Designed for Murder (Killer Style 4)

Carlos didn’t have a say in her life. He’d forfeited that right forever.

“No, you’re not.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do.” He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh, and yanked her tight against his hard body. Danger and promise and bittersweet hope wrapped them up tight. “I’m going to find out who he is. I’ll make sure you’re safe. You don’t have to do this. Trust me.”

The words were too little too late when it came to him. She couldn’t put her faith in someone who couldn’t do the same with her, and he’d made his lack of belief painfully clear with words that had nearly hacked her in half.

“I did when it came to you and I shouldn’t have.” She tilted her head back and looked him in the eye.

That was a mistake, because all she could see in the brown depths was the possibility of what could have been but never would be. Her chest ached, her throat tightened, and her knees almost gave out, but she couldn’t give in to it. He wasn’t hers and he never had been. The realization emptied her out, taking away her anger and frustration and sadness and leaving her with only a shell of herself. She inched back, pulling herself away from the security of his arms and standing on her own two feet.

“Your problem, Carlos, is that you can’t whip off enough of your own skin to pay for what you think was your own sin. You made the right choice when you fired that gun and killed Ivy, but you’re too caught up in your own guilt to see that. Until you do, it’s going to affect every part of your life.” She sucked in a shaky breath. This was the last time she’d ever see him, and she needed to say it all. “God knows it screwed up whatever it was that we had going, and that’s too bad, because it was real and totally unexpected. I wish we would have gotten to see where it would have taken us.” She swerved around him and pulled open her front door. “Good-bye.”

Silence so heavy it nearly broke her shoulders filled the room. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Instead, she stared at the natural waving pattern in the hardwood floor beneath her bare feet as she fought to keep from curling up into a tight little ball for the foreseeable future.

Carlos’s black boots passed by her sky-blue toes.

He paused just outside her door. “Mi cielo—”

“No.” The endearment smacked her across the face. Her whole body quaked. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. I started falling for you the moment you asked me to dance at Feeny’s. I fought against it. I lost. And you threw that love back in my face. Go away, Carlos. There’s no place for you here.”

He might have said more, but she couldn’t hear it over the rushing in her ears as she pressed her hand against the door and pushed it shut.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this plan?” Will asked.

It had started as an impulsive idea. She’d put herself out there at Battle Ultimate as bait for

the dealer. Carlos was right: someone who shot Roger point-blank without even a twitch of doubt wasn’t a man to walk away from any loose ends. The more she’d thought about it and strategized, the more she’d known it was the right move.

Will and Alex hadn’t been thrilled with her plan, but they’d agreed to it. Not that it mattered. No matter what, she was doing it. If she was going to protect her friends—her chosen family—she had to take a calculated risk. She had to trust herself, even if the man she loved—still loved—didn’t. She’d prove Carlos wrong.

Carlos stared at the door, knowing he could pound his fist against it all he wanted and she wouldn’t open it again. This kind of fuck-up he couldn’t fix. Not right now. What he could do was find a way to protect Mika at the Battle Ultimate. The guys at Maltese were good—fuck, they were great—at keeping clients safe, but what was going down tomorrow wasn’t like anything they’d ever experienced before—and Mika wasn’t just another client.

They’d never be able to keep up at the Battle Ultimate trying to keep all of the costumed characters straight, determining where there was actual danger, and watching over everything. Mika would be on her own. That wasn’t about to happen. He hustled down the stairs and out into the day’s bright light. She may not want his help, but she was getting it anyway. It was the least he could do for the woman he loved.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

A horn blared and a yellow cab swerved around him, the driver flipping him off through the open window.

Carlos barely noticed the commotion, his brain was too busy trying to catch up with what his body had known that first night. Mika fit him in all the right places. She’d snuck her way past all his defenses and found him. He’d just been too fucking stupid to realize it.

Mi cielo…

She was his heaven, and he wasn’t about to lose her now. He’d do whatever it took to keep her safe tomorrow, and then spend the rest of his life, if that’s what it took, to convince her to take him back.

He grabbed his phone and opened his contacts list. It took a while to find what he was looking for. It had been a year since he’d called, but it was still there. He hit talk and hurried across the street to his car.

Ryan Hasley was an old Magic Battledome buddy and a member of Mika’s Silver Queen’s court. If anyone could help, it was him. He answered on the second ring.

“It’s Carlos. I need a solid.” He unlocked his car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Tell me you’re going to be a part of the Silver Queen’s court during the Battle Ultimate tomorrow and I’ll do whatever you need,” Ryan said.

“Sort of. I need a costume and a pass to get in.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, ready for action.

“Does Mika know?” Ryan asked.

He glanced into his rearview mirror, strategically angled to reflect Mika’s loft and the window where she’d stood earlier today. It was empty now. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”