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“I didn’t ask you to come here, Karina. You should leave.”
“Well, I’m already here. We might as well take advantage.” The curvy blonde reached between us, grabbed my junk, and began massaging it with a practiced hand. This time, I snatched her wrist and twisted it behind her back.
“Your services aren’t needed, Karina. Not now, not ever.” I let go and gave her a tiny shove. She stumbled in her heels, but caught herself quickly.
Karina’s eyes narrowed and her skin flushed. “Fuck you!”
I stepped forward until her back was pressed against the wall and leaned in close, my palms on either side of her head. It took every ounce of willpower to keep from tossing her out of the house on her ass.
“Speak to me like that again and see what happens. I dare you.” Karina swallowed, eyes wide and the seductive act gone. I pointed toward the foyer. “Now, walk down the hall, open the front door, and fucking leave.”
She nodded and ducked under my arm, moving as fast as those ridiculous shoes would allow. Once the front door closed, I rolled my eyes and wondered what the fuck I ever saw in her. Instead of painted nails and heels I envisioned grease-stained hands and cowboy boots. Instead of ten layers of mascara and makeup, I wanted a smattering of red-gold freckles.
“Fuck.” Despite wanting to know why Karina was here, I was more invested in finding Miri and going on our ride, so I continued my search.
Miri wasn’t in the library or the garage, her two favorite places. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere. Aggravated, I rang Sarge to have his men do a sweep of the grounds.
“Boss, I thought you knew…”
An icy tentacle slithered down my spine. “Knew what?”
“We thought, I mean she said it was okay. We thought, because you let her get a job…”
“Goddammit, Sarge! Spit it the fuck out right now!” I slammed my hand on the kitchen table, my temper holding on by the thinnest of silk threads, ready to snap at any second.
“Miri left. Frank gave her a ride. He took her to the mall.” Sarge was clearly scared shitless to be the one to inform me of Miri’s departure.
“Did any of your men go with them to protect her?”
“No, Boss.”
“Son of a bitch! Get Frank to pull the car around front! I’ll bring her back myself.”
“Boss, Frank isn’t back yet. He’s with her at the mall, waiting.”
I roared into the phone, cursing a blue streak. “You idiot. If Frank is with her then get him on the motherfucking line and tell him to get his ass back here and bring Miri. If she’s still shopping, have him go into the goddamn store, put her in the car, and bring her to me, now!”
“Yes, Boss.”
I clenched the phone in my hand, suppressing the urge to hurl it across the room. If Frank were to call, I needed my phone working, not in a million useless shards no matter how satisfying it would be to watch it explode. Fuck me, I should have given her a phone. Those fuckers should have asked before taking Miri anywhere. They answer to me, not her. They brought her out unprotected with this goddamn war looming.
Goddamnit!
Confused and somewhat unsettled, my hands itched and my legs became restless. I needed something to do to calm down and stop my overactive brain from sending me over the edge into a violence-filled tirade simply because Miri went to the mall. I considered straightening my closet or rearranging my desk, but decided I needed something physical instead.
Miri was unprotected. Out of the house. Outside of my protection. Where Los Guerreros could get to her.
Furious, I quickly changed into workout clothes and headed for my well-appointed home gym. After a brief stretch, which I cut short because it was too mindless of an activity to keep me from obsessing over Miri’s safety, I jumped on the treadmill and set the keypad to the much-loathed Heavy Hill workout and hit start. Half an hour and buckets of sweat later, the run hadn’t done a single thing to calm down my very active imagination or my volatile mood.
Was Miri shopping and got hurt?
Did El Cuchillo’s men get her?
Did Frank run off the road and they’re both lying dead in a ditch?
Certainly Frank had either called or was back by now. The fact that I hadn’t heard from him or Sarge ticked me off to no end.
I slapped the kill switch and stood hunched over, hands on knees, to catch my breath. Puddles formed on the treadmill as sweat rolled off me in streams. When my heart rate slowed a bit, I snatched a towel from a neat pile on a nearby rack and wiped down, intent on paying a visit to the small pool house that served as the base of operations for my security team. Sarge was going to get a piece of my mind. As I approached the pool house door, loud voices came from inside. Frank and Sarge were arguing.
