Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(61)

“Fuck no,” he says. “Kara and I’ve been up all night trying to find him. He’s a ghost and f*cking Honduras makes that an easy thing to be.”

“He called Myla this morning. He’s on a plane moving to an undisclosed location. I need to know it’s not here.”

“Have you traced the call? It’s doubtful, but that might give us an originating point.”

“Not yet,” I say, my eyes landing on her phone on the nightstand, “and Blake, man, if I give you the number, Kara cannot call her.”

“Give her some credit, man. She knows she’s operating like she’s undercover. She gets the psychology of it all.”

I grab the phone and look at the caller ID. “The number he called from was blocked, of course,” I say, “and I have no f*cking clue why I haven’t asked her for his number.”

“He won’t have one,” Blake says, “but I have magic fingers. I can do a lot with her number. What’s her number?” I hesitate and he knows. “Give me the f*cking number, Kyle, or I will come there, bring Kara, and get it myself.”

Grimacing, I give him the number. “If he shows up here-”

“Kill him,” he says. “We have the locations where the women are now. We’ll get them out. You just keep him the hell away from Myla.”

“We both know we can’t be sure we’ll save those women that way.”

“We will save them.”

“Just f*cking find him, Blake,” I say, hanging up, my gaze lifting to the doorway where Myla now stands holding two cups of coffee, her expression unreadable. “I talked to Royce first,” I explain as if she’s asked, “but bottom line. He’s one of the best hackers in the world. We need him looking for Alvarez.”

“I understand,” she says, crossing to hand me my coffee. “I promise.”

“He wants to know if you have a number you call Alvarez on,” I say, accepting the cup.

“No number.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she confirms.

“What comes up on your phone when he calls you?”

“It’s always blocked.” She changes the subject. “Is Kara with Blake?”

“She is and she’s trying to help.” I sip my coffee. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, her expression solemn. “Now I feel like I need to talk to Kara.”

“No,” I say. “You don’t.”

“No?”

“No. Your instincts to say you shouldn’t see her now were right.”

“Why were they right?”

“You know that answer.”

“Because I’ll worry about her and I’ll get reconnected to a world I can’t quite have yet.”

“Exactly,” I say. “You can’t reconnect with the real you, or you’ll make mistakes. And Kara knows this. Blake just told me she does.”

“He did?”

“Almost Scout’s honor, sweetheart,” I joke. “Seriously though. He did. Kara’s fine, but I do want you to meet the people protecting you. You need to know who they are and feel good about them, and since we can’t risk an in-person meeting, Royce and I just had a quick conversation before I talked to Blake about doing a Skype. Are you okay with that?”

“I am. When?”

I glance at my watch. “It’s only six-fifteen. When do you want to get to the office?”

“Nine.”

“Then let’s just do this now.” I motion to the desk where I have a monitor set up with Skype already.

We move in that direction, claiming side-by-side seats. “Who am I meeting with?” she asks, sipping her coffee, seemingly relaxed, but there is an edginess to her I can’t quite define.

“Asher, Jacob, and Royce.” I send a Skype ping and the reply is almost instant, with Asher appearing on the screen, his long blond hair tied at the nape, his short sleeved t-shirt showcasing his brightly colored tattoo sleeves.

“Myla,” he greets, his tone friendly. “I’m Asher. How the hell are you?”

“I’m better now that I have help,” she says.

“Everybody’s better with help unless that help sucks and we don’t suck.”

“That is true,” she says, the sound of her laughter that follows is welcome in the aftermath of Alvarez’s call.

“Myla,” Jacob says, moving into the screenshot, the contrast of his short buzzed hair and stoic personality to Asher hard to miss. “I’m Jacob. I just wanted to say that we’ve got your back.”

“Hi Jacob. Thank you. You both know Kara?”

“We do,” they both say.

“I’ve worked with her quite often,” Jacob offers. “I’d trust her with my life or anyone else’s.”

“Count me in on that one,” Asher agrees. “Your sister’s kick ass. Have you heard what she did to Kyle?”

I grimace at the memory I can’t escape. “No she has not,” I say, while Myla gives me a curious look.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “It was before-”

“She dropped him like a rock,” Asher supplies, “or more like a ten-foot tree.” He holds up his hand and mimics me falling as he adds, “He fell like a timberland.”