Link'd Up Read online

  He wanted me to ask—I could tell by the gleam in his eyes—so I sealed my lips and folded my arms.

  “I know you’re curious,” Link goaded.

  Oh god, I was. Damn my curiosity. Giving in, I opened my big fat mouth. “What are you looking for.”

  “Don’t ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to.”

  Now that just pissed me off. “Don’t presume you know what I am and am not ready to hear.”

  “What am I looking for? Not a club whore, that’s for damn sure. No high maintenance princess either. Someone with her shit together. Smart, funny, a kind heart… the sort who gives to charities and takes on dangerous cases because she knows it’s the right thing to do.” His eyes sparked with humor as he leaned close and inhaled through his nose. “Who smells like this and makes me lose control at the very thought of fuckin’ her. I need a boss. Someone who gets shit done and doesn’t back down to anyone. Not even me.”

  Link was getting hard again. His growing erection pushed against me through our layers of clothes. He barely even knew me, and yet it sounded like someone had been doing their homework, creeping me out just a little. Maybe he was right, and I hadn’t been ready to hear this, after all. The heat in his gaze said even more than his words, and although it terrified me, I refused to look away.

  He gently brushed a hair out of my face before letting his hand drift to the back of my head. “Stubborn as hell. Strong. Graceful. Beautiful. Kind. I’m not lookin’ for a slut, babe. I’m lookin’ at a fuckin’ queen.”

  It was too much. I needed to get out of there. Link must have seen as much in my expression, because he kissed me gently and released me.

  “I’ll walk you out and give you some time to process, but you need to know that this thing between us… it’s far from over.”

  Emotions warred within me. Fear, excitement, longing. I was so confused, I didn’t even know how to react, so I slung my blazer over my arm, held my head high, and accompanied Link through the common area and out the front door. My hair was down and tangled and I wore his T-shirt with my skirt, but nobody said a damn thing. Thankful for that, I let him settle me into the driver’s side of my Jag and plant a kiss on my lips before I motored off.

  Only then did I allow myself to completely freak out.

  Emily

  BY THE TIME I got my emotions under control, I was halfway home. Before I could go home, I needed advice, and there was only one place I could go to get it these days, my grandma’s. And I definitely couldn’t go there wearing Link’s shirt. Speaking of which, it smelled amazing. I stopped for a light and slid it over my nose. Metal, leather, man, just like Link. Like a junkie, I took another hit before dropping it back into place. Yep, I’d be sleeping in it tonight. Tapping my steering wheel, I pondered about how truly screwed I was.

  Screwed. What an appropriate term. Although, to be fair, what Link and I had done was more like fucking. It had been primal and savage, and exactly what I needed. The sex was awesome. Amazing, even. It was what had happened afterward that now screwed with my head.

  “I’m not lookin’ for a slut, babe. I’m lookin’ at a fuckin’ queen.”

  What the hell did that mean? Outside of his obvious research, Link barely knew me. How did he know whether or not I was a queen? I could be a slut as far as he was concerned.

  And was I really arguing my value down in my mind?

  Clearly needing to focus on something other than Link for a while, I stuck my bluetooth in my ear and dialed Jayson’s cell. It was only four p.m., so technically he should still be at the office, but on days I didn’t have any in office appointments I let him forward the phones and work from home if he wanted. I’d missed a phone call from him about an hour ago, about the time Link had me slammed up against the wall.

  Blushing, I forced myself to stop that train of thought before it picked up speed and ran me over.

  “Hey girl, hey,” Jayson answered. “How did everything go in the biker orgy den?”

  “First of all, I didn’t see any orgies and it’s not really a den. More of an old fire station.”

  “Please tell me it still has the fireman’s pole and that they’re looking for a cute little boy toy to cast off his inhibitions and pole dance in front of a room full of horny bikers.”

  “That conjured up all sorts of images I do not need in my brain.”

  Jayson laughed. “Don’t be salty. I’d save one or two of them for you.”

  I couldn’t unleash Jayson on the Dead Presidents. Those poor bikers would never know what hit them.

  “You’re a ridiculous human being. I went to interview bikers, not to find you man flesh.”

  “You’re an excellent multitasker,” he pointed out. “You could have done both, but fine, talk business to me. What did you find out about big, dark, and handsome?”

  “Apparently, Havoc is up for sainthood. Everyone loves him. He only pummels sleazeballs who deserve it. Have you heard anything from the PI?”

  “He hasn’t found the girl who went missing, but he hasn’t exactly come up empty-handed. Turns out Noah Kinlan is quite the dirty little boy. Last October, one of the girls at U-Dub made a formal complaint about him. Claimed he slipped her something and date raped her.”

  Great. A repeat offender. Sucked for his victims, but it could make my job easier and get Noah locked up for a while. “What happened to the case?” I asked.

  “Within days, she withdrew the complaint and dropped out of college. The PI is trying to locate her.”

  “Good. Keep me posted. If he comes up with an address, I want to be the one to approach her.”

  “One more thing, but in light of the new information from the PI, I want to preface this by saying I don’t think you should do it.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re getting in on this alpha male, tell Emily how to live her life and do her job gig, too,” I deadpanned. “Seriously, Jay. I cannot handle one more bossy man in my life right now.”

  He sighed. “This isn’t me being bossy. This is me selfishly loving my job and not wanting my employer to end up hacked up, stuffed into a weighted barrel, and thrown into The Sound.”

  That was another image I didn’t need in my head. Forcing back a shudder, I joked it off. “I’m too classy for the Puget Sound. When my body gets hacked up and stuffed into a weighted barrel, I’m requesting somewhere warm and tropical like the coast of Fiji or Hawaii.”

  “You’re not funny, Em, but because I know you’ll make me tell you… Becky from Mayor Kinlan’s office called. The mayor would like to schedule a meeting with you to go over his son’s case.”

  “The mayor himself? Not his attorney?”

  “That’s what Becky said.”

  Interesting. “What did you tell her?”

  “That you have a very busy schedule. I requested a few days and times that the mayor is available and told her I’d cross reference them with your schedule and get back to her tomorrow.”

  Taking the exit to my house, I tapped my steering wheel and thought about the situation. I couldn’t very well refuse to see the mayor. I could demand that his attorney, and others, attend the meeting, but that would make me look weak. I needed to schedule it, but on my terms.

  “Call Il Porto. Explain the situation to Abrianna and see if you can get us a table for lunch on one of the days the mayor has available.”

  Il Porto was an upscale Italian restaurant owned by an honest-to-god mafia princess named Abrianna De Lucca. Three years ago her son, Matteo, was set up to take the fall for a robbery one of his associates actually committed. I’d represented Matteo De Lucca, and when he was found innocent and acquitted of all charges, I became like family to the De Luccas. There is no bond like an Italian mother and her son, after all.

  I knew I’d be safe in any establishment Abrianna owned.

  “I’ll let you know what she says,” Jayson promised before hanging up.

  Arriving at home, I fobbed open the garage door and rolled my Jag inside. T
wo years ago, I’d purchased a three bedroom, two and a half bath, seventeen hundred square foot townhouse in the Rainier Vista neighborhood. It wasn’t too far from my office in the International District, and it had a garage, making it worth the more than seven hundred grand I forked out for it. Seattle real estate prices were beyond outrageous, but I loved the city and had no intention of moving.

  I hurried upstairs, changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my gym bag, and headed back out, planning to stop off at the gym after Grandma’s house.

  Although I liked to think I was brave and independent, only an idiot wouldn’t be anxious about taking on the son of the mayor of Seattle. This wasn’t my first case against one of the city’s less savory characters, though, so I knew the drill. Over the past few years I’d developed numerous practices to keep myself from becoming a victim. I visited the gym regularly, focusing on both strength (so I could disable an attacker) and cardio (so after they were down I could run like hell). I had a Concealed Carry Permit and was an active member of the West Seattle Sportsman’s Club, which meant I knew how to use the dainty little Ruger LC9 I kept tucked in my purse. For situations not requiring lethal force, I also carried pepper spray and a taser.

  But, as any decent self-defense instructor will tell you, the key to staying alive isn’t weapons, physical strength, or speed. It’s paying attention to your surroundings. Over the years, I’d gotten really good at noticing when something was out of place, which was how I knew I had a tail.

  I spotted the blue motorcycle, parked three doors down, the minute I’d backed out of my garage. A few of my neighbors rode bikes, but none of the motorized variety. Keeping an eye on the mysterious biker in my rearview mirror, I drove out of my neighborhood and headed for the freeway. He hung two to three cars back for a few miles. Growing increasingly wary, I changed freeways. Traffic bunched up and I lost sight of him. Just when I thought I was in the clear, he showed back up, once again three cars back.

  Frustrated, I took the next exit, pulled into a busy shopping center parking lot, parked and dug through the papers in my briefcase.

  The blue motorcycle drove past me and turned into the next lot.

  Keeping one eye on him, I found the paper Link had given me and dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Link here.”

  I didn’t even bother introducing myself. “Do you have someone following me?” I snapped.

  “You know, babe, you don’t need an excuse to call me. You can ring my cell anytime you want.”

  Could he be anymore cocky? This wasn’t a time for jokes, it was a time for honesty. My heart was racing as I kept my purse full of goodies in sight, just in case the biker decided to come for me. “He’s driving a blue Harley. Is he one of yours or not?”

  Link must have heard the panic in my voice, because he got serious really quick. “Yes. I didn’t mean to scare you. I told you I’d be putting a man on you.”

  “And I told you not to.”

  “Yeah, well how’d that work out for you?”

  I was going to have to kill Link. Yes, he was hot, but he was far too cocky to live. “Call him off,” I growled.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, not happening.”

  Sweetheart? I don’t know what pissed me off more, the nonchalant way he kept giving me pet names or the fact each one made me want to curl up in his lap and purr.

  “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m a grown ass woman and the minute I feel like my life is in danger, I will hire my own bodyguard. I have a service I’ve used in the past and am very happy with it.”

  “Are they ex-military?” Link asked.

  Taken aback, I replied, “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I told you I’d put a man on you, and that’s what I did. I bet Mayor Kinlan already knows you’ve taken this case and I wouldn’t put it past him to screw with you.”

  It would probably be wise to tell Link that I would be meeting with the mayor soon, but because of that comment, I didn’t.

  “I understand and appreciate what you’re saying, Link,” I said in the voice I used to deal with irrational, crazy clients. “But again, I can and do take care of myself, and right now I have somewhere private I need to go.”

  “Where?”

  Was he for real? “To that place that’s private.”

  “And where would that place be, exactly?”

  I had a white-knuckled grip on my steering wheel. He was about to get my claws. “You know, that little shop on the corner of None-of-Your-Damn-Business Avenue and Go-to-Hell-Link Boulevard.”

  He chuckled, but there was a hint of ice to his tone. “Next time I see you, I’m gonna put something in that smart mouth of yours. I’m not calling him off, darlin’, so I guess you’ll have to take him with you.”

  Before I could argue, the line went dead.

  I stared at my phone in shock. Thirty-one years old and now I had a babysitter? The biker still hadn’t taken his helmet off. For all I knew, Freddy Krueger could be hiding under that visor. Glancing around the shopping center, I homed in on an outdoor supply store. Parking in front of it, I hurried in and bought a set of binoculars before returning to my car. If Link was going to have someone keeping an eye on me, I was damn sure going to know what my bodyguard looked like.

  I wasn’t about to lead some strange man to Grandma’s, so I headed to the gym. By the time I finished my workout, it was dark and raining. Hoping my babysitter was miserable out in the elements, I headed home.

  Once in my townhouse, I kept the living room light off, pulled out the binoculars, and checked out the neighborhood. The blue Harley was parked across the street three houses down again. Scanning the area, I found the bike’s rider leaning up against a tree. He finally had his helmet off, so I got a good look at his face. Just a kid, he couldn’t have been much older than eighteen, good looking, too. And now he was out there getting rained on.

  Served him right.

  Content that I’d seen the face of the man following me, I headed to the kitchen to make dinner. Outside my window, the rainfall increased. The biker had to be cold and miserable out in it, but I refused to feel sorry for him as I threw together a spinach salad and waited for the raviolis to finish boiling. Really, it was a lot of food. Way more than I could eat alone. Glancing back out into the pouring rain, I wondered if the biker was hungry.

  It wasn’t the kid’s fault Link had sent him to stalk me.

  Irritated by both the situation and my stupid bleeding heart, I called Link again.

  “Is this a booty call?” he asked. “Because I’m not usually that kind of man, but for you, doll, I could make an exception.”

  I rolled my eyes, picked up the binoculars, and went back to the window. The kid was still leaning against the same tree, watching my house. When I was a kid, one of my friends had a giant guard dog that they’d have to kick out of the house whenever company would come over. The dog would sit in the back yard, staring at the door—his expression caught somewhere between sad and watchful—waiting for someone to let him in. The kid’s expression reminded me of that dog.

  “Call off your guard dog.”

  “No.”

  “It’s cold and raining and he’s got sad droopy eyes like a bullmastiff.”

  “What did you say?” Link asked.

  I repeated myself.

  He laughed. “You’re right. He does have sad eyes. Congratulations, babe, you just gave the kid a road name.”

  “Is that like a nickname?”

  “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

  “You can’t name him after a dog. That’s demeaning.”

  “I didn’t. You did. But if it makes you feel better, we’ll call him Bull.”

  “I don’t care what you call him, as long as you let him go home.”

  “No.”

  “I can’t believe you’re making him stay out there in this weather. That’s a dick move, Link.”

  “You know what’s a dick move?” he asked. “
Presuming you know what’s best for my men.”

  Frustrated, I tapped my forehead against the windowpane. I didn’t want Link to be an asshole. I wanted him to be the man I’d met in his office… a nostalgic philanthropist with a giant cock, an extraordinary tongue, and a penchant for sexual dominance, carrying on his father’s mission to help people. Was that too much to ask? “Then tell me why he’s out there. What’s going on with this kid?”

  Link didn’t respond.

  “Please?” I asked.

  “You sure know how to push all of my buttons,” he finally replied.

  “You don’t say? Well, ditto.”

  He chuckled, then his tone grew somber. “His name’s Deryk. Well, it’s Bull, now, thanks to you. He was just past the two and half year mark in the Navy when his long-term girlfriend committed suicide while away at college.”

  Not what I’d been expecting. I sucked in a breath. “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah. He did some digging and found out she was raped. She turned in the attack, but nobody believed her. She never told Bull about it, I think that’s the worst part for him. Some asshole in his unit mouthed off, saying she was probably a slut who deserved it. Bull put the guy in the hospital. He served a few months. The Navy wouldn’t let him back into the service afterward, on account of him lacking the proper amount of remorse for his actions.”

  “In other words, he’d do it again if he got the chance,” I guessed.

  “Bingo. When I told him why you’re helping Havoc, he volunteered to keep an eye on you.”

  I peered at Deryk through the binoculars again. “He still shouldn’t be out there in this weather.”

  “Well, I’m not calling him off, so you do what you need to do. Goodnight sweet cheeks.”

  He hung up.

  We really needed to discuss his phone etiquette, and his use of pet names. Not tonight, though. Dinner was getting cold, and so was Deryk. I slid on my rain jacket, flicked up the hood, and headed across the street.

  When Deryk saw me approaching, he headed for his bike. Adjusting my course, I intercepted him.

  “Deryk, right?” I asked.

  He stared at me, obviously unsure whether or not he should answer.