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    Lady Locke: Locked in Love, #8
    Lady Locke: Locked in Love, #8
    Lady Locke: Locked in Love, #8
    Ebook50 pages42 minutes

    Lady Locke: Locked in Love, #8

    By Myra Song

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    About this ebook

    ** FINAL VOLUME! **

    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 dateJun 29, 2016
    ISBN9781386787877
    Lady Locke: Locked in Love, #8

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      Book preview

      Lady Locke - Myra Song

      Elise

      SLOW SUFFOCATION SUCKS. Literally. I’m sucking in air, my lungs are filling with it, but there’s so little oxygen that my body is screaming, desperate for air. Not to mention I’m sure I’m poisoning myself with carbon dioxide or something. Can’t be helped, though—instincts are hard to suppress.

      Especially since right now I’m feeling woozy. Maybe a shade worse than woozy. Dylan’s out now. It’s hard for me to see him like this, eyes shut and unconscious, his face a mask of pain. I’d always hoped to see my little brother again, but not under circumstances like these.

      How could he not tell me what he was up to? What was Interpol up to? There were so many hands in the pot, each trying to grab their share—no wonder Blakely had been able to elude the law!

      My fingers run through his hair.

      So. All this time we were doing the same thing in such different ways. Dylan and I had each wanted to catch the man who’d put our father behind bars. For me, that had meant operating within the law. It’d meant police academy, and a degree, and hours of working my ass off to get Detective. I’d wanted revenge, and I’d wanted to help other families like mine. Those ones destroyed by criminals.

      God, I’d felt so dejected when I’d found Dylan’s prints at the museum. It had shredded me. Was it genetic? Was there something I could have done for him to stop him?

      All that time I thought he’d been trying to be our father. That somehow Luis’ influence had been too great for my brother. Instead, Dylan had just been trying to do right by my father. It sounds like semantics, but it feels bigger than that.

      And now I find out he’s been working for the good guys, too!

      Apparently being a good guy lands you in a safe with depleted oxygen. Score a point for the bad guys.

      There are spots in my vision and I know I don’t have much longer. It pains me to think of Locke. I’d really held out hope that somehow he’d find me. Well, if I’m going to die, I want to spend my last living, waking moments dreaming about Locke.

      How his hands feel on my skin. Their ability to bring pleasure, and pain, then pleasure again. I think about his eyes and how they become stormy and dark in his Palace of Perversion. The way he smiles, cruel and beautiful, when I’m tied up.

      The wonderful, sexy twist of his mouth when he comes.

      We would’ve been so good together.

      I’m so foggy and full of love for him I can almost hear him on the other side of the safe. That’s fantasy for you. I’m grateful for the power of the fantasy. The way I can hear Locke pleading, the clink of tools on the safe. Like a screwed up white knight coming to my rescue by breaking all the rules.

      Shutting my eyes, I smile and let myself pretend.

      Locke

      MY HANDS ARE SO SWEATY I keep dropping the fucking tools. In six minutes I’ve got the first two numbers cracked. The way it works is this: I hold the stethoscope end over the side of the locking mechanism. Then I have to dial, slow. Because I hear the dialing, the slow is important  for getting the click underneath it as I hit the right number.

      The second part is touch. This is what the first few years of my

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