Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(10)

I lift our now joined hands between us. “If there are cameras in here,” I warn softly, “you’ll get us both killed.”

“You were sitting-”

“Too close, but I did it, not you.”

She pales, looking visibly shaken. “Oh God,” she murmurs. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.” She sits back down, proving she knows the danger this world represents and I sense the fear in her. But does she welcome it? I know people who do. Certainly those with Stockholm syndrome forget who and what they are, and even what normal feels like.

“Open up!” Juan shouts. “Open up now!” I turn on my heel, intending to go deal with the piece of shit, when I hear, “Wait,” again, and the plea in that word stops me in my steps.

Pausing, I face her, hoping some grand confession will follow that tells me she’s still on our side. Instead, she asks, “What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t decided,” I say, when of course I’m taking the damn job and I hope like hell she wants me to for the right reasons. Because she does want me to take it. That much is clear.

I turn and start walking again, my stride long as I head toward the door that jerks and hits the resistance of the deadbolt I’ve latched.

“Open the f*ck up, Kyle,” Juan growls.

“Impatient much, Juan?” I demand. “Let go so I can unlock it.”

He does as I say and I pull my gun, opening the door and shoving it at his chest at the same moment he does the same with his, to me. “What are you trying to pull?” he demands.

“I wasn’t aware that conducting the interview you invited me to was pulling anything.”

“And yet you dead bolted the door and pulled a gun on me.”

“If this was a test, which I suspect it was, I assumed you’d want to know that I actually thought of things like locking the door and that I was smart enough to open it with my weapon pulled.”

His teeth grind together, eyes glinting hard. “What took so long?”

“Holy f*ck, man. I barely got the woman to speak to me until five minutes ago. You didn’t tell her shit about the man who’s supposed to be protecting her.”

“That’s your job. Put the gun down.”

“Not a moment before yours is down.”

“On three,” he says, sounding and looking exceedingly irritated.

“One, two, three.”

I give him a beat of movement before I lower my weapon, both of us re-holstering at the same time. “I’ll be needing a down payment,” I say, playing the game.

“Let’s go inside and step into a private room.”

I back into the hallway, letting him go first, and he stupidly strides forward as if he owns the world, when all I see is a man who, once again, freely places me at his back. No wonder Alvarez needs to hire help. Shutting the door, I lock it to maintain the fa?ade of it being about safety, when I’d really like to pin him against the wall, and beat the shit out of him. If that wouldn’t blow my chance of getting Myla out of here alive, by her own free will or not, while still rescuing the women in Alvarez’s sex trade operation, I would. I fantasize instead about a moment not far down the road. One where I either make him do that bleeding I’d wished for earlier, or at least, help the FBI cuff him and take him to a steel cell with all kinds of new friends to welcome him by bending him over in all kinds of intimate ways.

He cuts right and into a bedroom, far away from Myla, which I assume is the point. “Shut the door,” he orders, but I’ve already done it, joining him in the mini living area to the left of the door and past a desk, where he sits on the couch, no doubt to downplay the full twelve inch difference in our heights.

I give him an even playing field, that would only be even if I was the man I say I am, claiming the chair to his left and he sets a folded sheet of paper on the table. “That’s what we expect from you. Either you can deliver it or you can’t, but before you read it, know this. Her sister’s FBI and disapproves of Myla’s choice to be involved with our operation.”

Ex-FBI, I silently amend of Kara, wondering if he doesn’t know that, or simply chooses not to tell me.

“The entire reason the powers that be want you,” he continues, “is that your knowledge and expertise will be useful in protecting her not just from our enemies, but her sister.”

This isn’t a surprise. In fact, it was part of how we set this up. “You can call the powers that be Alvarez,” I say. “Myla does, and as for the situation, I’m a master of staying off the FBI’s radar. Does her sister know she’s in Dallas?”

“She thinks she’s in San Francisco.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.”

“Make sure it stays that way.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me a folded sheet of paper, his brown eyes glinting with disdain, I haven’t earned, but plan to earn.

I make no move to accept it, already rising to the challenge. “What is it?”

“Additional instructions. The ones that really matter.”

I pick up both documents, scanning the details that amount to Myla barely going to the damn bathroom by herself. This is not someone they trust and I say that much. “If she’s this much of a risk, why is she about to be on her own?”