7. Black Tie
Black Tie
By seven-thirty, the Vargas mansion no longer looked like a home.It looked like a kingdom.
Black SUVs lined the circular drive. Valets moved between cars worth more than most people’s houses.
Security stood at every entrance in dark suits with discreet earpieces.
Beyond the enormous front doors, hundreds of candles flickered beneath crystal chandeliers, champagne flowed from silver trays, and a string quartet played for people who had absolutely no idea how many federal agencies would have loved to know they were standing in the same room together.Chris Roman stood near the bottom of the grand staircase in a black tuxedo and watched criminals pretend to be respectable.A state senator.
A real-estate developer.Two defense attorneys.A shipping executive whose name had appeared in three separate FBI investigations.A city councilman.A man Chris knew only from a grainy surveillance photograph taken outside a warehouse six months ago.And that was before Mateo’s interesting guests arrived.Chris lifted his champagne glass but didn’t drink.His eyes moved constantly.Door.Balcony.Hallway.Security.Mateo.Diego.New arrival.Exit.Camera.Waiter.Unknown male near the terrace.Everything cataloged.
Everything remembered.He’d spent years learning how to enter a room and see what everyone else missed.Tonight, the problem was that there was too damn much to see.
“Try looking like you’re enjoying yourself.”Chris didn’t turn.Diego stepped beside him.
“I am.”Diego looked at his untouched champagne.“You’ve been holding that glass for twenty minutes.”
“I’m savoring it.”Diego snorted.Chris finally glanced at him.Diego wore a black tuxedo too, although somehow he still managed to look like someone who might bury a body before dessert.Probably because Chris knew he would.Across the ballroom, Mateo Vargas laughed with three men in expensive suits.To anyone else, he looked like a wealthy businessman hosting an extravagant annual charity ball.Chris knew better.Mateo wasn’t entertaining friends tonight.He was holding court.And the FBI wanted names.Every one Chris could get.His gaze moved toward the front entrance again as another couple entered.
Then—The room changed.Chris didn’t know how else to describe it.One second, he was working.The next—He wasn’t.Because Camila was descending the staircase.Jesus Christ.
His entire thought process simply stopped.She wore a black evening gown that hugged every curve before falling elegantly to the floor. The neckline was sophisticated but devastating, her shoulders bare, her dark hair falling in loose waves down her back.
Diamond earrings caught the chandelier light.But it was her face that destroyed him.
Camila wasn’t smiling.Not yet.She was looking for someone.Then she found him.Chris.
Her lips curved.And Special Agent Christopher Walker, who had survived bullets, raids, undercover operations and people actively trying to kill him, forgot how breathing worked.
“Something wrong, Roman?”Mateo.Chris dragged his attention away from Camila.“Yeah.”Mateo raised an eyebrow.“What?”Chris looked back toward the staircase.
“This night’s going to be a problem.”Mateo followed his gaze.Then laughed.“That’s my sister.”
“I noticed.”
“You’ve met her before.”
“Didn’t look like that.”Mateo laughed harder.Chris regretted every word immediately.
Especially when Camila reached the bottom step.Her eyes moved over his tuxedo.Slowly.
Very slowly.Chris caught it.So did Mateo.Oh, fuck.“Camila.”She kissed her brother’s cheek.
“You look beautiful,” Mateo said.“Thank you.”Then she turned to Chris.“Roman.”
“Vargas.”Her gaze traveled down him again.“You clean up well.”
“So do you.”
“That’s all I get?”Chris leaned slightly closer.
“You really want me to answer that with your brother standing here?”Camila’s smile widened.Mateo looked between them.Chris immediately straightened.Work.He needed to work.Unfortunately, Mateo Vargas apparently woke up that morning and decided to make Chris’s life as difficult as humanly possible.
Mateo looked toward the ballroom.Then back at Chris.“Roman.”
“Yeah?”
“Dance with my sister.”Chris stared at him.Camila’s eyebrows lifted.Mateo gestured toward the dance floor.“Go.”Chris lowered his voice.“You serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”Chris looked at Camila.She extended her hand.
The little smile on her face told him she was enjoying this far too much.“Come on, Roman.”This was a terrible idea.Possibly the worst idea Mateo had ever had.And Mateo ordered murders.Chris took her hand.
DANCE WITH MY SISTER
The ballroom suddenly felt too small.Chris guided Camila onto the dance floor, his hand settling at her waist as hers rested against his shoulder.Her other hand slipped into his.
They began moving.Slowly.Carefully.Professionally.At least that was what Chris told himself.Then Camila moved closer.His jaw tightened.“You’re very tense.”
“I’m working.”She glanced around them.“You’re dancing.”
“I’m doing both.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“You have no idea.”She smiled.Chris tried not to.Failed.For approximately five seconds, he forgot where they were.There was only Camila.Her perfume.Her hand in his.The warmth of her body against his.The way she looked up at him like Chris Roman wasn’t some dangerous man her brother had brought into their lives.Like he was simply Chris.
That was becoming dangerous.Not Mateo.Not Diego.Not the cartel.Her.Because Camila made him want things Christopher Walker couldn’t have.Then Chris saw him.Across the ballroom.Older.Gray hair.Black tuxedo.Red pocket square.Chris’s entire body changed.
His hand remained on Camila’s waist.His expression didn’t move.But inside—
Walker came roaring back.He knew that face.Three surveillance photographs.
Houston docks.A shell corporation.Millions of dollars disappearing through freight companies.A suspected connection to Mateo’s narcotics distribution network.The FBI had never gotten close enough to establish the man’s relationship to Vargas.Until tonight.Chris watched him shake Diego’s hand.Then Mateo’s.Interesting.Very fucking interesting.
“Where did you just go?”Chris looked down.Camila was studying him. “What?”
“You disappeared.”
“I’m standing right here.”
“No.”Her eyes narrowed.“You weren’t.”Chris forced himself to relax.“Camila—”
“You do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look at people like you’re memorizing them.”His heartbeat changed.He smiled.“Maybe I just have a good memory.”
“Maybe.”But she didn’t sound convinced.Across the room, the gray-haired man moved toward the west hallway.Diego followed.Chris needed to know why.He released Camila.
“I’ll be back.”
“Chris—”But he was already moving.Chris waited thirty seconds before entering the west corridor.Long enough not to look interested.Short enough not to lose them.The music faded behind him.He passed Mateo’s study.Empty.The billiard room.Empty.Then voices.
Library.Chris slowed.Diego.The gray-haired man.Another voice he didn’t recognize.Chris moved toward the partially closed library door.“Chris.”His blood ran cold.He turned.Camila stood behind him.“What are you doing?”
“Go back to the party.”
“Why?”
“Camila.”
“Why are you following Diego?”Shit.Footsteps approached from inside the library.
Chris moved instantly.He caught Camila around the waist.Her eyes widened.“Chris—”
He pulled her through a narrow side door hidden between two enormous bookcases.
Darkness swallowed them.It was some kind of concealed storage passage built into the old mansion.Barely enough room for one person.Definitely not enough room for two.
Chris shut the door quietly.Camila was pressed against him.Chest to chest.Her hands landed against his tuxedo.His arm wrapped around her waist.“What the hell—”Chris covered her mouth.“Quiet.”Her eyes flashed.Then the library door opened.Diego entered.
Camila froze.Chris slowly removed his hand.Neither moved.They could hear everything.
“You tell Mateo?” a man asked.
“No,” Diego answered.
“Why not?”
“Because Mateo doesn’t need to know until we know who talked.”Chris’s pulse slammed.
Camila felt it.Her eyes dropped toward his chest.Then back to him.She thought he was afraid of getting caught with her.He wasn’t.He was listening.“Shipment changes to Thursday,” the stranger said.“Warehouse?”
“No. New location.”Chris barely breathed.“Where?”There was a pause.Then an address.
Chris memorized it instantly.Every number.Every word.Every detail.That single conversation could give the FBI exactly what they’d been waiting for.Beside him, Camila shifted.Chris tightened his arm around her.Don’t move.Her eyes widened at the command in his expression.Diego continued.
“And Roman?”Chris went completely still. “What about him?”
“You trust him?”Silence.Then Diego laughed quietly.“No.”Camila’s eyes snapped to Chris.
Chris didn’t react.“He’s useful,” Diego continued. “Mateo likes him.”
“And you?”
“I don’t like anybody.”Closer footsteps.Chris heard Diego moving.Toward them.Camila’s breathing changed.Chris lowered his head toward hers.If that door opened—He needed a reason they were hiding together.And there was only one believable explanation.Diego’s footsteps stopped.Right outside.Camila stared at Chris.His hand moved to the back of her neck.Her lips parted.The handle shifted slightly.Chris lowered his mouth toward hers.
Then—“Diego.”The other man called him back.The handle stopped.Chris waited.One second.Two.Footsteps moved away.The men left the library moments later.Silence returned.
Camila exhaled.Chris opened the concealed door.“Come on.”She followed him into the hallway.He started toward the ballroom.“Chris.”He kept walking.“Chris.”Nothing.“Why were you listening?”He stopped.Turned.“Security.”
“Bullshit.”His eyes hardened.“Go back downstairs.”
“No.”
“Camila.”
“You followed Diego.”
“I told you why.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t believe you.”She stepped closer.“You watch everyone.”
“It’s my job.”
“No.”Her voice lowered.“You watch them differently.”That hit too close.Chris stared at her.
She continued.“At dinner. At the club. Tonight. Someone walks into a room and you don’t just look at them. You study them.”
“Maybe you’re imagining things.”
“I’m not.”Chris moved toward her.One step.Camila held her ground.Another.Her back met the wall.“You’ve been watching me too much.”Her breath caught.“Maybe I have.”
Chris placed one hand beside her head.“You should stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you might see something you don’t like.”
“I already see plenty I don’t like.”His mouth twitched.“Smartass.”
“Liar.”That killed the smile.For one dangerous second, neither moved.Then Camila grabbed the front of his tuxedo.Chris kissed her.Hard.All the restraint he’d carried through the ballroom disappeared.Her arms went around his neck.His hand slid into her hair as he pressed her against the wall.Weeks of stolen touches.Questions.Secrets.Want.Everything exploded between them.Camila broke the kiss just long enough to breathe.
“You’re hiding something.”Chris kissed her again.She turned her face.
“Chris.”His mouth moved along her jaw.“Stop asking questions.”
“Tell me the truth.”He froze.Because for one insane moment—He wanted to.Christopher James Walker.FBI.Undercover.Your brother is the target.Everything you know about me is a lie.Except this.Except you.Then—Footsteps.Chris’s head snapped toward the corridor.
Camila frowned.“What?”He caught her hand.“Move.”
“What—”
“Now.”He pulled her through another doorway seconds before two men rounded the corner.Camila stared at him.Chris watched the men pass.Then looked back at her.And immediately realized his mistake.She wasn’t looking at the hallway.She was looking at him.
“How did you hear them?”Chris said nothing.“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Camila.”
“They weren’t even close.”He released her hand.
“Go back to the party.”Her expression changed.Not angry now.Suspicious.Deeply suspicious.
“Who the hell are you?”Chris held her gaze.The answer sat behind his teeth.But Chris Roman smiled instead.
“The guy your brother told to dance with you.”He walked away.Camila remained in the hallway.Watching him.And for the first time since Christopher Walker entered the Vargas family under a name that didn’t belong to him—Chris knew Camila wasn’t simply wondering what he was hiding anymore.She was beginning to wonder whether Chris Roman existed at all.