Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(60)

“Yes,” I say. “That would be fun.”

“And the lingerie you’re wearing beneath them. I’ll send a photographer to your office.”

My throat almost closes and I delicately clear my throat. “I can’t do that at work,” I say and almost choking on the words, I add, “Can they come here this weekend? If you’re here, you can watch. If not, I can make you wish you’d come.”

“Ah, bella,” he says. “I will not make it to see you this way until the weekend. You can do this. I will send the photographer. I’ll arrange it. Now, I must go.” He lowers his voice and says something absolutely raunchy and disgusting to me in Spanish, before the line goes dead.

Grinding my teeth, I set the phone on the nightstand, my stupid hand trembling as I do, but I do not let myself sit here, where I will think and destroy myself. I stand up, the towel falling to the floor, the cold air rushing over my skin, and I am naked in so many ways right now that it’s impossible to comprehend. Suddenly, I just need a shirt to put on. I need Kyle’s shirt, and I twist around, noting the suitcase on the other side of the bed, by the living area rushing in that direction. Rolling it away from the couch, I lay it down, and settle on my knees, unzipping it and flipping open the lid, but instead of clothes, I find that arsenal of guns Kyle mentioned.

Inhaling, I reach for one of them, welcoming the cold, steel comfort a weapon will surely deliver. I choose a big one that requires two hands, one worthy of killing Michael Alvarez, the weight blissful in my hands, against my belly.

“Holy Mother of Jesus,” Kyle says from the doorway, setting the cups in his hands on the desk, his eyes wide. “This is one of the most confusing, erotic, disturbing – did I mention erotic? – sights I’ve ever seen.”

Only then do I fully register the fact that I’m holding a gun with my naked breasts on full display, my teeth scraping my bottom lip. “I was looking for a shirt.”

“Understood,” he says. “I always confuse shirts and guns, too. I’ll get you a shirt.” He walks to the closet to the right of the door, disappearing inside.

I set the gun back down and shut the case, standing and crossing the room to meet Kyle as he returns, a shirt in hand that he helps me pull over my head. “Thanks,” I say. “I was cold and just…naked.”

His hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me to him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice soft, soothing, but somehow just the right kind of strong.

“He’s at some kind of airport,” I say, trying not to think about the photo shoot, and how many ways he could use those photos against me. “He’s leaving Honduras for another meeting.”

“As in right now?”

“Yes. He said he was on a plane getting ready to leave, but he normally uses private airstrips.”

“Is he coming here?”

“He said he wasn’t, but he could be,” I say. “There is no way to be sure with him.”

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I had better make some calls and try to find out.” He kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, hoping I convince us both that I am. “Make the calls, Kyle. Do what you need to do.”

He hesitates but releases me, already pulling his phone from his pocket, motioning toward two cups he’s set on the desk. “Don’t drink that. It’s insanely strong. I didn’t test it until I was walking back to the room.”

“I can make more,” I say, welcoming something to do. “How do you like it?”

“Half cream and lots of sugar,” he says, and I start to walk away as he catches my arm. “I know you aren’t fine, so I’m not going to ask if you are.”

“I am,” I insist. “Really.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, “but I’m going to fix that. I promise.” He releases me and I all but run into the hallway, not sure why I’m this rattled. Kyle is here and amazing. My sister is safe, and yet one phone call from Michael and I am unsteady, rattled to the core. I bypass the kitchen, choosing the bedroom instead, and the minute I see my neatly made bed, survival instincts kick in. I cross the room, tear away the blankets and then just for good measure, roll around in it a few times. Satisfied it looks slept in, I walk to the bathroom, brush my hair and teeth, but at no time do I look in the mirror, and I know why. The old me is surfacing, and I don’t want to see her. She can’t be here. She is too weak. She can’t survive. And I am going to survive.

I start to exit the bathroom when memories assail me. Me tied to a bed for hours on end. Michael using me like I’m some sort of doll, jacking off over and over, sometimes on me. Fucking other women he let touch me. I hate him. I hate him so much. I blink and I’m staring at myself in the mirror and I’m right. The old me is here, but she isn’t weak. She is angry. She wants to kill him. I shove off the counter I’ve somehow leaned over. I am going to kill him before this is over.





***





Kyle





My first call when Myla leaves the room is to Royce, who needs to be ready for Alvarez to show up at any moment. My second is to Blake. “Tell me you have someone for me on Alvarez,” I say when he answers.