18. Two A.M.
Two A.M.
Mateo had kept people around until nearly midnight. Too many guards. Too many cameras. Too much movement.Camila had texted him an hour ago.Can’t escape.
Then:I hate my brother.Then:Not literally. Don’t arrest me.Chris had stared at that last message for a solid minute.If only she knew.He’d finally replied:Go to sleep, princess.
Her response had been immediate.Chris had smiled himself to sleep.Now he was awake.And hungry.He pulled on gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, slipped his phone into his pocket and headed across the quiet property toward the main house.The night guards knew him now.That alone bothered him.Two weeks ago, they’d watched every move Roman made.Tonight one merely nodded as Chris entered through the side door.
Trust.He was surrounded by it.Mateo trusted him.The guards trusted him.
Camila—Chris didn’t let himself finish that thought.He entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.Twenty minutes later, he was sitting at the enormous marble island eating leftover chicken and rice straight from a plate.No television.No music.Just silence.Chris liked silence.Then he heard something.Bare feet.Soft.Approaching from the hallway.
His hand moved automatically toward his waist before his brain caught up.No weapon.
Of course.He’d left it secured in the guesthouse.Then Camila appeared.Chris relaxed.
She wore tiny sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.Barefoot.Sleepy.Beautiful.Dangerous.She stopped.“You.”Chris took another bite.
“Me.”
“What are you doing?”
“Planning a hostile takeover.”
She looked at his plate.
“With chicken?”
“It’s a complicated operation.”Camila walked toward him.Chris watched.“What are you doing awake?”
“I heard something.”
“You heard me from upstairs?”
“No.”She reached his plate.“I was already awake.”Then she stole a piece of chicken.Chris stared at her hand.“Did you just take my food?”Camila ate it.“No.”
“I watched you.”
“Prove it.”Chris slowly put down his fork.“You have an entire refrigerator.”
“I wanted yours.”
“Why?”
“It tastes better.”
“It’s the same chicken.”
“Not anymore.”She reached again.Chris caught her wrist.“No.”Camila smiled.“Let go.”
“Get your own plate.”
“I don’t want my own plate.”
“You’re unbelievably spoiled.”
“You like me spoiled.”
“Debatable.”She used her free hand to steal another piece.Chris stared.Camila smiled while chewing.“You’re a menace.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”His expression changed.She didn’t seem to realize what she’d said.Chris did.You came back.He always came back.He released her wrist.Camila stepped between his knees.“Miss me?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I enjoyed the peace.”
“Another lie.”
“You’re incredibly confident tonight.”
“You like that too.”Chris looked up at her.“You seem to have an extensive list of things I supposedly like.”
“I’ve been studying you.”
“That worries me.”
“It should.”She stole his fork.“Camila.”
“What?”
“Give it back.”
“No.”Chris stood.She immediately backed away, laughing.“Give me the fork.”
“Make me.”He stopped.Camila realized her mistake approximately half a second too late.
“Oh.”Chris moved.She squealed and tried to escape around the island.He caught her around the waist.“Chris!”
“Got you.”
“Put me down.”
“Fork.”
“No.”He turned her toward the counter.Camila laughed as she tried to hide the fork behind her back.Chris reached around her.“Give it.”
“No.”
“Princess.”
“Don’t call me—”He kissed her.The fork hit the countertop.Chris smiled against her mouth.“Works every time.”
“You cheated.”
“Won.”
“Cheated.”
“Still won.”Camila kissed him again.That one changed things.The teasing disappeared.Chris’s hands settled at her waist.Her arms circled his neck.
He kissed her slowly at first.Then not slowly at all.Camila’s back met the edge of the counter.Chris stopped just long enough to look at her.“You’re trouble.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“That’s my line.”
“I’m stealing that too.”
“Food. Sunglasses. Dialogue.”She smiled.“Maybe I just like your things.”Chris’s eyes held hers.“Dangerous sentence.”
“Why?”He leaned closer.“Because I might start thinking you like me.”
Camila’s smile softened.“Maybe I do.”Chris stared at her.That shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did.They were sleeping together.Sneaking around.Spending nearly every waking hour together.But something about those three simple words felt more intimate than any night they’d spent in his bed.Chris touched her cheek. “Yeah?”
“Little bit.”
“Only a little?”
“Don’t ruin it.”He laughed and kissed her again.Camila pulled him closer.Chris forgot about the chicken.Forgot it was two in the morning.Forgot they were standing in Mateo Vargas’s kitchen.Forgot—Footsteps.Chris froze.Camila froze.They stared at each other.
Another footstep.Coming closer.Chris’s eyes widened.“Fuck.”Camila shoved him backward.“Move.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know!”
“Helpful.”The hallway light came on.“Shit.”Chris grabbed his plate.Camila smoothed her hair.“Do I look normal?”
“No.”Her eyes widened.“What?”
“You look like you’ve been kissing somebody.”
“You were the somebody!”
“I’m aware!”
“Do something!”Chris grabbed his coffee mug.It was empty.Didn’t matter.He leaned against the island and raised it to his mouth.Camila stared.“What are you doing?”
“Drinking coffee.”
“It’s empty.”
“Shut up.”Mateo walked into the kitchen.Silence.Chris took a long drink of absolutely nothing.Camila stood three feet away pretending to be fascinated by the refrigerator.
Mateo stopped.His eyes went to Chris.Then Camila.Then Chris.Long beat.Very long.
Chris lowered the mug.“Morning.”Mateo looked toward the clock.“It’s two in the morning.”Chris glanced at it.“So it is.”
“What are you doing?”
“Eating.”Mateo looked at the plate.Reasonable.Then at the coffee mug.Less reasonable.
“Coffee?”Chris looked at the mug.“Yeah.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Bad decisions are part of my personality.”Camila made a strange sound.Chris looked at her.She covered it with a cough.Mateo’s eyes narrowed.Chris could practically hear her trying not to laugh.Don’t.Don’t you fucking dare.Mateo walked to the refrigerator.
Chris stared straight ahead.Camila stared at the counter.Mateo opened the refrigerator.
Took out water.Closed it.Then noticed something.The fork.Sitting on the counter behind Camila.His gaze moved to Chris’s plate.No fork.Then to Camila.Chris’s pulse slowed.
Not increased.Slowed.Danger did that to him.Mateo looked between them.Once.Twice.
Chris gave him absolutely nothing.Camila smiled innocently.Too innocently.Mateo’s eyes narrowed.“Why are you awake?”Camila shrugged.“Couldn’t sleep.”
“And you?”Mateo looked at Chris.“Hungry.”Another long pause.Mateo twisted the cap off his water.“Right.”Chris nodded.“Right.”Mateo started toward the hallway.Then stopped.Chris nearly swore.Mateo turned.“Roman.”
“Yeah?”
“You taking Camila to the foundation tomorrow?”Chris nodded.“Nine.”
“Eight-thirty,” Camila corrected.Chris looked at her.“You told me nine.”
“I changed it.”
“When?”
“Now.”Mateo watched them.Chris realized they sounded like a married couple arguing over an appointment.Fantastic.“Eight-thirty,” Chris said.Camila smiled.“Thank you.”
Mateo stared another second.Then:“Goodnight.”
“Night.”Camila waved.Mateo walked away.They listened.Footsteps.Hallway.Stairs.
Silence.Chris didn’t move.Camila didn’t either.Five seconds.Ten.
Fifteen.Then Camila covered her mouth.Her shoulders started shaking.Chris looked at her.“No.”That made it worse.A laugh escaped.Chris pointed toward the hallway.“Do not.”
Camila bent forward, trying desperately to stay quiet.Chris stared at her.“Are you fucking laughing?”She nodded.Tears appeared in her eyes.Chris put the mug down.“Shit.”
Camila laughed harder.“Fuck.”She pressed both hands over her mouth.“We almost got caught.”
“So?”Chris stared at her.“So?”She nodded, still laughing.“So.”Chris stepped closer.“He will fucking kill me.”That made her lose it completely.Chris caught her shoulders.“I’m serious.”
“He’s not going to kill you.”
“Camila, your brother runs a fucking cartel.”The words escaped.Both of them froze.
Chris realized it immediately.Camila’s smile faded slightly.Chris recovered.“Figuratively.”
She raised an eyebrow.“Mateo doesn’t run a cartel.”Chris stared at her.Shit.“People talk.”
“People say a lot of things about my family.”
“Exactly.”Camila watched him another second.Then her smile returned.“You’re scared of Mateo.”Chris laughed.“No.”
“You are.”
“I’ve had guns pointed at me with less concern.”Her eyebrows lifted.Chris closed his eyes.Fuck.Again.Camila stepped closer.“Guns?”
“Figure of speech.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Can we return to the part where your brother almost discovered me kissing his sister against his kitchen counter?”She smiled.“Nice deflection.”
“Thank you.”
“I still think this is funny.”
“Of course you do. He’s not going to bury you in the desert.”
“Mateo loves you.”Chris stared.“Your definition of love is deeply concerning.”
“He trusts you.”That stopped him.The humor vanished.Camila didn’t notice at first.
Then she did.“What?”Chris looked toward the hallway Mateo had disappeared down.
“He shouldn’t.”Her brow furrowed.“What?”Chris realized he’d said it aloud.“Nothing.”
“Chris.”He turned toward her.She studied him.“Why shouldn’t Mateo trust you?”
There it was.One innocent question.One catastrophic answer.Chris looked at her.
Because I’m FBI.Because I stood inside his warehouse yesterday memorizing evidence.
Because I gave his names, vehicles, routes and contacts to a federal task force.
Because every time your brother trusts me, I get closer to destroying him.
Because you’re standing here falling for the man who’s going to tear your family apart.
Chris forced a smile.“Because I’m sleeping with his sister.”Camila’s expression softened into amusement.“That is a pretty good reason.”
“Excellent reason.”She slid her arms around his waist.Chris looked down.“We should stop.”
“Okay.”Neither moved.Chris frowned.“You’re supposed to leave.”
“You said we should stop. You didn’t say I should leave.”
“Fine. Leave.”
“No.”