Page 8 of It Takes a Thief (Ring of Thieves #2)

“W hat an ass,” Linc grumbles, his arm still over mine, as we walk down the crowded sidewalk.

Suddenly, I feel like the world’s biggest fool. “I’m sorry. That was a disaster, and I put you in an awkward position.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I fight back the sting of tears.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and a little rough. “That guy was a complete douchebag. Not your fault. Don’t waste another thought on him.”

“I know.” I let out a harsh breath. “You must think I’m an idiot with unrealistic expectations. My parents were right. You were right. Who finds someone and falls in love in two weeks? So stupid.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s easy for people to hide how awful they are in an online profile.”

“Maybe I should have rules like you. Just keep my heart locked up instead of wearing it on my sleeve.”

Linc abruptly stops walking and turns to face me, but I can’t look at him because my eyes are wet with unshed tears and I’m so embarrassed. He puts his fingers under my chin, lifting it, and forces me to look up at him.

“No, don’t you dare hide that big heart. It’s one of the things I like most about you,” he admits in a gruff voice.

“I feel like a fool.”

“Going on a blind date, putting yourself out there…” His face clouds over and his fingers slide away from my jaw. “It takes courage. And you, Princess, are very brave.”

“Please, no titles. Just call me Merritt or Mer.”

“Mer? Is that your nickname?”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth, wondering why I told him to call me something only my grandpa used to when he was alive, and that only Charity does now. Not wanting to think too hard about it, I merely nod.

Desperately wanting to change the subject, I start walking again and he falls into step beside me. “You live in Denver, right?”

“Yeah.” He seems to hesitate before saying, “But I grew up here.”

“Really? It must be nice to be back.”

I notice his posture stiffen, and his voice is tight when he offers a clipped, “Yeah.”

“Are your parents still here?”

“My dad left when I was only eight, and Ma died not long after. I went to live with my Uncle George—her brother—and he tried to raise me, but...” His voice trails off. “I was a hellion.”

“Who? You? I don’t believe it,” I tease.

“I liked to fight. It was the one thing I was good at. Plus, I had a lot of anger inside me. Fighting helped me get out my feelings physically, because I sure didn’t talk to a therapist.”

“You don’t talk to your father?”

“No.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, I wisely drop it. My heart aches for the little boy who lost his parents and whose only outlet was fighting. I stop short, wanting to know more about him. “Take me somewhere you used to go. Somewhere I’ve never been before.”

“You don’t want to go to my old neighborhood. Trust me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe. And, in case you forgot, my job is to protect you.”

Although I’m grateful for his protection, his words bother me. Guess I don’t like being reminded I’m merely a job. Yet again.

“There is one place, though…” His voice trails off thoughtfully, and I wait for him to elaborate. “A place I used to go to celebrate after a good fight. You up for a subway ride and a slice of greasy pizza?”

I smile. “Sounds divine.”

He snorts out a laugh. “I don’t know about that, but I’m willing to bet you’ve never been there before. It’s off the beaten path and definitely not the fancy food you usually eat, but it’s the best pizza in all of Manhattan.”

“Excuse me, but I love pizza just as much as the next person. Especially if it’s covered in feta and olives.”

“Feta?” He nudges me with his elbow, and I smirk. “See what I mean? Fancy.”

“Bring on the pepperoni then,” I challenge him. “The greasier, the better.”

I really like seeing this laidback, more relaxed side of him.

We keep up the small talk and banter on the subway ride, which takes us to a neighborhood on the Lower East Side.

He’s right, I don’t ever come to this part of town, but as we head up Stanton Street, I’m beyond curious.

There’s a vibrancy in the air that draws me forward.

Or maybe it’s the big hunk of man walking beside me, his huge arm brushing against mine with every step.

“There it is,” he announces, pointing to a corner restaurant with a sign in the window that says Pops’s Pizza. Linc pushes the door open and jazz music fills my ears. The plastic red and white checked tables look ancient, but the place has a certain Old-World charm.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” a man exclaims as we walk up to the counter. “Lincoln ‘Lights Out’ Decker is back in my restaurant?”

Linc grins at the shorter Italian man, his big belly covered in a tomato sauce-stained apron. They shake hands firmly, lean in and slap each other on the back.

“It’s been too long,” Linc says, then turns to me. “Pops, I’d like you to meet my friend, Merritt.”

“Hello,” I say. “I hear you have the best pizza in Manhattan.”

“I love her.” Pops gives my hand an enthusiastic pump and sends a sly look in Linc’s direction. “Just friends, huh? Then you won’t mind me flirting a bit, right?”

“Don’t molest the customers, Pops.” I feel Linc’s hand settle on my back, and I try not to shiver.

Pops chuckles and claps his hands together. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t suppose you have feta?” Linc asks reluctantly, as though it’s an odd request.

“Of course I have feta,” Pops declares proudly. “What do you think this is? Pizza Hut?”

I giggle, and Linc tells him to add black olives, too. While he pays, I grab a couple of waters from the glass fridge and wander over to a table. It smells delicious and my mouth is watering. Other than my latte earlier, I haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

Linc strolls over a minute later, sitting across from me.

The table is small, which means he’s close.

I could almost reach out and touch him. Swallowing hard, I twist the cap off my drink and take a long sip.

It doesn’t cool me off, though, and I look down at Linc’s hands lying flat on the tabletop.

His palms are the size of a baseball mitt, and his fingers are long and strong.

My mouth waters again, and this time I’m not so sure it’s for food.

What would it be like to be with Lincoln Decker? He’s all alpha male with endless muscles, and so much bigger than my five-foot five stature. I might not have much experience when it comes to men, but I have no doubt Linc is the kind of man who knows how to rock a woman’s world.

Only for one night, though. Then he’s out. Because those are the rules. His rules. Rules I wonder if he’d ever consider breaking if the right person came along?

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, voice low and rumbly.

I try to shake off the lust threatening to consume me and meet his liquid brown eyes. “Just that I’m starving.” The words come out husky, and I press my thighs together.

His attention dips to my lips then lifts again, pinning me with a stare that makes me extremely warm. When his rock-hard leg touches mine beneath the table, I nearly stop breathing.

“Same.”

My lashes flutter, and I don’t think he’s talking about pizza. If I didn’t know better, it almost feels like we’re on a date. One that I want to end with a very steamy kiss.

I clear my throat, and he shifts in his seat, moving away.

“So, ah, Lights Out,” I say, changing the subject. “That was your nickname?”

He nods.

“Makes me think you knocked a lot of guys out.”

“Maybe a few.” He tosses me a rueful grin, and I can’t help but smile, feeling slightly giddy.

“What kind of fighting did you do? Boxing?”

“MMA.”

“What is that exactly?” I tilt my head, studying him. Whatever it involves, he’s got the muscles to kick some serious behind. “Sorry, I never followed fighting. I did see The Karate Kid , though.”

He chuckles. “That’s a little different, but still a great movie. MMA stands for Mixed Martial Arts. It’s a full-contact sport that combines different fighting techniques—wrestling, judo, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, boxing and karate.”

“You know all those?”

“And then some. But my roots are in underground fighting, where I got my start.”

“What’s the difference?”

“MMA involves a bunch of rules and a big paycheck. Underground fighting is wild and loose with very few rules.”

“Sounds dangerous,” I murmur.

“I like danger,” he replies without missing a beat.

My heart stutters in my chest and, before I can respond, Pops places a piping-hot pizza down on the table between us. We thank him and dive in. While I carefully cut off a small corner with my knife and fork, Linc folds his piece in half and takes a huge bite.

“So good,” he groans.

Wicked images flit through my head as I lightly blow on my piece. He’s making me wonder things, want things. Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. There’s so much going on in my life, but my naughty thoughts keep returning to Linc, watching him savor his pizza as though it’s a lover.

Once it cools off, I bite the pizza off the edge of my fork and chew. “Mmm,” I moan. “I told you feta and olives is the way to go.”

I can’t help but notice he’s watching me, too, and the look in his eyes can only be described as hungry. But the kind of hungry pizza doesn’t satisfy.

Get a grip, Mer. He’s made it clear you’re just a job. Nothing more.

Still, I can’t help but feel like he’s mentally undressing me. Which is completely silly, because he isn’t.

Right?

We don’t say much as we demolish the pizza. On my next two pieces, I forgo the knife and fork and just pick it up and fold it in half like Linc does. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life. Stuffed, I lean back in my chair and toss my greasy napkin on my plate.

“I think I just gained ten pounds.”

“You can afford to gain weight. What’re you? A buck ten?”

I weigh more than that, but it’s nice to hear he thinks I’m less. “No, but thanks.” I scrunch my nose at him, and he just shakes his head.

“Ready?” he asks.

“You might have to grease the door and roll me out,” I warn, standing up, and his deep, rumbling laughter makes me feel lighter than I have in the longest time.

After saying goodbye to Pops, we’re heading out the door when a man stops Linc. “Is that really you? Lights Out Decker is back in the old hood?”

Linc stops and chats it up with an old acquaintance for a few minutes. I can’t help but notice that, like Linc, he exhibits major arm porn and sports scars all over his knuckles. He possesses that same rough around the edges look, too, which makes me think he’s probably a fighter.

I also notice how Linc moves closer and lays a hand against my lower back. A tingle races through my body at that simple, yet protective touch. The guy tells him he should come to a fight happening tomorrow night.

“I’ll text you the address,” his friend says. “Think you’ll make it?”

“Maybe,” Linc says with a noncommittal shrug, and they say goodbye.

We start back up the sidewalk, heading to the subway. “We should go,” I say. “I’ve never been to an underground fight.”

“That’s because you’re royalty. These kinds of fights are lawless, Princess.”

“I don’t mind getting down and dirty.” The words fly out of my mouth before I realize that maybe they weren’t the best choice.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, well, you’re under my guard, and I am not subjecting you to a dangerous fight with a rambunctious crowd. We can find something tamer to do.”

I huff out a sigh. “Like what? Chess?”

“I don’t know how to play chess. How about Monopoly?”

Maybe strip Monopoly , I think, wondering what those naked abs of his would look like for probably the hundredth time today. No doubt, a feast for the eyes.

“That might work,” I murmur cryptically.

Because as I’m getting to know him better, I decide I really like Linc.

Even if he can be a little bossy and overbearing.

A tad brusque, too. And even though he pulls away the moment he accidentally allows himself to get too close, there’s an undeniable chemistry between us. He must feel it.

Rule number three: never mix business with pleasure.

Well, we’ll see about that. I’ve decided I want to kiss my bodyguard. And once I set my mind on something, it’s full steam ahead.

The entire trip back to my place, my mind wallows in the gutter. By the time we step through the front door, I’ve imagined Linc’s tongue down my throat, his big hands all over my body and us going at it on various pieces of furniture in my apartment.

After he flips on a lamp and checks the security system, I stalk closer, cornering him near the staircase. Even though it wasn’t exactly a date tonight, it felt like it. And any good date ends with a kiss.

“Thank you for that,” I say, searching his face, trying to figure out if he wants me as much as I want him. Although he can be hard to read sometimes, I can’t miss the heat that flares in his dark eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he rasps.

We’re so close, practically toe-to-toe, and I see him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His slight stubble has grown thicker since we left Arcadia, and it’s so sexy. I zero in on his lips. Not too thin or too full. Absolutely perfect. Made to kiss a woman.

I start to push up onto my toes, and I swear he’s lowering his head, when he suddenly jerks back.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he says, sidestepping me. “It’s been a long day.”

Disappointment washes over me. “Dammit,” I whisper-hiss, watching his tight ass walk away from me and disappear into the kitchen.

I’m not sure how I messed that up so royally, but he’s gone. With a sigh, I force myself to walk up the steps. To preserve my dignity and not go chasing after him. Even though it’s far too tempting.

Dragging my feet down the dim upstairs hallway, I try to come to terms with his blatant rejection. It feels awful.

When I reach my room, I step inside and flip on the light switch. My gaze goes straight to my bed and the pile of pillows stacked against the headboard. All thoughts of wrecking my bed with Linc disintegrate, and I gasp.

I try to blink away what I’m seeing, but it doesn’t go away.

Stumbling back a step, a scream rips out of my throat.