48. The Man Who Exists
The Man Who Exists
One year later.Chris Walker woke to a tiny hand smacking him directly in the face.He didn’t move.Another smack.This one landed against his mouth.Chris opened one eye.
Gabriella Walker stared back at him.Big brown eyes.Dark lashes.Round cheeks.
And an expression that strongly suggested she was very pleased with herself.Chris stared.Gabriella stared.
“Did you just hit a federal agent?”She smiled.Chris narrowed his eyes.
“That’s assault.”Gabriella grabbed his nose.
“Aggravated assault.”She squealed.Chris laughed and caught her little hand.
“Your mother is a terrible influence.”From the bathroom came:“I heard that.”Chris smiled.
“I wanted you to.”Camila appeared in the doorway.
Her hair was pulled into a messy knot, she was wearing one of Chris’s old FBI Academy T-shirts, and there was absolutely nothing about her that resembled the woman who had once walked into Mateo Vargas’s garage and completely wrecked an undercover agent’s carefully controlled life.Except the attitude.That had survived.Camila folded her arms.
“Don’t blame me because your daughter woke up violent.”
“My daughter?”
“Yes.”
“When she’s smiling, she’s yours.”
“Correct.”
“When she’s screaming at three in the morning?”
“Yours.”
“Diaper explosion?”
“Definitely yours.”
“When she learns to drive?”Camila’s expression changed.“Mine.”Chris immediately sat up.“Absolutely fucking not.”Camila laughed.“Good morning.”
“I’m serious.”
“She’ll be sixteen.”
“No.”
“Chris.”
“No.”
“You realize we have fifteen years before this argument matters?”
“I like preparing.”
“Of course you do.”Chris looked down at Gabriella.“You’re not driving.”Gabriella blew a bubble.“Exactly.”Camila shook her head.“You’re ridiculous.”Chris lifted Gabriella above him.
She squealed.His entire expression transformed.Camila stopped.She loved watching this.
Special Agent Chris Walker.The man who could walk into a room and identify every exit before he’d even properly entered it.The man who’d survived bullets.The man who’d infiltrated a cartel.The man who had once slept with a gun beneath his pillow.Now lying in bed making ridiculous noises because his daughter laughed every time he did.Chris brought Gabriella down and kissed her stomach.She shrieked with laughter.Camila leaned against the doorway.Her heart still did that.Even after marriage.Even after Gabriella.
Even after ordinary mornings and dirty bottles and unfinished laundry and arguments about whose turn it was to buy diapers.Her heart still did that when she looked at him.
Chris noticed her staring.“What?”
“Nothing.”He narrowed his eyes.“That face is never nothing.”Camila smiled.“Breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Coffee?”
“Definitely.”She turned.Chris called after her.“Camila?”
“What?”
“Bring mine?”She looked over her shoulder.“No.”
“Wife.”
“Legs.”
“I have a baby.”
“You have one arm available.”
“Camila Walker.”She smiled.God, she loved that name.“Get your own coffee, FBI.”
Their house didn’t look anything like a safe house.That mattered to Chris.More than he’d expected.There were photographs everywhere.Gabriella’s newborn pictures.Their wedding.
Camila standing outside her restaurant on opening day.Chris holding Gabriella for the first time with tears running openly down his face.A photograph Logan had taken of Chris asleep on the couch with Gabriella asleep on his chest.Their refrigerator was covered with magnets and appointment cards.There were toys in the living room.A bottle drying beside the kitchen sink.A high chair that Chris had assembled after refusing to read the directions and then quietly disassembling forty percent of it when Camila discovered he’d installed something backward.Life.Messy.Ordinary.Real.Chris walked into the kitchen with Gabriella resting against his chest.His hair was still messy.He wore gray sweatpants and nothing else.
Camila looked over.Her eyes lingered.Chris caught her.“Something interesting?”The words stopped her.For half a second, they were back in the garage.That first look.That first spark.That impossible man.Camila smiled.“Maybe.”Chris’s mouth curved.“Better answer than last time.”“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”He kissed her.Gabriella immediately shoved one little hand between their faces.Camila laughed.“Apparently she doesn’t approve.”Chris kissed his daughter’s fingers.
“She’ll adjust.”Then Camila smelled something.She stopped.Chris noticed.“What?”
She looked at Gabriella.Then at him.Her smile widened.
“Oh.”Chris immediately became suspicious.
“What?”Camila reached toward the kitchen counter.His FBI badge sat beside his wallet and keys.Right there.Visible.No hidden drawer.No fake documents covering it.No reason to hide it.She picked it up.
“Special Agent Walker?”Chris narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Your daughter needs changing.”He looked down at Gabriella.Then at Camila.“Pretty sure that’s a federal jurisdiction issue.”Camila laughed.“Go.”
“Shouldn’t we contact the appropriate agency?”
“Christopher.”
“Potential hazardous-material situation.”
“Go change your daughter.”Chris sighed dramatically.
“Yes, ma’am.”He leaned down.Kissed Camila.Then kissed Gabriella’s head.
“Come on, criminal.”Gabriella babbled happily.Chris walked away.Camila watched him go.Then looked down.His badge was still on the counter,she picked it up,sitting in her hand.The first time she’d held one of Chris’s badges, her entire world had collapsed.She’d found it hidden beneath clothing in his dresser.Heavy.Cold.Metal.FBI.The proof that Chris Roman had never existed.
Now—she smiled.Then placed Chris Walker’s badge back on the counter.Exactly where he’d left it.Nothing hidden.Camila’s restaurant was packed that evening.It usually was now.
She’d been terrified when she’d opened.Not because she didn’t believe in the concept.
Because for the first time in her adult life, she’d built something without Mateo.Without Vargas money.Without the protection of her family name.Every dollar had been clean.
Every contract transparent.Every decision hers.Chris had invested.Legally.Documented down to the cent because Camila had insisted.He’d teased her about becoming more suspicious than an FBI agent.She’d taken it as a compliment.Now Chris sat at his usual table near the back with Gabriella in a high chair.Camila approached.Chris was feeding their daughter.Or attempting to.Half the food was on Gabriella’s face.Some was on Chris’s sleeve.
Camila stopped.“What happened?”Chris looked up.“Operational difficulties.”
“She’s eating mashed vegetables.”
“Hostile mashed vegetables.”Gabriella slapped the tray.Food flew.Chris closed his eyes.
Camila laughed.“Don’t.”
“You have carrots on your face.”
“I know.”She leaned down and kissed him anyway.“How’s Mateo?”Chris asked quietly.
Camila’s smile softened.“Called this afternoon.”Mateo’s case was still moving through federal court.His future wasn’t going to be easy.Nor should it be.Camila had learned that loving someone didn’t require denying what they’d done.She visited.She called.She loved her brother.And Mateo faced the consequences of his choices. “How is he?” Chris asked.
“Still hates you.”Chris nodded.“Good. I’d worry if that changed.”
“He asked about Gabriella.”Chris glanced toward their daughter.“Of course.”
“He wants more pictures.”
“He gets the ones where I’m holding her.”Camila laughed.“You are unbelievably petty.”
“Your brother tried to have me investigated.”
“You were investigating him.”
“Details.”She kissed his cheek.“I love you.”Chris looked up.“Love you too.”Later that night, the house was quiet.Gabriella had finally fallen asleep.Chris carried her toward the nursery.Camila followed.He lowered their daughter carefully into the crib.Gabriella stirred.
Chris froze.Both parents stared.She settled.Neither moved.Five seconds.Ten.Chris slowly straightened.Camila whispered:“Extraction successful.”Chris looked at her.“Don’t.”
She covered her mouth to keep from laughing.They backed out.Chris quietly closed the door.The second they reached the hallway, Camila laughed.Chris pointed at her.“You wake her, she’s yours.”
“Federal jurisdiction.”
“Not funny.”
“Very funny.”Chris wrapped an arm around her waist.She leaned against him.
They walked toward their bedroom.On the hallway wall were photographs.
Dozens now.Their wedding.Gabriella.Camila’s restaurant.Christmas.A photograph of Mateo and Camila when they were children.Chris stopped in front of another.Camila immediately smiled.“Oh, look.”
“No.”She laughed.Young Chris Walker stood beside an old Honda.His hair was longer.
His clothes were questionable.And the car—according to Camila—was hideous.“I still don’t understand why you framed that.”
“Because I love it.”
“That car was incredible.”
“That car was terrible.”
“It ran.”
“Sometimes.”
“Always.”
“It literally broke down the day that picture was taken.”Chris stared at her.“How do you know that?”
“Your mother.”
“Traitor.”Camila laughed.Beside it hung another photograph.Taken only weeks earlier.
Chris.Camila.Gabriella between them.Chris was laughing at something outside the frame.
Camila was looking at him instead of the camera.Gabriella was reaching for her father’s face.Nothing perfect.Everything perfect.A real family.Camila rested her head against Chris’s shoulder.“Which picture do you like better?”
“The Honda.”She hit him.Chris laughed.“The second.”
“Good answer.”
“Although—”
“Don’t.”He kissed her temple.Later, they lay beneath the covers.No gun beneath the pillow.There hadn’t been one for more than a year.Chris lay on his back.Camila rested beside him.Her fingers wandered lazily across his shoulder.Then found it.The scar.
The old bullet wound.She traced it.Chris looked over.“Phoenix.”Camila smiled.
“Phoenix.”She knew them all now.Every scar.Every story.Every truth.She kissed his shoulder.Then rested her chin against him.“You know what my favorite thing about you is?”
Chris smiled.“My driving?”
“No.”
“My looks?”Camila considered him.“Debatable.”Chris laughed.“That’s insulting.”
“You’ll recover.”
“My body?”
“Pretty good.”
“Pretty good?”
“Would you like me to stop?”
“No.”She laughed.Chris turned toward her.
“What, then?”Camila’s teasing disappeared.She looked into his eyes.The same eyes she’d looked into that first day in Mateo’s garage.Except back then she’d known nothing about the man looking back.Now she knew everything.
“There’s only one of you now.”Chris went quiet.Camila touched his cheek.
“No Roman.”His expression softened.“No Roman.”
“No cover.”
“No.”
“No invented past.”
“No.”
“No lies.”Chris took her hand.“No lies.”She smiled.“Just Chris Walker.”
“Just me.”Camila moved closer.“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the one I wanted.”Chris stared at her.Then kissed her.Slowly.
When they separated, Camila rested her forehead against his.“You know something?”
“What?”
“I spent months asking you who you were.”Chris smiled.
“You were persistent.”
“You were suspicious.”
“I was undercover.”
“You slept with a gun.”
“Fair.”
“You drove like a lunatic.”
“Highly trained lunatic.”
“You had bullet wounds.”
“Minor detail.”
“You had approximately seventeen phones.”
“Exaggeration.”
“And every time I got close to figuring you out, you gave me another lie.”Chris’s smile faded.“I know.”Camila touched his face.“But I found you.”He covered her hand with his.
“Yeah.”
“I found Chris Walker.”
“You did.”
“And?”He smiled.“What?”
“Was I right?”
“About?”
“You being one strange criminal.”Chris laughed.“Technically, no.”
“Still strange.”
“I’ll accept that.”From the nursery came a cry.Both of them stopped.Chris closed his eyes.
Camila smiled.“Special Agent Walker?”
“No.”
“Your daughter—”
“Our daughter.”
“—is requesting backup.”Chris sighed.“Federal jurisdiction?”
“Definitely.”He pushed back the covers.Camila laughed.Chris leaned down and kissed her before standing.“I love you.”
“I love you too.”He walked toward the bedroom door.Camila watched him.No weapon.
No hidden phone.No coded message waiting for Roman.Just Chris heading down the hallway to pick up his daughter.He disappeared into the nursery.A few seconds later, the crying stopped.Camila smiled.She could hear Chris’s quiet voice through the baby monitor.
“Hey, Gabriella.”A pause.“Daddy is here.”Camila closed her eyes.Once, Chris Walker had been a man whose entire survival depended on convincing the world he was someone else.
Chris Roman.A criminal.A driver.A lie created inside an FBI briefing room.But Roman was gone.The cartel was gone.The lies were gone.And what remained was better than anything either of them had expected.A husband.A father.An FBI agent.A man with scars and bad jokes and an unhealthy attachment to driving too fast.A man who came back.
A man who stayed.A man whose badge sat openly on the kitchen counter.A man whose daughter knew his voice.A man whose wife knew every part of him.No second identity.
No secret life.No invented history.Just—Chris Walker.The man who exists.