33. Safe House
Safe House
For the first time since Camila had met him, Chris Walker didn’t have to lie.That should have made everything easier.Instead, it terrified him.The FBI safe house sat at the end of a quiet road nearly an hour outside the city.
From the outside, there was nothing remarkable about it.One story.Dark siding.Covered porch.Two-car garage.Trees surrounding most of the property.The kind of house people drove past without remembering five minutes later.
Which was exactly the point.Chris pulled the unmarked SUV into the garage.The door lowered behind them.Camila looked through the windshield.“This is it?”
“This is it.”
“This is an FBI safe house?”Chris turned off the engine.“You were expecting lasers?”
“Maybe.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Secret underground tunnel?”
“No.”
“Helicopter pad?”
“No.”
“Hidden weapons room?”Chris hesitated.Camila slowly turned toward him.“There is a hidden weapons room.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did with your face.”Chris opened his door.“Come on.”She smiled faintly.It was the first time she’d smiled since they’d left headquarters.Chris noticed.Of course he did.
He noticed everything.That used to intrigue her.Now she knew why.Two other agents had arrived before them.They checked the property while Chris walked Camila inside.
She stopped in the living room.It was surprisingly normal.Couch.Television.
Kitchen.Dining table.Two bedrooms down the hall.Nothing personal.Nothing that said anyone actually lived there.Chris locked the door.Then checked it.Then checked the window beside it.Then looked toward the hallway.Camila watched.“You always do that.”
Chris turned.“What?”
“Doors. Windows. Exits.”
“Habit.”
“FBI habit?”
“Yes.”The answer came immediately.No hesitation.No invented criminal past.
Just—Yes.Camila went quiet.Chris noticed.“What?”
“Nothing.”His eyes narrowed.She sighed.“I know. Don’t use your word.”
“Exactly.”She walked farther into the house.Chris placed his duffel bag on the dining table.Then his weapon.Camila’s eyes immediately dropped to it.Chris noticed.“You okay with that?”She looked at him.“You’ve slept with one under your pillow while I was beside you.”
“Fair.”He removed his badge.Placed it beside the weapon.Then his credentials.
His real phone.A secure FBI phone.A folder Mercer had given him before they left.
Camila stared at the table.For months, she’d watched Chris empty his pockets.
Keys.Wallet.Cash.Phone.Gun sometimes.Everything belonging to Chris Roman.
Now—Special Agent Chris Walker’s life sat in front of her.She approached slowly.
Chris watched her.Camila picked up the credentials.He didn’t stop her.She opened them.
There he was.The photograph.Slightly younger.More serious.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
And beneath it:
CHRISTOPHER JAMES WALKER
She stared.“Christopher.”Chris leaned against the table.“Unfortunately.”She looked up.
“You don’t like Christopher?”
“My mother uses Christopher.”
“When?”
“When she’s mad.”Camila smiled faintly.“I like it.”
“Please don’t.”
“Christopher.”
“Camila.”
“Christopher.”
“Princess.”Her eyes narrowed.Chris smiled.For half a second—Roman was back.
Except he wasn’t.That was what hurt.Camila closed the credentials.Her smile disappeared.“Was that real?”Chris straightened.“What?”
“Princess.”He didn’t understand.“The teasing.”She placed his credentials on the table.
“The stupid arguments.”
“Camila—”
“Was any of it real?”Chris went still.There it was.The conversation they’d been avoiding since she’d put his badge in front of him.No agents.No Mateo.No radios.No Diego.
No warehouse.No immediate emergency demanding Chris become somebody else.
Just them.And every lie between them.Chris pulled out a chair.“Sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
“Okay.”He didn’t push.Camila folded her arms.“Was anything about Chris Roman real?”
Chris looked directly at her.“The name wasn’t.”Her throat tightened.“The criminal record?”
“Fabricated.”
“The garage?”
“Assignment.”
“The street racing?”
“Fabricated.”
“The security work?”
“Cover.”
“The driving?”
“FBI training.”She nodded slowly.“The guns?”
“FBI.”
“The way you handled them?”
“Training.”
“The way you always knew when somebody was following us?”
“Training.”
“The exits?”
“Training.”
“The fighting?”
“Training.”
“The warehouse?”
“Investigation.”Camila swallowed.“The first chase.”Chris hesitated.She saw it.Her eyebrows drew together.Camila stared.Chris forced himself to keep looking at her.
“The Bureau needed Mateo to see Roman as more valuable. They created a controlled pursuit so I could demonstrate what I could do.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“That those vehicles were coming?”
“Yes.”
“You pretended you didn’t.”
“Yes.”Camila laughed once.There was no humor in it.“Jesus Christ.”
“Camila—”
“No.”She walked away.Chris stayed where he was.“You sat there acting like we were being chased.”
“I had to maintain cover.”
“You let Mateo think you saved his life.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why he trusted you.”
“It helped.”Camila turned.“So even the driving was a lie.”
“No.”Chris’s voice sharpened.“The reason I gave for knowing how to drive was a lie.”He stepped toward her.“What I did behind that wheel wasn’t.”
“Federal training.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Twelve Years.”Camila stared.“How fast can you actually drive?”Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Chris almost smiled.“Depends.”
“On?”
“Vehicle. Road. Conditions.”
“Chris.”
“What?”
“You know exactly what I’m asking.”His mouth twitched.“I’ve been above one-twenty in training.”Camila’s eyes widened.“You’re insane.”
“Possibly.”
“And the street-racing story?”
“Convenient explanation.”She shook her head.“You are unbelievable.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Stop being charming.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
“No.”That almost got her.Almost.Then her gaze moved toward his body.
The scars beneath his shirt.Her expression changed.“The scars?”Chris’s humor disappeared.“Real.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“The bullet wounds?”
“Yes.”
“Who shot you?”He hesitated.Not because he needed a lie.Because the truth wasn’t easy.
Camila noticed.“Chris?”
“Another operation.”Her anger softened.“Undercover?”
“Yes.”
“The story about security work going bad…”
“Was based on what actually happened.”She stared at him.“You took the truth and changed just enough.”
“That’s how good cover stories work.”Camila flinched.Chris immediately regretted the phrasing.“Sorry.”She looked away.“How close?”
“What?”
“How close did you come to dying?”Chris didn’t answer.Her eyes returned to him.“Chris.”
“Close enough.”Her face fell.He continued quietly.“One went through.”His fingers touched his side.“The other didn’t.”Camila remembered tracing those scars in bed.
In the bathtub.Kissing one.Asking him who had done that to him.He’d smiled.
Made a joke.She’d thought he was simply a man with a mysterious past.She hadn’t realized she was touching evidence of a life he wasn’t allowed to tell her about.“The nightmare.”Chris looked down.Her voice softened.“That night at your apartment.”
He knew exactly which night.“You were dreaming about getting shot.”
“Yes.”
“That was real.”
“Yes.”
“You waking up like that?”
“Yes.”
“You grabbing me?”His jaw tightened.“Yes.”
“You being scared?”Chris looked at her.“Yes.”No joke.No deflection.Camila’s eyes filled.
“You don’t like admitting that.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because fear gets people killed.”
“That’s bullshit.”Chris almost smiled.“Probably.”
“No. Definitely.”She wiped beneath one eye.“The phone call the next morning.”
“Sloan.”
“I know.”Chris’s head lifted.Camila swallowed.“I was awake.”He stared.“You were?”
“The whole time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t know what I was hearing.”She laughed weakly.“I thought maybe you had another woman.”Chris blinked.Then, despite everything:“You thought Sloan and I were sleeping together?”
“Don’t sound so offended.”
“I am deeply offended.”
“Chris.”
“She’s terrifying.”Camila laughed.A real one.Chris smiled.Then she covered her face.
The laughter became tears.Chris immediately moved toward her.Camila stepped back.“Don’t.”He stopped.That hurt.But he stopped.She lowered her hands.“I don’t know what’s real.”Chris’s expression changed.“Camila.”
“I don’t.”Her voice broke.“I met Chris Roman.”She pointed toward the credentials.“That man doesn’t exist.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
“He did.”
“You just told me he didn’t.”
“The identity didn’t.”Chris stepped closer but didn’t touch her.“The person did.”She shook her head.“How am I supposed to know the difference?”
“You ask.”
“What?”
“Anything.”Chris looked directly into her eyes.“Ask me anything you want.”
“And you’ll tell me the truth?”
“If I’m legally allowed to.”Camila gave him a look.Chris sighed.“Bad start.”
“Very.”He rubbed his face.“Anything about me. Anything about us. Ask.”She stared at him.Then:“Chris James Walker.”
“Yes.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Age?”He told her thirty-seven.“Where were you born?”He answered. Austin,Texas.“Parents?”He told her. yes alive living in Austin, Texas.“Siblings?”He answered. Two sisters. Older and Younger. “Favorite food?”Chris frowned.“What?”
“Answer.”He did.Pizza“Favorite movie?”
“Seriously?”
“Chris.”He answered.“First car?”He told her. Honda“First person you ever punched?”
Chris paused.“That one requires context.”“Who?”“My cousin.”Camila blinked.
“How old were you?”
“Ten.”
“Why?”
“He stole my bike.”Despite herself, she smiled.“You punched your cousin over a bicycle?”
“He gave it back.”She laughed through her tears.Chris smiled.Then she asked the question that mattered.
“Why FBI?”Chris went quiet.He told her.Not everything.Not classified details.But enough.Why he’d joined.Why he’d stayed.Why undercover work had become something he was unusually good at.Why it had nearly killed him.
Well some of it.Why he’d gone back anyway.Camila listened.And for the first time—she met Chris James Walker.Not through a badge hidden in a drawer.Not through a file.Not through Sloan or Mercer.Through him.When he finished, she was crying again.Chris reached toward her.
Stopped before touching her.“Can I?”That broke something inside her.Because Roman would have simply pulled her against him.Chris Walker asked.Camila nodded.Chris wrapped his arms around her.She buried her face against his chest.For a long time, they stood there.No lies.No cover.No pretending.Eventually Camila whispered:“One more.”
“Anything.”
She pulled back enough to see him.“The first time you saw me.”Chris’s expression softened.
“The garage.”
“You remember?”
“Everything.”
“What did you think?”He smiled.“That you were trouble.”Camila almost laughed.
“Seriously?”
“No.”His smile disappeared.“I thought you were beautiful.”Her eyes filled again.“Was that Roman?”
“No.”
“The first kiss?”
“Me.”
“The night in the SUV?”
“Me.”
“The first night together?”Chris’s voice lowered.
“Me.”
“The bathtub?”
“Me.”
“The kitchen at two in the morning?”
“Me.”
“The way you looked at me when Mateo wasn’t watching?”
“Me.”
“The way you held me after the attack?”
“Me.”Her voice began to tremble.
“The way you came back for me?”Chris stepped closer.
“Me.”
“The way you made love to me?”His eyes held hers.“Me.”Camila swallowed.Then the hardest question.“The way you felt about me?”Chris didn’t hesitate.“That was Chris Walker from the beginning.”A tear slipped down her cheek.“Even when I didn’t know him?”
“Especially then.”Chris touched her face.“Roman was the name I gave everybody else.”
His thumb brushed away her tear.“But whatever happened when I was with you…”
His voice became rough.“That was the one place I kept losing the cover.”Camila stared at him.Chris gave a small, sad smile.
“You kept finding me.”Her face crumpled.Chris pulled her into his arms.She cried against him.Not because everything was forgiven.It wasn’t.Not because trust magically returned.It couldn’t.But because for the first time since she’d found that badge—she understood something.Chris Roman might have been manufactured.
But the man who kissed her—laughed with her—argued with her—protected her—
held her through the night—came back when leaving would have been easier—and fell hopelessly in love with her—had always been Chris Walker.Eventually she whispered:
“I don’t forgive you yet.”Chris closed his eyes.“I know.”
“I’m still angry.”
“You should be.”
“I might be angry for a while.”
“I can take it.”She pulled back.“And I don’t trust you completely.”That one hurt him.She saw it.But Chris nodded.“I know.”Camila touched his cheek.“But I want to.”Chris went completely still.“What?”
“I want to trust you again.”His eyes closed.A quiet breath left him.When he opened them, they were shining.“That’ll do.”Camila smiled through her tears.“For now.”
“For as long as you need.”He kissed her forehead.Nothing sexual.Nothing desperate.
Just tender.Real.Camila rested against him.And for the first time, she wasn’t being held by Chris Roman.She was being held by Chris Walker.The man she actually loved.
Later, Chris fell asleep on the couch.He hadn’t intended to.Camila returned from the bedroom and found him there, one arm across his stomach, exhaustion finally winning.
His FBI credentials remained on the table.CHRISTOPHER JAMES WALKER.His real phone sat beside them.His real case reports.His service weapon.No hidden drawer.
No invented past.No Roman.
Later that night…Camila quietly pulled a blanket over him.Chris stirred.His eyes opened instantly.Of course.“Hey.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”He studied her.She smiled.“Actually yes.”That seemed to satisfy him.His eyes closed again.Within minutes, he was asleep.Camila stood watching him.Then her hand slipped into the pocket of his sweatshirt.She pulled out the pregnancy tests.Two pink lines.
She stared at them.She could wake him.Tell him now.For once, they were alone.For once, there were no radios screaming.No Mateo.No Diego.No bullets.No chase.It was almost the perfect moment.Camila looked at Chris sleeping.Bruised.Exhausted.Finally safe for one night.She slowly put the tests away.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered.She placed one hand over her stomach.Tomorrow she would tell Chris Walker the truth.Tonight—she would let him sleep.