It was a satisfying thought until he turned to find Mendez looking like a cat who just ate a canary. Mendez could see Blake’s interest in Kara, and he would use her against him if given the chance. And any time someone became a tool in a weapons chest, their life was on the line. No one was going to end up dead because of Blake—no one he wasn’t damn certain deserved to be dead.
“Nice piece of ass,” Blake said, making sure he was as crass as possible. This was about making Kara a body, not a person. “Sure you want her alone in a hotel room with me?”
“I’m no one’s guardian angel,” Mendez replied dryly, and the message was clear. She was part of his payment. Blake wondered how many men she’d pleased to satisfy her boss and disgust burned in his belly.
His teeth clenched. “If she loses her usefulness, I’m giving her back.”
“I’d like to think you’ll solve my problem before that happens.”
“I’ll need more than a night to solve your problem. I’m not promising I’ll need more than that with her.”
But that was a lie. He’d had a night with her and still he needed another. No matter how much Blake told himself that Kara, like everyone else the past two years, was simply a tool to get what he wanted, blood in exchange for blood, there was something about her messing with his head. Something that had taken hold of him and wouldn’t let go. And that made her a distraction he couldn’t afford, dangerous beyond a loaded gun with her finger on the trigger.
He had to get focused, put her in perspective as what she was…an enemy who could get him dead before he’d gotten the payback he was after.
Chapter Three
Kara buzzed her boss to tell him Blake’s truck had arrived, and then pressed her hands to her desk and willed her nerves to calm. She was shaking inside and out, trying to gather her composure and her things before she had to face Blake again, all too aware that he knew she was lying about Denver. She’d seen it in those keen, deep, dark brown eyes of his. If he didn’t kill her for drugging him, Mendez would if he found out she wasn’t what she seemed to be. Her only cold comfort in her situation was that Blake would look bad—incompetent, even—if he told Mendez he’d been undone by a woman, and he wasn’t likely to let that happen. She just had to stick to her story and she’d be fine. Right. Fine. She was headed to a hotel room with a man that thought she was better off silent and six feet underground.
The sound of the door opening behind her had Kara jerking backwards and smoothing her skirt, putting on the game face that was wearing on her. She hated Mendez Mendez more today than ever before. He’d handed her over to Blake like a wrapped package, and, ironically considering her choices last week, all but telling her to strip down and pleasure him. She wasn’t his whore or Blake’s, but yet, somehow, she’d become that and more. But it didn’t matter. She’d do what she had to do. She had a purpose. She had a reason for being here and doing this job—that mattered more than anything else.
Kara turned, expecting to face both Blake and Mendez, but found only Blake present. Their eyes locked and held and Kara felt the connection like a hard punch in the chest, the sizzling attraction between them impossible to escape. His expression darkened instantly, and she could almost taste his anger, as if he didn’t want to feel this spark between them any more than she did. She wasn’t comforted by his desire, by how it might give her influence over him. Men in this world would slit your neck for making them feel something they didn’t want to, and she’d already given him a reason to kill her by way of Denver.
Delicately, she cleared her throat, afraid of not finding her voice. “The 4Runner is waiting on you in the garage. You’re at the Tuscan off the pier, so you’ll have a parking garage for easy access to the vehicle. It’s also right by the pier Newport uses for critical product distribution, which I thought you might find convenient. What time should I be at the hotel in the morning?”
He barked out laughter and sauntered toward her, the dark rumble of sound expanding the broad, stellar chest his leather jacket did nothing to hide. He stopped toe to toe with her, an inch separating his boots and her high heels.
His gaze slid over her face, down to her mouth, lingering, and lifting. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you out of my sight tonight, now do you?”
His nearness rushed over her, sending waves of tingling sensations through her body. This time it was her gaze that went to his mouth before she could stop it, and she could almost taste him on her lips, taste her on his lips. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you think,” she finally managed.
“Not going anywhere without me,” he corrected and leaned in close, his lips near her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “We have trust issues, you and I, sweetheart. You’re staying by my side.”
Oh yes, they did have trust issues, which had to be why her heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. Didn’t it? “I was doing my job.”
“We’ll be talking about how you define your job. You can count on it.” He took a step backwards and motioned her forward.
She didn’t know what was more striking in that moment—how much she wanted him close again, or how much she knew getting away from him was absolutely necessary. She reached inside her drawer to grab her oversized black Coach purse, and a pang of discomfort tightened her chest. It had been a gift for her twenty-seventh birthday, a year ago in a week, from someone very special. Someone she wished was here now.