Evan

by Allie K. Adams

  Evan

  A TREX Rogues Story (Book 1)

  Allie K. Adams

  Contents

  Evan

  Trex’s Mission Statement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  The End

  About the Author

  Books By Allie K. Adams

  Evan

  A TREX ROGUES Story (Book 1)

  By

  Allie K. Adams

  USA Today bestselling author

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  Copyright © 2018 by Allie K. Adams All rights reserved

  First E-book Publication: 2018

  Published by Allie K. Adams

  www.alliekadams.com

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, information or storage retrieval, in whole or in part, without express written permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Trex’s Mission Statement

  Tactical Retrieval Experts (TREX) is a privately funded agency independent of law enforcement, military, or any governmental restrictions. Our focus is on tracking and retrieving anything or anyone. Simply put: we find things. Employing highly trained agents with unlimited resources and extensive experience in covert operations, we will find anything and with guaranteed confidentiality. No matter the circumstances. No matter the danger. Call on TREX—we find what’s been lost.

  1

  “Eight, nine, ten.” Evan McKoy hung by his ankles and lifted his body into crunches, laboring to sculpt the abs he’d worked so hard to achieve. As soon as he spotted the drill sergeant of a Resident Director approach, he picked up the pace. “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.”

  “Nice try.” Leonard Walsh, the RD of one of the halfway houses TREX owned for former agents, siblings of agents, and anyone in between, didn’t even look up from the manila folder in his hands. A tall, beanpole of a man, with a bushy gray mustache that covered most of his face, Walsh looked more like an old country western singer than someone running temporary housing for people unwilling to accept the things they cannot change, unable to change the things they cannot accept, and those who struggled to know the difference. It was his job to make sure each and every one of his residents were ready to face the challenges of living with knowing a secret as huge as the existence of a covert agency and not able to tell another living soul—except those living with the secret.

  Like Evan. Like the other rogues that made up this makeshift family of misfits.

  “You’re dripping on my floor,” Walsh pointed out, nodding at the moisture rolling off Evan’s torso and pooling below him. “Be sure to clean that up when you’re done.”

  “Yes, sir.” He rolled up and continued his count.

  Kyle Gibbons, the smallest and youngest resident, concentrated on a problem written on the whiteboard. No bigger than a teenager—and a small one at that—he gave the impression of being weak and helpless. Damned be the person who fell for that. Evan had seen the power of the kid’s brain.

  Evan didn’t know Kyle’s story and probably never would. The kid barely spoke more than two-or three-word sentences—said words weren’t necessary. He showed up a few years back, and they’d barely shared more than a dozen conversations. The special director himself dropped off the kid, said Kyle was a good friend of his son’s and deserved a second chance.

  Second chances were what this place was all about.

  Walsh walked over to the board. “Interesting concept, using a flux capacitor to fuel the device. Too bad you don’t own a DeLorean.” He erased the board, earning a pout from Kyle. “How about you don’t rip off Back to the Future and get back to coming up with your own ideas.”

  He got to work by feverishly sketching out symbols and numbers like a kid ripping through presents at Christmas. Kyle paused, then used his sleeve to erase an entire line, muttering shit over and over.

  “You aren’t old enough to talk like that.” Evan pulled himself up and grabbed the bar to unlatch his ankles. Once free, he dropped to his feet.

  “Screw you.”

  Another two-word sentence.

  “I told you to use something from Star Wars.” Jacob Burns, a copper-topped hothead who’d moved in less than a year ago, invited himself into the conversation. He grabbed a towel and tossed it at Evan. “Gross, McKoy.”

  “What? So I sweat.” Evan used the towel to wipe the floor before grabbing a fresh one and draping it across his neck. He eyed the hint of a spare tire Burns had grown since he’d left spec ops. No doubt the work Walsh had him doing around the property wasn’t nearly as physical as being on the frontline. “Maybe if you sweat more, you wouldn’t need to go up a size.”

  “My pants are the same size they’ve always been.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t need to go up a size.”

  Burns snapped his brow into a frown—an expression the man wore more often than not. “Blow me.”

  “You’re not my type.” Evan laughed and blew him a kiss.

  “Don’t you have a boring job to get to?”

  “Job, yes. Boring, no. Stop by my counter sometime. I’ll give you a free fitting.”

  “I don’t shop at frilly stores. If I can’t buy it off the rack, I don’t bother.”

  Something he knew better than to argue against. Burns wasn’t a fashionista. He wasn’t a fashion anything. He wore socks with his sandals, for God’s sake. Evan toweled off and checked his watch. He still had plenty of time for a shower and something to eat before heading out.

  “Hey,” Walsh said with a nod in his direction. “Any news on the future of the store?”

  “I should know more tomorrow.” It tore Evan in two thinking Kelley’s Department Store might be no more, but he couldn’t ignore the signs. Hushed meetings behind closed doors. A hell of a lot of stiff men in black suits walking around the seventh floor where the senior management hid out. Meetings that didn’t include any of the department heads like him. “I’ve been invited to attend a board meeting this afternoon.”

  “Invited to sit in on the meeting? Or be on the agenda?”

  “I’m on the agenda.” He sighed and tried not to think about what that meant.

  Burns’ scowl deepened. “That’s not good.”

  Walsh spoke up. “If Kelley’s closes, I’d hire you. I could use the extra help around the Farm.”

  The enormous ranch house the agency dubbed the Farm sat nuzzled back in the hills east of Seattle and gave them the seclusion TREX required. On top of sending random family members to the Farm, they also dropped off recruits who couldn’t cut it at Gahanna, TREX’s boot camp for field agents.

  Having a group of rejected field agents, all with something to prove and living on the same grounds, gave Evan reason enough to find his own place in the city. As the brother to an overbearing TREX agent, as well a
s a cousin to an entire litter of overbearing agents, he still needed the outlet the Farm provided. He just didn’t need it every damn day.

  Unlike some of the other residents. He eyed Burns currently cussing out the weight scale. Even switched his attention to Kyle, who’d just erased the whiteboard yet again, dropping all kinds of four-letter words.

  Evan may be required to report in once a week, but nothing said he had to do it in person. In fact, the majority of those in the program checked in remotely. Although he’d rather meet up with Walsh in person, the newer residents at the Farm required the director’s time now. Evan had graduated from young troublemaker struggling to keep a secret to accepting the fact being a part of TREX was so much bigger than being an agent. It was time he acted like it.

  “You’re doing a fine job, Walsh.” Evan waved as he walked out of the gym and up to the main house he used to call home. After a quick shower, he donned the Armani suit he brought with him, transforming from TREX rogue to Evan McKoy, head of the buying department at Seattle’s most elite department store. He loved the feel of the fabric against his skin and grinned as he walked out the door, slipped on his shades, and climbed behind the wheel of his sports car.

  After pulling out of the driveway down the gravel road and onto the highway, he lowered the top. Today felt like a good day despite rumors that some investor had already bought Kelley’s and had plans to turn it into surplus. If any of that were true, he’d know. As a department head, he’d be one of the first to know.

  No, it had to be a rumor. It just had to be.

  It was a beautiful August morning, and Evan let the wind and sun dance in his hair. Sure, it would look like hell when he got into the city, but he had to do it. If he lost his job today, he might have to sell his car. He’d more than likely have to sell his wardrobe as well. The thought broke his heart. He’d spent years and thousands of dollars to look this good. After living on the streets and various other places he’d rather forget, he deserved a little luxury.

  And, damn it, he wouldn’t let it go without a fight.

  He parked his car in his reserved spot in the covered parking garage and locked it up. Glancing at his watch, he still had plenty of time to stop at his favorite coffee stand and pick up this week’s Insider Confidential. He made his way around the corner over to the barista he’d greeted every morning for the past six years.

  “Good morning, Evan.” Chester, a man who never wore anything other than white and looked like a cross between a cook at a greasy diner and… Nope, just a cook at a greasy diner, stains on his clothes and all.

  “Hey, Chester. What’s the word?”

  “Oh, you know. People come and people go. My regulars, like you, keep me in business. The usual?”

  “I’m feeling like a caramel latte today.”

  “One foofy drink coming up. You’re usually a straight-up drip man. What gives?”

  “It’s going to be a foofy day.”

  Chester chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you say.” He nodded at the Insider Confidential sitting patiently among the other gossip tabloids. “I see your hero graces another front page.”

  Evan picked up a copy and read the headline. Playboy Billionaire Caught in the Act! Sucking in his lower lip, he bit down as he flipped to the cover story. It was a guilty pleasure, but God how he loved to read anything and everything about Clint Duke. He spotted a photo of the gorgeous man in a pair of tight shorts, at least half a dozen women surrounding him. Evan let out a sigh.

  “So?” Chester broke him of his thoughts. “Anything good?”

  He quickly recovered by clearing his throat. “You haven’t read the story?”

  “I never have time to read those things.”

  “‘Clint Duke, aka the Playboy Billionaire, was spotted at Ocean Shores, a flock of beach bunnies accompanying him.’”

  “It ain’t right having all them people follow him around just to catch him doing something wrong. Where’s the dignity in a job like that?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “Damn right.” Chester tapped his barista cart. “I’m here at five every morning serving hard workers like you. Weekends, too. Now that’s a job. Chasing some guy who can’t keep it in his pants ain’t no job.”

  “No argument here.” He knew better. Chester had been the only person willing to help him when he’d needed it most. He’d never treated him any different than he treated his other customers. Not from when Evan had no choice but to wear the same clothes since they were the only ones he owned, until now, when he wore suits that cost more than Chester’s cart.

  “I personally like the part about the flock of beach bunnies,” Evan commented with a smile.

  “That would be a herd of bunnies,” he corrected, always good for a plethora of useless facts. “You know reading that stuff rots your brain, don’t you?”

  “Then it’s too late for me.” He folded the gossip tabloid under his arm, paid Chester for the coffee and paper, and dropped a sizable tip into the cup.

  “You’re too good to me, Evan.” He beamed at the tip.

  “I guess that makes us even.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “I hope so.” If he lost his job today, he’d make it a point to continue to visit. The man had given Evan attention when everyone else passing him by didn’t bother a second glance. A hot cup of coffee on a cold day. A stale bagel no longer sellable. Conversation when business was slow.

  Evan decided to take the elevator to the fourth floor of the department store instead of the usual stairs for the chance to absorb every detail of the latest gossip on a man that had held his attention since he’d first read about him.

  There were several photographs of Duke laughing and flirting with all the women around him, which only irritated Evan. If the man didn’t want to get caught, he should know better than to parade around on display for the paparazzi to catch him.

  The elevator whooshed open, and he walked out, his nose in the paper. He made his way over to his counter and set the tabloid on the glass, never losing his place. He still had half an hour before the store opened, and it only took him ten minutes to set up, which gave him twenty glorious minutes to relish in the wonderful world of Clint Duke.

  It seemed the playboy billionaire had gotten himself in a bit of trouble a few weeks back when he’d been caught on camera with a councilman’s daughter. His engaged daughter. Evan read on to find out she wasn’t the only one Duke had seduced right there on the beach, with more pictures to prove it.

  He shuddered. The beaches of the Pacific Northwest were gray and damn cold. He shouldn’t be doing anything on the beach aside from collecting sand dollars and trying to get them to skip as he tossed them into the ocean, like Evan did at least once every summer since leaving home.

  “Good morning,” a deep baritone sounded.

  Leaning on the counter, his hand supporting his head, Evan pulled his attention from the paper and damn near swallowed his tongue. He flicked his gaze from the tabloid up to the incredible statue before him and down again. Realizing who it was, he jerked upright and straightened his tie.

  Clint Duke, in the flesh. Sweet Jesus have mercy. He looked even more delectable in person.

  The man had dark, wavy hair long enough to brush his broad shoulders, and wore it back from his face. It accented his fierce, rakish features. High cheekbones gave his brown eyes a wicked gleam that had Evan’s heart beating faster as hunger grew inside him. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to reveal tanned arms and a beautiful gold Rolex. He had the buttons of his shirt undone enough to show off a modest display of coarse chest hair that Evan wanted to run his fingers through. His pants fit snug on his muscled legs and cupped the bulge between them perfectly.

  The photos definitely did not do this man justice.

  Damn it. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself for noticing him this much, if at all. A tingle stemmed at the base of his neck, and he reached up to rub it. He couldn’t afford to let his ar
ousal threaten his restraint. It was hard enough resisting the thought of this man. When he stood not more than five feet away, fueling Evan’s system with heated hunger, no way would he be able to hide his attraction.

  “Yes?” He cleared his throat when the word came out an octave higher than his normal speaking voice. “Can I help you?”

  His eyes gleamed in a wicked look that had Evan both intrigued and interested. “I’m taking names.”

  He frowned and glanced at the iPad in Duke’s hands. “Names? For what?”

  “For my list.” He tapped the tablet. When he grinned, Evan forgot why he asked the question in the first place. That smile could melt the polar ice caps. It definitely had him feeling the heat. “I’m taking names and kicking asses.”

  Too bad that’s not the other way around. Evan had a suggestion for what Duke could do with his ass. He cleared his throat when the burn of his arousal slammed into his cheeks. Evan dropped his gaze to the tabloid, realized it was open to the playboy billionaire story, and quickly jerked it closed. When he glanced up, he caught Duke studying him, a smirk shining in his eyes.

  “A bit of light reading?”

  “It’s what I use to, um…” He glanced around, desperate to find an excuse.

  “Pass the time?”

  “Something like that.”

  He nodded at Evan’s drink. “Whatcha got?”