Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(75)

“Maybe he’s waiting at the hotel,” she says, clearly remaining as certain as I am that tonight is the night, while my gut says an ambush is headed in our direction.

“We’re not back there yet,” I say. “And we’ll know if he’s in the room or the hotel.”

She doesn’t reply and I eye the rearview mirror, spying the car I know Asher is in, now in our line of sight. I’m also aware that Royce and Jacob are at the hotel, waiting on us, and watching for trouble. Five minutes passes slowly, and we arrive at the Ritz without incident. I pull into the garage, driving to our normal spot and parking. I reach under my seat for my computer, but instinct has me thinking better, leaving it under my seat and my hands free.

“I’ll come around and get you,” I say, unbuttoning my jacket and preparing to pull my weapon.

“I just want out and to get inside,” she counters. “I’ m getting out with you.” She glances at me. “Okay?”

I give her a nod and we open our doors, meeting at the trunk. We never get the chance to take a step further. A black sedan backs out of a parking spot, pulls in front of us, parks, and two men get out, pointing guns at us, one of them Juan. At the same time, two men get out of another parked car and aim their guns at us.

“Alvarez requests your company,” Juan says, a smirk on his lizard-thin lips.

I take Myla’s arm and pull her to me. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

“You’re in luck,” he says. “You’re both invited.”

It’s a small piece of the puzzle that goes in our direction, unless Juan intends to kill me. “We’ll follow you,” I say, clicking the locks to the Mustang to allow Myla to get inside.

“That’s not happening,” Juan says.

“We’re not riding in a car with two people,” I say. “One driver only.”

He wants to refuse. I see it in the glint of his eyes and the set of his jaw, but the hesitation tells me Alvarez is really behind this not him and Alvarez wants me with her. He leans inside the car and speaks to the driver then shuts his door, with him on the outside. He then motions two men toward us. “You ride alone, but only after we search you for wires and tracking devices.”

“No one is touching Myla,” I say, pulling my weapon and shackling her arm. “And I’m not giving up my gun. Not when I spoke to Alvarez personally, and was to protect her. No matter what that requires.”

Juan’s eyes glint hard but he spits Spanish at the men and all but one backs off. “He gets her purse and both of your phones.”

“We’ll leave them in the car,” I say, clicking my locks, but really, nothing on my phone is traceable. I just want him to feel he wins when he refuses.

And predictably he does. “This isn’t up for negotiation,” he says. “You give them to my man. You have them back later.”

I hesitate long enough to make it seem like I care. “Give me your purse, Myla,” I say, taking it from her, and handing it to the man, who snatches it from my hand. I reach for my phone, but the man yells at me in Spanish, telling me to put my hands to my side. I step away from Myla, doing as ordered, my gun still in my hand. “Right pocket,” I say, but of course, he not only grabs my phone, but searches me for a second one, that I don’t have.

The minute he’s done and steps toward Myla, I grab her arm and pull her to me, my gun aimed at him. “Try it. Please.”

Juan orders the man to back off, and then glares at me. “Get in the f*cking car.”

“Let’s go,” I murmur to Myla, holding onto her and helping her into the back seat of the car, with me instantly beside her.

The driver eyes me in the mirror and I lean forward, indicating my gun I have yet to holster. “Where are we going?”

“I’m following another car. I have no idea.”

It’s a smart reply that may or may not be true, but gives me no room to argue. I lean back in the seat, reluctantly holstering my weapon, as the car starts to move. I don’t look at Myla, nor does she me. We just endure the ride, and it doesn’t take long for me to figure out why Juan didn’t push to search us. Not only are we sandwiched between two cars, we’re headed to a small airport outside the city, and once we’re in the air, any such device will be inactive. No one will be able to find us. We have to hope like hell that Alvarez is on that plane, and we never leave the ground.

I know the minute Myla realizes the same, her fingers curling on her lap, then sliding down to the seat where she discreetly presses her hand to my leg, like touching me comforts her, like she needs to reassure herself I’m here. And holy hell, I want to grab her and hold her, and it hits me that there are things I need to say to her in case anything goes wrong. Somehow, some way, I have to find that moment, and make it happen.

We pull into the private airfield, and Myla leans closer to the driver. “Is Michael here? Is he in the plane?”

“I have no idea,” the driver claims. “I just drive.”

And he does, straight onto the airfield where a large private jet awaits us, the car in front of us halting, as we do the same, followed by the sedan behind us. Our driver gets out of the car and knowing we may not survive this, I gamble there’s no bug, turning to Myla, and discreetly grabbing her hand. “I need to tell you something.”