“What the f**k do you want, Thorpe? I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with your antics. You can’t separate me from Callie. You’ve no right, and you know it.”
Oh, he had every right, and he intended to exercise each of them to the fullest extent. He might not be her father, her husband, or her Dom, but he was her protector. And probably the only person in her life she could trust without question.
But Sean’s grating lecture gave him an idea. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I know that I’ve overstepped my bounds as the owner of the club. So I’m going to allow you to see her tomorrow. Here at Dominion. Nine p.m. You’re not going to get another offer. I suggest you take it.”
“I’ll be there. And don’t you be trying any trickery. You won’t like what happens.”
“Is that a threat?” Thorpe all but licked his lips, hoping the Scot would give him something he could sink his teeth into.
“No. But if you’re less than straight and narrow, I don’t think Callie will be too happy with you. And you can’t stand the thought that she might not look to you for all her needs, can you?”
Thorpe squeezed the phone tightly. Fucker. “Be here at nine.”
Without allowing Sean to respond, he ended the call. That Scot got under his skin, and he had to resist the urge to throw Callie’s phone across the room. Instead, he forced out a deep breath, then stood, walking with deliberate steps back to her room and put the phone where he’d found it.
He shouldn’t look at the girl, but she’d rolled over in her sleep and now lay on her back, her ridiculously long lashes caressing her cheeks, her head angled slightly to expose the graceful line of her throat. Pale shoulders moved softly with each breath. The quilt barely covered her br**sts, and the hint of cle**age was enough to make him sweat.
Damn it, he had to get out of here. He had to stop obsessing. Keep her safe. Give her a place to live her life in peace. That was the most he could ever offer her.
The moment he closed her door behind him again and locked it once more, he charged down the hall to see if Axel had left yet. A quick turn of the knob to the security room, and Thorpe slid inside. Axel wore a baseball cap. The man was a large, blunt instrument of violence when he chose. Currently, his eyes were glued to a security feed. His fists were clenched.
“What is it?”
“Callie got a pizza tonight.”
“I saw the box in her room.”
“She didn’t pay for it.”
Thorpe frowned. “And Callie doesn’t have any credit cards to have paid for it in advance.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s Kirkpatrick.” Thorpe cursed. God, would this f**ker just not go away?
“Can’t imagine who else it would be.”
“I’ve got a plan. How do you feel about searching his apartment at, say, nine tomorrow night?”
“For what?”
“Anything. Everything. He’s up to no good where Callie is concerned. I want to know what.”
Axel’s massive shoulders slumped. “You’re not going to let me trash his pad, are you?”
“Not yet, but depending on what you find, you and I together may be trashing his face.”
“Now you’re talking.” Axel smiled wide.
“Is that a yes, then?”
Axel’s expression brightened again. “I can’t wait.”
Thorpe felt the same. One way or another, by tomorrow night, he’d have figured out exactly who Sean Kirkpatrick was and how to permanently erase him from Callie’s life. He didn’t care much how he had to do it.
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.