Lock You Down Read online

  "Literally," Krissy chimed in.

  "Literally?" I asked, shooting Reagan a look.

  "It's a program we worked out with their school and the police station. Instead of going to juvie or getting kicked out of school, we have a couple kids work here as punishment."

  "Yeah, this place seems like a fucking hellhole. With your thousand-dollar coffee machine and all," I drawled. "What'd they do?"

  "Well, Calvin here got caught stealing," Marley volunteered.

  "What'd you steal?"

  "The cow off the top of the butcher's shop," she told me. "So he could put it on West's football field."

  "I'm fucking lost," I admitted.

  "It's an old school prank from the eighties," Krissy explained. "We have two rival high schools. West and East. Back in the day, they used to take this giant cow statue off of the butcher shop, and put it in the middle of their competitor's football field. The butcher shop thought they solved the problem when they bolted the goddamn thing to the roof. But, what can we say, our Calvin here is the determined sort."

  "It was a stupid thing to get arrested for, Marley declared.

  "Says the girl named after a fucking dog," Calvin shot back.

  "Oh, please. Like it is cooler to be named after jeans." She added a pretty epic eye roll at that. They reminded me of the Mallick offspring, and I couldn't help but wonder if they went to school with any of them.

  "What'd you do?" I asked, watching as the two kids shot daggers at each other.

  "Marley was hauled in for inciting a riot," Krissy volunteered.

  "It was hardly a riot. It was a peaceful protest. Until someone showed up with his friends and started pissing everyone off."

  "Anyway, yeah," Reagan cut in. "We figure that getting some work experience and structure, mixed with a little more freedom than they are used to all day locked in class, will do more to rehabilitate them than anything else. Though, I mean, I hardly think they need to be rehabilitated. They're good kids. I think they just needed people who wouldn't look down on them for being pegged as 'delinquents.'"

  "It's alright. I was a delinquent myself until a few years back," I admitted, not sure why I felt compelled to do so, feeling oddly interested in these people, in their dynamic, wanting to integrate myself into it in some small way.

  "Yeah?" Calvin asked. "What'd you do?"

  "I stole shit. A lot of shit." It was as close to the truth as I was willing to get.

  "From the rich? To distribute it?" Marley asked, clearly idealistic.

  "He's not fucking Robin Hood, Marley," Calvin shot at her.

  "You're an asshole," she snapped back.

  "Now children..." Krissy said, but there wasn't even a hint of authority in her voice. If anything, she seemed to enjoy their banter.

  "How about you two go make everyone some coffee before your parents get here?" Reagan tried, a little more stern, making the two of them hop to, whisper fighting the whole way across the room.

  "I give it... six more months," Krissy said when they were out of earshot.

  "Six months for what?" I asked.

  "Until they realize all that animosity is actually misplaced attraction."

  "Not every situation is a rom-com come to life, Krissy," Reagan said, shaking her head, but she was smiling softly when she saw Marley hip-check Calvin so hard that the spoonful of sugar fell out of his hand, clattering onto the door table.

  "Oh, let me have my fun. Besides, what is wrong with rom-coms? Everyone loves a stern and ambitious Katherine Heigl sort of character finding a charming and laid-back Mr. McDreamy sort of character who--"

  "Twenty-five states have no laws in place determining how old a child must be to marry, resulting in over thirteen thousand child marriages in the US last year," a voice called out from behind the cubby.

  "What... the fuck was that?" I asked, shooting Reagan a lowered-brow look.

  "That," Marley volunteered, handing me a coffee that looked more milk than actual coffee, but it was the thought that counted, I guess, "was Harvey."

  "Harvey?" I repeated.

  "Whenever one of us spouts off anything he thinks of as pop-culture and shallow, he yells some depressing fact about the state of the world back at us," Marley explained.

  "It's not a bad idea," I said, shrugging.

  "He's not going to work here, is he?" Marley asked about me, clearly not one for worrying about offending people.

  "I, ah, no. I mean," Reagan stammered, at a loss. Since she had told her staff I was in advertising.

  "We haven't exactly worked out the kinks yet," I jumped in to save her, my words of choice getting a saucy sly smile from Krissy. "That's... what we are doing tonight," I added, just dig, dig, digging my hole deeper. As if shit wasn't complicated enough already.

  "It is important to iron out those... kinks," Krissy agreed, holding back a smile.

  "What? What's so funny?" Marley asked, looking between the mismatch of amused and embarrassed adults around her.

  "Kinks," Calvin schooled her in that condescending-ass voice of his. When he just got a blank look from the girl, he rolled his eyes and plugged on. "Kinks. Like fucking. Christ. That innocent shit is annoying."

  "Or just honest," Marley said, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin, refusing to be embarrassed about inexperience. It was a look the Mallick women would clap over if they saw it. It was a look they wanted their daughters to have. "Anyway," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, looking me square in the eye, "I hope you decide not to work here. As you can see, we are full-up on curmudgeons."

  With that, she plowed past us, making a bee-line for the stairs that led downward.

  "She's... temperamental," Krissy told me.

  "Like a fucking bomb," Calvin agreed, moving past me to follow down the steps as well. Whether it was to fight some more with the girl or make amends, or to simply meet his parents coming to pick him up was anyone's guess.

  "How old are they?" I asked, turning back to Krissy and Reagan.

  "Um... Marley is sixteen. Calvin is almost eighteen, though," Reagan said. "That was why I picked him out of the group the police and school had, even though he and Marley hate each other, and she was already on the team. I wanted to make sure we could try to give him a little direction before he became legal. He's, ah, a bit headstrong."

  "A bit?" I asked. "I think my mom would have cut out my tongue if I cursed like that around adults at that age. Or any age," I admitted.

  "Calvin's dad is, well, let's just say that when kids turn out that angry, there is usually a reason," Reagan said carefully. "He's actually mellowed out a lot since he's started here. And he's smart. The school told us he was close to flunking all his classes, but he's a smart kid. He could be acing everything if he applied himself. I think I might actually hire him on once he's done with the mandatory stuff. My parents have always offered help with student loans for employees if they give back two years after they graduate. We can give him the head start his father doesn't seem... inclined to."

  "That's a big heart you got there," I said because it seemed true.

  "And let me guess, you think that's a flaw," she said, glancing away.

  "I never said that."

  "I am just... very aware of how privileged I have been. And how many kids aren't so lucky. I wanted to give back."

  "What about Marley?" I asked. "Will you hire her on?"

  "Marley is going to take over the world in some way," Reagan said, smiling fondly, almost motherly. "She's going to have every scholarship available to her with her grades. I think she is going to go into politics and yell at people like she yells at Calvin all the time."

  "I think we should offer her a summer and after school job," Krissy piped in.

  "You just want to see if you are right about those two, and know the only way it could possibly happen is if they are working in close proximity."

  "They're children," Harvey's voice joined us once again, this time standing up from behind his cubicle. "Stop bettin
g on their relationships. It's weird."

  "Marley wasn't exactly kidding about our resident curmudgeons," Krissy said, ignoring him. "Nixon, this is Harvey. Harvey, Nixon."

  Harvey was tall and thin, just the right side of gangly, but only just. Tattoos snaked over the tops of his hands, up his neck, seemingly over his chest, peeking out of the white tee he was wearing, the neck a little loose and sad-looking. Over the tee he wore an open-front flannel in blue and gray. His hair was light brown, a little long, and his brown eyes were half-hidden behind black-framed glasses.

  "He's our social media manager," Reagan explained.

  "Wait... he's the social media manager?" I asked, looking over at Krissy, who seemed much more suited for the task. "Not you?"

  "Honey, I am the money," she said, giving me a slow, prideful smile. "I handle the accounts."

  Interesting.

  "Harvey actually kind of went viral when he started working here for answering nasty comments on our Facebook and Twitter with equally rude retorts," Reagan told me. "He became an overnight sensation."

  "Kids like that shit," I agreed. "Why isn't he your spokesman?" I asked. Instead of the old dude in a suit with a fucking pinky ring which seemed wholly out of touch with most people's reality.

  "Harvey?" Krissy asked, face scrunching up like I'd suggested they go find Bigfoot and put him in the position.

  "Yeah. If you're looking to appeal to twenty-something and early thirty-somethings, they like that shit. Anything different."

  "And I guess he is good looking enough," Krissy mused, pursing her lips.

  "Gee, thanks, Krissy," Harvey said with a head shake. "I'd be flattered if I didn't know you thought that old dude was hot," he added, turning away to go fix the drink Marley apparently badly made for him as well.

  "He means James Spader," Krissy explained. "You know... Red from The Blacklist. It is the character, not the actor. He's just... dreamy," she said, sighing as she pressed a hand to her heart. "Anyway. That is a really interesting idea. You know... the kind you two should be discussing over dinner," she said pointedly. "Why are you still standing here holding that dress? Go slip it on. Nixon here can join you. We'll cover our ears. Won't we, Harvey?"

  "Whatever you said, probably not," Harvey said, walking back to his desk, dropping into his seat, and all but disappearing.

  It was an interesting mash-up of personalities in this office, that was for sure.

  "I'll be two minutes. Okay, five. I need to touch up my makeup too," she added, giving me that tight smile once again before turning and going into her office.

  "She likes you," Krissy told me when we were alone.

  "She barely knows me."

  "I get that," Krissy agreed, uncharacteristically serious. "But she likes you. It's not my place to say anything about how things have been for Reagan for a while, but the fact that she has any interest in you at all is saying something. And I wanted you to know that. And also to know that if you take advantage of that, I will tie you to my bumper and drive through a cactus patch. I don't even know if cactuses grow in patches, but I will find one. And I will drive you through it."

  "Got it," I agreed, giving her a smile, appreciating the loyalty there. It was something I was lucky enough to have in my life, so I was glad for Reagan that she did as well.

  "As for any other sort of taking advantage, well, you two have fun. Do you need some condoms? Lube?" she asked, pulling open her top desk drawer as she did so, reaching in to produce said items.

  "I think I've got it covered, Krissy."

  "You can never be too prepared... Oh!" she said, grabbing something. "I have a finger vibe! Still in the packaging."

  "You keep sex toys in your desk at work?"

  "I honestly don't remember getting this. Oh, you know, it might have been from that sex toy party thing I went to. Reagan picked me up and brought me here so I could get sick here instead of in her car."

  "Solid thinking."

  "Vomit isn't easy to detail out."

  "No," I agreed, "it is not."

  "Personal experience?"

  "I have younger brothers."

  "Oh," she said, smile turning devilish once again. "Are they as hot as you are? Are they single?"

  "You'd kill them, Krissy," I told her, not even exaggerating. She was a lot of woman. I didn't think they could handle her.

  "Just as well," she said, tucking away the vibrator with a shrug. "What time is dinner?" she asked.

  "At si.." I started, trailing off when I checked my watch. "Shit."

  "Oh, no. Can't be late. Better go rush her along," Krissy said, likely thinking I had reservations, not that Helen had a shitfit when people were unexpectedly late.

  Helen was not above refusing to serve you. And I wanted to eat.

  I took Krissy up on her offer, moving across the floor to step into Reagan's doorway, finding her with her back facing me, the dress unzipped, exposing a too-tempting amount of perfect skin, more at the top, narrowing down at the small of her back. A hint of silky, warm golden panties peeking out, just begging to be explored further.

  "Krissy," she called, mistaking me for her friend, "can you help with the zipper? I nearly dislocated my arm trying to get it. To no avail."

  I moved across the floor as she fussed with trying to get an earring in her left lobe.

  "It's me," I told her when I was close. Close enough that I heard her air suck in at the revelation. "Still want help with that zipper?" I asked.

  "I, ah, yes. Please." Her voice was airy, even huskier than usual, a sound that seemed to wash over my skin, sink in.

  I needed to suck in a steadying breath before I moved in the final step, getting closer than I needed to, to be honest; I could feel her body heat through my clothes, couldn't stop but think of all the ways I could make her even hotter.

  But this was not the time or place. Nowhere and no hour would be right under the circumstances.

  My hands moved outward, one pinching the fabric below the zip to hold it in place, the other grabbing the tiny tag attached to it.

  Maybe my thumb stuck out more than was absolutely necessary. Maybe it glided up her buttery skin from the base of her spine and up.

  But she definitely--fucking definitely--shivered when my finger grazed the center of her back.

  My cock went from halfway interested to fully fucking engaged in a second.

  Reagan's breath caught and exhaled shakily as her body swayed backward ever so slightly, her head falling back a few inches, exposing the delicate curve of her neck.

  If I was thinking straight, I would have yanked the zip back into place. I would have stepped away. I would have waited for her to finish while I stood outside.

  I was not thinking straight, though. In fact, I wasn't sure I was thinking at all.

  My head dipped down, my nose grazing down her earlobe, her neck, before my lips pressed down on the space where her neck met her shoulder, breathing in her signature peach scent as I did.

  Her body shuddered and leaned back into me, pliant, welcoming.

  My free arm moved around her, circling over her lower stomach, fingers sinking into her hipbone as my lips moved back up her neck, over her jaw, back up toward her ear, teeth sinking into the lobe she hadn't gotten an earring in yet.

  Her hand, delicate, long-boned, slid down my arm, grabbed onto my wrist. Not trying to move it, to get away, just holding it there.

  I typically had a lot of control.

  But when she let out a low, throaty moan, it disappeared.

  My hand dug deeper into her waist, using it to turn her around, my fingers grabbing her ass instead, pulling her forward by it, crushing her body to mine as my other hand went to her jaw, holding it up as my lips crashed down on hers.

  Gone was the slow and sweet, the exploration.

  This was hard and hungry.

  Her hands rose, resting on my arms tentatively for a moment before moving higher, wrapped around the back of my neck, pressing her chest harder into mine w
ith a mewling noise against my lips.

  A rumble moved through my chest to match as her nails dug into my skin, as her lips got harder and hungrier.

  My hand went down, snagging her knee, dragging it upward, holding it against my hip, opening her up to me. Her hips wiggled, making my cock press up against her pussy, something that made another shiver move through her.

  "Oh, shit. Goddamn it. Ow ow ow," Krissy's voice yelled, making us both break apart instantly, my feet dragging me back several feet to lean back against the wall as I tried to calm the chaos of desire coursing through my body.

  "You okay, Krissy?" Reagan called, breathless, hand moving to settle her dress back into place.

  "Shit. Yeah. I tripped over Harvey's stupid fucking cord."

  "Which she wouldn't have done if she wasn't in my space, annoying me," Harvey called back.

  Reagan flattened her hair, swiped at her lower lip, grabbed the earring off her desk, slammed her feet into her shoes, and made her way toward the doorway. "Why don't you two call it a day? You've been here long enough. Go enjoy the rest of your night," she invited, finally getting the earring in the hole. "No reason for you guys to be here while I'm gone," she added.

  She was good at pretending to act unaffected. But there was a roughness to her voice and her chest and cheeks were flushed. She'd been every bit as affected as I had been.

  But there would be time to think about that later.

  Right now, we had to get going.

  I took a steadying breath, moving out into the common space with her.

  "Ready?" I asked, placing a hand at her lower back purely out of curiosity. She let it rest for a second before moving away, making it seem casual, not deliberate.

  "Yep. Let's get going. I'll see you two tomorrow. We have some new ideas to discuss," she added, giving them one of those tight smiles. "Let's go," she declared, moving off before I could say anything.

  We needed to hash this shit out at some point. But right then, we had other problems to deal with.

  And they went by the name of the Mallick family.

  SEVEN

  Reagan