Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(5)

“You stand out,” he says, as if I haven’t spoken. “You draw attention to us we don’t need and I don’t like that you’re ex-FBI.”

“And here I thought you enjoyed turning law enforcement against its own. If I make you nervous-”

“Not nervous,” he snaps. “Suspicious and yes. We like corrupting the supposedly incorruptible, but this is too close to comfort for me.”

“And yet we’re on meeting number three.”

“The closer you are, the easier to put a bullet in your head,” he counters.

My lips quirk. “Had I known we were going to talk dirty tonight, I’d have had a drink first.” I don’t give him time to reply. “Why am I here?”

“Because the powers that be think this is a good idea,” he says, no doubt referencing Alvarez.

“Does he win this conflict, or do you?”

“He always wins, but I influence him.” He pauses. “Strongly.”

My eyes narrow, finding a bluff in his call. “Time is money. Two free meetings is all you get, and this is number three.” I repeat and I start to stand.

“Wait,” he says, stopping me midway to my feet. “You’re hired.”

I hesitate several beats for effect, then slowly ease back into my chair. “I thought I was a sore thumb FBI agent?”

He ignores the remark. “A million dollars for eight weeks of work.”

It’s double the named price, which tells me the person I’m mean to protect is closer to Alvarez than I’d thought. “Who am I guarding?”

“Does it matter? You’re making a million f*cking dollars.”

“Do you want the person protected or not?”

His eyes glint hard and he reaches into his pocket, handing me an envelope. I accept it and open it, finding a contract for the money discussed with the terms for which I will perform my duties. The jest. No one gets killed, captured, or wounded, or I pay the money back times two, while further consequences will be considered.

“I need to meet the person in question before I sign this.”

“We’ll be in touch.” He stands and so does the woman, whose name I don’t even know at this point, and they leave.

Standing, I follow in their footsteps, dialing Royce as I do, and stating, “Where do you want to meet?”

“Your buddy’s bar,” he says, naming a spot downtown, which one of my ex-FBI pals now runs. It’s also a place I know I’ve been followed to many times, making a trip there expected rather than suspicious. A perfect place to have a one-on-one with the ever hard-headed men of Walker Security.





***





Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of “Dan’s” and while I don’t find any familiar cars, I’m confident Royce and Blake are present. Reaching across the vehicle, I grab my Walker Security phone from the glove box, and stick it in my pocket, before exiting, and crossing the parking lot. Entering the bar through the back door, I’ve made it all of two steps when Dan, as bulked up and Hulkish as ever, greets me.

“Downstairs,” he says, motioning toward a stairwell between us, his graying dark hair aging him to forty when he’s actually in his thirties like me. “I’ll lock the back and watch the front.”

“Thanks man,” I say, stopping toe-to-toe with him, shaking his hand, our grips strong, as was our bond for five years in the same Texas field office. “Come to work for Walker Security and you’ll get paid for shit like this.”

“You’ve been home a month, and said that at least six times. You know my answer. I’m retired.”

I press my hands to my hips. “Thirty-four is too damn young to retire.”

“It’s also too damn young for a lot of things,” he says softly, referencing the cascade of blood that’s been his life, far more than it has mine.

“That’s why we stick together.”

“That’s why I’m getting the damn door and you’re going downstairs.”

I rub my jaw, a light stubble forming, and he steps around me, successfully shutting me down once again. “I’ll keep asking,” I say, heading down the steps and entering the concrete cellar that is wrapped in wine-filled wooden shelves. In the center is a long wooden table, with Royce on one end and Blake on the other, with Kara by his side.

“Anything on Myla?” Kara asks, shooting to her feet the moment she sees me.

“Nothing,” I say, stopping at the side of the table, hands on the back of a brown leather chair, “and that’s exactly why I didn’t want you involved. There may never be anything, Kara.”

“She knows,” Blake snaps, standing, while Royce does the same, both brothers big and broad, their long hair tied at the nape, but Royce is bigger, his features harder, his attitude all about control while Blake’s is all about daring.

“I do know,” Kara adds, hugging herself as she had back at the bathroom. “I know, but I have to try to find her.”

“What do you think Royce and I are trying to do?” I look at Blake. “No one knows more than you how dangerous being too close to something can be. How can you want her here?”

“I don’t f*cking want her to be here,” he snaps. “She came on her own. We were in Sonoma for the Chris Merit wedding, and she disappeared. I chartered a plane and got here just in time to catch her as she was following you to the meeting.”