One Wrong Move (14 page)

Camden scowled as he thrust a package to Moore. Where was that fascinating grin he usually wore? Would she finally get to see the real him, minus the charm?

“What’s this?” Moore asked as he opened the parcel and pulled out a bottle. “Oh.”

“That needs to be logged into evidence. I’d say run prints, but after Officer McMillan’s hands were all over it, I’d doubt that do us any good now.”

“What is it?” Rayma asked. It looked like a bottle of lime-green chili sauce.

Camden turned to face her. “Drugs. For you, Rayma. Dare thinks we went out last night. Gave me this to keep you quiet. And I was stopped for speeding, which I wasn’t doing. One of Dare’s cop friends found the drugs and told me to get home.”

Rayma’s pulse pounded in her head, and she nuzzled Beacon’s neck. “What kind of drugs?”

“Darrell calls it Liquid Fire. Oh, and I ran into your boyfriend in your apartment, wondering who the hell I was and what I was doing.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“He said he had a key.”

“Who?”

“Mike.”

“Mike? I broke up with him several days ago. And I never gave him a key.”

Camden harrumphed. The only mark on him was a scratch on his arm that looked like it came from Beacon. He fixed himself a glass of water and gulped it down before getting another. She tried to ignore the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the way the scowl on his face etched deeper lines.

“So, this drug, this information, it’s enough to bust Darrell now, right?”

“Negative,” Moore said, all official-like. “It’s a great step forward, but we’re not doing it until his party.”

“What party?” Rayma asked.

Camden glared at her like he didn’t want her to know anything. After everything that had happened, she understood his concerns. She’d already learned Darrell was a dangerous man. She’d guessed he had cops on his payroll. But she was safe now, or as safe as she’d ever be, and she was just as much part of this now as they were. She deserved to know.

Moore continued. “Darrell is hosting a large party, an annual event where he brings out new drugs to be tested, exchanged, bought and sold. He’s hosting the party at the warehouse he’s remodeled, there at Pier 18. Everyone who is in on his business will be there. We’re planning to bust him then, and get anyone else involved in his business, too.”

***

Camden

Camden didn’t like the fact that Moore was explaining things to Rayma. Not that it mattered now, since she couldn’t post anything on her blog, but the less she knew the better off she’d be once she went back to her real life.

He set his glass on the counter and watched her pet that darn cat. Those piercing howls still rang through his ears, but now his purrs were just as loud.

He turned on his heel, about to leave when Moore stopped him.

“We’ve been talking,” Moore said. “I asked Rayma to help us with this investigation. She can stay here but go back to work on her blog. I told her she would have an exclusive story when it was all over.”

“You
what
?”

He must have heard him wrong. No way had he just told him Rayma was going to help investigate this case and, when it was all said and done, she would get an exclusive.

Rayma rubbed that damned cat as if neither of them had a care in the world, and it pissed him off. Didn’t she realize her life had drastically changed and may never be the same? She didn’t need to be involved in this, didn’t need to write an exclusive about her experience living in a safe house. Even with Darrell behind bars, he could still be dangerous if they didn’t get all his people. The likelihood they would get all his people was pretty slim, even with the bust at the party, and it was something Camden couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Whose ass are you trying to crawl up?” he asked Moore. “And why?”

“This has nothing to do with kissing ass,” Moore said, but Rayma interrupted.

“Certainly not yours,” Rayma said as her cat jumped down to inspect the kitchen.

“You know how I got these drugs?” He snatched the package from Moore, and though the question was directed at them both, he dropped the sack into Rayma’s lap. “I told Dare I needed them to keep Rayma drugged so we wouldn’t have to kill her. I don’t think we need her help.”

“She has a confidential informant who obviously doesn’t want to go to anyone else but her. We wouldn’t have that information if it wasn’t for her.”

“She wouldn’t be in this predicament, either, if she kept her nose where it belonged, out of everybody else’s business.”

“Hello?” Rayma said, waving an arm. “I’m right here, and I’ve been in a lot worse situations than this.”

“Are you trying to get her killed?” Camden asked, ignoring her. She had no clue, no clue at all what she was talking about. Worse situations than this? He didn’t think so. Her informant was probably Shawn, the big-mouthed cook who still hadn’t been found. Worry for Shawn left a huge hole in his gut.

“Because if you are,” he continued to Moore, “I can just march her over to Dare right now, who won’t hesitate to put a bullet in her head no matter how pretty she is.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Rayma stood and advanced on him, her body long and lithe and ill-prepared for the dangers she could face. She clutched the parcel close to her stomach.

He jerked the sack out of her hands and thrust it at Moore. “About you getting a bullet in the brain? Yes, it is.” It took every ounce of his control not to throw the damn package across the room, just to hear it shatter. But it was important, way too important to let his emotions get the better of him.

He faced Moore and ignored Rayma. Ignored the way her presence choked him, the way her scent—like sweet flowers spritzed with musk—settled into his loins. “She isn’t going to do a damn thing to help. Now get that shit logged and tested.” With that, he turned and marched to the door, slamming it behind him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rayma

Rayma avoided the kitchen for as long possible the next morning. She still wasn’t sure of everyone’s schedule, but she was an early riser and couldn’t stay in bed a moment longer, or locked up in that room with nothing, not even a television, to keep her company.

She wanted her life back.

Her purse offered no hope. She’d dumped out the contents in search of her phone, but Camden had taken out everything that might benefit her.

When she eased open the door and poked out her head to check the hallway, Beacon shot out and tramped down the hall ahead of her. He’d already inspected all the corners of the room and now refused to come back at her call. He was probably ready for his morning cup of coffee, too.

She breathed a sigh of relief that Lacey was the only one in the kitchen. Beacon jumped on the counter and arched his back.

“Ugh, I feel like I have a hangover,” Lacey said. Rayma poured a cup of coffee, and since she had no cat milk, she bribed Beacon with water instead.

He glared and settled on the cabinet, blinking at her with a
what gives
expression.

“You drank a bottle of cheap wine,” Rayma reminded her as she sat beside her at the table.

“It wasn’t cheap wine. It was wine Camden brought from the restaurant, and he’s going to kill me when he finds out I opened it.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah,” Lacey said.

Beacon meowed, and Rayma held out her hand. He didn’t budge. “Can you get me some cat milk next time you go to the store?”

“Cat milk? What’s that?”

“It’s in the pet aisle. Unless I’m out of here before you go to the store. Think you can help? I need my life back.”

“Join the club,” Lacey said. “I can’t help you there.”

“I’ve been kidnapped. Held against my will. I should call the cops.”

“You’re funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“Well, good luck with that.” Lacey stood and shuffled to the pantry. “You want something to eat?”

“I heard there was an exercise facility,” Rayma said. She’d meant to find it yesterday but never made it, between the wine and the hangover and all. “I’d like to work out if I could.”

“Of course. It’s that small brick building outside, next to the house.”

Rayma glanced out the window, saw the building, and wondered how easy it’d be to just keep walking past it, down to the beach and out of this prison. She hadn’t even been able to open the doors last time she tried. “Will Camden be there?”

“Do you want him to be?”

“No.” Rayma poured herself another cup of coffee. Beacon was at her feet in an instant. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt, she gave him a small amount of milk and coffee with water. He had a strong stomach. “I want to exercise alone, and he’s the last person I want to see.”

Lacey glanced at her watch. “He shouldn’t be there right now. It’s still pretty early.”

“How do I make a request for groceries?” Rayma asked after searching the fridge for whipped cream and finding none.

“Use the notepad by the fridge.” Rayma found it, wrote her request, and got a simper from Lacey. “Sounds kinky.”

Rayma laughed. “I put it in my second cup of coffee as a treat.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rayma grabbed a banana. “I’m going to check out the gym. Doesn’t look like Beacon plans on joining me.”

“I’ll watch him. He’s fine here.”

“Thanks.” She trotted back to her room and rifled through the clothes Camden had brought. She didn’t officially have any exercise clothes with her, so cotton shorts and a top with a built-in bra would have to do.

She got her answer as to whether she could just walk out of this heavily guarded compound when a large man stopped her by the gate and steered her in the direction of the gym—a separate building covered in glass windows that she couldn’t see into from outside. Crickets still chirped, and a crescent moon was bright in the still-dark sky. It was peaceful out here, so quiet except for the waves crashing against the shore.

She opened the door of the gym, stepped inside, and hesitated when she spotted Camden.

You’ve got to be kidding me.
He was doing one-arm pull-ups, shirtless, his muscles swelling with every move.

He dropped from the bar when he saw her. Rayma turned to leave, in an attempt to pull herself together.

“Don’t leave on my account.”

“I prefer to work out alone. I’ll come back later.”

“No. I’m almost done.”

His arms bulged as he stretched his shoulders. Rayma sat on a bench, pretending to tighten her shoelaces, pretending to adjust her socks, anything to avoid looking at him. She wouldn’t leave, though. Wouldn’t let him know he affected her in any way.

Her heart pounded, her fingers shook. She hated herself right now. She hated that she had no control over her body when he was around. He was just a man. Men usually didn’t frazzle her this way.

She stood and circled her arms, then tilted her head side to side. “Lacey told me you wouldn’t be here.”

“Lacey doesn’t know anything about my schedule,” Camden said.

“No. How would she?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Camden grabbed a towel and wiped beads of sweat from his body.

Why didn’t he put on a shirt? Oh yeah, because he was a jerk and probably did all of this on purpose. Every breath he took was probably calculated to annoy her.

“It means you pretty much do what you please, so how would she know? How would anybody know? You could be involved in this drug cartel just as much as this Dare guy. Is that why you haven’t found anything in all this time?”

His muscles tensed, and the gleam in his eye turned to stone. The room grew smaller as he strode forward. His overwhelming height nearly overpowered her, suffocated her.

She stepped back, her stance flimsy and unstable on the flat concrete floor.

“I don’t appreciate being accused of not doing my job.” His voice was smooth, but everything else about him was a threat. “A very good man with a family has already died. Whatever Lacey said to you when she got drunk on my very expensive wine is a load of bullshit.”

So he knew about the wine. “I’m entitled to my own opinion. It didn’t come from Lacey.”

Her pulse tripped as he stopped in front of her, his shoulders wide, his chest carved to perfection. The potent sheen on his body enhanced every ripple of muscle, and the erotic scent of his sweat was almost more than she could handle. She fought the urge to lick her lips, to taste every part of his body.

He was lean and chiseled, his muscles in sync with the rest of him, stretching where they should be stretching and tapering where they should be tapered.

Rayma closed her eyes, pretending he was not standing there looking like a god, his almost perfect body—okay, his perfect body—towering above her.
Imagine a beach. No, a mountain. Water. Anything besides him.
She opened her eyes. She couldn’t let him think she was trying to avoid his gaze.

The visualization technique did not work. He was still there, still had that potent effect on her. Still had the scent of clean sexy sweat. God, she starved every time she was around him, hungry for him.

“Lacey told me about Fletcher,” she said.

His chocolate-colored eyes trailed over her body, but snapped up to meet her gaze when she said the name. His mouth tightened.

“Good, then you know how dangerous a man Dare is. You know how dangerous this mission is.”

“You’re the one who brought me into it.”

“No, you brought yourself into it when you posted things about a company you knew nothing about.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t lied to me—”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Uh-huh.” She breathed in and jogged away from him, across the workout room, all the while praying she wouldn’t trip in front of him.

“And I’m not lying to you now when I tell you Darrell won’t forget you anytime soon. He’ll be watching for you, asking about you, hunting you. So be mad at me because I won’t let you work with us. At least you’ll still be alive.”

“That’s providing you and your agents can keep me safe.”

Rayma whirled away and stepped to the treadmill, her body shaking as she switched it on to end the conversation. Hopefully her legs could hold her upright. She started slow, swinging her arms and doing her best to ignore his presence.

She jerked when the door slammed shut. Camden had gone. Good. Her body didn’t cooperate well when he was near, and despite her words to him, she’d never felt safer.

She hated it, hated to depend on anyone else. Hated to look forward to seeing someone and dreading it at the same time.

She couldn’t afford the attraction. Her involvement with Keegan had almost gotten her killed, and she was still reeling from that experience. Camden might be on the right side of the law, but he was still a dangerous man. Dangerous to her hormones, to her goals, and to her sense of self.

She couldn’t afford to allow herself to trust him.

***

Camden

Camden was in the middle of sautéing onions when the assistant chef approached. “Darrell wants to see you in his office.” Jonathan said, reading the next meal from the screen. “I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ve got to finish up this plate.”

“Table thirty-seven. Yeah, I got it.”

Camden nodded and washed his hands, using that time to slow his breathing. He’d suspected Jonathan’s involvement in the back end of the business, but he was now certain. Why else would Darrell send him to fetch Camden?

“Hey, my man,” Darrell greeted him as he walked into the office. He held a glass of scotch in one hand and sat behind his desk, the cherry-wood deepening the darkness of the room. Brown and gold plaid curtains covered fake windows, and muted lights enhanced the gloom. “Shut the door behind you, will you?”

Dread kinked his gut when he spotted the dude from Rayma’s apartment, who lazed in a chair opposite Darrell.

“I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

“We met.” Mike waved his hand, not bothering to rise from his chair. Camden remained grounded where he was.

“This is Mike, my CPA. When did you two meet?”

As if Mike hadn’t already told Darrell.

“Last night,” Mike said. “He was at my girlfriend’s apartment.”

“Ex-girlfriend. She’s dating me now.”

What did Rayma see in this guy? Was this the kind of man who turned her on? A starched suit with a double-breasted jacket?

Mike rose from his chair, his shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed. Camden tilted his head and grinned. Mike clenched his fists at his sides.

“Mike, settle down,” Darrell warned, “before you get hurt.”

He was tall, lanky, but still half a head shorter than Camden. His eyelids fluttered as he sat back down. Camden wondered if the guy wanted another round as a chance to prove himself. He’d taken him down once, and he’d love to again.

“You two will be working together. I wanted you to meet.”

“What the hell will we be working on?” Camden asked. “I know he’s no chef, and I don’t crunch numbers.”

“Do you want more responsibilities or not?” Darrell asked.

“If the pay’s there,” Camden said, playing it cool. Maybe this was his in. He’d have to remember to ask Rayma if she’d dated Mike to try to get inside information on Darrell, or if she’d gotten her intel after she’d broken up with him.

Dare poured himself another scotch and held up the bottle. “Would you like some?”

“No thanks, I’m working.”

“Good answer.” Darrell swished the scotch around the ice in his glass before taking a sip. “I need you and Mike to work together on something. I have a package to be delivered to a very important person. It got screwed up last time.” He scowled at Mike, who shrank in the chair. Facing Camden, he continued. “Now it needs to be fixed. Think you can handle it?”

Camden breathed in deep to calm his heartbeat, which now thrummed a fast tempo against his ribcage. This was a step forward and could mean the beginning of the end. Even with the upcoming party, any evidence was more rope to hang him with. He had to play it cool.

He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and said, “I can handle anything. What you got?”

Darrell held out a black case and Camden took it, along with a rolled up document. “You’re to meet Nemmy at the location on the map. If I sense any monkey business,” he glanced between Camden and Mike, “there won’t be another chance.”

Camden unfolded the map and studied it, but didn’t recognize the locality. It was several miles out of town and close to the water’s edge. Nowhere near Darrell’s house or Pier 18.