Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(63)

“That was just to make sure you know where we stand, but he was just being protective. He cares. And I told you. He’s gruff around the edges but a good man, Myla.”

“I get that,” she says. “I do. I just don’t need anyone doubting me right now. I can handle this. I am handling it.”

“Like a champion,” I say, “Now. Let’s take a shower together. Yes?”

“Yes,” she says, and she’s barely spoken the word before I’ve scooped her up and started walking toward the bedroom, my action meant to tell her that I’m here to carry her if she needs me. And she will. Maybe not now, but later, because what I don’t say to her, what I can’t tell her now, but I know all too well, is that once touched by a monster, that beast stays with you forever. All I can do is make sure he doesn’t get the chance to add to her scars.





Chapter Seventeen





Kyle





It’s eight-thirty, half an hour before we need to be at her office, when Myla steps into the doorway of the bedroom looking sexy as hell in some sort of peachy looking dress she’s cinched with a belt at her waist, her long, dark brown hair silk around her shoulders. “You ready?” she asks.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” I say, shutting my computer, and picking it up to take with me, before standing and closing the small space between us.

“Thank you,” she says, sliding her hand over the light blue tie I’ve paired with my navy suit. “I like this. And since they say the man makes the suit, you absolutely do.”

“A compliment from a future famous designer,” I say, taking her briefcase from her, her shiny lipstick a perfect match for her dress, and the only thing keeping me from kissing her. “I’m honored.”

“I don’t want to be famous,” she says. “I just want…” Shadows settle in her pretty green eyes. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“You want to design your clothes, your way,” I say. “And you will, on your own label.”

“He owns some of my favorite designs now.”

“He’s not going to own anything when this is over. Now.” I tilt my head toward the hallway. “Let’s go get another day of playing this ridiculous game over with, and then we’ll come back here, take a run, get naked, and then watch Dexter while we eat pizza. Then we’ll do it all again.”

She gives me a tiny smile. “Dexter again?”

“He’ll feed your fantasies about killing Alvarez, I promise.” I shift to preparation for the day. “Do you have your gun?”

“Yes.”

And back to her and us. “Let me see,” I say softly.

“You want to see?”

“Yes. I want to see.”

“All right,” she says, giving me a shy, sexy smile as she reaches for her zipper, “My design, by the way,” as she pulls it down. “I should market it as easy access to your handgun.”

“Or to other things,” I murmur, as she reveals her ample cleavage, a black lacy bra, and the gun, all of which has my cock thickening and my gaze lifting to hers. “I’m not sure what I’m going to think about the most today. This moment or the one where you were naked and holding a semi-automatic rifle in your hands.”

She zips herself back up. “I can’t believe I was holding that gun while I was naked.”

“Just know I’ll be a happy man every time I think about it today,” I tease, tilting my head toward the hallway, amazed at the flush of her cheeks that I catch before she turns and heads to the door. Somehow, some way, Alvarez took her body, but she’s managed to deny him her soul.

“Let’s assume there’s a camera to go with the recording device Les installed last night,” I say, joining her at the door, and flipping the lock. “I want you to drop your purse to force us to linger at the door. That will make our conversation we want them to hear seem natural.”

“And what is that conversation supposed to be?”

“Be snappy with me,” I say. “Act irritated that I’m around.”

She shakes her head. “No. That’s doesn’t fit me. I never do that, even with Juan.”

“All right then. We’ll stick with me being cold and you being uncomfortable. Just follow my lead and let’s ride the elevator down that has cameras and continue the same tone.”

“Got it,” she confirms, and I open the door.

Myla immediately exits the room, dropping her purse, which manages to open and spill the contents to the floor. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, squatting down to start collecting her items. Instead of helping her, I shut the door, and step closer to her, towering over her, and watching her efforts.

“These kinds of delays and mistakes, are dangerous,” I say. “It allows someone time to grab you.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she says, sounding flustered, and glancing up at me. “Do you have to hover?”

“It’s my job to hover,” I reply dryly.

“It’s making me nervous,” she says, popping to her feet and shoving her purse to her shoulder. “What is it exactly that you’re protecting me from?”