The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) Read Free

urge to charge headfirst into problems and tried to think about all the possible outcomes first. It still didn’t feel natural, though, even after nearly six years of trying to be a better man.
    Speeding down Ocean Drive with thoughts of stopping for a beer along the beach, he saw legs. A sexy-as-fuck pair of legs in spectacular shoes. He pulled the brake a little too late to get a good look, only slowing long enough to realize the hood was up on an equally hot classic car. As he drove past, he caught the owner of the incredibly fine legs lift the umbrella that had been obscuring her face. Damn, he was a sucker for red lips and high cheekbones. A glorious redhead in distress. At least he hoped she was in distress, preferably the kind he could fix. She leaned against the car, and he had envy. She could rest that sexy ass of hers against him anytime. He slowed down and pulled his bike around to head back in her direction. This time he approached slowly, giving himself time to appreciate the way the blue dress she wore hugged the curve of her hip, and
holy shit,
she had the perkiest-looking rack. He pulled his bike in behind her car, reluctant to remove the helmet too quickly. The reflective visor gave him a chance to check her out discreetly.
    She grinned confidently at him, but never moved from her position, just twirled that damn umbrella as if she usually hung out on the side of the road.
    With a booted foot, he lowered the kickstand to the roadside gravel and removed his helmet, never taking his eyes off the woman in front of him. Jesus fucking Christ. That hair was even more glorious without the filter of his visor, and her eyes were the palest gray. Everything about her screamed fifties pinup, which, combined with the tattoos running down her arms, gave his dick ideas.
    Reid shook his head as he placed his helmet on the seat in front of him and then unzipped his leather jacket, hot after the long hard ride. And speaking of long hard rides . . . What he wouldn’t give to turn her around and hitch that skirt up her thighs.
    The smile she was giving him was brighter than the flash of an arc welder.
    “You need some help?” He got off his bike, ditched his jacket, and walked toward her.
    “My Cherry broke and I don’t know why. If you know the name of a towing company or a local garage, I’d be really grateful. I’m Lia,” she said, holding out her hand toward him. Reid took it, savoring the way her slim fingers brushed against his. And so what if he held onto it for a moment longer than was probably polite before he released her?
    Reid pointed to the logo for Kenny’s Auto Shop on his polo shirt. Technically, he hated polo shirts, but he wanted the garage to look professional, so uniforms it was. “I own this place. Did you just call your car Cherry?”
    “Of course. Doesn’t she look like a Cherry to you?” She deadpanned the question, but her eyes sparkled with humor.
    “I kinda wish the hood was down,” he said with a grin.
    “And why’s that?” she asked, lifting off the car to stand up straight in front of him, and damn if those lips didn’t look even more kissable close up. She rested the umbrella on her shoulder.
    “Because then I could ask if I could pop your Cherry.”
    Lia laughed and smacked his arm. “Don’t make suggestive innuendoes about my baby.”
    Reid laughed, rubbing his arm as if she’d actually hurt him. “If I can’t fix it here on the road, I can take you and Cherry back to the garage in Fort Pierce. Can I take a look?”
    “Be my guest, Kenny,” Lia said, indicating the front of the car with her hand, although her eyes remained solidly locked on his pecs, and he stood a little taller in response. “You’re lucky I even knew how to pop the hood.”
    Reid laughed and didn’t bother to correct her. Most people called him Kenny, unaware that it was really his surname. Kennedy. And it gave him distance from the person he used to be. “I’m sure you have other talents. Want