Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(73)

His lips curve. “I’ll take that for now.”

“For now?”

“There’s more to come,” he promises. “Wait and see.”

I press my head to his chest, and let myself believe that the “more” that is to come is good. It’s not plastic, knives, and serial killers. It’s my sister. It’s Kyle. Maybe it’s even me designing clothes. But when I get dressed, an odd sense of foreboding begins. And when I pick out my dress for the day, I choose the peach one again that zips all the way to the waist, and gives me easy access to my gun.

Fifteen minutes later, my hair pins in place, similar ones now in production, Kyle meets me at the door, his gray suit and silver tie perfection, but for just a moment his gun peeks from beneath his jacket, indicating he’s left it unbuttoned. He feels it too. We take the elevator in silence, the edge of expectation in the air. Now I know why I needed to call my sister so badly. Today is the day Michael Alvarez returns. We both know it.





Chapter Twenty





Kyle





The instant we’re in the Mustang, I hand Myla the scanner, rev the engine and get us on the road. “What am I feeling?” she asks when she’s cleared the car. “Because all of a sudden I’m ready to crawl out of my own skin.”

“The same thing I’m feeling,” I say. “It’s instinct. It’s what made you survive this long.” My cellphone rings and I glance at the caller ID. “Blake,” I say, since she’s so nervous, and I answer the call on speaker and set it on the console between us.

“You’re on speaker with me and Myla,” I answer.

“Myla,” Blake says. “Nice to finally f*cking be meeting you.”

“Hi Blake,” Myla says, laughing. “You do like the “F” word, don’t you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to ride my ass like Kara on that, because we’re going to have a problem if you do. Okay, scratch that. I’m going to have a problem.”

“The problem,” I say, “is me and Myla are really on edge this morning and we don’t know why.”

“I’ve picked up some odd chatter that doesn’t make me feel like the f*cking king of the world myself today considering Royce has no idea what the hell is going on.”

“Holy hell,” I grind out. “Tell me the FBI hasn’t gone rogue on us and set us up for a problem.”

“Oh no,” Myla says. “Please say no.”

“Don’t start fretting now, sweetheart,” Blake says. “It may be nothing of consequence. I’m still working through my data here and Royce is a beast when he’s pissed. He’s on this. He’ll bust some balls and get things in check. In the meantime, we put extra coverage on you today to be safe.”

“Copy that,” I say, pulling us into the parking lot of the factory. “We’re here now. Keep us posted.” I end the call, and maneuver us into a spot near the front door.

“If we’re on edge, and Blake’s hearing chatter,” Myla says as I kill the engine, “that has to connect. It has to mean today is the day.”

“You’ve always thought he’d show up for the opening of the store,” I say, remembering comments she’d made over our late night dinners and TV sessions, and sticking the scanner in my jacket. “It’s close. It’s time to be on high alert anyway.” I reach for my door handle. “Stay where you are and let me come around and get you.” I exit the Mustang, scanning the parking lot, which is still mostly empty at this early hour, round the Mustang and open Myla’s door.

“The longer he’s gone, the more I worry that he’s not going to just visit. He’s going to send someone to grab me and take me to him.”

“He’s trusting me to protect you, and he instructed me to keep Juan away from you,” I say, pausing before opening the front door. “He’d have me bring you to him.”

“With ten other men holding guns on us,” she says. “He won’t trust you that easily.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” I say. “We have an army watching us.”

But as confidently as I relay that message to her, I’m more than a little relieved when she steps inside the lobby, and even more so when we’re inside the controlled environment of her office. “Get comfortable,” I say, sitting down at the conference table and opening my MacBook. “We’re going to call this room home for the day until we hear more from Royce.”

“More than fine by me,” she says, pulling out her sketchpad, and keying her company computer to life, only to have Barbara appear in the doorway.

“Oh good, you’re here,” she gushes, her cheeks as pink as the silk blouse she’s wearing. “We need you in the storefront.”

“Why the storefront?” I ask.

“Why?” she asks incredulously. “We’re about to open to the public in a few days. We have to have everything perfect.” She motions Myla forward.

“We’ll be right there in a few minutes,” I tell her, which earns me a glower, but encourages her departure, but not before she gives Myla a pleading look and a prod of, “Hurry please.”

I shut my computer and motion Myla forward, meeting her at the door. “I just wanted to warn you that the storefront has cameras and recording devices. And stay away from the front door.”