46. Walker
Walker
Six months later, Chris Walker stood in front of his bathroom mirror knotting a tie he absolutely hated.Camila leaned against the doorway behind him, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach.“You’ve tied that three times.”Chris glanced at her reflection.“It wasn’t right.”
“It looked exactly the same every time.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“First one was uneven.”
“It was not.”
“Second was too short.”
“Chris.”
“And the third—”She walked toward him.“Move.”He turned.“What are you doing?”
“Saving us both.”Camila reached for his tie.Chris looked down at her.Her stomach pressed gently against him now, impossible to ignore.Their daughter—because three weeks earlier they’d finally learned they were having a girl—had apparently developed a personal hobby of kicking Camila whenever Chris spoke.He’d decided that meant she recognized his voice.Camila insisted it meant their child was already annoyed by him.
Chris preferred his interpretation.Camila adjusted the tie.“There.”Chris looked in the mirror.“Crooked.”She stared.“Say that again.”Chris wisely reconsidered.“Perfect.”
“Good answer.”He kissed her forehead.Camila smoothed the front of his suit jacket.
“You nervous?”
“No.”She raised an eyebrow.Chris sighed.“Little.”
“More nervous than the ultrasound?”
“No.”
“Raid?”
“Different.”
“Meeting my brother for the first time?”Chris smiled.“Your brother threatened to bury me in the desert.”
“He liked you.”
“Very comforting.”Camila laughed.Then her expression softened.“Are you sure?”
Chris knew what she meant.He looked at himself in the mirror.Suit.Short blond hair.
Real identification in his wallet.Real badge.Real name.Nothing hidden.No Chris Roman.
No operation waiting to swallow him.“Yeah.”Camila touched his arm.“You don’t have to do this because of me.”
“I know.”
“Or the baby.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”Chris turned toward her.“This is mine.”Camila studied him.He continued.
“I’ve spent years disappearing.”Her hand slid into his.“One operation ends, another starts. New name. New address. New history. New people who think they know me.”
He laughed quietly.“I got good at it.”
“Too good.”
“Yeah.”He looked toward the bedroom.On the dresser sat the framed ultrasound photograph he’d once insisted required multiple backups.Beside it was a more recent image from their anatomy scan.Tiny profile.Tiny nose.Their daughter.Chris smiled.
“I don’t want to be good at disappearing anymore.
”Camila’s throat tightened.“I want to come home.”
His eyes returned to hers.“To you.”Her hand moved over her stomach.“To her.”
Chris covered it with his.“To this.”For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Camila whispered:“Walker.”Chris smiled.“Yeah?”“I really like that name.”
He kissed her.“So do I.”The federal courthouse was surrounded by reporters.
Chris hated that.Not because he was afraid of cameras.Because Camila was eight months pregnant and people apparently lost all understanding of personal space when microphones were involved.The SUV hadn’t even fully stopped before Chris looked toward her.
“You stay beside me.”Camila sighed.“We’ve discussed this. ”
“Humor me.”
“I’m not fragile.”
“I know.”
“You behave like I’m transporting nuclear material.”Chris looked at her stomach.“More important.”Camila tried not to smile.Failed.“You’re ridiculous.”
“Seat belt off?”
“Yes.”
“Wait.”
“Chris.”He was already out.He walked around and opened her door.Camila took his hand.
Reporters shouted immediately.“Ms. Vargas!”
“Camila!”
“Agent Walker!”
“Any comment on Mateo Vargas’s federal case?”
“Is it true Diego Serrano is cooperating?”
“Agent Walker, were you undercover inside the Vargas organization?”Chris’s jaw tightened.Camila felt it.His hand closed more firmly around hers.“Keep moving.”
They did.Federal security officers created space.A reporter shouted:“Camila, do you still support your brother?”She stopped.Chris looked at her.“Don’t.”But Camila turned.
Not toward the reporter exactly.Toward the cameras.Her voice remained steady.
“I love my brother.”The questions stopped for half a second.“And I believe he should answer for the choices he made.”Chris watched her.Camila continued.“Both things can be true.”Then she turned away.Chris said nothing until they reached the courthouse doors.
Camila looked up.“What?”
“That was good.”She smiled.“I know.”
“Cocky.”
“Learned from you.”
“Terrifying.”They entered.Mateo’s case had become enormous.Federal narcotics charges.
Conspiracy.Money laundering.Weapons.Multiple associated businesses.Several defendants had already entered plea negotiations.Others were preparing for trial.
Diego Serrano was being held separately pending his own federal prosecution.
The Vargas organization hadn’t simply been weakened.It had collapsed.Accounts frozen.
Properties seized.Distribution routes identified.Shell businesses dismantled.Men who had once refused to speak were now making deals.Chris had spent months debriefing.
Writing reports.Testifying before the grand jury.Explaining every conversation he’d had as Roman.Every warehouse.Every shipment.Every vehicle.Every person.And slowly, the operation that had once consumed every part of his life became paperwork.Evidence.
Court dates.Something with an ending.That mattered.Chris sat beside Camila in a quiet hallway outside the courtroom.She shifted.He immediately looked over.“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Contraction?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“Still there.”
“Camila.”She laughed.“She kicked.”Chris’s expression softened instantly.“Where?”
Camila took his hand.Placed it against the side of her stomach.They waited.Nothing.
Chris frowned.“She stopped.”
“She does that every time you try.”
“She’s stubborn.”
“Wonder where she gets that.”Then—kick.Chris’s entire face lit up.“There.”
Camila smiled.“Yeah.”Another.Chris laughed.“You feel that?”
“She’s inside me, FBI.”
“Right.”His palm stayed there.He still reacted every time like it was the first.Camila loved that too.Then a secure door opened.Mateo appeared.Cuffed.Escorted by marshals.Chris stood immediately.Camila did too.Mateo’s eyes went first to her.Then down.Her stomach.
His expression changed.The last time he’d seen her in person, there had barely been anything visible.Now there was no mistaking it.Mateo stared.Camila smiled faintly.
“Hi.”He looked toward Chris.Then back at her.“You got huge.”Camila’s mouth dropped open.Chris closed his eyes.“Mateo.”
“What?”
“You don’t say that to pregnant women.”Mateo looked genuinely confused.“She’s eight months pregnant.”
“Still.”Camila glared.“You’ve been in federal custody too long.”Mateo smiled.There he was.Her brother.For one second.Then a marshal moved him forward.Mateo looked at Chris.
“You taking care of her?”Chris nodded.“Yes.”
“She’s eating?”Camila groaned.“Oh my God.”Chris actually answered.“Mostly.”
“Chris!”Mateo frowned.“Mostly?”
“Morning sickness was rough early.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”Camila stared.“You were a little busy being federally indicted.”Mateo ignored that.“You need protein.”Chris nodded.“I’ve been telling her.”
Camila looked between them.“This is my nightmare.”Mateo almost laughed.
Then his eyes went to her stomach again.“So…”His expression became strangely uncertain.“Niece?”Camila smiled.“Yeah.”Something moved across his face.Soft.
Quick.Gone before anyone else might have noticed.Chris noticed.He always did.
Mateo looked toward him.“You named her yet?”Chris glanced at Camila.“Not officially.”
Mateo nodded.Then the marshal moved him toward the courtroom.Before he disappeared, he looked back.
“Walker.”Chris waited.“Don’t teach her to drive.
”Camila burst out laughing.Chris’s mouth curved.
“No promises.”Mateo shook his head.Then disappeared through the door.Camila wiped at her eyes.Chris looked at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”This time it was true.
Two days later, Chris sat across from Mercer.No tactical gear.No raid map.No surveillance photographs.Just an office.And paperwork.Mercer studied the form.“You’re sure.”Chris leaned back.“Yes.”
“You’ve been one of our strongest long-term undercover assets.”
“I know.”
“You’re good at it.”
“I know.”
“Very humble.”
“Always.”Mercer almost smiled.Then he looked at the transfer request again.“White-collar?”
“No.”
“Counterintelligence?”
“No.”
“Organized crime task force?”
“Possibly.”
“Field operations?”
“Yes.”
“Undercover?”
“Short-duration when necessary.”Mercer looked up.“But no more long-term identity work.”Chris nodded.“That’s what I’m requesting.”Mercer set the papers down.
“Camila ask you?”
“No.”
“Pregnancy?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Chris thought about it.Months ago, he might have given the professional answer.
Career development.Operational fatigue.Need for broader experience.All true enough.
None the real reason.“I don’t want another name.
”Mercer went quiet.Chris looked toward the window.
“I don’t want another apartment with fake bills in the drawers.
”Nothing.“Another driver’s license.”His jaw tightened.
“Another girlfriend who doesn’t know who she’s sleeping beside.
”Mercer raised an eyebrow.“That last part is avoidable regardless.”Chris gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.”Chris continued.“Roman worked because I let him become everything.”
“For the operation.”
“Yeah.”
“But when it ended…”He paused.“I realized I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with Walker.”Mercer watched him.Chris laughed quietly.“Turns out I like Walker.”
“That must have been difficult.”
“Extremely.”Mercer smiled.Chris looked down at the weddingless ring finger on his hand.Not yet.But soon.He hadn’t told Camila that part.One thing at a time.“I have something outside this job now.”Mercer nodded.“Camila.”
“Camila.”Chris smiled.“And the baby.”
“And the baby.”
“I want to know what time I’ll come home sometimes.”Mercer laughed.“You understand this is still the FBI.”
“Occasionally would be nice.”
“Fair.”