16. The Bathtub
The Bathtub
Chris should have known the second Mateo said, Go with Diego, that the night was going to turn to shit.It was after midnight when the black SUV rolled through the iron gates of the Vargas estate.Chris sat in the passenger seat with one elbow against the window, his jaw aching every time the tires hit a bump.His ribs weren’t doing much better.His right hand was swollen across the knuckles.His shirt had dirt streaked across the front, and when he ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, he tasted blood again.Across the console, Diego glanced at him.Then glanced again.Chris ignored him.They’d spent the last four hours handling what Mateo had described as a simple collection.It hadn’t been simple.Chris was beginning to understand that nothing involving Diego ever was.The man they had gone to see owed Mateo money.
A lot of it. Mateo wanted the money. Diego wanted to make a point.
Chris had been there as additional muscle.At least, that was what Diego claimed.Chris knew better.Tonight had been a test.He just didn’t know whether he’d passed it.“You surprised me tonight,” Diego finally said.Chris looked out the windshield. “That so?”
“Yeah.”The SUV stopped outside the mansion.Neither man moved.Diego rested one hand on the steering wheel and studied him.“You fight pretty good for a fucking mechanic.”
There it was.Chris slowly turned his head.Diego’s expression was casual.His eyes weren’t.
Chris had spent years learning how to recognize suspicion.And Diego was drowning in it.
Chris touched his split lip with his thumb and looked at the blood.“You should see me change an alternator.”Diego didn’t laugh.Chris did.“Good night, Diego.”He opened the door.
“Roman.”Chris stopped.He looked back.Diego was still watching him.“You ever been military?”
“Nope.”
“Cop?”Chris smiled.“Do I look like a fucking cop?”Diego’s gaze traveled over him.Chris forced himself not to react.One wrong movement.One hesitation.One flicker of recognition.
That was all it took.Finally Diego smiled.“Nah.”Chris shut the door.The SUV drove away.
Chris waited until the taillights disappeared through the gates before releasing the breath he’d been holding.“Fuck.”He walked toward the mansion.His ribs protested with every step.The fight itself hadn’t been the problem.The problem had been how he’d fought.
Training was instinct.Instinct kept you alive.But undercover, instinct could also get you killed.One of the men had come at him from behind.Chris had heard the movement.Pivoted.
Blocked.Disarmed him.Dropped him.Too clean.Too fast.Too fucking trained.He’d realized it immediately and spent the rest of the fight deliberately making himself sloppier.Taking punches he could have avoided.Throwing wild shots instead of controlled ones.Letting himself look like a man who’d learned to fight in parking lots instead of federal training facilities.Which explained his ribs.Chris rubbed his side. “Brilliant, Walker.”
“Who’s Walker?”Chris froze.Camila stood beneath the covered terrace near the back entrance.Barefoot.Black sleep shorts.An oversized T-shirt.Dark hair piled messily on top of her head.His exhaustion disappeared in an instant.He smiled.“Nobody.”Her eyes narrowed.
Then she stepped into the light.And saw his face.Her expression changed immediately.
Mostly because watching a man who could detect a tail three vehicles back become irritated that she could sneak into his bedroom was far too entertaining.
Tonight, however, she wasn’t smiling.She heard the door close.The lock turn.Keys land on the table.Then silence.Too much silence.Camila climbed out of bed.
“Chris?”Nothing.She walked into the living room.And stopped.Chris stood near the kitchen counter with his back partially toward her.Black T-shirt.Dark jeans.Shoulders slumped.One hand braced against the countertop.There was dried blood near his temple.His knuckles were scraped.A bruise had already begun darkening along his jaw.And he looked exhausted.Not tired.Exhausted.The kind that reached all the way into a person. “Jesus, Chris.”
“Good evening to you too.”She hurried toward him.“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”Her fingers caught his chin and turned his face toward the light.Chris winced.
Camila’s eyes widened.“You’re bleeding.”
“Technically, I stopped bleeding about twenty minutes ago.”
“Chris.”
“Camila.”She stared at him.He gave her his best smile.It hurt like hell.“You look like hell.”
“Thank you.”
“What happened?”
“Work.”
“What kind of security work has you coming home looking like somebody used your face as a punching bag?”His head lifted.For half a second, his entire body changed.Alert.Ready.Then he recognized her.“What are you doing here?”Camila stared.“That’s your first question?”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s becoming less reassuring every time you say it.”Chris reached for a bottle of water.Camila crossed the room and took it away.He looked at his empty hand.Then at her.
“Did you just steal my water?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to tell me what happened.”Chris reached around her and took another bottle.“No.”
“Chris.”
“Camila.”
“What happened?”
“Work.”
“What work?”He twisted the cap.“Security.”That word.Again.Camila folded her arms.“You know, for somebody who supposedly works security, you seem to spend an extraordinary amount of time getting the hell beaten out of you.”Chris drank.
“Bad customer service.”
“Not funny.”
“Little funny.”
“No.”Chris leaned against the counter.Camila studied him.He looked worse up close.
The fading bruises from the attack hadn’t completely disappeared.His ribs were still healing.Now he’d added another bruise along his cheekbone and cuts across his knuckles.
“What did Mateo have you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then where were you?”Chris’s eyes moved to hers.Something closed behind them.
Camila recognized it immediately.There.The disappearing act.“Don’t.”He frowned.
“Don’t what?”
“Do that.”
“What am I doing?”
“Leaving while you’re standing right in front of me.”Chris looked away.Camila’s anger disappeared.She stepped closer.“Bad night?”He laughed quietly.“You could say that.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You?”
“What?”
“Do I need to worry about you?”Chris looked at her.The question seemed to catch him off guard.Camila touched his jaw carefully.He winced.“That’s a yes.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”His mouth twitched.Finally.Camila took his hand.“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Bathroom.”His eyebrows lifted.“That’s promising.”She glared.“Bath.”
“I can shower myself.”
“Congratulations.”
“Camila.”
“Chris.”He sighed.She smiled.“That’s what I thought.”The guesthouse bathroom was absurdly luxurious.Camila turned on the oversized tub and tested the water.Chris leaned against the doorway watching her.“What exactly are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.”His expression changed.Only slightly.But she saw it.She always saw it now.“I don’t need taking care of.”
“Obviously.”Chris looked down at himself.“I’m alive.”
“Your standards are remarkably low.”Camila added more hot water.Steam slowly filled the room.“Get in.”Chris laughed.“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t take baths.”
“You do tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re exhausted, you’re bruised, and if I let you shower, you’ll stand under freezing water for three minutes and pretend that qualifies as recovery.
”Chris stared.“How do you know I take cold showers?”Camila turned toward him.
“You’re not the only one who notices things.
”That silenced him.For once.Camila smiled. “Bath.”He shook his head.“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“Debatable.”But he stayed. She turned to face him, hip leaning against the edge of the tub.
He was still wearing the black henley, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows.
She could see the exhaustion in the way his shoulders sat—not tense the way they usually were, but heavy.
Drained. Like whatever reserve he ran on had finally hit empty.He exhaled through his nose and pulled the henley over his head in one slow movement, wincing as the motion caught something in his ribs.
She saw the bruising along his left side—a wide, ugly bloom of purple and yellow that spread across his lower ribs like a continent on a map.
Older scars caught the bathroom light. Some she recognized.
Some she didn’t.She didn’t say anything about them yet.
She just looked.The tub was half full now.
She adjusted the temperature again, adding cold until it sat right at the edge of too hot.
Then she knelt beside hi. She kept her eyes on his face, which was its own kind of torture because the way he was looking at her made her stomach flip.
She dropped everything in a pile by the hamper “Get in.”
He stood slowly, and she saw him suppress a grimace as his ribs shifted.
The bathwater steamed behind her. He stepped over the edge of the tub and lowered himself in with a controlled descent, one hand gripping the rim, the other braced against the bottom.
The heat hit him and he let out a long breath, his head tipping back against the tile wall.
Several minutes later, Chris sank into the hot water and immediately realized Camila had been right.He hated that.His muscles slowly loosened.His ribs stopped screaming.His shoulders dropped.Chris leaned his head against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.
“Don’t say it.”Camila sat beside the tub. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was going to say you look relaxed.”
“Same thing.”She smiled.For several minutes, she left him alone.No questions.
No interrogation.No teasing.Just quiet.Chris hadn’t realized how badly he needed quiet.
Then he felt her fingers brush his hair away from the healing cut near his temple.
His eyes opened.Camila was watching him.“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Banned word.”She smiled faintly.“You remembered.”
“I remember everything.”