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    Locked On: Locked in Love
    Locked On: Locked in Love
    Locked On: Locked in Love
    Ebook74 pages1 hour

    Locked On: Locked in Love

    By Myra Song

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Former Detective turned Private Investigator, Elise Martin feels a lot like Atlas-- always trudging uphill. Only everyone thinks it's a chip on her shoulder instead of the world. She'd beg to differ. But now she's got rent due, ramen is getting old, and her former boss, the Police Chief, is making life difficult. So she'll take any job that comes her way. When a fateful encounter drops a security detail and potential case in her lap, who is she to say no? Too bad the man hiring her is one smooth, sexy, gorgeous a**hole. Like, can't-stand-to-share-your-air kind of jerk. But jerk that he may be, he's also a billionaire, and that means his check will cash.

    Jameson Locke is many things. Handsome, charming, meticulous. He's head of a security and safe company and one of the world's wealthy elite. He's also ruthless, calculating, and bored. When he meets Elise Martin, he can't shake her from his mind. Her curves and quick tongue inspire his need to dominate. To control. Even though he knows he can't get close to her, he needs something interesting. A challenge. Elise Martin promises to be that and more.

    Elise and Jameson find themselves locked in a game of wits and resources.

    Locke isn't a man to lose.

    **Ideal for fans of Hannah Ford, Kelly Favor, and Cassie Cross**

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNow and Wren Publishing
    Release dateMar 1, 2016
    ISBN9781386349273
    Locked On: Locked in Love

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      Book preview

      Locked On - Myra Song

      Elise

      W ait, wait. Who am I speaking with? My heart pounds and I feel Locke stirring beside me.

      My name is Marie Curass. I was a guest at Mr. Locke’s auction tonight. My husband and I brought an emerald necklace with us to be priced by the Auctioneer after. When I went to retrieve it from Mr. Hollins’ safe, it was gone! Those incompetents who supposedly locked it away have I don’t know... lost it! Stolen it!

      My body crackles a bit, intuition striking. Two robberies in one night? The Man in Black is sneaking into my thoughts, laughing his malicious laugh. Did he steal it before? Or God... after? When I was letting Jameson ravish me in the safe?

      Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re getting sidetracked from the job, and this is what happens. I’m sorry. Are you still here?

      "Where is here, Miss Martin?" The snooty edge to the woman’s tone isn’t helping her, but I’m feeling guilty enough right now that I’m willing to overlook it.

      Locke’s home. I’m at his home and can meet with you in a minute. As I say this, I scramble off the bed and start yanking on my jeans, keeping the phone between my shoulder and ear.

      Yes, I am at his home. I’d love to meet with him, too, so he can explain how two of the world’s leading securities experts managed to have my jewels stolen out from under them!

      I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet with you, too, Ms. Curass. I’ll find you in front of the Hollins safe in just a moment. Hanging up, I turn to Locke. Looks like our Man in Black was extra busy tonight.

      He sits up in bed. His dark hair is tumbled and mussed and sexy as hell. We’re both tired, the day becoming long, and under his eyes is beginning to purple. I imagine I’m not looking fresh, either.

      We’ve been burning a lot of calories.

      My body feels it, too. My pussy and ass are aching, having been toyed with and fucked for the first time in ages.  My joints are still sore from being tied up, though I have to say—Locke managed to make it desireable. Being bound while he played with me had added an element of trepidation, anticipation, that I’d never considered during sex.

      I can’t even call what he does to me ‘sex.’ That three letter word barely covers his foreplay. The way he makes my body feel is un-fucking-believable, and I’m afraid I’m getting addicted to it, and to him.

      What do you mean? His blue eyes are flashing and he’s joining me in getting dressed. His only clothes are his tuxedo, which is rumpled. Somehow he makes frumpy become sultry, though. My hands pull my t-shirt on and I doubt I am pulling off the messy look half as well.

      I mean that one of your guests has had her jewels stolen from Hollins’ safe. She’s livid at you and him, and we need to meet with her. But if the Man in Black who took the Kane ruby took hers, we’ll be able to see. After all, he didn’t loop that feed—it was still ongoing when we looked at it.

      My nerves are getting jangled. It’s always that way as I get closer to solving a case. It was worse on the force. On the force Dalton would make fun of me, banning me from coffee, as I closed in on solving a case. There is nothing more satisfying than cracking a clue. My eyes dart to the rumpled bed, the scattered ropes that Locke’d used to tie me up. Almost nothing more satisfying.

      You’re kidding me, Locke says, and it gives me pause. Not much. A small skip in my heart, a hesitation in my step. Did he sound surprised? Angry? When he’d found me, bound and scared, he’d been pissed. When he’d discovered that the ruby was gone, he’d been apoplectic. Now another item has been stolen from him, and he sounds... I don’t know. Like it isn’t a big deal.

      Grabbing my sneakers, I pull them on, tying the old laces tight. Well, she wants to meet with us. Both of us. She’s going to hire me.

      Locke holds open the door for me, and as I walk through his hand finds my lower back. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Elise.

      What, taking a new case?

      Yes. You have mine to be concerned about. As a client, I don’t think you should be stretched between two customers. The Kane ruby is a big fucking deal, and I need you on it.

      Scowling, I move quicker, stepping away from his touch. You haven’t actually hired me for the Kane ruby, so you aren’t my client. I need to agree to something, I’m not just a P.I. you can keep in your back pocket and pull out when it’s amusing. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. We need to call the police for a theft of that size. P.I.’s don’t do large theft.

      I’d rather not call the police, Elise, he growls. I had to lie when I sold the diamonds. I called the museum and told them it was a crime they couldn’t keep it and that I’d like to make enough of a donation they could. It’s technically on loan to me right now for a week as a show of appreciation.

      So? Tell the museum what’s happened and why you lied.

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