Deep Under

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—"