9. Where is Chris Roman? #3
“No.”Her voice softened.“Sometimes I ask you something and you look at me like you’re deciding which version of the truth I get.
”That landed far too close.Chris looked back through the windshield.Streetlights slid across his face.Camila waited.Finally, she shook her head.
“You are one strange criminal, Roman.”Chris almost laughed.If only she knew.
The driving wasn’t street racing.It was years of federal tactical training.The reason he noticed hands was because he’d been trained to see weapons before they cleared waistbands.The reason he faced exits was because he’d once been trapped in a room without one.The reason he spotted tails was because he’d spent years learning how not to die when somebody followed him.And the scars underneath his shirt—those belonged to another story.One Camila hadn’t discovered yet.But she would.At the rate she was going, Chris knew she would.Camila reached toward the radio.Chris caught her hand before she changed the station.Instinct.Their fingers touched.Neither moved.Camila looked down.
Then back at him.“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Trying to distract me.”
“It’s working.”
“No, it isn’t.”Chris released her hand.“Pick something.”
“Coward.”He laughed.“That again?”
“Still fits.”She turned the music up.But Chris could feel her looking at him.Studying him.
Learning him.And that frightened him more than Mateo Vargas ever had.Because Camila wasn’t learning Chris Roman.Not really.She was finding pieces of Chris Walker underneath him.Tiny pieces.One at a time.And every piece brought her closer to discovering that the man she was falling for didn’t exist.When the Vargas mansion finally appeared, Chris felt relief.And disappointment.Neither was helpful.The gates opened.
He drove through and stopped beneath the covered entrance.Park.Immediately.
Camila looked at him.Chris reached for his door.“Oh, no.”He froze.“What?”
“You’re really getting out?”
“That’s normally how I open your door.”
“You’re running.”Chris laughed.“I’m literally walking around a vehicle.”
“Running.”
“Goodnight, Camila.”She caught his arm.Chris looked down at her hand.Then at her.
“Camila.”
“Answer one thing.”
“That depends.”
“Do you want to kiss me again?”Silence.The correct answer was no.The professional answer was no.The answer Special Agent Chris Walker should give was absolutely fucking not.Camila waited.Chris looked at her mouth.Damn it.Her expression changed.She saw it.
Chris looked away.“Go inside.”A slow smile appeared.“That answered it.”
“It absolutely did not.”
“You want to.”
“Camila.”
“Shit.”
“You do.”Chris opened his door.She laughed.“Coward.”He climbed out.Walked around the SUV.Opened her door.Camila remained seated.Chris stared.“Seriously?”
“So we’re ignoring it?”
“Yes.”
“Our kiss?”
“Yes.”
“Me sitting on your lap?”Chris closed his eyes.“Please get out of the car.”Camila laughed and stepped out.Then stopped directly in front of him.Too close.Again.Her hand settled against his chest.Same place as the other night.His heartbeat betrayed him immediately.
Her eyes sparkled.“You should really work on that.”
“On what?”
“Your heart tells on you.”Chris covered her hand with his.For a second, neither moved.His voice lowered.“You should go inside.”Camila looked at their hands.
Then at him.“You’re going to kiss me again.”Not a question.
Chris’s thumb moved once over her knuckles before he realized he’d done it.He released her.“Goodnight, princess.”Her eyes narrowed.
“There it is.”
“Inside.”She backed away.One step.Two.Smiling.
“You’re going to crack, Roman.”Chris leaned against the SUV.
“Keep dreaming.”Camila turned toward the mansion.At the door, she looked back.
“I already did.”Then she disappeared inside.Chris stared after her.One second.Two.Three.He rubbed both hands down his face.
“Fuck.”The problem wasn’t that Camila wanted to talk about what happened.The problem was that Chris wanted to talk about it too.Wanted to do considerably more than talk.And the more time he spent with her, the harder it became to remember Sloan’s warning.She doesn’t know who you are.Camila thought she was getting underneath Chris Roman’s skin.She didn’t know that every time she made him laugh—every time she touched him—every time she said his name and made his heart kick against his ribs—it wasn’t Roman reacting.It was Chris Walker.The real man.The man she was never supposed to meet.Chris climbed back into the SUV.He didn’t start it immediately.Instead, he looked at himself in the rearview mirror.
“You’re fucked, Walker.”Then his eyes caught something.Movement.Beyond the estate gates.
Headlights.A black sedan parked down the road.Chris’s expression changed instantly.The attraction disappeared.The frustration disappeared.Walker took over.
He started the SUV.Pulled away from the mansion.The sedan didn’t move.Chris drove past.One block.Two.Nothing.He checked the mirror.Still nothing.Maybe parked.Maybe nothing.Chris continued.Thirty seconds later—headlights appeared behind him.Three vehicles back.Chris’s eyes narrowed.He changed lanes.The sedan changed lanes forty seconds later.He made a right.The sedan followed.Chris’s jaw tightened.This wasn’t Logan.
This wasn’t the FBI.And this time—the chase wasn’t staged.