Locked Out (Locked In Love, an Alpha Billionaire Serial)(Volume 2) (3 page)

Elise doesn’t share my amusement. “You have a sex dungeon?” What startles me isn’t the phrase, but the fact that she manages to sound so genuinely incredulous. Our sexual history is limited, but I don’t think I’ve been shy about my need to control and punish.

“Potato, pohtahtoh.”

Standing, I go to the closet and grab a robe, bringing it to her. “Here.” I love looking at her. The sleeves of her dress tore and the sweetheart neckline is barely containing her magnificent tits. The skirt of the dress is ruined, and standing up, she’d still be flashing herself to anyone who walked by. But she obviously didn’t ask to be displayed, or tied up, so I don’t want her to feel unsafe around me.

The robe seems to remind Elise of her state, and she hurriedly wraps it around her.

“Elise, what happened?”

As she cinches the belt on the robe, I watch her face change. It’s a sudden but subtle shift into her business face. Any connection we had, any tenderness she felt after my rescue is being stowed away.

“A thief. And apparently, a big pervert.” She tacks on the last like an accusation toward me.

A thief? My skin feels crispy, tight, it’s so hot with wrath. There were three thieves that were coming tonight. I know, because I planted all the clues for them. It had taken finesse, but I made sure the information about my new safe and my lack of proper security got leaked to the right people. I don’t like to sell untested products, and the best professionals for safe-cracking are rarely for hire.

They have pride, and part of the pride comes from one-upping the safe maker.

But not one of the robbers I heard confirmation of plans from had any history of hurting women. More importantly, they left her in
this
room. Displayed like a gift.

Elise gives voice to my concern. “He was interested in you, Locke. Said you’d enjoy finding me in here.” Her skin pales as she glances around the room again.

“Did he hurt you?” This comes as a growl. I’ve been trying to stay calm for her. To support her, make her feel safe again. But now I’m barely in control. I haven’t felt this angry since--

No
.

I can’t go there. The past is a dangerous place to wallow in. Mine, especially. It’s filled with a man I don’t want to be anymore, and people who I will never let back in. The intensity of my emotions, their similarity to the old ones, sours my stomach.

My body almost sags with relief when she shakes her head. “No. Not really. It was scary, but mostly it just pissed me off.”

Good girl.
Admiration fills me. Elise truly is different. Her ability to regroup is startling. Already she’s pacing the room, carefully looking at my toys and instruments with frigid interest. Except-- her face is pale, but the creep of pink on her chest and neck makes me wonder if that interest is far from cold.

“Let’s go look at the cameras,” she says. “I want to see that motherfucker.”

She’s right. I give one last look at Elise, the smooth satin of the robe hugging her generous curves, standing in the room I’d love to tie her up and keep her in. This is probably the last time she’ll ever be in here. After tonight, I won’t be surprised when she walks out, wanting nothing to do with me.

Making a mental picture, I lead her to the control room.

Elise

The control room is hot. This is from the multiple large computers in there, I suppose, based on the louder whirring of fans. The heat is a relief. It isn’t that I’m cold. But my body is still trembling. The aftershocks of fear and stress.

My mind keeps wanting to retreat to Locke’s sex room. I’ve already started calling it the “Palace of Perversion.” There were so many
things
in there, many of which I’d never seen before. Their use was not hard to guess, though. I don’t even know how some of those toys fit inside any human orifice, and that shocks me only slightly less than the shelves full of instruments for pain. Like a medieval interrogation room.

What the fuck.

Except…

When Locke found me, and how truly relieved I was it was him, his eyes weren’t just filled with concern. There was an animalistic, primal heat in them that burned me to my marrow. When his strong fingers had been kneading my legs, helping the circulation back in,
caring
for me-- Well, it was a heady mix. In the initial burst of relief from being untied and the lusty way his eyes raked over me, even robed, I found myself wanting to explore the room. Let him show me what everything was for.

But my skin was still crawling from the bastard who’d tied me up in the first place. Finding him became personal. The Detective in me didn’t disappear when I turned in my badge and gun. That part of me was blazing for justice.

We look at the tapes. All of the hallways are empty, except for the patrol. I see one of the guys, Todd, shove his hands in his pockets. It makes me cringe. It looks lazy and unprofessional, and since I
know
there was an intruder, it rankles.

“Can you rewind?”

“Of course. Video surveillance wouldn’t be much use without rewind.” He sounds snide, bitter, and I try not to let it wound me. Peering at Locke from the side of my eye, I notice his whole body is tight, like he’s about to burst from his skin. As he works the keyboard, his fingers strike the keys hard, his typing filling the silence with a machine gun staccato.

It’s not like he was the one who was tied up and groped
. I’m trying not to be offended, but his angry presence sort of swells, taking over the limited space around us. I feel defensive, my own hurt bubbling inside, and the Detective in me takes over.

Relax,
she says.
He’s just discovered his security is shit. Someone was inside of his house and hurt one of his-- friends? Lovers? Employees. That’s gotta make someone upset, especially someone who has so much reputation at stake.

Of course, I don’t forget the coincidence of the thief and the lax security. Or Locke’s obvious interest in hiring me for his amusement.
High stakes, Elise
. He said high stakes.

“Okay, I’ve rewound them an hour. That’s about when you were fleecing Hollins’ security guards.”

My eyebrow raises. “You were watching me?”

“I didn’t want to miss that dress.” It’s meant to be flirty, I think, but his bad attitude tinges it. I choose to ignore.

“You didn’t wear the heels,” he adds. Trying to provoke me?

“Nope. Always the Converse. Chuck’s the most reliable man in my life,” I shoot back.

Now he turns the cheek. “Okay, so you were in comfortable shoes and you’re trained. How did he overpower you.”

My heart beats and my blood becomes ice as I remember the cocked gun. I can still feel its cool metal pressed against the thin skin of my temple. “Gun.” I try to sound nonchalant, but the waiver is there, and I curse it.

He jerks upright and grabs my shoulders, pulling me closer. Suddenly I can’t breathe from his nearness, from the smoldering heat in his eyes. “He pulled a gun on you? Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

My mouth mimics words, but I’m having trouble getting the sound out. His smell is there, like the first time I crashed into him. Sandalwood. I’m wondering if maybe I’m developing a Pavlov’s dog response to it, because my pussy is wet despite everything, and we’re so close we could kiss. I stand on my tiptoes without thinking--

He shakes my shoulders. Maybe misreading my signals as shock.
Hopefully
misreading them as shock, because kissing Jameson Locke is just about the last thing I should be doing right now.

“Elise,” he says softer, “I’m so sorry. That never should have happened. A fucking
gun
. No proper thief uses a gun to get what he wants.” This last sentence is an afterthought, and his eyes glaze as he says it.

Where is he? What’s he thinking of? I make a note, because it’s a weird thing to say.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, taking a step back. His hands let go and I already miss them. His smell is now faint, a bittersweet memory.

Shaking my head, I look back to the monitors. The halls are empty. We see some patrols. I see myself, ducking down one. That was when I was going to call it off. Head home. Get as far away from Locke as I could.

“Where were you going?”

I lie. “Just marking the perimeter. Good thing I did, or you wouldn’t know someone had broken in and stolen something from you.”

“Hm.”

What kind of response is
hm
!?

I lean in closer, and that’s when Locke puts his hand on my lower back. I should brush it away, or call him on it, but it feels so damned good. “Elise,” he murmurs close to my ear, sending a thrill through me. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I didn’t plan for you to get hurt when I hired you.”

My nipples tighten, my pussy is getting wetter and--

“What
did
you plan for, Locke?” I pin him with my gaze. He looks guilty, his feet shuffling. “You’ve allowed for three different security details, but offered us no communication with each other. You’ve let a competitor in your home for this auction. You own the largest security company
in the world
, yet have none of your own men here?”

His face becomes stony, and I know I’m right. “You wanted there to be a thief! For who? Hollins?”

“No,” he snaps. “Though I wouldn’t mind if that arrogant asshole was taken down a notch. I’m testing a new safe tonight.”

My mind blanks at this. “This whole thing, the Auction, the security-- you were inviting someone to steal from you?”

“I was inviting someone to
try
to steal from me,” he counters. “And three said they would. But these guys weren’t supposed to be thugs. No guns.”

My hands grab my hair as I organize all of this, filing things away. “I don’t understand. If you hired safe crackers, why all the subterfuge? How do you know they aren’t thugs? Are they employees or criminals?”

Locke sighs and leans back against the console. “They are criminals. I didn’t hire them. I dangled bait in the form of a ruby in front of them, and received confirmation that I’d hooked three. But Elise, you should know better than most. Jewel and art thieves at this level don’t use guns. They use wits.”

You should know better than most.
It’s a stab about my father. He was a criminal, too, a con man. A master forger. My vision goes white with anger for a moment.

“You bastard. This is the stupidest game I’ve ever heard of. How in the hell did you become a billionaire?”

“Don’t question me, Elise. You don’t know who I am or what I’ve done to accomplish the things I have.”

“That sounds like bragging about bad choices, Locke.
Where in the hell is he
?” I’m looking at the screens, which have been rolling this whole time, and the robber is nowhere to be found. Nor, I realize, am I. Did we miss it when arguing? The scuffle and him pulling the gun?

Raking my mind, I know we had to be in the hallway for at least seven minutes. Seven minutes unaccounted for. The robber had been brazen, just standing and watching me, too. Who knew for how long?

That’s when I see Todd and his partner, walking the hall. Todd’s hands shove into his pockets.

“It’s a loop,” I gasp. “Someone has looped your feed!”

“That’s impossible,” Locke snarls, but he’s watching as I am. Another five minutes pass, our eyes glued to the screens. The air is thick and we’re hardly breathing, anticipation thickening like butter. There is Todd and his partner. Hands thrust into pockets.

“Mother
fucker
,” Locke hisses, and for the first time, I’m frightened of him. Whatever he expected of tonight, this wasn’t it. “This is a textbook play, but my systems are--”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, you have an auction going and now you’re out a ruby.”

This snaps him to attention and he composes himself before my eyes, down to his signature smirk. It’s impressive and scary, and I note that, too.
Jameson Locke is a master deceiver.
You have to be, to pull of that kind of control.

“No, the Kane Ruby is safe. Come, let me show you.” He leads me out, grabbing my hand absentmindedly and pulling me along beside him. His touch electrifies me, and I’m feeling overwhelmed by what was happening, letting him.

We pass by a patrol detail and I catch Locke’s deadly look at them. The Raleigh Police Department doesn’t deserve his wrath. They’re trained for the aftermath of crime, not the prevention. Especially for the level of thievery and crime Locke was stupid enough to invite into his home.

It hits me then, out of nowhere, and I blurt, “Your Perversion Palace isn’t on the video feed!”

“Perversion Palace?”

“Your sex dungeon,” I say with an understood ‘obviously’ at the end.

“That’s just a room, Elise.”

“Sure.”

He’s focused though, so I try to be, too. But then… what’s the other room not on feed?

We enter it. Inside is a monstrous safe. The mass of it makes me feel small, like it could squish me at any minute. He releases my hand and I want to grab it back, just to feel safe and connected in front of the monster. I know I didn’t see this in the control room.

“Watch,” he orders, and I do.

The first step is a pin number. He punches in something that is over ten digits long. “We make the passcode long to make it impossible for a program to hack. It would take years to hack this code in time.” The safe rumbles and I hear a huge thud inside. “That’s deadbolt number one.”

Next, a hidden panel slides open. There’s a laser scanner inside. Jameson places his fingertips on it. “Next is five-point fingertip scanning. You need all five fingers, simultaneously and in proper order, for it to open.” A green light flashes up and down as it reads. “So a thief would have to cut off all five fingers, and manage to press them correctly at the same time to get a scan.”

My mind whirs with this and, well, I can picture it. It’s gross, but it can be done. Sequester the owner, cut off fingers, and have a hand-like tool that you stick the dismembered fingers too--

“It also,” he adds, “checks body temperature and pulse. So your fingers have to be intact.”

“So your thief has the owner with a gun, and he puts in the pin number and his fingers,” I retort.

He shrugs. “We can’t protect against guns in that way. All safes are united with one vulnerability: The safe owner. They can hire body guards, a security system like this, etc. But you’re right, a gun would change the game.” This last part is spat.

He feels contempt for criminals using guns.
I frown.
Or, Elise, he could just not like an element of vulnerability. This is his business, and you’ve struck at his pride.