Locked Up: Locked in Love, #6
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**
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Locked Up - Myra Song
Elise
Blakely.
Elise. Nice to see you again.
He steps closer to me and I instinctively try to put space between us. We’re in public. It’s the middle of the day. He can’t get me. He can’t get me. He can’t—
Blakely reaches out and grabs my shoulder. His fingers are like iron, squeezing in, and I wince from the shooting pain that threatens to disable me. So quick. He’s got me in his clutches again, and I’m just standing like a bozo letting it happen.
Elise, this isn’t you. And Blakely’s just another asshole.
Maybe it’s the lack of gun, or the bustle of the shop behind me. Or maybe it’s Jameson. I like to think it is. His courage in telling me the truth, even if it meant owning up to hurting my family. Either way, I know he needs me. And I need him. We can’t help each other, be there for each other, if I freeze now.
Kimberly?
A worried voice behind me. At first I don’t do anything, but the man sounds more insistent. Kimberly, I’ve been looking for you.
It’s the codename Blakely gave me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see a familiar face. He’s still got his glasses and his earpiece in, just like the party. But it’s definitely the jerk who gave me a hard time when I was investigating. Now he’s coming toward Blakely and me.
That’s when I see Blakely’s hand reaching toward the inside of his jacket. No guns might be thief etiquette, but Blakely doesn’t seem to give a shit. I’m not going to give him the chance to shoot anyone or take me.
He’s so focused on Hollins’ man he misses my shift. Too bad for him. Because I send my scalding coffee into his face.
The scream that comes from him is chilling, but I’m committed to action. As soon as he releases me, his hands grabbing at his burned face, I’m running toward Hollins’ man.
Your car!
He nods, already shifting to run with me, his hand moving protectively to my back. We’re hurtling down the sidewalk, Blakely’s screams drawing a crowd. Good. A crowd helps. I follow Sunglasses around a corner, my Chucks eating pavement. Ahead is a nondescript black car.
Get in the back!
He orders, and I slid into the door, losing my breath on impact. Then it’s flying open and as I tumble inside, he’s already peeling away. There’s a loud crack, followed by a plethora of screams, and I know Blakely’s shooting at us.
The inertia of the car whipping around a corner has me sliding back out, and I’m grabbing, grabbing—until a strong hand closes around my wrist and yanks me inside. Scrambling, I slam the door shut behind me and collapse. Catching my breath is all I’m capable of.
Fuck me, it really was him.
Hollins is in the back seat with me. He pulled me in. When I look up, his eyes are glued to the window and his face is pale.
When my heart isn’t pounding so hard it hurts, I lean back in my seat. Is it like seeing a ghost?
This breaks Hollins from his memories. A bit, yes. When he was caught and sentenced, it felt a bit like burying him.
Why did you and Locke think that would be the end? Surely you imagined he’d get out.
Hollins sighs and turns to me. "We should have considered the possibility. Hubris, maybe, but the three of us are good at breaking into places. Not out."
Are they so different?
I thought so.
Thank you for coming.
My thanks catches, though, as he leans over me. The stark heat of Hollins’