“She looks great. I’d love to have her boobs. And her hips,” Sweet Pea lamented. “She looks like a woman, not a girl still waiting for puberty.”

“You’re small but mighty. Don’t demean yourself, Misty. We’ve had this conversation.”

“And you’ve given me the spanking to go with it. I know . . .” She sighed. “But when you see her, you’ll know what I mean. I almost didn’t recognize her, but she looks stunning.”

About that time, the website popped up. Front and center, he caught a still photo of Mystery wearing the same wig and clothes she had when he’d first seen her at the bar. In this picture, she held the hand of an older man who hovered protectively. The caption snagged Axel’s attention. It sent his temper—and his desire to get his hands on her again—soaring.

MULLINS IN DALLAS FOR MYSTERY LOVER?

He scanned the accompanying “story.” Blah, blah, blah . . . Staying at the Hotel Crescent Court.

Bingo!

Had she really run from his bed as if her ass was on fire so she could crawl into this man’s? The thought chilled him to the core. No way. No fucking way. Axel didn’t question why he felt possessive. He hadn’t thought of Mystery except fleetingly in years. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Days might be more accurate. She was never too far from his thoughts, but he hadn’t succumbed to the urge to look her up and reminisce about old times, even if he’d wondered more than once what would have happened if he’d taken her up on her unspoken offer in the desert. Right now, he’d love to remind her exactly who had given her the pleasure that had urged her to leave half-moon marks from her nails deep in his back as he fucked her again.

“Is that her boyfriend?” he growled at Sweet Pea.

“I don’t think so. Let me . . .” His friend and submissive tapped away on the keyboard he heard in the background. “Nothing on Google about a boyfriend since she briefly dated one of those British boy-band dudes, but that was a good year ago, according to what I can find.”

If she’d finally returned to the U.S. to see this other man she posed with in the photos tonight, why would she have picked him up in a bar earlier today? Curiosity? Had she hoped to scratch the itch lurking under her skin since that night in the ghost town? Axel wasn’t sure what rolled around in the seductive Hollywood princess’s head, but he vowed to get to the bottom of it—and get another taste of her. He’d turned her down at nineteen, despite how badly he’d wanted her, because she’d been young, traumatized, and out of her element. Now that he knew she was all woman who could take every inch of the hard dick he had for her?

It was so on.

He went in search of his shoes. “I have to go.”

“What? Now? I’d hoped we could . . . you know, hang out tonight.”

In other words, she wanted him to scene with her. Their schedules hadn’t matched up since Thorpe’s birthday weeks ago. It had been far longer than that since she’d asked for sex. Lately, he’d sensed the pressure cooker of her emotions churning, building. It wouldn’t be much longer now until she caved to her turmoil and asked him to unravel her.

“When was the last time you cried, Misty?”

She hesitated. “I tried.”

“Good to hear it. Answer the question.”

Sighing, she hemmed and hawed, then gave in. “It’s been a while.”

Exactly as he suspected. With a grim press of his lips, Axel shoved on his shoes and went in search of his keys, then stormed into the garage, pressing the button to lift the door.

“We’ll have to talk about this tomorrow. Because, yes, I’ve seen Mystery. And I need to go ask her some pointed questions right now. Will you be all right?”

“I will.” But she sounded disappointed. “Callie has been having morning sickness, so she’s laying low. She invited me over for some movies tonight.”

Axel would feel better if Sweet Pea stayed with the other woman—and under Thorpe’s and Sean’s watchful eyes. “Do that. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The second he hung up, he scrolled through the other contacts on his phone, wondering who the hell could help him with this last hurdle . . . He knew in which hotel he’d find Mystery but that information would only take him so far.

Finally, he found just the number he was looking for. The man answered on the first ring. “Your dime. Shoot.”

“Hey, Stone,” he greeted Jack Cole’s new super-hacker, particularly glad the man was one of few words. “I need a favor. Can you dig through a specific hotel’s guest records and give me a room number?”

“Technically, it’s illegal.” Stone sounded as if that amused him, too.

“It’s also pretty damn important.” Because there was zero way Axel intended to let Mystery slide out of his life again without finding out just why the hell she’d fucked him and run off. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to make her say them aloud, to his face—while he was buried deep inside her.

“What’s it worth to you?”

So they were bartering today, huh? It made sense. He and Stone were hardly bosom buddies. In fact, he’d only met the guy a handful of times while trying to help Kata’s brother, Joaquin, save his bride-to-be, Bailey.

“What do you want?”

“You have something exclusive with that hot little thing everyone calls Sweet Pea?”

Axel recoiled in surprise. He hadn’t even been aware that Stone and Misty had met, much less that the man had a hard-on for her.

“Nope. Never have. I’m a friend doing her a favor. That’s it. But I’ll warn you now, if you just want to fuck and chuck, she’s not your girl.”

Stone chuckled. “Okay. Understood. Agree to set up a meet-and-greet between us, and I’ll find out whatever you want to know. Hell, I’ll give you the target’s blood type and what they like for breakfast.”

As he backed out of the driveway in neutral, Axel paused. Sweet Pea was emotionally fragile, and he wasn’t sure if Stone had any interest in her beyond sexual. It was on the tip of his tongue to spill some of the girl’s secrets. He didn’t. She’d resent the shit out of him for it. In fact, it had taken months of talking and a lot of trust-building between them before she’d divulged anything about her past. He’d sworn to keep her secrets, some of which even Thorpe, her boss and mentor, didn’t know.

“I’ll do it,” he told Stone finally. “But I can’t promise she’ll have any interest. If you hurt her, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“I’ve been duly warned. I want to see her this week.”

“I can make it happen tomorrow.”

“Even better.” Satisfaction rang from Stone’s voice. “What do you want me to find out?”

“Mystery Mullins is staying at the Hotel Crescent Court in Dallas. I want her room number.”

Stone didn’t sound surprised—or as if he even cared. “Give me a few. I’ll have it. Any chance she’s staying there under an assumed name?”

“Yeah. She probably checked in yesterday. That’s all I’ve got.”

“It should be enough,” Stone said.

Axel breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll call you in fifteen.”

“I’ll have an answer even sooner, but whatever floats your boat.”

Before he could say anything else, Stone hung up. Axel debated the wisdom of introducing the brash man to shy little Misty, but she should branch out. She needed a man who made her feel something other than safe. Axel knew it wasn’t him.

Starting and revving his bike, he tore out of the driveway and headed into the night. He could think himself to death about why Mystery had hidden her identity to trick him into bed. It either had a lot to do with a bottle of tequila, a ghost town, and his rejection . . . or she’d wanted to see how the trailer half fucked.

As soon as he arrived, he parked his motorcycle. If he had his way, he’d be staying far longer than ten minutes.

Inside the lobby, he pulled out his phone. Again, Stone answered almost immediately.

“What do you have for me?” Axel asked.