Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(64)

“As I keep telling you. Everything and everyone that isn’t me.”

“Can I have my briefcase? I want to look at my sketches.”

“And I want your hands free in case you need to use them to protect yourself.”

“My hands? I can put the briefcase on my shoulder.”

“Not and hold the sketchpad. We need to move along.”

She glowers at me and turns on her heel, beginning the walk to the elevator, smartly holding her character, her steps a bit too fast, her body language stiff and uncomfortable. “Behind me,” I instruct, when we step into the elevator. “Always behind me. I’m in front to take any fire that comes before you would.”

“What fire?” she asks, as the doors close. “Who wants to shoot me?”

“It’s not my job to name names,” I say. “It’s just my job to ensure no one hurts you.”

She says nothing else, remaining where she stands, her acting skills a testament to how she’s survived. The game is as second nature to her as it is for me to step forward first when the elevator doors open to the garage, and immediately know something isn’t right. An instant later, my gaze lands hard on Juan, looking shorter than usual, because he’s leaning on my f*cking Mustang, just asking to get hurt. I reach for Myla, my hand closing around her arm, as I pull her to my side. “Why is he here?” she murmurs, as we start forward.

“Trying to get his balls ripped out,” I say, not releasing her until we’re at the car, and I’m standing a foot in front of Juan. “Get in the car, Myla,” I instruct, clicking the locks open.

“That won’t be necessary,” Juan counters. “She and I need to talk. I’ll drive her to work.”

She stops walking. I keep my eyes on him, and repeat, “Get in the car, Myla,” and this time, she does exactly what I say, moving to the passenger door.

“She’s going with me,” Juan says. “You work for me. Myla! Come back.”

“I work for Alvarez,” I say, as the car door slams with Myla inside the Mustang. “You’re just the messenger, and you should know: my car is my baby. Lean on it again, and I’ll have to defend its honor.”

“You’re very protective of her,” he says. “Maybe too much so.”

“I paid a hundred thousand dollars for that car. You’re damn straight I’m protective of her.”

“I mean Myla and you know it.”

“I was hired to protect her or die. I’m not getting my balls cut off over you, but right now you should know I’m thinking about where to hang yours.” I walk to the driver’s side of the car.

“I’m not done talking,” he says.

I get in the car, lock the doors and hold up a finger to warn Myla the car might be bugged. She inhales and nods, facing forward. Juan remains on the back of my car, apparently thinking he’s going to stop my departure. I rev the engine and still he stands there. I shift to reverse and roll just enough to knock the shit out of him, which earns me loud cursing and his butt getting the hell out of the way. I back us up and get us the f*ck out of the garage, handing Myla the scanner from my pocket. She eagerly accepts it, turns it on and sweeps the car, during which time my mind is conjuring all kinds of reasons to turn around and run Juan over.

“Why would he want to see you alone?” I ask, the minute we’re clear. “Is that a regular thing? Does he-”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says. “And no. That was one time, but he likes to play with my head. He taunts me. He was not pleased when Michael decided to bring in a bodyguard.”

“Interesting,” I say, glancing over at her, and hating the way she’s hugging herself again. “Are we sure Juan isn’t making a move against Alvarez?”

“They’re family,” she says. “I can’t imagine that to be the case, but it’s Juan, so maybe.”

“You will not go with him anywhere. In case I haven’t made myself clear. That means, you shoot him if you have to. Understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

But what I don’t understand are Juan’s actions and motives, which brings me back to him telling me Kara’s FBI, not ex-FBI, when Alvarez is obviously concerned about her contacting Myla. Maybe he was testing me. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. Maybe he’s just an * who’s a fool. But assuming so could make me the fool and get us killed.





***





Myla



The minute Kyle and I walk into the lobby, our timid little blonde receptionist takes one look at Kyle’s hard-set expression, and jumps to her feet. “Can I get either of you some coffee? Or some…something?”

“I’ll make some in my office, Heather,” I say, “but thank you, and don’t worry.” I indicate Kyle. “He’s my personal stalker, I mean bodyguard. He won’t stay up here and stare at you.” It’s weak humor, but the best I have in the “feel good/comfort” category after the Juan incident that seems to have left Kyle worried, rather than just agitated. Maybe that’s because he’s just not used to Juan’s behavior, but he’s honed years of instincts I’ve only been using for a year. Maybe there is something about Juan I’ve been missing that he’s picked up on.