“That gives me no time to prepare.”
“Go by your apartment. Get your things. That’s all the preparation you need. I’ll meet you at the hotel elevator in an hour. Don’t be late this time.”
“An hour and a half.”
“An hour,” he repeats, and hangs up.
I shove my phone in my pocket. “Whoever I’m guarding is at the Ritz waiting on me. I told them I want to meet the person first. They’ve agreed, but expect me to come prepared to stay the night.”
Footsteps sound and Blake joins us, stepping between myself and Royce. “We’re going to Italy, but fuck you both for not telling me you’d found Alvarez.”
“Blake, man-” I begin.
“Fuck you, Kyle,” he says. “We’re brothers. All of us. You don’t fucking keep secrets like this.” He looks at Royce. “And you, brother. You have a wife. You know Kara changed everything for me. I put Kara before revenge.”
“I also know from having a wife,” Royce says, “that secrets are poison. I didn’t want you to have to choose to keep one from Kara. I wanted to know if this was real before we told you.”
“I have to go,” I interject, and knowing that if Blake hacked our records he knows everything. “I’m meeting the person they’re paying me to guard.”
“So you’re in,” he says, his tone flat.
“I’m in,” I confirm. “I’ll make this count, Blake. If I can find her-”
“I get Alvarez,” he says. “I get to be the one who kills him.”
“Blake, damn it-” Royce begins, and before he finishes Blake is flattening him with a stare.
“Don’t tell me how killing him will blacken my soul or some fucking bullshit like that, big brother. I’m killing him. And right now, I’m leaving the country with Kara on this job, which will be long enough to save everyone you can before I do it.” He turns around and walks down the stairs.
Royce and I look at each other and I sigh. “I guess that’s as contained as he gets.”
“No,” Royce assures me. “It isn’t. And as I said, I’ll contain him. You just go do your job.”
“Right. I’m leaving, but from this point forward, I’m keeping only the phone line I purchased for this job on me.” And because undercover is what I do well, I reach into my pocket and hand him my company phone I use for about everything, but undercover work. “I don’t want it on me.” He nods, accepting it and I add, “Tell Blake how to reach me and I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but I have to say it. Make sure he knows we’re using only non-traceable lines, from this point forward.”
“Copy that,” he says. “Just for confirmation. All calls will come from a line that will be routed to a disconnected message if called by an unknown number. And all calls made from the line will be automatically purged by our team.”
“Excellent,” I say, turning and heading for the back door, and doing so, with the world on my shoulders. Blake’s world. Kara’s world. And maybe, just maybe, Myla’s life, but that would be a good thing. It would mean she’s not dead and I have the chance to save her. Exiting the bar, the hot air suffocates me, but my adrenaline is pumping, my desire to know where this is headed, high. Clicking my locks open, I have the tingling sensation of being watched.
My lips quirk. Like I don’t know Alvarez’s people have been following me everywhere I fucking go. I climb into the Mustang and settle my phone into the holder connected to my dash. “Siri, text Whataburger.”
“Yes Kyle. What would you like to say?”
“Eyes on the bar,” I say, starting the engine.
“Texting: Eyes on the bar. Text sent.”
“Clear text, Siri,” I say, putting the car into drive.
“Text cleared, Kyle.”
And now I’m ready to find out who is worth a million dollars in eight weeks to Alvarez, and why.
***
An hour later, I’ve picked up a week’s worth of clothes, and handed my keys off to Les again. I also palm him a hundred dollar bill. “My bags are in the trunk. Make sure you’re the only one who touches them and bring them to me when I’m ready.”
He glances down at the bill, and gives me a short nod. “With pleasure, sir.”
I leave him and make my way inside, then to the elevator, where Juan waits on me, sans his sister. “You didn’t need your chick bait this time?” I ask.
He punches the elevator button and arches a brow. “Chick bait? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You wanted to know if I could be bought or bribed with *, which I assume is because of certain aspects of your business.” In other words, their sex trafficking operation.
“Among other things,” he concurs, and when the doors open we both step inside the car, where he sticks his key in the slot and punches in a floor. “You are here for business. You get your pleasure elsewhere unless you’re offered compensation outside of cash.”
“By the powers that be.”
“Yes.”