Free Mine: Black Sparks MC by Evelyn Glass Page A

pinecone--a smaller one, Nick was pretty sure, than the one he had thrown. "I suppose it's my own fault. If he got involved with some unsavory characters once, it shouldn't have surprised me that he did so again. But I can't blatantly undermine him with the Russians. There are other ways, though," she said, and Nick felt her fingers graze across the fabric of his jeans. Nick felt his thigh stiffen, the heat of her hand awakening something inside him--something he knew he really couldn’t afford to awaken. Not now.
     
    "What if I said I knew how you could get your shipment back?" she said, walking her fingers over Nick's shoulder, caressing the skin near his wound, almost as if she knew it was there. He hissed, more in anticipation of pain than the real thing. "Shhh. It's okay."
     
    Her body heat radiated some kind of intoxicating scent, like lavender-flavored ice cream at some upscale restaurant Tryg had once taken the Sparks to for his and Kirrily’s anniversary party.
     
    "Tryg should be ashamed of himself," she whispered when she saw the wound. "Sending you to do something he knew damn well was dangerous."
     
    Nick dropped his gaze. He should have expected something like this, should have been clever enough to avoid it. "I fucked up. Not him."
     
    "That's what he wants you to think to keep you in line. And now he's punishing you for something he should have known wasn't your fault."
     
    Her bold blue eyes blinked again, as if she were seeing into him, looking down a long telescope into his soul, into his history, into a childhood that had been basically been defined by false accusations, of being setting up to fail. She couldn't possibly know what had happened with Liana, could she? No. She was manipulating him, doing the equivalent of a TV psychic, making vague hints and allowing him to fill in the rest. And he should have been putting a stop to it. Problem was, most of the women he so skillfully avoided weren't this bold--or this rich. He tensed further, and he knew she felt it.
     
    She started massaging a knot, right where it felt the best. "And you've been kept in line for too long. Like a good little errand boy."
     
    "I told you." He shifted his shoulder away. "I'm not going against Tryg. He's the closest thing I've ever had to a father. Don't you understand--"
     
    "Don't you understand?" she leaned in closer, whispering intensity. "You don't have to. I can help you get that shipment back from the Vipers and more. Tryg won't know what hit him." Nick frowned. "No violence. No blood. We'll just make it so he'll know he can't tell you what to do anymore." He dodged her gaze. "Look at me, Nicholas," she said, touching his chin to tilt his face up, using his full name in a way that seemed strangely authoritative, like a schoolteacher or a parent. Maybe it was her age, but strangely enough, it wasn't unsexy. "It's okay." He blinked at her. She laughed softly. "Why are you are you so hesitant? Why can't you relax and just," she said, "go with it?"
     
    He squirmed and shoved her away, turning his back, though not fast enough to miss how her lips turned up in sultry laughter.  Everything about this was foolish, he knew. She may not be overtly coming onto him, but she also hadn't gotten to where she was by being demure. A woman in her position knew her sexuality was her most important tool—because most men were weak enough to fall for it. Nick knew he couldn't afford to be one of these men. "I can help you. We can both finally get what we deserve – to finally be our own people, to live freely. That's a promise. "
     
    He extricated himself and turned away, trying to reassert his dominance, to try to show her that  she couldn't jerk him around like a dog on a leash. "Promises are worthless," he growled.
     
    "Then don't consider it a promise," she whispered. "Consider it a vow." As if on cue, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans. He tore away, still half in a daze, signaling to Helena as he ducked