Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(35)

“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that,” he says. “Because not knowing what this car is, is an absolute sin against man and metal.”

Expectantly, considering all I’ve been through, I’m laughing, the tension easing from my spine, his way of making pizza and cars life-altering events is actually quite adorably sexy. “It’s a Mustang,” I say as we stop at the passenger door. “See? I know what it is.”

“Not just a Mustang,” he amends. “A 2008 Shelby GT500KR Mustang. I should have it parked and protected but that just seemed a waste.”

“How much does a car like this cost?”

“You can’t put a price tag on a car like this,” he says. “I won it in a bidding war.”

“So a lot.”

“It was worth it.” He reaches for the door. “Stay out here a minute.” He opens the door, sets my briefcase in the backseat, and then slides into the passenger side of the vehicle before shutting me out and him inside.

The odd action dissolves the final remnants of my laughter, replacing it with a mix of confusion and worry. Is he looking for bombs? Does he think someone wants me dead? That’s ridiculous, I chide. If there was a bomb threat, he’d have made me stand back, and if he thought someone was going to grab me, he’d never leave me out here alone. But this thought process is enough to remind me of the many threats around me, not just from inside my new world, but from those who hate Michael, and want to hurt anyone close to him. I’m starting to come up with even more ways to run with my horrid thoughts when the door pops open, with Kyle on the phone. “Right,” he says. “Keep an eye on him.”

I’m thinking he might actually have left me out here to make a private call when he stands, showing me another of those little recording chips for my viewing. “How did they get into your car?”

He chucks the chip across the garage. “Les is fired.”

“As in the doorman?”

“He’s the only one who had my spare keys,” he confirms, stepping away from the car to allow me to enter this time.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’d like to throttle the bastard, but I won’t. At least, not yet. We’ll let him think he’s still considered a friend, and watch what he does next.”

Let him think he’s a friend? Considering I’ve just hoped and prayed for him to be a friend, those words hit me like a freight train. Is that what he’s doing with me? I don’t think he is. I really don’t, but what if my hormones are confusing my instincts? I do not like where this is leading me, and afraid he will read my reaction, I quickly slide in to the car.

But Kyle doesn’t allow me shelter. Nor does he immediately shut my door, compelling me to look at him, to confirm what he senses in me, which I know is distrust, but I do not do as he bids. I stare ahead, his unnamed questions and mine once again heavy and hard between us. Finally though, an eternity later, he shuts me inside, and rounds the rear of the Mustang, climbing inside with me, but he doesn’t start the engine.

More seconds tick by like hours, until he faces me while I hold steady and face forward. “Look at me,” he orders.

“No, I-”

“Look at me, Myla,” he repeats, his voice a command, compelling me.

Damn it. I do it. I turn and then we are close, a small space between us, as I blurt out, “Is that what you are doing to me? Pretending to be my friend to see what I do next?”

“No,” he says firmly. “It is not and I know on some level you know that, but you refuse to trust your instincts.”

“Would you trust you in my position?”

“So you admit that you want to trust me?”

“Of course I want to trust you, but I can’t. I won’t.”

“You can,” he promises, and oh how well he does promises. They touch his eyes. They touch his voice. They touch me. “But I’ve told you that I approve of your caution, and understand it, but sitting here right now, it occurs to me that we haven’t discussed the obvious, so let me make this easier on you. Alvarez has some doubt about you or I wouldn’t be here.”

“He doubts everyone,” I argue, before I let him go on.

“Does he pay someone a million dollars to look after them like he did me?”

“No,” I say. “He does not.”

“Okay then. Because of him hiring me, I’m now in a position to either protect you or destroy you.”

“No,” I say, rejecting that idea. “No. You can only destroy me if I let you.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not true. If I wanted to destroy you, I could have already asked for a bonus for making your true self show so quickly and then be done with this. Juan could do the same. Anyone could. You’re exposed whether you like it or not, and I’m your buffer.”

“If Juan, or whoever, could do as you say, why haven’t they?”

“In my book, that means someone either thinks Alvarez is worse to deal with without you by his side, or they’re afraid he’ll shoot the messenger if they turn on you. But that doesn’t mean they won’t turn on you.” He settles further into his seat. “Whatever the case, we need to go before they come looking for us.”

He sticks the key in the ignition and before he can turn it, I say, ‘”Why haven’t you turned on me for a fast payday?”