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Ryder’s eyes flickered with a potent mix of amusement and desire. “You’re saying no sex if we’re living in whatever this secret place is?”
“I’m suggesting whatever happens, we keep it professional. And you keep this place a secret until your dying day.”
“Sounds like a sacred pact,” he murmured, the desire in his expression going white hot.
Nita nodded, a teasing glimmer in her gaze. “Exactly.”
Ryder’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Partners, huh? I can work with that. But remember, secrets can be a dangerous game.”
All playfulness fled as she the seriousness of their situation flooded in. Her eyes locked with Ryder’s. “I understand the risks. But sometimes it’s the secrets that save us.”
She didn’t think he’d know what the fuck she was talking about, and she wasn’t going to say any more than that. His eyes, though, told a different story. They said maybe he knew exactly the kind of thing she wantedandwanted to avoid. And that maybe it was the same for him.
“Alright, I’ll keep the secret. Just the one. As long as you make a promise to me.”
“What’s that?” she asked warily.
“This isn’t a situation where we share personal secrets and become besties. This is a job, period. Once I’m done and paid, I’m gone. Can you handle that?” he asked, all expression gone from his face. She was looking at a stone-cold hard ass and it suited her just fine.
“Definitely. And I couldn’t have put it any better myself. Ready to see the secret lair?” she asked, holding up her wristband.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed.
She turned to head to the elevator. He followed. She walked right past it to a metal door at the far end of the lobby.
“This secret lair is in a storage room?” he asked.
“Kind of,” she replied, looking back over her shoulder.
She met his eyes and saw him lick his lips. The sight sent a bolt of electricity right to her core as she swiped her wristband and pushed the door open.
Inside a smaller vestibule was another elevator.
“The plot thickens,” he murmured, very close to her neck. Too fucking close.
11
Ryder let Nita step off the elevator ahead of him and followed her directly into the “secret” that nobody except the previous owners of Cavendish knew about.
He had to admit; it was fucking impressive.
The space was about 20’ x 20’, with the rough rock of the mountain to the left and right. Ahead of him was a wall of glass, tinted to make the November morning look even more gray.
“Wow,” Nita said from where her steps had faltered.
“You’ve never been here?” he asked.
“Never. I only heard about it when I was snooping on a conversation Kensley had with her friends. They’d come here when one of the previous owners had gotten in trouble,” Nita explained, then walked across the concrete floors, her heels clicking.
A table with chairs stood directly in front of them. To the right was an efficient kitchen with a narrow island. To the left, between a built-in bar and a bookcase with a computer and several drawers below it, was a bedroom. He could see the corner of a bed and imagined a bathroom must be in there as well.
He followed Nita past the dining area to a sunken living room, albeit sunken in concrete. A large sectional and massive glass table sat in front of those enormous windows.
“For a secret lair, this is amazing,” Nita mused, walking up to the window and looking out. “The glass looks tinted, but different from downstairs somehow.”
He stopped beside her, looking down at where the glass disappeared into thick steel. Then he rapped a knuckle against it and heard a familiar metal pinging sound.
“It’s Naloxicine,” he said. “Whoever commissioned this place spent a shitload of money on it.”
