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    Grid Locked: Locked in Love, #4
    Grid Locked: Locked in Love, #4
    Grid Locked: Locked in Love, #4
    Ebook53 pages42 minutes

    Grid Locked: Locked in Love, #4

    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 20, 2016
    ISBN9781386445067
    Grid Locked: Locked in Love, #4

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      Book preview

      Grid Locked - Myra Song

      Elise

      This can’t be happening .

      Locke can’t be a thief. Why in the hell would he steal anything? He’s got enough money to buy whatever he wants. My father forged and conned to make money. To provide a lifestyle for my family and me. Locke already has all of that and more.

      But I can’t ignore the connection here. Locke has disappeared, conveniently, on a business trip while Mrs. Curass’ jewels were missing. And the flower. God, that detail. It isn’t the first time a flower has been left.

      It’s one of dozens. But it’s been years since the thief used his signature. Not since my father was locked away. I know, because I searched for it the entire time I worked as a cop. Kept scanning, hoping for another case to follow. A chance for justice. And revenge. In this case, one in the same.

      My father deserved jail time, but so does the person who got him caught.

      Everything in me is lit up and my pulse is racing. I’ve wanted a sign like this for so long that I’m being torn apart. Because the thief has re-emerged, but it’s looking a lot like the thief is Jameson.

      It makes sense. All the games, his bored-billionaire bullshit—it lines up to something like this. He was so vehement about me not taking Mrs. Curass’ case. Is this why? Was he afraid I’d figure him out?

      Snatching my coffee and croissant, I run to the control room. Now I know to narrow my search. Finding the tapes for the hours of the beginning of the event up until Locke found me in the hall. Nervous, I pop them in and start watching.

      It takes a long time. The video filters through all of the different cameras, so there’s a ton of filler I don’t care about. I don’t skip over it, though—you never know what might pop up. The devil is in the details and all that.

      When it gets to the crowds, though, I slow the playback. Sipping my coffee, I stare, rewinding and watching again and again. The key to good surveillance and observation is to break it up into a grid. Mark your quadrants. It’s easier to take on twenty to fifty people at a time than an entire room.

      I watch. It plays back again, slow, and I finally see the Curass’ arrive. Mrs. Curass waltzes in ahead of her husband, face pinched and eyes darting. In her hands is a green bag. She clutching it to her chest. In a room full of people who couldn’t care less, she’s guarding like a dragon with its treasure.

      The back of a man walks up to her. He’s tall and in a suit, but every man who came is in a suit. His face never turns to the camera. Chewing my lip, I see him and Mrs. Curass talk. Reluctantly, she hands over the bag and he gives her a ticket, just like every other person who brought something to auction or be evaluated.

      The suit then walks toward Hollins’ safe room, just as he should. I make a note.

      Mrs. Curass hands bag over to man in suit. Man in suit to Hollins safe.

      Now I fast forward until the camera view in front of the Hollins’ safe room pops up. There’s me, arguing with the man from Hollins’ security team. There’s me stalking away. There are plenty of men in suits, all with those dumb sunglasses on. Nothing happens and I’m forced to fast forward again through all the other angles until Hollins’ safe room pops up again, with all the security. They go in and out and it’s difficult to see, but finally the one enters in with the green bag. He’s got dark hair, almost black.

      Just like Locke.

      But from the view, it is too far

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