Page 75 of The Hardest Hit

“I’m going to go get my coat,” she said with a laugh. “And when I come back you’d better be done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stealing one of her Southernisms. The last few days had felt like sunshine coming out on a sunny day. With Jackson working on the hard drives and Olivia bouncing around in pre-travel happiness, Evan felt like he was on top of the world.

He was typing his last sentence when the door opened again.

“Just finishing up now,” he said, hitting send.

“I don’t think so,” said a soft voice. “You’re done when I say you’re done.”

He felt a chill run down his spine.

“What are you doing here, Leona?” he asked, logging off his computer.

“I was invited,” she said. Leona Meade was a tall woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and absolutely nothing in her soul. She was the lead Dominatrix at Fetish and she had spent a lot of time trying to tell Evan how to fuck her. Not that he had ever done what she told him—submission had never been his thing. A fact that had infuriated her. “You know, Evan,” she said, slinking around the desk. Her dress was dark green and skin tight. “I’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore.”

“I never loved you,” said Evan. “I think I was fairly clear on the subject.”

“Where are you getting your kicks these days, Evan? Who are you playing with? Not that adorable little angel with the tits to die for? She looks too sweet for you.” She leaned down and stroked the side of his face. He twisted his face to try and avoid her and saw that Olivia was standing in the doorway. He froze. Leona saw her too, but instead of stepping away she planted a knee on the seat between Evan’s thighs, leaned in, and kissed him. Evan jerked back and raised his hands to shove her away from him, but stopped. A shove was as good as a hit for Leona—he didn’t want her to win.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” demanded Olivia. “Take your hands off of him!”

“No,” said Leona. She was leaning on his chest with both hands, pushing her weight down into him.

“OK, fine,” said Olivia, sounding befuddled. “Evan, take her hands off of you.”

Leona laughed, brittle and bright. “Too bad for you that Evan would rather break his own arm than do what he’s told.”

Olivia looked at him and back at Leona.

“Evan,” she said, her eyes not leaving Leona, and this time her voice was firm and commanding, “take her damn hands off of you.”

Leona looked down at him, smug. He grinned at her, then reached down and locked his hands around her wrists and stood up, pushing her away from him. Leona stared up at him in horrified anger.

“Evan,” said Olivia, “come.”

He did as he was told and went to stand next to Olivia.

“Evan,” said Olivia, looking up at him, “kiss me.”

He followed her commands, tilting his head to match her angle and letting his lips brush gently across hers.

Olivia looked back at Leona. “Any questions?”

Leona made a snarl of fury.

“See you around, Leona,” said Evan and he held the door open for her. She stomped through the door and then turned around to glare at him.

“I hate you, Evan Deveraux!” she screamed and picked up a stapler from the secretary’s desk, hurling it at them. Then she ran back toward the party.

“Well,” said Olivia, as he swung the door shut, “your ex seems… fun.”

“Not my ex. We were never dating or anything.”

“Just had a lot of kinky sex?” asked Olivia.

Evan found that he was sweating. “Yes.”

She looked like she was pondering that. “Did you really break your arm?”