Captor Mine (Base Branch Series Book 13)

by Megan Mitcham

  “I can make it to the couch.” He tried to shirk her hold.

  “No, you don’t. Shower first.” She held tight.

  “All right, Doc. You’ve got me naked already. You wanna get wet and wild? Let’s go.”

  If he weren’t sporting broken ribs, she’d jab him good with an elbow. In the beginning, his suggestive talk had shocked her, but the more time she spent with him, the more she realized he used innuendoes to shove her away. He barricaded himself from vulnerability with sex. Hell, she should go back to school for her PhD in psychology.

  “Keep it up, and I’ll use non-lidocaine antiseptic on you.” Not. Her skin crawled just thinking about inflicting unnecessary pain on him.

  “You’re a horrible liar,” he wheezed and patted her shoulder. “Haven’t we been over this before?”

  Kat smiled, unable to stop the effects of his charm. “You might have mentioned it in passing.” She rolled her eyes. “Where’s the bathroom in this place?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  She assessed the scene. They entered a small living room with a kitchen partitioned off immediately by a double-sided fireplace and on the other side by a four-top dining table. Windows revealed the wonder of a long staircase that descended three hundred meters or more to the majestic lake below. The house only gave them one option. They hobbled down a wide corridor to the first doorway. It offered a tiny bedroom with a twin bed. The second doorway across the hallway contained a large bed, and the third and final door led to a bathroom bigger than both bedrooms combined.

  “Sorry, but Norwegian architecture makes no sense.” Hunter gawked at the two showerheads that poked from the wall and poured—if turned on—into the middle of the tiled room. “It’s one of the nicest locker rooms I’ve ever seen. Even has a sauna.”

  A small door to the right housed the toilet, and sure enough, across from the shower area with no curtain whatsoever was a door to a respectably sized sauna.

  “I’m not Norwegian.” Kat shuffled them forward to the showers and turned on the closest one to the proper temperature. “Here. I’m going to find a first-aid kit.”

  “So wet but not wild?”

  Kat looked at his stubble covered face and the smile it boasted despite the agony hiding in his eyes. Maybe his gruff humor had less to do with her and more to do with him. Many people used hilarity as a coping mechanism. She would…were she funny at all.

  “I’ll be back,” Kat breathed.

  “I’m an asshole. Sorry.” He grabbed the wall and hopped under the spray.

  “No, you’re not. You’re just coping the best you know how. We both are.”

  She turned away before he could respond and scoured the house. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t coping. After her father had thrown her into the room the second time, she shut off all emotional reservoirs. This was autopilot. This was live through to see the next day. This was insanity. The bedroom closets were the reasons the bedrooms were so small. The massive closets boasted MREs, first-aid kits, and enough ammunition to start a war but no guns.

  Kat pulled out what she needed and left the rest, hoping beyond hope they didn’t have to eat the pre-packaged calorie-heavy cardboard. She walked back into the bathroom and halted in the doorway. Hunter wasn’t masturbating or doing anything overtly sexual, yet her tongue swelled in her mouth. Other things swelled too, all because this man simply ran a soapy hand over his dark skin. Suds collected and ran in streams down the sculpted curves of his abs and glutes.

  “What’d you find?”

  Her mouth fell open. She hadn’t made a sound. His swollen eye was to her just as it had been in the car. Guess he wasn’t as blind in that eye as she expected.

  “Any chow? The butler didn’t make it to my quarters the past few days.”

  “Oh, my God.” Kat covered her mouth to stem the gasp.

  “Don’t worry. They gave me plenty of water.”

  With Hunter, she couldn’t tell if he meant they kept him hydrated or if they’d held his head underwater for long minutes at a time. Goose bumps crawled over her chest and arms. She rushed forward. “There are plenty of medical supplies, but no food. I’ll go get some things as soon as I assess you and treat your wounds.”

  “No food? There should be a shit ton of MREs in this place?”

  “I don’t consider that food.” She set the kit on the counter, opened it, and laid antiseptic and an array of bandages next to the bag.

  “You just have to pick the right ones and prep them correctly. While you are a connoisseur of high-end automobiles, I happen to be a renown MRE chef.” He pivoted toward her, tilted his head back, and let the water wash away the bubbles from his head and chest. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll have your mouth watering.”

  Too freaking late.

  “I’ll try one.” Kat licked her lips. “But I’m getting real food, and you’re having a properly cooked meal this evening.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Hunter lifted his hand to her face.

  Until his thumb dragged across her cheek and over her chin, she hadn’t realized how close she’d been standing. He lifted his hand to the water and washed away the blood.

  “I didn’t know I had…” Kat let the words trail away when his finger returned, cupping her face in his big hand.

  He pulled her forward. Her ugly medical ward shoes squeaked against the wet tile. It sounded very far away, like in another universe. Where she was, nothing existed except his hand on her skin and his lips that drew ever closer. His approach was painstakingly measured. Every millimeter he ate between them gave her ample opportunity to escape. Her feet refused to move. Not even a single warning bell rang in her brain, though she knew they’d come later.

  Right now, she drank him in. The earnestness in his gaze, the triumph over agony, the determination to possess her mouth. He made no qualms about his open desire for his lips to meet hers. His amber gaze shifted only from her mouth to her eyes and back. Her lips parted, granting the permission he sought but didn’t request.

  Kat’s pulse thundered over the water rushing from the showerhead. Desire melted her restraint and all common sense. Need pounded against her sternum, rousing her nipples. His hands didn’t roam her body or grope, but his expression titillated all the same. Better even. He roused her mind and, in turn, her body.

  His mouth, even split and swollen, slid slowly and sensually over hers. They filled the gap between her lips and sucked deeply against her upper one. Her eyes slipped closed. He used his hand to tilt her head to the perfect angle. His tongue glided across her sensitive flesh, teasing and taunting.

  Kat’s hands lifted to his neck, the only place she hadn’t seen any bruising or wounds. Water splashed onto her hands. She held tight, needing a solid foundation in the tumult of arousal and sensory stimulation.

  Hunter’s chin moved the position of their mouths. His tongue delved inside hers, laying claim to every nerve ending in which it came into contact with. When she ate something delicious, she made this sound, an almost audible yum. It drove her father crazy, and she’d nixed the behavior until it slipped through her and Hunter’s lips. She jerked in reaction. He stopped kissing her but held her in place until her eyes opened. Lip to lip, he pressed one last kiss to her mouth.

  “Yum indeed.” He straightened, washed the back of her hand, and kissed it.

  “You should stop.” Kat pulled back a step, taking her hand as she moved. “You can’t keep kissing me.”

  “I assure you I could kiss you for an obscenely long time. Now, how about you tell me why I shouldn’t.”

  “Because.” She shrugged, tossed up her hands, and then dragged them down her face. “Everything that’s happened…”

  “None of which was your fault.”

  Did he really believe that, or was he just wooing her? Intellectually, she knew none of this sat on her shoulders, yet she bore the weight of her father’s—hell, her family’s—crimes, though she didn’t know what they were. Not all of them.
The ones she knew he’d at least condoned roiled. They smashed her collarbones and made breathing impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Aron’s white peeled eyes staring back. Every time she looked at Hunter, she saw the brutal beating he’d endured.

  “Take a shower.” He kissed her hand one last time. “It’ll help. I’ll fix lunch and air dry. We can eat, and then you can play doctor on me.” His brows waggled.

  It eased a little of the load off her tired back. “I don’t play doctor.”

  “Every woman has a fantasy. I’ll figure yours out before long. Then I’ll make it a reality.”

  Her fantasy. Sexually, she was as vanilla as they came and didn’t have a kinky dream to be played out in a dimly lit room. Her real-life fantasy, the one she hardly ever let herself dream about, snuck in the back door of her brain. More than any title, money, or prize, Kat wanted someone to love her. To love her truly and completely despite her social awkwardness and frumpiness. She wanted someone to trust, who would trust her with their deepest secrets and greatest hopes. Never, not one day in her life, did she expect it to become a reality. Her mother had left her. Her father treated her like a possession, not a person. If you couldn’t trust the people who created you, you could trust absolutely no one.

  Besides, Hunter wasn’t the type for forever. It didn’t take an MD or PhD to figure out that one.

  Lunch—a freaking MRE—was delicious. Hunter hadn’t lied. The man made a masterpiece out of food and chemicals processed from years ago. Her clothing and market runs went off without a hitch, despite her nerves running away with her at every stranger who passed. Hunter got a much-needed nap while she cooked a delicious meal for them. It tasted amazing. She suspected it had more to do with the freedom aspect than her culinary skills. For too long, she’d eaten what had been provided. Sure, no dishes or chores were nice, but not as nice as freedom.

  Warmth seeped back into her psyche. The food helped. The stunning lake view helped. Being safe helped most of all. Kat eased against the back of the dining chair.

  Hunter set his plate to the side, bore both elbows onto the table, and looked her square in the eyes. “Time to talk, Kat.”

  Everything fuzzy, warm, and happy crashed and burned. No survivors.

  “Where’s the phone?”

  Kat chewed on the inside of her cheek and contemplated her options. Lie and be known as a fraud. Tell the truth and face his wrath. Nerve endings knotted together. Her pulse ox dove through the floorboards. The moment she’d found the phone, she’d wanted nothing more than to call the authorities and her co-workers and dash back to her life. She wasn’t ready to turn her father in, and she refused to put her co-workers in harm’s way. So, she’d hidden it immediately.

  He waited patiently, breathing deeply as she’d demanded.

  “I don’t see one.” She shrugged.

  Hunter sighed. “Not a lie.” His thick lips rubbed together. He licked them, causing her already wobbly insides to flip. “I don’t see one either. That’s why I asked you where it is.”

  “I—”

  He held up his hand. “Before you don’t lie again, I’ll save us both some trouble and give you four questions. You choose one to answer honestly. A smart doctor like you should know the difference between a non-lie and honesty.”

  The prodding shoved the butterflies from her stomach and stoked a sweltering fire to life. “Who says I’ll answer any of them?”

  “Me.”

  “Really?” She stood and knocked her chair over backward. A first. Never had she allowed herself to show so much emotion. Now she couldn’t rein it in. “How are you going to do that? Are you going to hurt me to get the information?”

  Hunter stood slowly, reaching his full height—towering over her—with considerable effort. “No, Kat. I don’t get off on hurting people. I’m not like your father.”

  The tears started without her permission. She hated them. She hated him. She hated everything. Her oblivion for so many years when it came to her father. Her meekness. Every damn thing she’d clung to through the years had been stripped from her over the past two months.

  Kat grabbed her plate with the intention of placing it in the sink and storming out. The moment the porcelain met her grip, she reared back and slung the damn thing with every ounce of strength she could muster. She wasn’t a gym rat, but she cracked bones—used to—multiple times a day. The explosion of impact shook the room. Damaged be damned.

  She turned and tore from the room, leaving him with what he’d asked for. Brutal honesty. “I hid the phone, and you can’t have it. I need time to work through some stuff.”

  19

  “What the hell are you doing?” Kat stood in the doorway with the knob in her hand and a ferocious glare on her pretty face.

  Fucking great. Ignoring her got harder and harder with each passing day. Another day and here it was, harder still.

  Spending late afternoons sitting on the back porch gave her skin a healthy glow. Early morning runs helped settle the restlessness that had presented in the form of rabid pacing in the early days at the house…after her outburst, at least. Her weekly trips to the local market helped too. Shopping had some weird chemical effect on a woman’s brain. Vail’s assistant, Rhonda, had said once that shopping soothed their primal urges. She’d said something about nest prepping. He didn’t understand it, but he liked the trade-off in her demeanor. Minus the nest business.

  Kat had her releases. Why couldn’t he have his?

  “Pull-ups.” He managed to keep a straight face and finished his first set of fifty for the day. Over the past week, he’d worked up from sets of five. Holy Mother in heaven, those first few days had hurt like the devil himself had rammed his horns into his sides. And weak. Shit. He hadn’t felt so useless since elementary school.

  “I see that.” She shoved the door wide and stepped into his bedroom, aka the secret gym. “You’re supposed to be on limited activity for six weeks, not three.”

  “How about two?”

  “You’ve been working out for a week already?” The pink in her cheeks deepened to a rosy red. “Hunter Masters, do you want to puncture a lung and die, or worse, have to be driven to a hospital and found by my father’s men?”

  After all this time, she refused to discuss her father, his involvement in murder and other criminal activity, and skewed his responsibility with phrasing like father’s men. They weren’t the ones who drew pleasure from beating him with cane poles and dipping his head into a trough until he blacked out only to revive him and do it again. He felt his anger rise and wanted her to leave so he could work another part of his wrecked body. Maybe it would drain some of the frustration knotting his insides.

  “No.” He straightened his leg, found the floor, and released his hold on the closet’s wood frame. “I want to get ready for the day I knock on your father’s door and repay him and his men for their hospitality.”

  Her jaw screwed tight. Both her shoulders rolled in the sweaty tank she wore. He had to pull his gaze up from her legs and focus on her anger-thinned mouth. “You can’t do that.”

  “The hell I can’t.” He hopped forward and rested a hand on the tall dresser.

  Kat’s blonde brows drew together, and her blues shifted to his nub and back to his face in question. She might as well have kicked him in the nuts. He knew he’d never be able to return to his job as a sniper and covert operative for the Base Branch. No matter his will to and no matter how far prosthetic technology had come in the last decade, he’d never be one-hundred percent. If he wasn’t reliable, he’d place his brothers’ lives in jeopardy, and he’d rather slowly waste away than gamble with their lives. It was the real reason he hadn’t pressed the phone issue. He hadn’t cared about giving her time to think. He hadn’t worried about Royan finding them. One call to his commander, Vail Tucker, and fire would rain from the sky onto that sadistic fuck. One call to his commander and a HELO would pick them up, surrounding them with the good guys within the day.

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nbsp; “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Never be sorry. If someone bites you, bite them back…harder. It’s survival.”

  “Is it?”

  It was the only kind he’d known. “You’re back early. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  “But I did.” She stepped around him and closed the closet door. Like he couldn’t just open it again.

  “It could have been worse.”

  “I don’t see how.” She returned to stand toe to toe with him. “One jarring motion could cause the bone to slip and pierce your lung. I mean, you could’ve been doing sit-ups. That’s worse. Have you been doing sit-ups?”

  With Kat this close and the fresh scent of her sweat in his nostrils, his anger faded away. Mischief replaced it. He’d been doing leg lifts. They weren’t sit-ups, but he ignored her question. “You could have caught me jerking off.”

  Her throat worked on a silent swallow, and then her demeanor shifted. A twinkle lit her eyes, and she held her ground for the third time this week. “I’d rather you did that right now than pull-ups.”

  “Right now?” After the first week cooped up in this house with her and his slightly healed wounds, he’d stroked himself to climax nearly every day. Thoughts of Kat kept him amped, but he hadn’t touched her since their kiss. He adjusted the waistband of his athletic shorts to screw with her.

  She grabbed his left hand and threw it over her shoulder. The skin to skin contact with her arm on his bare chest fed his spirits. After the first few days, she’d been distant. She’d always demanded he put a shirt on before she touched him. The speed with which she changed the bandages on his back warped until she could have him stripped, cleaned, bandaged, and clothed in less than three minutes. His back was huge and wounds many. “Maybe later.” Her palm smacked his ass with a crack.

  “Kinky, Doc. I knew you had it in you.”

  Kat giggled and shook her head. “I want to show you something.”

  “Yes!” He launched a fist into the air. “Wait. Are we still talking about masturbation?”