Crossing the Line

by Cynthia Eden

  By Cynthia Eden

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are not intentional and are purely the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional.

  Copyright ©2020 by Cindy Roussos

  All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the express written consent of the author except for the use of small quotes or excerpts used in book reviews.

  Copy-editing by: JRT Editing

  (build 4)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Crossing The Line

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  “If his hand moves any closer to your ass, I will happily break his fingers,” Linc Dalton rasped as he lifted his drink to his lips. He didn’t actually drink the whiskey—the movement was designed to hide the fact that he was talking. He knew his mic link had picked up his words when, at the end of the bar, his partner gave a slow, negative shake of her head.

  “I’ve got this,” Blair Kincaid said, her voice sliding directly into Linc’s ear even though she was a good fifteen feet away from him. But, hell, the tech at Wilde Protection and Securities was top notch. Super tiny, super sensitive, and, of course, super expensive. That was the only way Linc’s boss rolled.

  Linc lowered his glass back to the scarred bar top as he tried not to let his gaze linger on his partner. Sure enough, Blair had this. She caught the wandering fingers of the jerk next to her. Lifted them off her person and put the fellow’s hand on the bar top.

  The tall, hair-too-styled, beard-too-trimmed guy frowned at the movement, and he leaned in way too close to her.

  Back off, jackass. You’re in her personal space.

  Linc locked his back teeth. Blair was supposed to get close to the creep. The fellow was taking the bait like he was freaking starving and she was the best feast he’d ever seen. Sure, Blair looked great that night. She always looked great. But the skin-tight dress she wore showed off every curve of her body, and the neckline dipped damn low. Her hair was down—that thick, dark mane slid over her shoulders—and she’d painted her bow-shaped lips a slick red.

  “What do you have, sweet thing?” the dick asked, obviously confused by her words.

  “I’ve got my drink. That’s what I was talking about. You don’t have to buy me one. I can take care of myself.”

  Yeah, yeah, I get it. That last bit is aimed at me. But…a partner was supposed to have your back. He was just watching out for her.

  “We should get out of here,” the jerk with her suddenly announced. His words transmitted easily into Linc’s ear piece.

  Linc’s eyes narrowed. What about your wife, asshole? What about her?

  “And where would we go?” Blair asked.

  Linc stiffened. Her voice was all low and sexy and not at all Blair’s normal tone.

  Once more, the guy’s fingers slid down the curve of Blair’s back. Got way too close to her ass. The dude was just begging for those fingers to get broken.

  “We’ll go where we won’t be bothered,” the idiot said smoothly. “Where I can take this dress off you…”

  Linc shot to his feet.

  The bartender frowned at him. “Everything okay, buddy?”

  Blair had laughed and slid off her barstool. She stood in her sexy red heels, and Linc saw her remove the tiny transmitter she wore with a casual flick of her hand—a flick the jerk with her would never notice. Then she turned and strolled out with the idiot who appeared to be a walking GQ ad. Except for that scraggily-ass beard.

  The bartender followed Linc’s gaze. Gave a commiserating laugh. “I know, some assholes have all the luck, right?”

  Tonight, his luck is changing. And he needed to fucking stop touching Blair. Linc tossed down some money for the bartender and slid through the crowd. He took out his own transmitter and listening device and shoved the tech in his pocket. Blair was clearly indicating that the case was over, and it was time to move in. He wanted to get to his partner’s side, ASAP.

  He didn’t stop when a sexy blonde slipped into his path. Just gave her a nod and kept going. His partner needed him. He sure as hell wasn’t about to be distracted.

  Linc shoved open the door and headed out into the already humid Atlanta night. Sure, it was early spring, but Atlanta never got the message when it came to the seasons. But as someone who’d been born and raised there, he loved the heat. He loved the vibe of the city. The energy. He loved his home.

  His gaze swung to the left. To the right and—

  He has her pinned against the wall.

  Linc lunged forward. The dick had trapped Blair between his body and the brick wall of the club, and the fool was going in hard for a kiss.

  I don’t think so.

  Linc grabbed his shoulder. “That’s my girl.” He yanked the fellow around. “You keep your hands off her.”

  The guy’s eyes widened. Jonah Alexander McInnis Shaw the third stared at Linc with the bleary gaze of a drunk man. “Who the hell are you?”

  Do not punch him in the face. Do not punch him in the face. That wasn’t part of the plan. But the SOB putting his sloppy lips and his grabby hands all over Blair wasn’t part of the plan, either. So… “I’m the man who’s about to kick your ass because you were trying to make out with my girlfriend.”

  Now fear entered the bulging gaze of Jonah Alexander McInnis Shaw the third. His stare swung from Linc—who had several inches and a whole lot of muscle on the jackass—back to Blair.

  “Y-you didn’t mention a boyfriend!”

  “You didn’t ask,” Blair responded dryly. “And besides, we’re broken up.”

  “Are not,” Linc fired back without looking at her. “A break is not a break up. Everyone knows that is not the same thing at all.” Hadn’t Friends settled that years ago?

  Jonah stumbled away. “This is a mistake.”

  Yeah, buddy, tell it to your wife.

  “I-I need to go.” But Jonah’s gaze dipped down Blair’s body once more. A long, slow linger. “Or, um, maybe…if you’re broken up…?”

  “Just how drunk are you?” Linc demanded as he moved to stand toe-to-toe with the fellow. “Do you really think I’m going to let you have her? Because I will kick your ass before you even have the chance to swing at me.”

  Jonah wilted. Turned and scampered away.

  “And your beard looks like shit,” Linc called after him. “Dude, let it grow or shave it totally. It’s like…baby hair on your chin right now.”

  The man scampered faster.

  Linc tried to relax the tense muscles in his body. They didn’t want to relax. In his mind, he kept seeing that jerk’s hand on Blair. Kept seeing him pinning her against the brick wall. Kept seeing him being barely an inch away from her mouth with his freaky beard and thin lips. With his jaw clenched, Linc growled, “Tell me you got it.”

  Silence.

  He spun toward her. “B, tell me that—”

 
She held up her right hand. The light was damn dim out there, but he could clearly see the flash drive in her hand. “How many times do I have to remind you?” She sauntered toward him. Her heels clicked over the concrete. “When it comes to pickpocketing, I am the master.” She slapped her hand against his chest. The flash drive hit his t-shirt. Her hand lingered, pushing that flash drive against him. “I had the drive from him two seconds after he walked up to me at the bar.”

  She’d had it that long? “Then why the hell did you come outside with him? Why did you let him put his hands all over you?”

  Her brows rose. “Jealous much?”

  He—shit. Linc snapped his mouth closed. Tried to think. But her scent was wrapping around him. Blair always liked to rub on this candy apple body cream. He knew it was her favorite because he’d seen her buy it in bulk once. And, yes, the scent was pretty mouth-watering.

  Then again, so was she.

  “You were glaring at me all night. Way to not be low key, Linc.” Her hand started to slide away.

  His whipped up. Caught her wrist. Held her hand against him. “I was looking out for you.”

  Their gazes locked. Time seemed to slow down.

  “I can handle him.” Blair’s long lashes flickered.

  “I know.” He did. She was the most capable partner he’d ever had. And he should shut his mouth. Keep it closed but… “Sure let him get handsy with you.”

  Her delicate nostrils flared. “That was part of the deal, remember? I didn’t want to scare him away—”

  “Oh, he wasn’t scared. Probably more turned on than he has ever been in his whole life, but definitely not scared. At least, not until I was about to give him an ass kicking—”

  “Hey!”

  Linc’s head snapped to the left. The asshole in question—that beard was really bad—was rushing back toward them. He was also frantically patting the pockets of his fancy suit.

  Uh, oh. Someone realized that his flash drive was missing.

  “Hey, I think I dropped something!” Jonah yelled as he rushed closer.

  Linc pocketed the flash drive in a quick, practiced move. “Was it your pride?”

  Jonah stopped. Frowned. “No. It was…um, a…a drive.”

  The drive that you’re supposed to sell to the highest bidder later tonight?

  “I had it in the bar,” Jonah muttered. “Had it…Have to find it. It’s the only copy. Have to find it—”

  “Yeah, well, good luck finding whatever the hell you’ve lost.” Linc twined his fingers with Blair’s. He led her away from Jonah and to the motorcycle that waited at the curb. Blair hated motorcycles, but for their cover tonight, they needed the ride. He slid on first, and she hopped on behind him.

  Jonah stopped patting his pockets and his gaze slid over Blair.

  Right. When she’d hopped on the bike, her dress must have hiked way up.

  Linc reached back, caught the edge of her dress. His hand lingered for just a moment on her thigh.

  He felt Blair tense behind him.

  Then he yanked the dress down. “For the record, asshole,” he snapped to the bastard who needed to stop gawking at Blair. “She’s a million times out of your league.” He gunned the motorcycle and got them the hell out of there before he did something dumb. Like…

  Breaking the bastard’s fingers for fun.

  ***

  Her thighs were still vibrating. The motorcycle had finally stopped—she hated riding on those, especially with Linc because she was ninety-nine percent sure he had a death wish—but Blair’s body still trembled. They were back at the main Wilde building in Atlanta, and Linc had just parked in the cavernous garage. The motorcycle’s growling engine died, but the echo lingered a moment in the air.

  She was plastered against Linc. Holding way too tightly so Blair shoved against him. Hopped off. Didn’t even stagger in her heels because yes, she was that good at controlling her body and not letting any weaknesses show.

  Linc moved much slower. He was always like that. All slow-moving, as if he had all the time in the world. Well, unless he was attacking someone. In that situation, he moved crazy fast.

  She turned away while he did his turtle routine, and Blair marched for the elevator. The sound of his steps followed her as she jabbed her index finger into the elevator’s button.

  “So…you’ve got to tell me, Blair…”

  The elevator doors opened. She headed inside.

  Linc sauntered in, too.

  The doors closed. He lifted the flash drive. “Do you think it’s a sex video?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him.

  He nodded. “The client was paying big bucks to get this thing back. So my money is on a sex video. Or pictures. Could just be pics and no video. Client is probably a celebrity, and I’m betting the jerk tonight wanted to sell the footage to a tabloid in order to get—”

  “Everything is not about sex.” Jeez. She sounded prim.

  His full lips curved. “A lot of things are.”

  He had his shoulders pressed against the wall of the elevator. He wore a black t-shirt that stretched over his muscled chest and loose jeans that encased his long legs. His dark hair was tousled—it was always tousled—and his dark gaze held hers. Stubble covered his jaw. A sexy five o’clock shadow thing that he often rocked.

  Oh, God. Did I just think his five o’clock shadow was sexy? The day obviously had been far too long.

  She cleared her throat and tried to keep on sounding prim as she told him, “Our job wasn’t to find out what was on the drive. Our job was to just recover it. Other agents made certain it was the only copy. All we had to do was take it. We did.” Done. They were going to turn the drive in to the big boss and, hopefully, no other cases would pop up before she started her vacation.

  His gaze slid down her body.

  Lingered in a few spaces.

  Blair stiffened. “What are you doing?”

  His stare rose. “It’s a new dress.”

  “It’s one that Wilde gave me. Not my style at all.” Too short, too tight, too plunging with the neck line.

  “You look beautiful.”

  What? Her lips parted.

  Ding. The elevator doors opened.

  She practically ran out. And, yes, she could run in heels. A skill she’d practiced. She headed straight for Eric Wilde’s office. Didn’t stop at his assistant’s desk. What was the point? It was late, and the assistant was long gone. She gave a quick rap at the door, barely paused to hear Eric say, “Come in,” before she threw the door open.

  Eric was behind his desk, fingers poised over his keyboard. Handsome, smart, and savvy, her boss was one of the richest men in the United States. He’d started Wilde and turned it into the best security agency in the world. Okay, sure, some people said it was the best on the East Coast, but Blair tended to be a bigger picture kind of woman. She thought it was the best in the world. After all, she worked there, didn’t she? And she only worked for the best.

  Their clients were high end. Celebrities. Royalty. The rich and famous. But at Wilde, they also took jobs that fell below the radar. Jobs for the government. Jobs that would never be on the books.

  Those jobs were Blair’s favorites.

  “That was fast.” Eric glanced at his watch. “Thought it would take at least another hour.”

  Linc did his slow stroll in the office. “Nah. Blair wore her sexy dress, the mark took one look at her and started salivating, and she had the drive two seconds later.” He put the drive on Eric’s desk but turned his head toward Blair. “That is what you said, wasn’t it? Two seconds?”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah. The dude looked like the two-second type to me.” Linc’s voice was totally deadpan. “Definitely need to stay away from that kind of guy in the future, Blair. Offering some life advice here. A man like him just leads to disappointment.”

  Eric took the drive. A few moments later, he’d accessed the file—a file that he did not show to Blair and Linc. He nodded at whatever app
eared on his screen.

  Then promptly deleted the file.

  “Excellent job,” Eric told them. “The client will be pleased.”

  “Was it a sex video?” Linc asked.

  Eric’s brows rose.

  “That’s what my money is on.” After his announcement, Linc waited.

  Eric didn’t reply.

  “I love our talks,” Linc finally told him. “They are always so deep. Meaningful, you know?”

  Blair glanced down. Her lips were trying to twitch, and she didn’t want Linc—or Eric—to catch her smiling. Her smile would just encourage Linc, and the man was already encouraged enough as it was.

  “There is nothing on the drive,” Eric announced.

  “Well, yes,” Linc replied, “nothing now. That’s because your fingers just tap-tap-tapped across the keyboard and you deleted it, but a few minutes before, something was there, and I’m just wondering what it—”

  “Need to know,” Eric cut in.

  Uh, oh. Eric’s voice was starting to get an edge. Blair stepped forward. Grabbed Linc’s arm.

  “Need to know what?” Linc demanded.

  “He means that we don’t need to know,” Blair told him crisply. “I don’t think that drive was for some celeb. I think it was for Uncle Sam, and I’m pretty sure Uncle Sam will be handling Jonah Alexander McInnis Shaw the third.” She tugged Linc toward the door. “We’re done. Let’s go.”

  “I was working for Uncle Sam?” He let her tug him. “And I didn’t know? Eric, boss, buddy, where is the trust?”

  She saw Eric rise. He flattened his hands on the desk. “Good job, agents.”

  “It was a killer job,” Linc agreed. “Blair was wearing a killer dress, and I was basically just standing there, but we were one hell of a team.”

  They were almost at the door. Freedom waited.

  “Be here bright and early tomorrow,” Eric directed.

  His words stopped her. Surely, he hadn’t said…early?

  “There’s a new assignment. I need you both packed and ready to go.”

  Blair dropped her hold on Linc. She spun to face Eric. “I have a vacation starting tomorrow!” She had plans. Plans for the beach. And a bikini. And she had a dolphin cruise booked.