Authors: Angela Smith
That fluttering in her heart became a sting.
“Moore, why don’t we leave this to the girls and let them get it all figured out?” Camden asked, his breath on Rayma’s cheek. “They sound more than capable.”
“You’re an asshole,” Rayma said. Camden stepped back.
“Lacey is sleeping with the enemy and
I’m
the asshole?”
“She’s an asshole, too. You all are.”
“Yeah, and you’re a prisoner,” Camden said. “Which is how you’re going to stay until I say you can leave.” He turned on his heel and stalked to the back door. “I can’t deal with this tonight.”
Rayma watched him walk out. So that’s how he was going to treat her, huh? After last night, he wanted to pretend nothing ever happened? Wanted to treat her like she was being unreasonable? She didn’t blame him for being angry with Lacey, but taking it out on the rest of them was unfair.
She’d exposed her soul to him. Her fears, regrets. Things he couldn’t possibly know from the deepest background check. She should have known better.
Even still, she knew she’d do it all over again.
Camden
Camden was seasoning the current special of the day when Darrell approached him.
“I need a drink. You up for a drink?”
Fuck. A drink sounded perfect about right now. He’d been fighting his emotions all night, all day, all evening. After the best lovemaking of his life, he’d treated Rayma like shit. He was a man used to pulling away from women, after all.
But he didn’t want to pull away from Rayma. That pissed him off.
He hadn’t had much time to try to make it up to her today, to apologize, and when he came in the house before heading to work this afternoon with the intent to see her, she’d been in the shower. He considered breaking in and joining her, but too much activity in the house gave them no privacy.
“I’d love one,” Camden answered. “But I’m working.”
“Yeah, we need to fix that. Get that kid to take care of things. It’s not too busy.”
Camden pulled off his apron and hat and went to tell Jonathan—that kid who happened to be a bright young chef—he was leaving it to him. Since there was another chef in training available, and it was a slow night, he didn’t think they would have a problem.
“You want to go to the bar?” Camden asked, smoothing his hair. He hated wearing those damn hats.
“I gotta get out of here,” Darrell said. “And you seem a little tense yourself. We’ll go somewhere else.”
Damn, was he being that obvious? He had to loosen up before his
boss
got suspicious.
They rode with Dare’s new chauffeur. This chauffeur was not undercover and didn’t appear to be involved in the drug business. Camden hoped to keep it that way. Regret pooled through his gut. Fletcher shouldn’t have died. Together, they were a strong team. He missed him. Although this was the first time he’d ridden in the limo, memories of Fletcher assaulted him.
Once they arrived at the bar and grill down the street, Dare poured them both a scotch from the bar in the limo. Camden took it, smiled, saluted, and sipped. He had no intention of drinking heavily lest he lose his wits, which he needed at all times.
Dare was edgy tonight. It matched Camden’s mood.
He watched from the corner of his eye as Dare leaned back against the sheen of the black leather seat. Though the limo was adorned with bling, all Camden noticed was Dare’s life, tarnished like silver—pretty on the surface but after the polish wore off, seriously corroded. One could keep polishing, but the imperfections were always there. Darrell could hide behind his niceties, helping kids in Sanctions Gateway, playing soldier to his employees, and smiling when the time was just right, but he would never be genuine.
Darrell was only out for himself, no one else.
“I have a new chef coming on.” He finally broke the silence, and for a moment, Camden thought he was being fired. “He starts Saturday. I want to free up your time, make you more available to me. If you’re interested.”
“If it pays more,” Camden said, playing things cool. Either this was a turnaround and he was finally going to get involved with the back side of the business, or he was testing him, tossing him to the wolves.
Darrell laughed. “I’m throwing a party in a couple of weeks and need a full-time chef over the entire weekend. Are you available?”
“I’m available. What do you need?”
“We’ll go over the drink list and menu later. It’s a rowdy bunch, but sophisticated. Good food, good wine, good drinks, good drugs.”
“Sounds good.”
Darrell laughed and high-fived Camden, letting down his serious nature. “It is good.”
“I appreciate the opportunity.” Inside, he hated himself. This may be the pivotal moment, the turning point in this assignment and maybe his career, and inside he hated every moment of it. He hated himself for ever getting involved in undercover work. Why couldn’t he have been in banking, or insurance, or been a real chef?
One day, where would he be in life? Alone, acting like a person he wasn’t just to bring someone down. Someone like Darrell, who was only out for himself, yet in many people’s eyes he was a good guy. He deserved to rot in prison for all he’d done yet was too careful for that to happen. Many drug dealers would spend a year or two and get out to do it all over again.
So many undercover agents lost their identity and became one of the ones they were trying to bust. Camden wasn’t going to allow that to happen, but damn if it wasn’t hard sometimes. There were so many people in life that had a hard time making it. And this guy was rolling in the high life. It made Camden sick. But he continued to smile and carefully sip his scotch.
They stopped at La Grange, a hopping dance club full of wild music and women. Ordinarily, it would have been just what he was looking for.
But Camden had changed. There was a hole in the middle of his heart filled with longing. For what, he wasn’t sure. Longing for this chapter of his life to end and a new one to begin. He wanted to talk to his sister and share holidays with his family again. He wanted a break, and he needed to contemplate his future because he’d been undercover for too long.
And he wanted to make love to Rayma again.
“What are we doing here?” Camden asked as he exited the vehicle and followed Darrell.
“My head’s spinning. I need to give it a reason to.”
The music would do it—screaming, thundering sounds like a wild banshee thrashing around in a small cage, attempting to flee. It certainly made Camden’s head spin, but not in a good way.
Darrell ordered them both a drink, and Camden tried to relax. Surely he couldn’t have changed in just a few short days. This used to be his pastime—going out with friends, having some fun, having some drinks, having hot women surround him. He wasn’t married, and he certainly wasn’t tied down.
A woman in a tight red dress approached the bar and smiled. “Hi, boys,” she said.
This was his chance to prove to himself he was the same Camden, but his gut soured when she placed her hand on his. He turned his attention to the bar, studying the liquor there as if he’d be tested on the contents later.
Damned if he was going to buy the woman a drink.
When he didn’t say anything, she let out a loud “huh” and walked away.
“What was that all about?” Darrell asked.
“I’m not interested in whores,” Camden replied.
“What about that news woman?”
“What about her?”
“Is she the reason you aren’t interested in anyone else?”
Camden fought the urge to deny too much. “Why in the hell would you think that?”
“I asked you to kill her.”
“Yeah.”
“Instead, she disappeared.”
“Well, you asked me to kill her after she disappeared,” Camden said, steeling his voice. He’d like nothing more than to wrap Darrell in a chokehold and watch the life go out of him.
“And what if I had asked you while she was around?” Dare asked.
“What if you had?”
“Would you have been able to do that task for me?”
“If you’re asking me if I’m a killer, the answer is no,” Camden replied, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear their conversation. “But I do whatever is necessary.”
“Is she why you’re not interested in whores?”
“I’m not interested in whores because I won’t pay for sex. And I don’t like to be chased. I’d rather do the chasing.”
Darrell guffawed. Camden bit down on his violent urges. Protecting Rayma was now his first and foremost goal, even over bringing Darrell down. To have a conversation with his boss about killing the woman he was falling for was a test of his strength. Darrell couldn’t know, could never guess. He’d risk his mission, his career, his life to make sure Rayma was safe.
“What about that woman you’ve been seeing?” Camden asked.
“What about her?”
“You seen her lately?”
“A couple of days ago, but it’s probably time I do again.”
“She’s married,” Camden reminded him. Never mind the fact she was a DEA agent who was supposed to be bringing him down. He didn’t trust Lacey.
“Speak of the devil,” Darrell said, his voice trailing off as he sipped on his liquor.
Camden turned and hid his shock at seeing Lacey. She faltered a moment, clearly expecting to see Darrell but not Camden. Then, plastering a smile on her face, she walked up to Darrell and placed a kiss on his cheek.
Darrell gestured to Camden. “Darling, I want you to meet a friend of mine and my favorite chef.”
Lacey extended her hand, playing her part exceptionally well. “Yes, we know one another. He’s my tenant,” she said to Dare. Then to Camden, “I hope things are going well.”
“They are,” he said, his voice low, biting down the urge to growl. “And where is your husband?”
“He couldn’t be here tonight,” Lacey said, winking.
Dare grabbed her waist and lifted her feet off the ground. “Let’s dance.”
She was good, Camden had to give her that. She hid her nervousness well, unless she just didn’t care that he was going to kick her ass when they got home.
They’d checked for wires all over the house, and so far had found none. Still, the possibility was there. Dare could plant them anywhere on her clothes, her purse, her belongings. He couldn’t believe Moore had allowed her to go out and meet Darrell tonight, so he assumed the boss didn’t know.
Camden watched as they danced, until he lost them in the crowd. He asked the bartender for water and sipped it slowly. He didn’t want to lose his head tonight.
Darrell had been testing him. He knew Lacey was going to be here tonight. They’d probably made plans to meet, and Dare brought Camden to see his reaction.
But why?
Lacey insisted Dare didn’t know about the operation. She insisted he only thought she was a woman cheating on her husband. Moore thought they should bring in new agents.
Camden didn’t know what to think. Especially now that he’d been officially invited to manage the event. If he left and they brought in more agents, they’d never make it to that party.
What a waste of time. Precious time. Time he could be spending touching Rayma, tasting her lips, relishing the feel of her skin against his.
But the woman in the red dress approached again, skimming her hands up his thigh. He moved away and shot her a hard glare. It worked, at least a little, because she kept her hand on his arm and, though her fingers drummed against his skin, she didn’t try anything else.
He removed her hands from his arm. “Look, ma’am, I’m not in the mood tonight, but thank you.” He tried to be as nice as possible. Dare was probably paying her a shit ton of money to
seduce
him.
Camden wished he was back in the safe house with Rayma instead of stuck in this club. It was a place well known for drunkards and easy women. A place many men came to find just that. He wanted to slip away without making a big scene or being noticed. Since he didn’t smoke, he couldn’t use that excuse, and needing a breath of fresh air usually meant “let’s go make out,” so that wouldn’t work either.
She couldn’t find him in a men’s room so he used that to get away from her for few minutes. She waited for him near the exit. Damn his luck. He was a chef, he didn’t have an emergency appendectomy to perform, and he had to play nice for Darrell’s sake. He couldn’t say he had a hot woman waiting for him at home, because Dare would want more details, and Camden couldn’t give those.
He saw his chance as soon as another woman came up to talk to the blonde. He took it, slipping out of the club and keeping to the shadows. Blending in.
Blending in was not his strong suit, especially when he was half a head taller than most people. He still wore his black pants but had removed his jacket and tie. His white shirt was disheveled and untucked, and he’d rolled up his sleeves.
The moon cracked a grin at him as soon as he stepped outside. He didn’t share in its contentment. The air was sweltering and muggy, tasting of bitter wine and sweaty socks, but a welcome relief from the raunchy club smell.
Clouds moved over to confront the moon, and Camden let out a thank you. He was tired of being the receiver of a taunt when he couldn’t lash back.
Though earlier, he’d been looking for a fight.
“There you are.” The blonde squealed with delight when she saw him. Did women really do that? She wrapped her arm around his. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
Trying to get rid of you
, he wanted to say, but couldn’t. This was Darrell’s friend, a woman sent to tend to his needs. To check up on him and make sure he was doing what he should be doing. A test.
So he had to get rid of her easily so as not to offend her or tip off Dare.
He stifled a yawn. “It’s getting late. I need to head home. I have a long day tomorrow.”
Cue the shoulder massage. “You feel so tense. Let me relax you some.” Her hands kneaded his shoulders, and he allowed it until they trailed across his chest and nothing stirred.