Chapter Eight

Kyle

Clean shaven and standing at the bathroom mirror, I finish knotting the silver tie, which I’ve paired with a light gray suit, after all of three hours of sleep, but morning has come with no regrets from the night before. Undercover, you make split second decisions you believe will keep you and others alive. I did exactly that when I told Myla I want her and I have zero regrets about that decision. The fire between us is clear and present, and she’s right. It could easily get us killed if we let anyone else have the slightest idea it exists, which is something we’ll have to talk about today. It’s also a magnet pulling her to me, it’s clear to me that I’m going to need to use it to get her the fuck out of here, the Walker clan will just have to deal with it. And she does want out. I am certain of that now. She just doesn’t know how she can do it and protect Kara, and I have to show her that path, before I tell her who I am, even if that path is me killing Alvarez. 

Exiting the bathroom, I walk to the desk in my room and sit down, keying up the security feed, and then shifting to my instant message function to look for updates, finding none. Knowing Royce was catching some shut eye like me, I key in: Asher? 

The reply: I’m here. 

Short and to the point, about summarizes everything Asher does by choice, but unlike any one else I’ve ever known, the man is a chameleon who can don leather and boots as easily as he does a suit. Which makes him one hell of an asset. 

Me: Anything I need to know before Myla and I leave?

Asher: Royce and Jacob are already monitoring Alvarez Clothing, and waiting on you. We have four of our best contractors on a plane here now. And I’m caffeine and bacon deprived, which is fucking hell. Oh and SFB is parked across the street, and dumb enough to think he’s discreet. 

Asher gives people nicknames, and “SFB” stands for Shit for Brains, the nickname he gave Juan after watching him for a few hours last night. 

Me: We’ll be down in half an hour

Asher: Bring coffee. Or bacon. Bring both.

Standing, I rest my hands on the desk, considering any stone unturned, and while I’d hacked the security to get our team into Alvarez Clothing unnoticed last night, I consider running over there myself for a quick preview before I taking Myla there, but quickly rule that out. I can’t leave Myla alone, with Juan, who clearly needs to die for touching her, hanging around, ready to demand entry into her room. 

Pushing off the desk, I exit and make my way toward the living area, finding Myla’s door open. Sounds coming from what I know to be a mini kitchen area off the dining room, lead me in that direction, and I find Myla in the small, rectangular space, staring at a Keurig cup dripping, her long dark hair a sleek shiny wave down her back. 

Seeming to sense my presence, she whirls around, the pale pink dress she’s wearing hugging every slender curve, which I’d rather be hugging myself, the hem falling just past her knees. “Hi,” she says, pointing at the machine, and looking incredibly nervous. “They have a Keurig, but the coffee is just Plain Jane. You might like that, but I like my chocolate coffee. I need to see if I can get it ordered.” She grabs some sort of box I think has condiments, and manages to drop it. 

I am there immediately, picking it up to hand it to her, the sweet scent of her floral perfume mixing with fresh brewed coffee with surprisingly sexy results. She reaches for it, and I close my hand over hers. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Last night-”

“Was me speaking the truth and after I kissed you-”

“You didn’t -“

“Yes,” I say, “I did, and not only do I own that action, it was too damn short, and too damn good for us to deny it happened. Or that it won’t happen again.”

“It can’t happen again.” 

“It will, but not now. Not when you doubt me.”

“It’s not about doubt. It’s about Michael.”

That name is the one and only reply she could give me that makes me release her and step backwards. “Right. Michael.”

Her lashes lower and she turns to face the counter, pressing her hands to the marble. “I’m his. That’s just how it is.”

“And yet, you want me.”

“I’m his.”

I shackle her arm and turn her to face me. “You don’t belong to him. No one owns you.”

“Let go, Kyle. You’re my bodyguard, but that doesn’t require touching.”

I narrow my eyes on her and find what I’m looking for. Fear. Anger. Confusion. “This won’t work.” 

“What won’t work?”

“You can’t push me away. There is no door that will shut me out.”

“I already did. Door shut.” She turns and sets the condiments on the counter, grabbing her cup and trying to get the cream out of the container, and I don’t miss how her hand shakes a moment before she drops her sugar packets on the floor.

She squats at the same time I do, and we end up eye-to-eye, the charge between us electric; a punch of pure lust and attraction that sucks up all the air around us, then seems to sway us toward each other. “You’re making me crazy,” she hisses. “This isn’t helping me. It’s made me a wreck.” 

I reach for her elbow and help her to her feet. “Making me the enemy isn’t the answer,” I say, forcing myself to let her go. “And you have no reason to feel awkward with me. None.”

“Last night-”

“I was honest. I’ve done undercover work for a lot of years, sweetheart. What we hide from instead of control, is what becomes the poison that can destroy us.” I scoop up her sugars and tear them open. “How do you like your coffee?”

“You don’t have to make my coffee.”

“Myla,” I say softly. “How do you like your coffee?”

“From Starbucks, but I’ll settle for two creams and two Splendas.” 

I empty the contents of all of the packets and fill her cup, using a stir stick to blend it before tasting it. “Just the way I like it,” I say, handing it to her, a challenge in my action. Will she drink from the cup I drank from? “Try it.” 

She takes the cup from me and considers me a moment, then takes a drink. 

“Well?” I ask. 

She sets the cup down and rests her hands back on the counter, head low. “What are we doing, Kyle?”

I mimic her position, my shoulder touching hers. “Let’s talk about that.”

She faces me and explodes the minute I do the same. “Talking won’t solve this. I can’t share coffee with you and you can’t touch me or call me sweetheart. No more. No more.”

“That won’t be enough.”

“It will. It has to be enough.” She hesitates, and frowns. “Wait. What does that mean? That won’t be enough?” 

“The danger isn’t in what we say or do. The fire between us wasn’t created by me or you. It simply is. It’s a living, breathing, life of its own that radiates energy, and it’s that energy we have to control.” 

I expect denial, but she gives me acceptance. “How?” she asks, folding her arms in front of her. 

“I’m going to take on a persona of being cold and withdrawn when I’m with you. There won’t be conversation between us. There won’t be laughter or friendship. No matter what happens, I can’t react like the man I am, but only the man they expect me to be with you.” 

“So I’ll hate you like I do Juan.”

“Don’t act like you hate me. Don’t act like I’m anything but that bodyguard who is there, and won’t go away.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be seducing me or something?”

“They want me to prove or disprove your loyalty to Alvarez. I’m going to tell them you’re reserved and keeping to yourself, and eager for his phone calls.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It will be for you, because I’ll set the tone, and sweetheart, that doesn’t mean I watch Juan or anyone else treat you like shit. I won’t. You’re mine to protect, and I will protect you.” I glance at the zipper on the front of her dress and then back at her. “Are you wearing the gun?” 

“Yes. That’s why I picked this dress.”

“Good choice. If you need to use it, you use it and let me deal with ensuring there are no consequences.”

“I have no idea how you would do that.”

“I’ve been undercover inside operations just as nasty as this one. I know how to manipulate events and come out on top. You’re in good hands and not just mine. I have a team that works for me. They’ve already cleared the facility where you’re working and they’ll have our backs, but that’s absolutely between you and I.” 

“Of course. Who are they?”

“People I trust. People who you can trust. People I don’t want on Alvarez’s radar. That’s all you need to know.” 

“And you trust me to not tell him?”

“Quid pro quo on trust, too, Myla. I simply went first. You now have one of my secrets.”

“I’m not sure you really went first. I mean, right now, if you wanted to, you could tell Juan anything about me, and he’d believe you. I’m trusting you not to do that.”

“You hope I won’t do that. That isn’t trust.” My cellphone rings, and I reach for it, glancing at the screen. “That’s Juan,” I say. “Grab your things and let’s get out of here.” I answer the call. “Good morning, sunshine,” I say. “Good to know you get up before noon.”

“Shouldn’t you be leaving by now?” he asks, while Myla stands in front of me, waiting for the bombshell she always seems to believe is coming.

“I wasn’t aware I needed to control her schedule,” I reply. “Is there an agenda here? Because if there is, it would be nice if I got a fucking copy of it.”

“She has a meeting in thirty minutes.”

“Isn’t she the boss?” I ask, while Myla walks out of the room, as if she can’t take the exchange anymore. 

 “When the fuck are you leaving?” he asks. 

“Is she a prisoner I’m supposed to be guarding, or am I protecting her while she leads her normal life? Because if she’s a prisoner, the concept of testing her loyalty is void and what the hell am I doing here?” 

“When the fuck are you leaving?” 

“When she picks a pair of shoes that she doesn’t want to change.” He hangs up.

I shake my head and shove my phone in my pocket, and make my way to the hallway where Myla meets me with her purse and briefcase on her shoulder. “If I shoot him, you can clean it up?”

“Easily, though I’d be disappointed I didn’t get to do it. Let me get that.” I reach for her briefcase, taking it from her and glancing at the label. “A Louis Vuitton,” I say. “An expensive piece of Marc Jacob inspiration.” 

 “Yes,” she says, responding to the question I’ve left in the air. “Michael bought it for me. And yes. It’s a five-thousand dollar bag, but I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t even tell him I liked the brand. It was his pitch for me to be his Marc Jacobs.”

“I didn’t ask any of that.”

“I saw it in your face.”

“No one sees anything in my face I don’t want them to see,” I tell her. 

“Then you wanted me to see it and you wanted my answer.”

“I let it show,” I confirm. “Just in case you wanted to tell me. Clearly you did.” 

“Now you know.” She glances at her watch, also a Louis Vuitton. “I need to get to my meetings. I need to get this over with.”

I arch a brow. “That doesn’t sound like someone excited about living a dream.”

 “Please stop analyzing everything I say and do. I’m nervous.” She steps around me and heads toward the door, and I’m at the door when she is, pressing my hand to the surface at the same moment hers goes to the knob. 

“Myla,” I breath out, that sweet scent of hers teasing my nostrils. 

“What?” she whispers, without turning.

“Turn around.”

“No. I-”

“Turn around.”

Her shoulders flex as she inhales, and then rotates, leaning on the door, our bodies close, and it’s all I can do to keep my hand on the wood by her head, instead of on her. “Remember our plan.”

“You act like a cold-hearted bastard and I act like…I don’t notice.”

“Like I’m just another one of the assholes around you.”

“But you aren’t just another one of the assholes, now are you, Kyle?”

“No. I am not.”

“When are you going to tell me who you really are?”

“When you tell me who you really are.”

“I’ll have to figure that out first,” she says. “Can we go now?”

I am not pleased by this answer that says she’s lost herself while she tried to survive, which is what my father did. It infers that Alvarez has messed with her head more than I wanted to believe. I don’t believe she has an allegiance to him, but I need to be certain. I push off the wall, and she turns, opening the door and exiting our suite. Running from the wrong person, and proving that Alvarez has a hand on her even when he’s not here. I need to step things up before he shows up and make sure the only hands Myla wants on her are mine.