“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 strolled 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?