, leaving Axel and Mystery alone.
Chapter Nine
FOR a long moment, silence prevailed in the cozy hotel suite.
“Thanks for stepping in to help,” Mystery finally offered. “You didn’t have to, but—”
“You’re welcome. Now explain what happened between us this afternoon.”
She didn’t even try to misunderstand, just grimaced. “I tricked you into bed. I know you must be angry.”
Mystery looked genuinely contrite. And so beautiful, Axel gritted his teeth. He was pretty damn sure she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the whole time Heath and the police had been here, every male in the room seemed to be sneaking a peek at the lush mounds of her breasts, barely concealed by the pink flowery fabric.
“Confused,” he admitted, prowling closer to her. If he only had five minutes to figure this out before her bodyguard returned, he wanted to get a few things straight. “Why did you leave without saying good-bye?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I figured you were done with me. Why linger and make things awkward? Especially when you weren’t supposed to know I was the woman in your bed.”
“Ever? Because of our past? Or because, in your head, the trailer park guy is only good for some afternoon delight?”
Mystery blinked back in horror, frantically shaking her head. “No. Ohmigod, that’s not it! You’d turned me down once. Your first rejection crushed me. I couldn’t give you the chance to turn me down again. If you refused whoever I’d disguised myself as . . .” She shrugged. “I guess I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much. And I cringed at the thought that, if you knew I still wanted you, you’d laugh or think I was pathetic or—”
Axel cupped her face, gathered her closer, and cut her off with a scorching kiss. He seized her lips and lay them under his own before he spread them wide and dove in. She was safe and warm and alive in his arms. She wanted him and didn’t seem to give a shit that he’d grown up a hick from the sticks. And damn, she felt so fucking good.
Instantly, Mystery stiffened, dragged in a breath. He braced for her to push him away. Instead, she latched onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh, and lashed his tongue with her own.
Electricity rolled up his spine, shot down through his veins. She revved his system like nothing he’d ever experienced. More than she had even a few hours ago. And damn far more than she had six and a half years ago. He’d been harsh with her then, knowing he couldn’t take sexual advantage of a traumatized young woman, even if he’d found her attractive as hell. Nor had he wanted to betray her father’s trust or cloud his head while they were potentially still in danger.
Now? Maybe he should leave her alone, but fuck holding back. He wanted her.
For the last half dozen crappy years, he’d looked for something more in his life, someone to fill the odd void he hadn’t understood. With Mystery pressed against him, he totally understood what he’d been missing.
She moaned into their kiss and all but climbed up his body to get closer.
Axel growled and grabbed her lush ass in both palms, all but lifting her against his aching cock. “Am I laughing? Does this feel like I think you’re pathetic?”
“No,” she whispered, her gaze melded with his own.
“No,” he confirmed. “When you left my house, I wasn’t done with you.”
Mystery swallowed hard. “And now that you know I was the girl you slept with earlier?”
“I don’t remember a lot of sleeping, princess. But I’m thinking we should do it again, just to make sure I remember right.”
She sent him a relieved smile, coupled with a little laugh. “I’d like that. But with so much happening now . . .”
“I’ll handle it.” He kissed his way up her neck, reveling in her soft skin, her clean soapy-vanilla scent, the little love bite he’d left on her neck. He ached to leave them on her breasts, hips, thighs, smooth pussy. “But don’t you doubt that I intend to get you naked and under me again.”
Her breath hitched. “Please.”
Axel couldn’t stand it another moment; he had to touch her. He caressed his way down her shoulder, then skated his palm toward her breast, cupping the mound covered only by thin cotton. Her nipple tightened.
He brushed his thumb over the sensitive peak, his whole body tensing with need when it hardened even more. “I want this in my mouth.”
With a little moan, she slid her head back, as if granting him
