He offered his hand, his decision made. Evan needed to see the room for what it was—a room for pleasure, for pushing limits, for driving lovers to the very brink of their sanity with an endorphin high so intense, they both needed alone time to recover.
They ascended the stairs, Clint careful to not glance over his shoulder and see Evan literally trembling from fear, the man not even breathing. He stopped in front of the locked playroom and placed his hands on Evan’s shoulders. “Look at me.”
He did, blinking several times.
“Breathe.”
Evan let out a long breath and nodded. “I’m ready.”
“What do you think I have in there? A dragon?”
He laughed nervously. “I think a fire-breathing reptile would probably be better than what I have in my head.”
Clint entered the code into the keypad. When the lock audibly snapped, Evan jumped. And then hyperventilated. Clint took his hand and opened the door, leading him inside. “Mr. McKoy, I give you the playroom.”
Evan’s hand slipped from his as they parted, allowing the man to take in the room on his own terms. Clint stayed at the door and watched, memorizing every reaction. Evan inched in, focusing on the table off to his left.
“Is this a massage table?”
“Whipping bench,” Clint corrected, drawing a sharp intake from Evan.
“And this?” He held up a horse whip. “Is this a flogger?”
Clint slowly approached, smirking as he took it from Evan. “It’s a riding crop.”
“And this?” He grabbed one of Clint’s favorite pieces of equipment and tried to get it to work.
“It’s a spreader bar, and it’s a little glitchy.” He used his thumb to work the troublesome button. It released and the bar popped open, doubling the size. Evan jumped from the sudden movement.
“So it is.” He stopped at the selection of blindfolds and restraints hanging on the wall. “Why do you need so many different kinds?”
“You never know what you’ll need when the time comes. I like to be prepared.”
“Thinking ahead. Makes sense.” He continued the tour, asking for clarification on various items, bypassing some of the more extreme equipment. By the time he made his way back to the entrance, he had a relaxed grin gracing a loose expression.
“See? No dragons.”
“It all looks so…tame.”
Clint laughed. “What were you expecting? Aside from the fire-breathing reptile.”
“I don’t know, maybe what I saw in the Fifty Shades movies, for starters.”
“Wrong fetish,” he responded dryly and took Evan’s hand. “Are you satisfied that I’m not some monster searching for a warped, sociopathic version of sexual stimulation?”
“I’m convinced.” He faced Clint, an interesting tip lifting the corners of his lips. His eyes danced, easing the tension in Clint’s midsection.
“That I’m good? Or bad?”
“That you don’t plan to lock me in a tower. The jury is still out on everything else.” He dropped Clint’s hand and walked out, turned, and headed toward the stairs. Oh, shit.
“Evan? Where are you going?”
“To put the food in the fridge. I’m not hungry anymore. Now I just want to go to bed. Where’s my room?”
“Tonight, I want you in mine. No sex. I just want to hold you, to show you you’re safe with me. Always.”
“I’m not mentally ready for the playroom.”
His gut clenched. “Ever?”
“Just tonight,” Evan corrected. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
Clint stood at the top of the stairs, cautiously optimistic at the way the night turned out. Evan toured the playroom and didn’t run away screaming.
It wasn’t total submission, but it was a start.
11
Evan couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he walked through the Farm’s front door, hopefully without being seen since he was over an hour late checking in. He couldn’t help it. Waking up next to Clint—correction, waking up because of Clint—put him behind on his morning regimen. He didn’t have anything at the penthouse, so after the very active shower, he’d thrown on yesterday’s clothes and proudly did the walk of shame to his apartment for a clean suit.
He almost started whistling as he entered the house. That would give him away for sure. Not seeing anyone, he snuck through the living room and over to the swinging kitchen door when he heard a rustling behind him.
“Did you get lost?”
Walsh’s voice sent Evan right into the list of excuses he’d come up with on the drive in. He swung around and faced the RD. “Good morning, sir. Sorry I’m late. You know Seattle traffic. Rush hour. It’s crazy this time of the morning. Just…a…crazy…morning.” He doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“That it is.” The twinkle in Walsh’s eyes told Evan he may know more than he let on. He wiggled his bushy gray brows, convincing Evan he definitely knew more. Damn TREX and their eyes and ears everywhere.
“Is there anything to eat?”
“I take you in. Hell, I even clothe you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll feed your ass.”
Evan grinned and rolled his eyes as he hung his car keys up next to the door. “Fine, I’ll just go hungry.”
“Bite your tongue, boy.” Walsh lifted all six foot four of his skinny ass out of his recliner. “I think some of the others may still be lollygagging. If they haven’t eaten it all, there are scrambled eggs and potatoes.”
At this point Evan would eat cardboard and be happy about it. Last night—and then this morning—was incredible. He couldn’t wait to tell Patsy about it once he finished up here. He entered the enormous ranch kitchen and spotted several of the residents at the large stainless-steel counter and dining table. When he walked in, they all turned and gave him the cordial head nod.
“Calm down, Martin.” Maria—the only female of the group—walked into the kitchen, her brother on her heels. They came to the Farm by way of a cop car. Walsh never explained why, and Evan never asked. He also didn’t know their connection to TREX. He didn’t need to know. “See? I told you we wouldn’t miss breakfast.” As they approached the stove, she held out her foot and tripped him.
“Knock it off! You did that on purpose.” Related by blood only, the siblings couldn’t be any more opposite. Martin was huge, with a gruff demeanor, and rarely held a smile. Petite little Maria, on the other hand, loved to smile and seemed pretty damn happy keeping the rest of the residents on their toes.
“Anything worth doing should be done with purpose.” She smiled as she hungrily eyed Evan, batting pretty jade eyes and flipping her long wavy blonde hair. “Looking good this morning, Evan.”
He grinned and put his back to her so she’d stop staring. Even then, the heat of her stare burned into his neck. He grabbed a piece of toast. It slipped from his fingers and landed on his tie, butter-side down. It slid down the silk, making the tie useless. “Shit. I need to change now.”
“Need any help?”
“You do know I’m gay, right?” He glanced over his shoulder.
She shrugged. “I’m simply offering to help with the parts that may need a little extra attention.”
“Thanks for the offer, but no.”
“Your loss. Any word on the future of Kelley’s?” she asked as she stabbed a fork into the eggs still in the pan. “Last I heard, you were on the chopping block.”
“I live to fight another day.”
“Good.” She smiled, lighting up her eyes. “I’d hate to have to kill the new owner for you. No one messes with my Evan.”
Her Evan? Since when had he ever been her Evan? He let the comment go. Maria flirted with Evan shamelessly, for whatever reason. She knew he was gay. Everyone knew, and on purpose.
He’d made himself a promise when he came out. After living a lie for so long, he’d promised to never hide his sexuality again. Ever. Even after his own father had rejected him. Even after those he thought were his friends had stopped talking
to him. Nothing would convince him to go back into the closet.
His mind drifted to Clint. The man was still in the closet. At thirty. Why? Did he honestly think a gay man at the head of the table somehow weakened the company? Evan could cite several companies with gay CEOs, powerful men and women who made up the most influential voices of the world today.
If Clint asked him to hide his sexuality, go back into the closet, would Evan do it? Could he do it? He didn’t want to contemplate that as even a question and forced his focus back on Maria. “Thank you for your willingness to risk a murder rap, but that’s not necessary.”
“I’d rock the orange.” Like that was a good enough reason to go to prison. She stabbed at the potatoes, taking several bites.
“Get a plate,” Burns barked, his snarl growing more pronounced. “No one wants your germs.”
“Whatever, loser.” She dropped the fork into the sink. “Come on, Martin. We have a job to do.”
“Since when do you two have a job?”
Maria looked at Burns as if he’d just asked her the most burdening question on the planet. She added an eye roll to really up the dramatics. “We don’t all get free room and board. Some of us have to pay rent.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.” His scowl deepened.
“It’s none of your business, loser.”
He slapped the table and stood. “Damn it, Maria.”
“They drive.” Kyle jumped in and tugged at Burns’ arm. “Sit, Jacob. Eat.”
“Stay out of this, runt.”
“You don’t need to protect all the time.”
Burns glanced at the kid, gave him a single nod, and sat. In the short time Jacob Burns had called the Farm home, he’d developed a connection to the small teen. He was the only one to get Kyle to engage in full conversation. Those two were rarely far apart. Kyle stuck to Burns like a shadow.
“Martin,” Maria said with more urgency. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not done,” Martin protested, his mouth full. She gave him a look, earning a roll of his eyes as he quickly consumed the contents of his plate before setting it on the counter. “There. Happy?”
“I’ll be a lot happier when we leave.”
“So will I.” Burns pinpointed her with a glare.
She blew him a kiss before flipping him the bird.
Thank God Evan didn’t live here anymore. Maria had been hard enough to deal with before Burns. With the addition of the newest resident, she’d become belligerent—at least toward him. Those two constantly dug at each other. It was exhausting just listening to them. Evan reached into the fridge and grabbed the juice, counting the minutes until he escaped the chaos.
“Why did you get here so late this morning?” Maria asked.
Since Evan was the only one in the kitchen who didn’t currently live at the Farm, he popped up from behind the fridge door to catch her staring. He wasn’t about to tell her or anyone else the reason why he’d taken an extra thirty minutes to get ready this morning. If Clint hadn’t needed to run to a meeting, they might still be in that shower. “I was busy.”
“Walsh went on and on about how you never miss a checkin,” she stated in a haughty voice, lifting her brow and piercing him with her jade eyes. “Now we’re all running behind after his thirty-minute lecture about the importance of punctuality. Thanks for that.”
“Like I said, I was busy.”
“Doing what?”
Doing who. He grinned at his mental answer and lifted the glass of juice to his lips.
“Did you heathens eat all the grub?” Walsh peaked into the giant pot on the stove. “Looks like you’re in luck, McKoy. Kyle hasn’t eaten it all.”
Kyle grinned, displaying a mouthful of eggs and potatoes.
“Do you have a hollow leg?” Walsh asked Kyle while handing Evan a plateful. “It defies the laws of physics you can eat as much as you do and still stay so damn small.”
Kyle shrugged and shoveled in another mouthful of food.
Evan took a seat at the counter and immediately dug in, famished. His first bite had him curling his lip and swallowing the eggs down without chewing. Burns now stood next to the microwave. Evan lifted the plate to get his attention. “It’s cold. Burns, would you put it in the microwave for a minute?”
Even though he growled as his answer, the ex-spec ops agent grabbed the plate and practically tossed it into the microwave. When it beeped, he pulled it out and handed the food back. “Anything else? Should I set fire to your enemies, maybe?”
Wow. Overreact much? “I’m good. Thanks.” He took another bite and smiled to prove it.
Burns held a permanent glare as he rested his hazel eyes on Evan. He showed up at the Farm about a year ago and, of course, Walsh took him in, no questions asked. Evan, however, wasn’t so quick to trust him. He had a look about him that screamed ex-militia or even maybe hitter-for-hire—or both.
“Looks like someone did something to build up his appetite.”
Ugh, Barrett. Evan glanced up from his food long enough to give the most arrogant of the bunch a grin. “Always good to see you, Reynolds.”
“Wish I could say the same, McKoy.”
Bitch. They go on one date and suddenly they’re bitter exes.
With shaggy blond hair bleached by the sun and blazing green eyes that shined when he smiled, Barrett Reynolds looked like a beach bum, dirty shirt, cutoffs and all. He only showered when he had to work the docks at any number of the Seattle yacht clubs.
“I bet he got lucky.” Reynolds wiggled his brow. “Look at his hair. McKoy never has a hair out of place. Too bad you spend all your time fixated on your hair instead of your date.”
Definitely still bitter. Why Even had ever agreed to a date with someone so polar opposite he’d never understand.
“I like the new ’do. It gives you a rough look.” Maria brought up her hand to mess with Evan’s hair. He moved away before she touched him.
Walsh checked his watch. “Martin, take your sister and go sweep out my mudroom before you go. You two need to remember to clean off your boots before coming inside. Since when did a job driving people around the city involve muddy ass boots?”
“It’s only when we have to dump the bodies,” Maria joked. Dear God, please let her be joking.
“That shit isn’t funny.” Burns slapped the counter.
“Whatever, loser.” She grabbed her brother’s arm. “You sweep. I’ll get the car.”
“I’ll get the car,” Martin countered.
They continued to argue as they walked out, each ordering the other to sweep. Evan rolled his eyes and thanked God he got along so well with his little sister.
Walsh muttered his favorite cuss word. “The rest of you, get to the barn before I find something for you to clean, too.”
“What are we working on today, Walsh?” Reynolds rinsed his plate and placed it in the dishwasher. Walsh tolerated a lot of things at the Farm. Dirty dishes weren’t one of those things.
“Blending in. Shane got pinched again. There’s only so much TREX can do to keep you miscreants out of jail. This place is supposed to be helping the agency, not causing them any trouble by someone getting arrested for trespassing. You guys can’t keep going out on your own on me. There’s a reason why they call you all rogues.”
“Because the Expendables was already taken?” Reynolds didn’t know when to shut up. Walsh squared his shoulders and pointed at the backdoor. The man got the hint and hurried out.
“That goes for the rest of you. How do you expect to fight for a client when you are fighting each other?”
“In my old unit, we were like brothers.” Burns spoke up, drawing Evan’s attention. Jacob Burns rarely volunteered insight into his past.
“Meaning you didn’t fight?”
“We fought all the time,” he corrected, the hint of a smile deepening the lines on his face. It faded, giving way to a sadness Evan hoped to never experience. Something deep, something dark, held this man’s soul hosta
ge. He dropped his gaze as he whispered, “Like brothers.”
Jesus. His body language was enough to break Evan’s heart. What the hell happened to Burns for him to be such a prisoner to his past? “Why’d you leave spec ops?”
“It wasn’t by choice.” He set his jaw and placed his back to Evan, suddenly interested in the dishes in the sink.
He still didn’t have a read on Burns. If Walsh trusted him, there had to be something about him there none of the others saw. He was standoffish at best, didn’t go out of his way to make conversation, and scowled more than smiled. What happened when he was in spec ops? What forced him out? What could have possibly happened to go from being in one of TREX’s top elite units to being stuck at the Farm?
“Listen, Burns. If you ever want to talk—”
“Does it sound like I want to talk?” He whipped around, his scowl more pronounced than usual.
“Cool it, Burns. McKoy is doing what we call being a friend. Maybe you’d like to try it.” Walsh tolerated a lot from his residents. Mistakes. Excuses. Even tardiness. He’d cover for them all. Rudeness, however, wasn’t allowed. Ever. Although Evan didn’t know what Walsh did before TREX, he suspected the man had to have been a drill sergeant.
Burns snarled and stormed out the backdoor, muttering something about priding himself on having no attachments.
“That’s not something to be proud of,” Walsh muttered for Evan’s ears only.
“What? Not having any friends?”
“Human connection of any kind. The only one he’s even remotely attached to around here is Kyle, and that kid still struggles to fit in.”
“Maybe that’s why Burns connects with him.”
“Maybe so.” Walsh grabbed Evan’s plate.
“I wasn’t finished.” He reached for the last of the eggs.
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