Code Name: Genesis (Jameson Force Security #1)(4)

There was never any doubt of where I’d go once I approached the ticket agent at the airport. The police officer kindly came in with me, and he stayed by my side until I made it to the security line. Still, I didn’t stop looking over my shoulder until I was on the plane to Vegas and every last passenger had boarded. My life was now one led by fear and survival instinct, and I knew I couldn’t survive it alone.

To my surprise, we get to Kynan’s front door and Rachel punches in a security code to unlock it. She pushes it open, then motions me inside.

The splendor of his house is lost on me—not because I’m immune to opulence, but because it’s not important to me. Over the years, many things I’d thought were important just aren’t anymore.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I scan around with minimal curiosity. Mostly, though, all I feel is nervousness over seeing the man I once loved who now hates me.

Rachel shuts the door, and I follow her into the open living room with a view of a spacious veranda. It’s filled with potted plants, a huge grill, and high-end furniture, but I barely take it in.

The sound of a door opening above catches my attention. I sweep my gaze up the massive, curved staircase that sits between the foyer and living area. There’s laughter—both male and female—and then Kynan appears with a ravishingly beautiful woman wearing nothing but a short, silky robe. It’s tied so loosely at her waist that her breasts are bared. His arm around her waist, he’s whispering something in her ear that causes her to giggle again as they descend the staircase. Kynan’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt. His dark blond hair is mussy. It’s clear they just rolled out of bed.

The first time I see him in twelve years, my only thought is about how time has been damn good to him. His hair is worn the same way, along with his trademark facial hair that hovers somewhere between a short beard and a five o’clock shadow. Clearly, he takes his health seriously as his body is as buff and cut as it was when he was twenty-six. Those arms, sleeved with tattoos, were always my weakness. Apparently, they still are because I stare at them too long.

My face flushes with embarrassment over being in Kynan’s home, unannounced and clearly ruining an evening with his girlfriend. Even worse is that I continue to ogle him shamelessly.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, his eyes come to me, but they linger only briefly and without a flicker of emotion before he addresses Rachel. “I don’t need anything else tonight, Rach. Get home to Bodie and Tony.”

Rachel inclines her head, then gives me a last reassuring smile that misses the mark with me. “See you later, Joslyn.”

“Bye,” I whisper, my throat feeling extremely parched from nerves and still raw from last night’s attack.

When the door closes behind Rachel, Kynan drops his hand to the woman’s ass and squeezes. “Be a love and get me a club soda from the bar.”

That damn British accent is still sexy as hell, too, and I hope there’s not going to be a lot of conversation tonight. I’m in sensory overload.

“Not another scotch?” the woman purrs with her hand to his chest as she leans into him.

He shakes his head, then glances at me. “Want something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

Kynan’s eyes dip briefly to my throat. He’d have to be blind not to notice the bruising, but I don’t see so much as a facial tick from him. His expression stays as bland as unbuttered grits.

The redhead sashays off, neither bothering to make any introductions. Briefly, I watch her swaying hips while she makes her way over to a recessed wet bar built into one wall before I turn back to Kynan. I swallow to wet my throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be barging in like this and interrupting your time with your girlfriend. I can go to a hotel, and we can meet in your office tomorrow.”

Both Kynan and the woman give simultaneous snorts of amusement, but she’s the one who responds. “Oh, I’m not his girlfriend.”

Confused, I look back and forth between them.

Kynan just shrugs. “We met this afternoon.”

“Oh,” I say softly, the implication hitting me. I’m not shocked over a one-night stand because there’s nothing wrong with a little fun, but why in the world did he have Rachel bring me here?

“We met at The Wicked Horse,” the woman adds conversationally. “I was getting flogged in the stocks, and Kynan rescued me. Whisked me off to this luxurious mansion for an evening of fun.”

I blink stupidly, trying to process the strange sentences. “I’m sorry. The Wicked Horse?”

“It’s a sex club I belong to,” Kynan replies offhandedly on his way to a sumptuous-looking armchair. He drops down with elegant grace, then motions toward the couch to indicate I should take a seat.

Now I’m shocked. So much so I’m rooted to the spot. “Sex club?”

“Oh, don’t sound so boorish, Joslyn,” Kynan chastises in that godforsaken hot British accent. “You should give kink a try. You would have no shortage of movie stars and rock gods lining up for you.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I’m rendered speechless. A glass of club soda in her hand, the woman saunters over to Kynan. She settles right on his lap. When his hand goes between her legs, my entire body freezes.

And I don’t mean to squeeze her thigh or give her a quick caress.