Sweet Seduction Surrender (25 page)

We stared at each other for several seconds and then he smiled. It was slow and wicked.

"Zero," he mouthed. I didn't needed to hear the whispered words, I could make them out quite clearly through the closed window. His intent obvious and the hungry stare holding my gaze making me breathless.

He lifted up his hand, which had been out of sight at the side of his leg, and pressed the button on his remote access key chain. The door unlocked and he jerked it open.

"Easy or hard way, Kate?" he asked, still smiling that wicked smile.

Oh, hell. "Hard!" I bit back at him.

"Baby," he said shaking his head. "I was so hoping you'd say that."

My seatbelt came undone and he leaned in to grip my body, under my arms. I batted away his hands, wishing my satchel was closer, not in the back footwell of the car out of reach. Then remembered that Jason usually had a knife sheathed at his waist, so I started searching for that instead.

I don't know why I was fighting him. Adrenaline had gotten the better of me. The morning's events taking their toll and making all reason abandon my thought process. I just felt the need to fight back. To argue this point with Jason. To not let him out of my sight for fear he'd never come back.

And not because he didn't want to. I knew he would always come back if he could. But if something happened to him, and God alone knows what was going on inside that mentally unstable mind of Tremayne's, he may not be
able
to come back. The thought of losing him now spurred me on, even as I was hauled from the vehicle screaming, and thrown over Jason's shoulder like a sack of spuds.

I started rifling through the various pouches and holsters dotted along Jason's belt. He realised what I was doing so landed a swift smarting slap to my butt cheek, making me yelp, lose focus long enough for him to get the front door open and get us inside, before I started struggling against his hold and flicking the safety latch on his knife loose.

My fingers wrapped around the hilt and then I was suddenly on my back on my bed, the springs making me rebound from the force with which Jason had thrown me, my hands losing their grip on the knife and making it tumble to the wooden floor with a clatter.

A loud click, followed  by a second, filled the space between Jason's grunts and my screams. Then the cool sensation of metal at my wrist.

I stared at the handcuffs attaching me to the bedpost and turned a frosty glare on Jason, who was bending down to pick up the knife and with a smirk in my direction, sheathed it out of sight on his belt.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he murmured. "Haven't had you tied up for my pleasure before."

"Come a little closer,
baby
, and I'll show how much pleasure I can give," I taunted.

He started laughing. "Feisty," he said with a shake of his head and then promptly sat down on the end of the bed, just out of kicking distance. I should know, I tried to land a foot to his privates.

"Argh!" I screamed, rattling the handcuffs. "Release me!"

"Not gonna happen, baby. You are your own worst enemy. Just because you can flip a knife without getting a cut, does not mean you can run hell for leather into danger and I'd let you."

"You arrogant arsehole! You don't get a say in the matter!"

"Language! And I'd say my word is the only one that matters right now, wouldn't you?" he asked, flicking the handcuffs' key in his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked on a defeated sigh.

"Because I love you, Kate," he replied without hesitation. "And I can't lose you again."

We stared at each other for longer than Nick and ASI had to spare. Then he stood up from the bed and went into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and the waste-paper basket, which happened to be water tight.

Oh good grief, no. I was not peeing in that!

He placed the glass on the table next to the bed within my reach and the basket on the floor beside the bed.

I picked the water up and hurled it against the wall across the room. Glass shattered and liquid dripped onto the floor in a satisfying display of my rage.

Jason just stared at me, shocked.

"I can't lose you again either," I said, having now got his full attention.

I watched his chest rise and fall too quickly. I watched the chestnut in his eyes fade to warm, melted chocolate brown. And I watched as his shoulders fell and his face fell with them, and his heart was displayed openly on his sleeve.

"Kate," he pleaded.

"Together. You said it was you and me, always."

"Even when we're apart, baby," he reminded me. Damn! That argument wasn't going to cut it.

"Three years I've been training, Jason. I know how to defend myself." He stared at me, unmoved. "You wanted to see my knife collection," I offered my own little reminder. "Then let me show you how good I actually am."

"Do you really think me seeing your knives will change my mind?"

I answered honestly. "Yes. Yes I do." His eyes narrowed, but I could see the curiosity behind those captivating orbs. It was a piece of the puzzle he'd been trying to fit together, the little part of me that surprised him the most. Jason liked being surprised, but more than anything he liked a challenge. Figuring me out had been his biggest challenge yet.

"Just remember," he said, reaching over to release the  handcuffs from my wrist, "I can have you back in these within minutes."

I rubbed my wrist and eyed him warily, then offered my best Katie Anscombe smile.

"Baby," I said with a smirk. My tone similar to when I used 'darling' on anyone else. Jason frowned. "It might be wise to remember that every blade I show you, I know exactly how to use."

He took a step back, his frown turning into that wicked smile he so often wore in my presence.

"Lead on, Ms Anscombe. Do your worst."

Oh, I wasn't planning on doing my worst. I was planning on appealing to the soldier in Jason, on enticing the 'Army' out of the man. I was planning on doing my
wickedest
, and going straight for his Achilles heel.

And he thought
I
needed the protection.
Pfft!

It's not like I had a room decked out in rows and rows of gleaming, sharp knives. This wasn't a movie, but real life. Although, being an interior designer meant I did have access to competent builders and the ability to draw up architectural plans that made my little cubby of blades difficult to detect.

I stood up from the bed and rubbed my wrist again. I'd only been handcuffed for mere minutes, but it was enough to know that sort of bedroom play was not something I would tolerate easily. Jason watched me ease the faux ache in my wrists with keen eyes. I could only hope he'd come to the right conclusion and avoid metal restraints from now on.

Of course, if he were to use a fabric, such as velvet ribbons or silk scarves... I shook my head to clear those images. Being around Jason in any capacity played havoc on my imagination. But then, he'd opened a Pandora's Box when he introduced me to his alter ego. I wasn't sure if he realised that yet.

I walked past him into my wardrobe. The small bungalow I'd refurbished had included three moderate sized bedrooms when I purchased it. By the time I was through remodelling, it was made up of two, plus a small office, ensuite bathroom off the master and walk-in-wardrobe. A girl has to have her priorities straight. And once Kombatan became an important - and secretive - part of my lifestyle, a hidden panel, or cupboard, behind the floor to ceiling mirror at one end of the wardrobe.

I stepped up to the mirror, glanced over my shoulder to see Jason hovering right there, a curious and eager glint in his chocolate eyes, then turned back to see our reflections in the glass. I held his gaze over my shoulder for a moment, then reached up and pressed the right hand corner of the glass firmly with my thumb, making the mirror retract electronically in a smooth glide and soft hum of mechanics.

Behind it was revealed a dozen shelves laden with various sharp implements, each spotlit with LED lighting, all stacked in made-to-measure alcoves, to ensure no damaged while stored. I turned back to face Jason, whose eyes were scanning the entirety of the unit, cataloguing and identifying each weapon, and waited.

"Ordered and stored appropriately," he finally murmured. I guess in reference to his earlier questions from weeks ago,
"So, do you keep them in the bedside drawer or the dresser? In between your Victoria's Secret underwear? Or maybe, stacked in organised piles beside your Kombatan Training Manual?"

I wondered if he was disappointed. He'd said the soldier in him would be impressed if I cared for my blades as my instructor would have advised. But he'd also said that he wanted more from me. He wanted me to push the limits and surprise. I turned my attention back to the knives and tried to see them from Jason's point of view. I couldn't. I was too close to the blades on display. Each one having etched itself on my psyche. I couldn't be impartial when I looked at them, because they meant more than just weapons on display. They meant my independence and my security.

They were an extension of me.

Jason reached past me and ran a finger dangerously down one of the curved blades of an Ulak. I watched mesmerized at his movement. It was reverent and extremely respectful, even though he'd touched the blade which was a big no-no typically in knife wielding martial arts. When his finger finished its caress, he lifted the knife by its leather hilt, weighed it in his palm thoughtfully, then replaced it on the shelf next to its partner.

"Please tell me you know how to use that correctly?" he asked, his eyes finally flicking to mine.

I wasn't sure what they were saying. There was genuine concern for my safety in his gaze, but also something else, I think. Something even more important to me right then. Respect.

I nodded. "Yes. I can use any of these knives competently." My hand waved out in a motion from top to bottom, indicating the whole cabinet and its contents.

"Which are your preferred?" he asked. "Those you are most proficient with?"

My eyes scanned the shelves and instantly honed in on a Kukri. A Nepalese knife with an inward curved edge, not as obviously bowed as the Ulak. It was by no means an attractive blade, but it was well weighted, the hilt fitting my palm perfectly, the 40cm length enabling a certain distance in hand to hand combat. It was the knife I practised with most.

"Gurkha," Jason said, surprise lacing the word. He'd recognised the blade and knew it was the preferred weapon of all Gurkha armies. "I saw one used in Singapore," he said, distractedly.

"I didn't know there were Gurkhas in Singapore," I admitted. "I thought they were only found in Nepal or India."

Jason lifted his eyes to mine, removing his attention from the blade at last. "There's a Gurkha contingent in the Singapore Police Force. You can also find Kukri blades in the Royal Gurkha Rifles regiment in the British Army. It's a good knife, Kate. Good choice."

I let a slow breath of air out at Jason's approval and it seemed, acceptance. I hadn't realised how nervous I was showing him this side of me. It was like I was opening up a secret part of my soul and letting someone, whose opinion I cared about tremendously, take a peek inside. It was an entirely revealing sensation, as though I was stripping naked before the man.

He might have realised, as his face softened with a look of understanding. Maybe it was similar to what he had gone through finally admitting his dominant nature to me, facing up to my potential ridicule or rejection, by showing me his deepest and darkest desires. We had both stripped ourselves bare and thankfully not been found wanting by the other.

"Can you use these accurately?" he asked, lifting up a SOG Fusion throwing knife.

"Yes."

He hesitated, the knife balanced perfectly in his open palm. We both stared at the matt black stainless steel blade. It was shorter than the Kukri by almost twenty centimetres. But it was equally as unattractive. I did own beautiful blades, but somehow I had gravitated toward the utilitarian ones instead.

"If you come with me," he started. I interrupted immediately.

"
When
I come with you."

His amused eyes flicked up to mine. "
When
you come with me," he repeated, flipping the SOG over in his hand easily without even looking at what he was doing, then replacing it on the shelf in its slot next to its brothers, before going on. "You do as I say. No questions. No arguments. Just do it. Understand?"

I held his now serious gaze and registered his determination and his absolute conviction that this was an instruction I could not disobey. I nodded.

"There can only be one person in charge, Kate," he pushed, as if my nod wasn't quite enough to convince him I understood how serious he was.

"I know," I said softly.

"I'm more experienced at this sort of thing," he pointed out. "This is what I do. I can weigh up the risks of a given operation and determine the outcome from a chosen course better than you." I don't think he was trying to be superior. He was simply being Captain Jason Cain.

"I understand, Jason," I said, evenly.

He sighed, ran a hand over his face and said, "If I ask you to leave. You leave. If I say duck, you throw yourself on the floor without blinking. If I say pull back, run, hide,
anything
. You do it. Understand?"

"Understood."

"I don't like this, Kate," he admitted, emotion making his words sound heavy and slightly thick.

"Together," I whispered.

"Baby." But he didn't say anything else, just stared at me for several long, weighty seconds.

I couldn't stand the tension anymore.

"What do think could possibly happen, Jason? Other than being arrested by the Police."

"I don't know, Kate. But that's when the shit usually hits the proverbial fan."

"He's an art dealer."

"A fucked in the head art dealer," Jason clarified further.

"Well, yes. He's unpredictable, but he won't be at ASI," I pointed out. "And I sure as hell won't be pulling a blade on a cop."

"You better bloody not," he shot back. Then sighed, flicked his gaze over the knives still illuminated and on display and then added, "Gear up. Time's not on our side. The longer it takes for us to get what we need from ASI, the more chance that we'll get caught. I'll phone a contact of mine in the SAS while you get armed, see if we can get surveillance images of the city from this morning."

It was a long shot and he knew it, but I was thinking he needed a distraction while I suited up and slipped my knives into place. Jason might have agreed with me being armed and accompanying him on this... what? Mission? God, I really didn't want to label this, it would make it more real. And although I was determined to be with Jason, to not let him out of my sight, I still needed to keep a certain distance from the reality of what we were doing. I'm no soldier, but I am a survivor. I survived two weeks with a broken heart and came out stronger because of it.

Hardly on the same level as a special forces military trained soldier, but in my world, it was something to be proud of. I was determined to make Jason - and my brothers, I suppose - proud of me too. Even if Jason still had his doubts about me going with him to ASI.

I slipped a Kukri blade into a sheath in the hollow of my back, then strapped myself into a harness that contained six SOG Fusion blades down my spine. A bit Lara Croft to be honest. When one blade was pulled, another fell into place replacing it. So each blade could be drawn from the same position, left and right sides of my hips, at my back. A made-to-measure jacket covered them all. From the front, I looked unarmed. From the back I had easy access to my knives, but you wouldn't know it.

I walked back into the bedroom to find Jason still on his cellphone to his contact in the Army.

"OK, Horse. Just whatever you can find would be good. I'll send any pertinent information I gather from local intel that could help. But this is time sensitive, I need something, anything, to go on by tonight."

I couldn't hear this Horse person's reply, but he spoke for several seconds, before Jason finally answered with a half grunt, half chuckle.

"Yeah. I get that. But you would too if you were me." He hung up with a swipe of his thumb across the screen of the phone and pocketed the device swiftly.

His eyes came up to mine, quickly flicking over my clothing, trying to see my blades. He wouldn't be able to, my trainer had supplied both the holsters and the fitted jacket. No point learning to wield a knife and not be able to successfully carry them in reality. He didn't do this for all of his trainees, but Johnson - my trainer - had been aware of why I was doing this, and who my brother was. Nick and ASI had a reputation around this city, even my trainer was aware of the sort of trouble that could land at my door.

"Would do what?" I queried.

His eyebrows rose at my question regarding his final words to Horse. For a moment I thought he wouldn't provide an answer, but his signature smirk graced the corners of his lips and he said, "Would risk my arse for a woman and her family."

Oh.

"Ready?" he asked, coming to his feet before me.

"Absolutely," I replied.

"Kate," he huffed out on a laugh. "I've told you before, baby. You're a crap liar."

I rolled my eyes and received a swat on my butt for my efforts as we left the room and headed toward the front door. He stopped me before my hand could turn the doorknob. His fingers digging into my shoulder blade until I turned to face him fully.

"One more thing," he whispered, and I sucked in a breath prepared for more reminders about how dangerous this could get, and how I needed to follow his instructions without hesitation.

But I didn't receive either of those threats. Just...

"So you don't forget what you mean to me," he murmured, before his face tipped forward and his lips melded to mine.

My hands were in his hair before I registered they had moved. My tongue was wrapped around his in a duel that was both delicious and dangerous. I craved more of the exquisite taste of this man, yet I knew if I gave in to that yearning we'd never make it out of that door in time to beat the tech forensic team to ASI. A battle of wills took up inside my heart and mind. Pull back and get this task over with, freeing Nick and solving the mystery of Tremayne. Or take, perhaps the last chance, to savour this man before me. To worship him with my touch. To sink into the bliss he so easily created.

I moaned as he pushed my back up against the closed door. My knives, sheathed protectively in their holsters, digging into my spine. Competing with the hardness of his chest and thighs that draped down my front. Making me demand more; fingers digging into his back, my breasts pressed up against him; tempting, teasing, taunting.

His hands slipped down my sides, over the curve of my hips. Fingertips brushing the edge of my SOG hilts under my jacket. But even that reminder of what awaited us didn't stop Jason. He grasped my rear, kneaded the flesh for a moment and then slid my back up the door making me wrap my thighs around his waist as he continued to devour me.

I felt his arousal. It matched my own. I could sense his need and hunger. Only equalled in my necessity and longing for him. He rocked his hips, moaned into my mouth and then swallowed my groan in response down. I was panting for breath, clutching his body and mentally willing him to strip me right there and sink inside my aching core.