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?”