21. Hotel Room #3
He ignored it.
Again.
Camila looked toward his pocket.
“Sloan?”
Chris glanced at her.
Something about her tone—
He couldn’t place it.
“Probably.”
“Answer it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving.”
“You’ve answered phones driving before.”
“Camila.”
“Maybe she can help.”
Chris looked at her.
Too long.
The shuttle drifted.
He corrected.
“What did you say?”
Camila realized her mistake.
“Your security contact.”
Chris stared ahead.
Something cold moved through him.
She was behaving strangely.
Had been all day.
Before the hotel.
Before the phone call.
Before Mateo’s men.
Chris pushed it away.
Survive first.
Questions later.
“Hold on.”
Camila grabbed the handle.
Chris took another turn.
Then another.
He killed the headlights.
“What are you doing?”
“Losing them.”
He entered a multilevel parking structure.
Up.
Second level.
Third.
Fourth.
Then abruptly down the opposite ramp.
The pursuing SUV continued upward.
Chris exited through the opposite side.
He didn’t turn the lights back on for two blocks.
Camila looked behind them.
Nothing.
Chris kept driving.
Five minutes.
Ten.
No tail.
Finally he slowed.
Camila’s hands were shaking.
Chris noticed.
“You okay?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Yes.”
“My brother’s men just tried to kill you.”
Chris said nothing.
“And you knew exactly how to escape.”
“Camila—”
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“Not tonight.”
Chris glanced over.
Her eyes were wet.
Angry.
Terrified.
And holding something else.
Something he couldn’t identify.
“I need to get you somewhere safe.”
“With who?”
“Someone I trust.”
Camila almost laughed.
Trust.
What a fucking word.
“Who do you trust, Chris?”
He looked at her.
She held his gaze.
“Really.”
Her voice lowered.
“Who?”
Chris didn’t answer.
Because the real list was dangerous.
Sloan.
Mercer.
Logan.
The Bureau.
Camila looked out the window.
“That’s what I thought.”
Chris’s stomach tightened.
Something had changed.
And he finally knew it wasn’t just fear.
She knew something.
He didn’t know how much.
But Camila was looking at him differently.
Twenty minutes later, Chris pulled into an abandoned gas station far outside the city.
He killed the engine.
Silence.
His phone vibrated again.
This time he answered.
“Yeah.”
“Walker, where the hell are you?”
Sloan.
Chris looked at Camila.
She was staring through the windshield.
“Compromised.”
Sloan went silent.
“How bad?”
“Very.”
“Are you alone?”
Chris looked at Camila.
“No.”
“Camila?”
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
“For now.”
“Extraction team—”
“No names.”
Sloan understood immediately.
“Fine. We can arrange pickup.”
“I’ll contact you.”
“Chris, do not go back to Vargas.”
He looked toward Camila.
She slowly turned her head.
Chris lowered his voice.
“I know.”
“Diego found something. We don’t know what yet, but Roman is burned.”
Chris closed his eyes.
There it was.
Over.
Chris Roman was finished.
“Understood.”
“And Chris?”
“What?”
“The raid has to move.”
His eyes opened.
“When?”
“As soon as we confirm warehouse activity.”
Camila’s heart stopped.
She’d heard enough.
The raid has to move.
There it was.
Confirmation.
Not that she needed any.
Chris ended the call.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Camila asked:
“Who was that?”
Chris looked at her.
Two seconds again.
Another lie.
“Security contact.”
Camila stared.
“Of course.”
Chris frowned.
Her voice was wrong.
“Camila.”
“What?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She almost laughed.
The sheer audacity of the question.
“What am I not telling you?”
Chris went still.
Camila looked into his eyes.
For one terrifying second, he thought she knew everything.
Then she looked away.
“Nothing.”
There it was.
His word.
His lie.
Thrown back at him.
Chris stared at her.
“Camila.”
“I’m tired.”
He didn’t believe her.
She leaned against the window.
Chris looked at the road ahead.
Behind them was Mateo.
Ahead of them was the FBI.
Beside him was the woman he loved.
And suddenly Chris realized there was no safe direction left.
The hotel hadn’t been an escape.
It had been a trap.
Mateo hadn’t sent Chris out of town to protect Camila.
He’d sent Chris somewhere isolated.
Away from the mansion.
Away from witnesses.
Somewhere Mateo’s men could determine whether Chris Roman was the leak—
and, if necessary, make him disappear.
Chris looked at Camila.
She’d almost been caught in the middle.
His jaw tightened.
Whatever happened next, one thing had changed.
He wasn’t going back.
Roman was burned.
The raid was coming.
Mateo was preparing to empty the warehouse.
And Camila knew far more than Chris realized.
She closed her eyes against the passenger window.
Inside her head, she could still see the badge.
CHRISTOPHER WALKER.
FBI.
She could expose him with one phone call.
Warn Mateo.
Save her brother.
Destroy Chris’s operation.
Instead she sat beside the federal agent who had lied his way into her family—
and had just risked his life, again, to get her out alive.
Camila didn’t know which truth hurt worse.
That Chris had never been Chris Roman.
Or that even knowing exactly who he was—
she still loved him.