Own (Command Force Alpha #1) (7 page)

Evan didn’t have much by way of beauty in his life.

Except for this. Apparently a deeper version of himself had wanted something more than a place to retreat to. He’d wanted an actual retreat.

One day it would all belong to him. He’d find peace here.

Peace…

Like the kind he’d found, so briefly, when Katsu had knelt before him. When she’d bowed her head. When she’d obeyed his commands—not just to the letter, but with such calm, orderly precision. Watching had been hypnotic…and so fucking sexy that had she defied him, stood up and stripped naked, he would’ve been turned on. Sure. Of course he would’ve. But he also would’ve been disappointed. He admired her strength, lived with equal parts admiration and frustration when it came to her stubborn streak, and knew she was one of the whip-crack smartest people he’d ever met. To have that strength humbled was not about bringing her down, but about giving them both a moment of tranquility.

Control and obedience.

Dominance and submission.

No way. Not with Kat.

He smacked at a clump of brush, noting how wild the place was becoming. A regular groundskeeper was out of the question. There was too much equipment scattered across the acreage. Instead, Fletcher’s men would need to come out one more time before winter. Evan would’ve rather done the work himself, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass. Now, greenery and fallen leaves mingled into a different perfume, subtly primal, that made him think of tall woodpiles and stocked pantries.

At his last stop along the wire, he ducked.

Instinct.

Moving with slow, slow deliberation, he retrieved a pair of multipurpose binoculars from his knapsack. Like the cameras, they could detect infrared and heat, and fed the information back to his tablet. He scanned the land to the west of his property line. Beyond the scrub was a creek, and beyond that another horse farm that boarded over fifteen animals. Either he was just plain jumpy and what he’d heard was a horse’s whinny, or he was just plain jumpy and had heard what he hadn’t actually expected—an intruder on the outskirts of his home.

He scanned the binoculars left to right, adjusted the vertical angle, and scanned again. Satisfied that he’d captured as much data as he could—far more than he could with the naked eye—he edged through the overgrown grasses and slipped away from the wire. He belly-crawled until he was outside of fifty meters and surrounded by old-growth trees. If someone was really out there, he or she would need to be a damn good shot to arrow through so many thick trunks and branches, all of which he used to his advantage.

He made it back to the house with sweat soaking his shirt and the hair at his temples. It wasn’t a hot day. It wasn’t cold either, but he was chilled. Deeply chilled. He made a quick scan of the cameras, floodlights and trip wires that surrounded the innocently rustic house. Kat would flip if she knew the amount of technology that had gone into safety-proofing this place, down to bulletproof Plexiglas windows and electrified ventilation ducts. He didn’t just need a passkey to get in the front door. He needed one to get into his attic or to touch his water heater.

That he’d allowed Kat the main code had felt strangely intimate. The farm was still his someday dream. Sharing anything about it was almost unnerving—as if he’d let her in on a vulnerable secret.

Sitting briefly on the front porch swing, he uploaded the information to Jayden Creed, one of CFA’s two top hackers. If there was something to be found on the digitized scans Evan had taken, Jayden would find it.

In the meantime, Evan felt frustrated and edgy. He didn’t like it when he needed to hand matters over to others, even if his colleagues were the best in the world. No, he liked control. Why should what had happened with Katsu come as such a surprise? She wasn’t as deadly as his armaments or as blow-your-hair-back fast as a fighter jet. She wasn’t as fierce as the enemies or as scary as the prospect of losing the colonel. Why did being around her give him those same tense adrenaline tingles? She was a straight hit of anticipation, like when he exhaled slowly, eased into the butt of a high-powered rifle and took a clean shot.

He stomped into the mudroom, shed his filthy clothes and tossed them into the laundry. The industrial shower in the corner of that entryway at the rear of the house was exactly what he needed. A quick scrub. A
hard
scrub. He grabbed a towel off the lone hook just outside the plastic curtain and mashed his face into it. Only after the steam started to clear did he smell…food? What time was it? By the golden-red angle of the sun, it must be nearly time for dinner.

A jolt of want so strong that it was actually a need—a need as basic as air and, yes, food—rocked him from head to toe. Had Katsu made him dinner? Christ, what was he going to do with that? Even if it wasn’t true, the fantasy was overwhelming.

Shit. He’d forgotten to leave a new set of clothes on top of the table where he kept laundry detergent and bleach. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered. CFA security groundskeepers kept the farm safe, but no one had ever been in his house. He hadn’t allowed it. So a nude walk to his room wasn’t a big deal. Sure, he had a towel looped around his waist, but that would mean walking past Katsu in a state of pre-arousal that he didn’t trust to stay polite, not to mention carrying his Glock in one hand. Way to be casual.

No helping it.

He opened the shower curtain and found her standing there with a pile of his clothes in her arms. His mouth dropped open. She’d thought he would need something to put on after getting clean. She’d been in his room, looking through his drawers. He had nothing to hide. It wasn’t that. It was the intimacy of the act. Underwear, socks, jeans, henley. She would’ve needed to find each and, more erotically, make a decision about what he’d like to wear.

How long had she deliberated about her choices? More likely, she’d just grabbed the first item she came across. Katsu was efficient. But as Evan had seen the other night, she could also be deliberate. Could she be deliberate when he didn’t issue a command?

And goddamn, had she actually gone out of her way to anticipate his needs? Food and clothes and the sight of her standing there.

Her head wasn’t lowered so much as barely tilted so that bobbed hair brushed her cheeks. Her gaze was riveted to his chest. He’d towel dried, but he was still wet and tinted by the hot, hot water of the shower. Standing before her as she stood before him—his brain was going to blow up. He was power and she was…indulging that power? Making fun of it? No, the heat in her eyes took mockery off the table. Pure, unfiltered lust waited there instead. The act was obedient, but attitude was layered over every inch of her, all the way down to the set of her hip. She didn’t even seem to notice the rough, year-old scar that angled four inches up the side of his ribs.

“I thought you’d need these.” Her voice was normally high-pitched, but these words were husky and uncertain. She deposited them on the laundry table, gave his chest one more frank, appreciative glance and hightailed it out of the mudroom. Her mouth tweaked in a smirk, but she wouldn’t let him see her gaze. That might have been asking too much, to see the workings of her mind. He wanted to find questions there.

Well now, wasn’t that fun?

Did I make the right choices?

Did I please you?

Fucking hell. He did not need this. The timing was hideous. They had a history—a history she still resented, judging by her outburst the other night. He hadn’t tossed her aside. Far from it. They’d had a fast-and-furious six weeks together while Evan was on leave and while the colonel was in Washington, D.C. putting the final touches on CFA’s instatement. What had started innocently—going out for ice cream, of all things, and finding a place along the harbor to satisfy her insane desire to go fishing—had exploded into something he hadn’t known how to control.

He’d chopped off an emotional limb to leave her. He thought leaving her would be forever.

Idiot.

He dressed as nonchalantly as he could manage. Each item, however, brought back the picture of Katsu making her selections. Navy blue boxer briefs clung to his ass and his undeniable erection. The jeans—his favorite—fit him casually. They were a second skin if his skin could ever lose the tight, burning tension he carried every day. And the henley was as comfortable as a plush easy chair and just as soft.

Yes, Katsu,
he thought in answer to his imagined questions.
You pleased me.

Tucking his personal weapon into its holster at the small of his back was more difficult than it should’ve been. He harbored the unmistakable wish that this moment would simply be about them, but that wasn’t possible. He pulled his shirt down over the Glock.

Dinner was on the table. Sure it was the shells-and-cheese foraged from his cabinets, but she’d added a giant bowl of fresh strawberries.

Surprise held Evan hostage. He stopped in the doorway. “What the…? Where’d the fresh stuff come from?”

She was already seated and eating. A tight T-shirt covered her all the way to her collarbones but hugged her tiny waist. One knee was hitched up against the arm of her chair. Apparently her unexpectedly solicitous behavior was sapped. She shot him a flippant look—one that briefly assessed his appearance. To Evan’s masculine gratification, heat flared in her eyes. She definitely approved, no matter the return of her attitude. He understood the need for armor.

“You have a bunch of wild strawberries out on the other side of the barn,” she said. “They’d have gone to waste if I hadn’t found them. Well, I’m sure the benevolent woodland creatures will be pissed at me now.” She dipped her head and resumed eating pasta. “You didn’t know they were there, did you?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Who keeps up the place when you’re…wherever you go?”

“I have a groundskeeper.”

“Ah. Like daddy, like son?”

He pulled the chair out too roughly. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the wood. She wasn’t cleared to know that security personnel took care of the grounds because an ordinary gardener was likely to blow himself up by missing a trip wire. “Drop it. You know me better than that.”

“It goes both directions, Evan. You don’t know me, and I sure as hell don’t know you. This could just be some passing fancy of yours. Try the great wide wilderness for a few years before you return to your rightful place among the insanely rich. Maybe you won’t settle for a view of the skyline. You’ll trade your farm for a penthouse and look down on the rest of us.”

“Where is all this coming from?” He rigidly sat in the chair. He should punish her by walking away from the simple dinner, and maybe even change his clothes. That would be…

He knew instinctively that he’d do her serious damage if he did. Whatever this was between them would disappear. No more hesitant yet tantalizing give-and-take. No more of the sweet anticipation that wasn’t waiting for a bullet to pierce his heart.

“What?”

“This.” He waved a hand at the dinner table, then his clothes. “And these?”

“Just bored.”

They locked gazes like a dare. Neither looked away for so long that Evan realized he was holding his breath.

This is bullshit.

“Eat a strawberry,” he said, with real authority in his voice.

If she obeyed, if he got to watch those luscious lips wrap around a ripe strawberry… Yeah, the command wasn’t for Katsu. It was to redirect his need for control and his raging libido.

Maybe she knew that. Katsu picked up the largest berry from the top layer of fruit. She still hadn’t backed down with her gaze. Dark eyes, dark lashes, dark intent. Her golden complexion flushed. Her lips parted, revealing those quirkily sexy front teeth and the merest hint of a smile, hewn of pure seductive power as old as Eve. She bit down. Juice trailed from one corner of her mouth. She caught it with her tongue.

Another bite. Another crack of lust. Evan had thought these were his comfortable jeans, but he was getting hard at a record pace. The denim felt as tight as his aching lungs.

“All gone,” she said with a slight smack of her lips. He could watch her mouth for the rest of time. “Anything else? Otherwise I’m finished.” She stood without waiting for his answer and headed back to the study.

Evan remained seated, dazed. He saw his fists on the table as if they belonged to another man. He couldn’t move. He sure as fuck couldn’t eat, even if she’d put obvious effort into making dinner—no matter the reasons, to torture or to please.

His cell phone rang.

He jerked to life. He was still a jumbled knot, but he didn’t have friends who called casually. He’d blocked his parents’ numbers. The only people who called Evan were fellow operatives.

“Sommers,” he answered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kat poke her head out from the study. The desire and even the defiance in her eyes had dissolved away, replaced by one obvious question.
What? What? What?

“I understand,” he said by rote in reply to Dr. Bascombe. “Yes, she’s here. I’ll tell her.”

He ended the call and slowly set the phone on the kitchen counter. Then he walked stiffly to the suede sectional she’d never shared with him. “Katsu, come here.”

She did in an instant. He didn’t flatter himself this time that her obedience had anything to do with him. She wanted news and news alone. Stiffly, she sat by his side and folded her hands in her lap as she had the other night, awaiting his next words. “Dad?”