46. Walker #2
“I want my daughter to know my name.”That silenced the room.Chris stared at the transfer paperwork.“I don’t want her growing up with me disappearing for four months and coming home pretending nothing happened.”Mercer’s expression softened.“You don’t have to justify it.”
“I know.”
“I’m just making sure you’re not walking away from something you still want because you feel guilty.”Chris looked at him.“I don’t.”
“About Roman?”
“Some things.”
“Camila?”
“I’ll probably spend years making that right.”Mercer nodded.“But this isn’t guilt.”
“No.”Chris smiled faintly.“This is me deciding what I want.”Mercer picked up the paperwork.Signed.Then slid it across.“Approved.”Chris stared.“That easy?”
“No.”Mercer leaned back.“I plan to make the rest bureaucratically miserable.”
“There it is.”
“But the transfer?”He nodded.“You earned it.”Chris picked up the papers.“Thanks.”
Mercer watched him stand.“Walker.”Chris turned.“You ever get bored…”
“No.”
“You didn’t hear the offer.”
“Don’t care.”Mercer laughed.“Get out.”Chris headed toward the door.Then stopped.“Mercer?”
“What?”
“Thank you.”No joke.Mercer nodded.“Go home.”Chris smiled.“That’s the plan.”Camila was standing inside an empty restaurant space when Chris found her.Not empty exactly.
Construction had started.Exposed brick walls.Dust.Contractors.Samples spread across a folding table.Tile.Wood finishes.Light fixtures.A handwritten sign taped to the wall:
CAMILA’S — COMING SOONChris stood near the entrance.She hadn’t seen him yet.
He watched.Camila spoke to the contractor, one hand resting on her stomach.Animated.
Excited.Alive.This wasn’t Vargas money.She’d been adamant about that.Every account tied to Mateo’s organization had been separated from her.Attorneys had reviewed everything.She had walked away from properties, vehicles and money she couldn’t independently establish as clean.Starting again had been terrifying.Chris had offered help.
She’d refused at first.Then accepted one condition:Anything from him would be documented.Legal.Transparent.A real investment.No shadows.No mystery money.So Chris had invested.Not because she needed rescuing.Because he believed in what she wanted to build.Camila finally noticed him.Her smile appeared instantly.
“Hey.”Chris walked toward her.“Hey.”The contractor excused himself.Camila kissed Chris. “What are you doing here?”
“Finished early.”
“Government miracle.”
“Don’t get used to it.”She smiled.Then noticed the folder in his hand.“What is that?”Chris handed it over.Camila opened it.Read.Her expression changed.She looked up.“You did it.”
“Yeah.”
“Transfer approved?”
“Yeah.”
“No more long-term undercover.”
“No more long-term undercover.”Camila stared at him.Chris waited.She closed the folder.
Then:“Are you sure?”He smiled.“You asked me that this morning.”
“And?”
“Still sure.”She searched his face.“You loved undercover work.”
“Parts of it.”
“You were good.”
“Very.”
“Modest.”
“Extremely.”Camila smiled.Then became serious again.“I don’t ever want you thinking I made you give up your career.”
“You didn’t.”
“Our daughter didn’t.”
“She didn’t.”
“You’re sure?”Chris stepped closer.“I didn’t quit the FBI.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t quit field work.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t quit being the guy who apparently terrifies Logan every time I get behind a wheel.”
“That would be tragic.”
“Exactly.”He placed both hands around her waist.“I just don’t want to disappear anymore.”Camila’s expression softened.“Chris.”
“I spent years believing being good at the job meant becoming whoever the case needed.”He looked down at her stomach.“Now I want to be here.”His eyes returned to hers.
“I want boring Tuesday nights.”Camila smiled.“You hate boring.”
“I want to learn.”
“Ambitious.”
“I want arguments about paint colors.”
“We already have those.”
“You’re wrong about the green.”
“You’re dead to me.”Chris smiled.“I want to assemble a crib badly.”
“That I believe.”
“I want middle-of-the-night feedings.”
“You say that now.”
“I want first steps.”Her eyes filled.“First day of school.”Chris swallowed.“Her first date so I can run a background check.”Camila smacked his chest.“No.”
“Basic screening.”
“No FBI database.”
“Public records?”
“Chris.”
“Fine.”She laughed through tears.He touched her cheek.
“I want a life where the people I love know where I’m sleeping.
”That ended the teasing.Camila wrapped her arms around him.Chris held her.They stood in the middle of exposed drywall and construction dust, surrounded by the beginning of Camila’s future.After a moment she whispered:“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And Walker?”
“Yeah?”
“I like boring Tuesday nights too.”Chris smiled into her hair.“Good.”Their daughter kicked between them.Chris pulled back instantly.“Did she—”
“Yes.”His hand went to Camila’s stomach.Another kick.Chris smiled.“See?”
“What?”
“She likes the plan.”Camila laughed.“She has no idea what you’re saying.”
“She knows my voice.”
“She kicks when you talk because you never stop.”
“Still recognition.”
“You’re impossible.”Chris kissed her.Then looked around the restaurant.“What are we calling this place?”Camila pointed toward the sign.“Camila’s.”
“Creative.”
“I will remove your investment.”
“You can’t. Contracts are signed.”She narrowed her eyes.“FBI.”
“Business law.”
“Worse.”Chris laughed.Then took her hand.No urgency.No exit to watch.No phone vibrating with a handler asking where Roman was.No Mateo waiting somewhere for his driver.No Diego.No cover.Just Chris Walker standing beside the woman he loved while their daughter kicked beneath his hand.For years, Chris had measured success by whether he could make another identity believable.Now success looked completely different.His name on the mailbox.Camila’s restaurant on the corner.A crib waiting at home.Ultrasound pictures beside his FBI badge.A woman who knew every scar.A daughter who would never have to wonder who her father really was.Chris looked down at Camila. “What?”She smiled.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Thinking too much.”Chris nodded.“Probably.”
“About?”He looked around.Then at her.“My life.”Camila’s expression softened.
“How is it?”Chris smiled.“Mine.”And that was something Chris Walker had never appreciated enough before.Not a cover.Not an assignment.Not a man invented inside a secure FBI briefing room.Just his.His work.His woman.His daughter.
His name.Walker.