Provoke
Provoke
By
Missy Johnson
Copyright© 2013 Missy Johnson
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Redbird Designs
Edited by Lauren McKellar
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Printing: March 2014
Published by Missy Johnson
Seduce (A Beautiful Rose Prequel)
Beautiful Rose (Beautiful Rose #1)
Captivating (Beautiful Rose #2)~April 2014
Tease (Tease #1)
Promiscuous (Tease #2)
Always You
So Many Reasons Why
Incredible Beauty
Desire
Inseparable
Forbidden Fruit Anthology
Breakaway Anthology
“I was told you might be able to help me,” I said. My hands were shaking so damn much I could barely hold the fucking phone to my ear. Could he hear the fear in my voice? Could he tell I had no fucking clue what I was doing? Yeah, I was shitting myself.
“Yeah? With what?” Suspicion clouded his voice.
“A job. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t fuck with me, dude. You don’t even want to know what I’m capable of.”
He chuckled. “You want this job, then I think I do have a fair idea. How did you get my number?”
“A friend. Never mind who. I know a lot about you though.” I paused and chuckled, trying to sound confident. “More than you want me to know.”
“Is that so?” He paused. “Things like this don’t come free, you know.”
“What do you want?”
“Ten thousand. That will get you in. Whether or not you stay in is up to you.”
I snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Do I sound like I’m fucking joking?” No. He didn’t.
I sighed. “If I had that kind cash lying around, do you really think I’d be crawling to you right now?”
“Not my problem. I think you know the kind of cash you’ll be making shits all over that measly ten fucking grand.”
“Fine. I’ll get the cash.”
“Good. Call me when it’s ready and we’ll arrange a meeting.”
#
He’s late.
I shifted in my seat, and every now and then I glanced over at the entrance of the roadhouse. Sighing, I signalled to the waitress for another refill. My phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw it was Leeta. I pressed ignore, the guilt nearly consuming me.
Calm down, or you’ll fuck this up.
“You sure your friend is gonna show?” the waitress asked as she filled my cup. I eyed the thick black liquid that looked more like tar than coffee, my gaze travelling up to her tired, bored expression.
“He’ll be here.”
She smirked at me
The bell above the door rang. I looked up.
It’s him. It has to be him.
His dark eyes darted around the empty restaurant as he walked toward me. He wore a black leather jacket and faded jeans. He looked ordinary. Completely normal. I laughed to myself. Why the hell was I so shocked? What the fuck had I been expecting, a neon sign above his head?
He slid into the booth and picked up the menu.
“Mace, I presume?” He didn’t look up. God, this guy was smooth. He oozed confidence. Though it
was
three in the fucking morning, and I was the only person in the place. It was a pretty safe guess that I was me.
“Yep.”
“You got my cash?” He looked up, his dark his eyes meeting mine. Reaching into my jacket, I pulled out the envelope and pushed it across the table to him. He picked it up and used his fingernail to fan through the thick pile of hundreds. My heart pounded as I began to sweat. Now was not the time to be second-guessing myself. It was too late to pussy out.
He nodded and slipped the cash into his pocket.
“Number one, don’t ask me any questions. You’ll be emailed everything you need to know, which isn’t much. A job comes up, you’ll be emailed. No phone calls, no contact beyond this meeting, okay?”
I nodded.
“You look for us again? You try and contact anyone else?” He chuckled and reached for my coffee. “Let’s just say I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.” He stood up and stalked toward the door, my coffee still in his hand.
“Hold up,” I called out. I threw a twenty down on the table and followed him out. “That’s it? How do I know you’re not just bailing with my money?”
He smiled, shaking his head as he lit a cigarette. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He took a sip from my coffee before handing it back to me and getting into his car.
I stood there, gobsmacked that it had all been that easy. Two words, some cash, and just like that, I was in.
Leeta
Laughing, I tried to duck out of the way as I tried to get dressed. He wasn’t making things easy.
“You,” he said, pulling me into his arms, “are fucking beautiful.”
“That isn’t going to get you out of dinner with my parents tomorrow.” I laughed as he nibbled on my ear. The feel of his tongue circling the tip of my lobe was making me wet. The things that boy could do with his tongue . . .
If he keeps this up, I’ll have to change my clothes.
“You sure about that?” he mumbled, tugging at the buttons on my shirt. “I mean, I can make it worth your while.”
His fingers slipped underneath the cup of my bra, tweaking at my nipple. I giggled as he kissed my neck, my hands running over his tattooed, muscular forearms, up his neck to his thick, dark hair. At twenty-six, Mace was far from perfect, but he was perfect for me.
“I’m sure you could,” I giggled, pulling away. I re-buttoned my shirt. “But unfortunately, right now I have to get to work, and you
will
be meeting my parents tomorrow night.”
He groaned, defeated. “Fine. But be warned, parents and I usually don’t mix.” He held out his arms, as if he were presenting evidence to support his argument. I shook my head and smiled.
All I saw was an incredibly hot guy in a tight black tee that hugged his sexy body, and a pair of faded jeans.
He was my rough-talking tough guy, but more than that, he was a sweet, thoughtful man who would do anything for me. I’d lost count of the number of times he’d come home with a bouquet of flowers, or a box of chocolates and some wine. He was a romantic at heart, which, looking at him, you would struggle to believe.
Everything about Mace made me squirm in the best way—from little things like him wiping an eyelash from my cheek, right through to the mind-blowing sex he delivered to me night after night. Sometimes it was like he knew me better than I did. I thought I’d experienced passion before I met him, but he made every man I had ever experienced seem bland and empty.
He was the type of guy who didn’t give a shit want anyone thought of him, and did what he wanted. But with me, he was himself: no barriers, no attitude—just Mace.
That was one of the many things I loved about him, but people often took his straightforward attitude the wrong way. People like my parents.
#
Not that I’d ever tell him, but he was right: Mace was far from what my parents would consider a suitable match for their precious only daughter. Between the numerous—albeit sexy—tattoos, the bike, and the whole father-and-brother-in-prison factor, he was never going to be good enough for the prestigious Colonel Derrick Drake and his wife, Matilda.
Ugh. I hated this. I was freaking twenty-three, and my parents still treated me like I was fifteen. I hated it even more that deep down it actually mattered to me what they thought. I
wanted
them to like Mace. I wanted
everyone
to see what I saw. But prior experience had taught me that they wouldn’t get past his appearance to see the man that I was in love with. They saw what they wanted to.
I was a good girl prosecutor in love with the son of a notorious gangland killer. I lived by the law, where his family made their own. There was no doubt in my mind that Dad would have heard of his family. Everyone had. The history of the infamous Jordan family went back many years, and they were definitely people you wouldn’t want to piss off. Hell, I’d done a freaking paper on his great-grandfather for my Criminal Law unit at university. I never thought I’d fall for someone so different . . . but I had, and I was damn happy about it.
My parents would see what they wanted to, and that would be it. He would be added to the long list of wrong decisions they thought I’d made. But this time, it was different. This time, their opinion wasn’t going to change things.
“Go,” he muttered, pressing his lips against mine. “We don’t want them firing your ass.” He cupped the back of my head and indulged me in a kiss that
almost
had me ready to call in sick—or quit my job completely and spend my days naked on top of him.
Now that would be nice.
“Bye. I’ll call you, okay?” I said, ducking in for one more kiss.
#
Coffee in hand, I walked through the office and over to my desk. Throwing down my handbag and the stack of files in my arms, I sighed. Not even nine a.m. and I was already buggered. This was why I hated Mondays.
“How are we today?” I asked Tim, who was lingering near my door with
that
look on his face—the one that said he wanted something.
“Leet, we need to talk.” I raised my eyebrows as Tim sighed dramatically and leaned across my desk, his thick, blond hair falling across his deep-brown eyes.
“Tim. What is it?” I arched an eyebrow and sat back in my chair, waiting for the impending hurricane of emotional turmoil he was about to unleash. And no, I was not being dramatic.
“It’s Marcus. I cannot take any more of his incessant whining. He needs to go. I mean, I understand where this hate for life is coming from. If someone cut my balls off, I’m sure I’d be the same. But,” he paused, shaking his head, “there is not enough room for the both of us in my apartment.”
I laughed as I shook my head. “Did I not tell you that your personality was
probably
not suited to a Burmese?”
“But they’re so pretty,” he whined, stamping his foot as if he were a two-year-old about to throw a tantrum.
Tim and I had been friends since I started at the firm two years before as an intern. As a part of the IT department, he had been my go-to guy when I’d been trying to navigate my way around the system. Who was I kidding? I still called him for help at least twice a week. I was hopeless around computers.
We hung out a lot, especially now that my best friend, Laura, had gone overseas for a year. He had filled the void that she’d left, quickly becoming my first choice whenever I needed a friend. He had been there for me during my breakup with Ben, and had talked me through my doubts about starting a relationship with Mace. Likewise, I was there for him—usually whenever he’d made a bad decision . . . like Marcus.
“Deal with it, Timmy. I’m due in court in five.” I gulped down my coffee and stood up, brushing leftover croissant off my grey and white pinstriped suit jacket and skirt.
“Yeah. You won’t be saying that when they drag my half-eaten corpse out of my apartment because that freaking cat has driven me to suicide!” he called down the hall after me. I chuckled as I waited for the lift.
#
I made my way to the courthouse, which was a few blocks down from my office, my two-inch heels clicking against the concrete. Flats would have made more sense, but I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice that little bit of extra height for comfort. I reached into my bag, making sure I had everything. I had so many things going on in my head right then that I welcomed the distraction. This was my first big solo case.
My first closing argument.
After completing my law degree internship the previous year at the Department of Public Prosecutions, I’d been offered a position as a junior prosecutor. My calculated strategy of doing most of my placements and internships with the office had worked in getting me closer to my dream job: a senior prosecutor for the DPP. This was my first big step toward that.
In less than an hour, all that would stand in the way of a repeat offender receiving justice for his part in an armed robbery on a convenience store were my words. This was a huge point in my career. This
had
to go well. Stuff today up, and it could set me back months—years, if I stuffed up big enough. But that wasn’t even on my radar just then. My head was all about Mace and dinner the following night.
If he met my family, how long until he asked me to meet his?
As nervous as I was about him meeting my family, that was nothing on what I felt when I thought about meeting his. It was like a really bad movie plot: prosecutor falls in love with notorious gangland kingpin’s son. That first night, I’d had no idea who he was. And while it wasn’t love at first sight, I knew by the end of that night that I had to see him again.
#
We’d met in a bar one night. But this wasn’t your usual ‘I met a guy in a bar’ story. I was so not the ‘pick up a guy in a bar’ kind of girl, but it was just before Laura was leaving for overseas, and as usual, she talked me into going out.
She always had me doing things I normally wouldn’t—like the time we stripped down completely naked and ran down her street in the middle of winter after a big night of drinking. I’d been so cold my nipples had gone numb, and I was sure I saw camera flashes coming from her neighbour’s house.
I missed having my crazy friend around. I got the occasional email from her, but Laura wasn’t known for her ability to keep in touch. She’d gone backpacking by herself the year after high school and I’d heard from her twice—which was actually twice more than her parents had heard from her.
That Thursday night, she had convinced me to go with her to a bar where she’d arranged to pick up some weed. That in itself should’ve had alarm bells ringing in my head, and walking in there, I was shitting myself. This was the type of establishment that had a regular crowd, and all of them looked ferocious and mean—even the few women.
Two pretty young girls dressed up to the nines walking in was apparently enough for every fucking person in that place to turn and stare at us.
I’d been convinced that was it.
We were going to be raped by several heavy-bearded men, and then dumped in a skip out the back. Our decomposed bodies wouldn’t be found for weeks, and my parents would struggle to identify me because the rats had feasted on my rotting flesh. All I could think right then and there was that I should have gotten a tattoo.
My job tends to have me seeing the worst in people.
#
Three big, burly guys in leather jackets and way too much facial hair had walked up to us, insisting we sit with them. Not asking—
insisting
. That was when Mace had appeared.
“You made it,” he’d said, his hand slipping around my waist and gripping me on my ass. He leaned in and kissed me. Not just a peck on the lips either; it was a full-mouth, tongue-on-tongue action, nipple-hardening kind of kiss. I’d been too shocked to react—shocked by his behaviour and by how much I’d enjoyed that kiss.
“We’re over here.”
He took my hand and pulled me in the direction of a table where another guy was sitting, grinning at us. That perked Laura up, and she raced ahead of us. I rolled my eyes. Typical Laura.
It wasn’t that I felt safe with Mace, but more that he was the lesser of two evils. I also figured I’d have had more luck kneeing him in the balls than the Three Stooges over there.
“Are you girls lost or something?” he’d asked as we slid into the booth down the back of the bar. I flushed, sure that everyone was still staring at us.
“No,” I’d replied, shooting a look at Laura. “We are meeting someone.”
He almost choked on his beer as amusement sparkled in his eyes.
“In here?” he’d smirked.
“Yes, here.” Laura had spoken up in a haughty tone. “I’m looking for a Max. Do you know him?”
He raised his eyebrows, realization flashing through his eyes. My face flamed. He knew
exactly
why we were there.
“Over at the bar. Next to the big dude in the red shirt.”
Laura stood up. Flicking her long, blond hair over her shoulder, she marched in his direction. I hesitated, wondering if I should follow her.
“Don’t worry about your friend. Everyone here thinks you’re both with me. Nobody is going to mess with her.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but I couldn’t deny the chills it sent racing down my spine. There had been nobody since Ben, mainly because Ben had left me feeling so fucked up. I glanced at my mysterious new friend. He was hot, with his dark hair and his deep blue eyes. His lashes were so long I just wanted to reach out and touch them. He was the perfect rebound guy.
“So, I take it you two don’t live around here?” He’d leaned back, his arms across his chest as he looked me over, his eyes lingering on my chest. This guy certainly wasn’t shy about showing his interest.
“If you want me to answer your questions, then try looking at my face and not my breasts,” I replied. Shock resonated on his face. Then he laughed.
“Okay,” he chuckled. “Are you from around here?” he asked again. This time he looked me dead in the eyes.
I held his gaze and shook my head.
“I didn’t think so. What’s your name?” he’d asked, cocking his head to the side, the edges of his mouth twitching into a smile as he played with a coaster in front of him.
“Leeta,” I’d replied with a smirk.
“Pretty name for a beautiful woman,” he’d replied. I’d rolled my eyes and burst out laughing. He had eyed me, amused. “Something funny?”
“You, actually. Do those lines ever work?” I’d asked, still sniggering.
He’d had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, to be honest, the kind of girls I usually end up with aren’t much for talking.”
Laura had raced back over, giving me the thumbs up. She’d looked from me to Mace and decided it would be a great idea to stay there for a while. I’d known exactly what she was up to. That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work.