“And I’ll have a laundry list of data I’ll need as well as full access to the relevant computer databases. I’ll also need a vehicle. A 4Runner is my preference in case I need to transport anything or anyone. And, of course, money before I get started.”

“I’ll need a bank account.”

“Cash,” Blake countered.

He studied Blake a moment, his expression inscrutable. “It’ll be delivered to your hotel by end of day. How do you want to start?”

“I’ll visit the restaurants here locally. How many are there?”

“Three in San Francisco, but, of course, in Los Angeles and San Diego we have extensive operations. More than fifty restaurants.”

“You said you knew there was a problem your head of security couldn’t identify. Why are you so certain you were right and he was wrong?”

“Discrepancies in reports.” Mendez punched his intercom before Blake could ask for clarification. “Come to my office, Kara.”

The door opened almost instantly. “Yes, Mr. Mendez?”

Blake tensed at the soft, musical note of Kara’s voice from behind him that too easily stirred memories of her naked in his arms, and of the soft little purrs of pleasure sliding from her lips. Damn it, what was it about this woman that got to him? He’d spent two years living in the fast lane, in and out of women like they were a drive-thru, living for short-term highs and quick escapes. None of them did this to him. Not one. Just her.

Mendez motioned her forward. “Join us, Kara.”

Blake heard the swish of her skirt behind him a moment before she appeared at the side of the desk. His gaze lifted, skimming her petite but curvy hips hugged by the snug black skirt she wore, and he remembered in far too vivid detail how well she fit pressed against him. His dick pressed thickly against his zipper, his body betraying him, uncaring about what a lying, conniving bitch she’d turned out to be. And she was. He couldn’t afford to believe anything else.

“Kara’s intimately aware of our situation,” Mendez announced, “which is why I’m loaning her to you for the duration of your stay.”

Intimately. The word ground through every nerve ending Blake owned and he wondered exactly how affectionate she’d been with Mendez. “How intimately?”

Her brown eyes shot to his, and to his surprise he found a hint of indignation, as if she read his thoughts and wasn’t pleased. And damn it, there was a genuineness to her emotion, a wounded animal look deep in the depths of her stare, that twisted him in knots. For some ridiculous reason, he clung to the belief that Mendez, or maybe even Alvarez himself, held something over her, or she wouldn’t be here. But a victim wouldn't have had the skills to pull off Denver any more than a simple secretary would.