One Wrong Move Page 18

She would prefer to confront him in person but since he was hundreds of miles away, she would have to analyze the tone of his voice to know the truth of what he was feeling at her news.

  “How could you do this to me?” Rayma asked when James answered.

  “Rayma?”

  “Who the hell do you think it is?” she asked, not disguising her anger or animosity, but instead letting it fuel her.

  “I’ve been worried sick about you. What’s wrong?”

  “I found out the truth, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She hesitated. Maybe he didn’t know. But he had to know. Too many coincidences otherwise, and he worried about her more than her own mother did. “Why did you lie to me all these years?”

  “About what?” he asked. What was that in his tone? Concern for her or for himself? Acknowledgment? Confusion?

  “How could you do that, you son of a bitch. Or should I say Dad?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Camden

  Every available agent searched through and around the house, but Rayma was nowhere to be found.

  Beacon helped, his cat radar on high alert as he paced with Camden through the house, meowing profusely.

  Fury and concern and downright dread washed over him in waves that weakened him. He pushed through, had to push through until she was found. If she was lying dead on the beach somewhere…

  No, No. She was safe. Had to be. Had to be, or none of this would matter anymore.

  How could she leave? How could the agents disregard her safety? Worse, how could they not notice she had gone?

  “How could you just lose her?” he snapped.

  “She promised she’d stay on the chair at the beach,” Lacey said, flitting around, eyes wide in panic.

  How could Lacey be so damned stupid? What was more important than protecting their only credible witness? Didn’t they understand how vital it was that someone stay with her at all times?

  Lacey promised she’d only gone grocery shopping and hadn’t been gone more than fifteen minutes, but Camden didn’t trust her judgment. There was no way to really know how long Rayma had been gone.

  Darrell had left early today, giving Camden the rest of the day off, too. Dare claimed to have a hot date and said he would let Mike stay in jail another day, and would bail him out tomorrow. But what if that hot date included kidnapping Rayma?

  She wasn’t at her usual place on the beach, and he realized how unsupervised she’d been. Although he hated to treat her like a prisoner, she should never have been allowed to step foot outside the door.

  When he found her, he planned to give her a piece of his mind and tie her up until this was all over.

  If Dare had learned she was still in Hammer Bay, he’d order her killed immediately, and probably wouldn’t let Camden be the one to do it. He thought she had the thumb drive, so he’d be trying to find her for that reason alone.

  Camden took the lives of civilians seriously and would never risk one for a mission, but Rayma had touched him in a way that wasn’t normal, wasn’t safe. He would like to get to know her better, develop a deeper relationship with her, but she was off-limits.

  This assignment couldn’t end soon enough.

  He headed for the boardwalk in a last attempt to find her, his heart breaking when, after several minutes, he didn’t. He couldn’t call out for her on the off chance he’d be spotted. There was no reason he should be out looking for her, and if Dare caught him, his pitiful calls would give him away.

  He scanned one last time through the tables of a café on the beach and thought he was hallucinating when he caught sight of a tall blonde with her back to him, holding a phone to her ear. But this woman’s hair was different, more stylish than Rayma’s. She wore business attire and stood next to a woman and child.

  Everything else matched Rayma. The way she stood—she had good posture despite her height—the way the wispy pants she wore caressed her ass, the way she clutched the phone to her ear. And the bag at her feet was definitely hers. And those pants looked familiar. Had he packed them for her?

  He caught her scent, heard her voice as he approached, and didn’t give her a chance to notice him.

  Anger, terror, and relief washed over him, but he couldn’t take the time to feel anything now. He planted his hand on her shoulder and turned her abruptly around. Eyes wide, she stared at him, words dying on her lips. Good, she should be afraid. It could have been Darrell who found her.

  He smiled at the woman, who stared at him with squinty, suspicious eyes. The last thing he wanted was to create a scene and have her call the cops.

  He rubbed Rayma on the shoulder to try to give the impression this was a friendly encounter. Inside, his body shook with rage. He was furious she held such little regard for her life and for this operation. And he was furious with himself for trusting she would stick around without proper surveillance.

  Her mouth hung open, but she didn’t speak. He took the phone from her hand, pressed end, and caught her hand when it came up to hit him.

  “What…how…” Her voice trailed off. The other woman’s brows bunched in concern.

  Rayma’s face went from shock, to realization, to calm, and he knew she’d made the decision not to make a scene by the acceptance in her eyes.

  “Thank you for letting me borrow your phone,” she told the woman as Camden handed it back to her.

  “Is everything okay?” the woman asked.

  “Fine,” Rayma said. “It’s perfect.” She hooked her arm through Camden’s and looked up at him, fluttering her lashes.

  He was surprised at how complacent she was being. Surprised…and leery.

  The woman frowned at Camden, then back at Rayma. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve been looking all over for my man.” She patted his shoulder then waved at the woman. “Thanks again.”

  “Are you crazy?” Camden sputtered when they were out of the woman’s hearing range. His arm tightened through Rayma’s, pulling her closer. He’d like to think they seemed like a perfect couple out on a leisurely stroll, but suspected that wasn’t the case. “Don’t ever do that again,” he warned.

  “I planned on coming back.”

  “You shouldn’t have left in the first place. Darrell thinks you have something of his. He wants you dead.”

  “I don’t have anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter to him. You got in his way. You threatened his freedom. That’s reason enough for him.”

  “Why don’t you send me away? I have family I can stay with.” Her voice cracked, but he wasn’t going to let up on his reprimand.

  “Darrell wants you dead,” he repeated. “He’ll do what he can to make sure it happens. If he has to, he’ll find your family.” She shook her head in denial. Once they made it to an empty part of the beach, he stopped and faced her, sandwiched her body between his hands and forced her to look at him. She needed to know just how serious this was. “There’s a price on your head, Rayma. He gave me the option of bringing you to him and naming that price.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Don’t be foolish.” He dropped his hold and turned away, but made sure she planned to follow before he took too many steps.

  “I’m serious,” she said, trailing him. “We could do a bait and switch.”

  “No.”

  “The idea has merit,” she insisted.

  “No,” he growled. He stopped again, scanning the area before his gaze landed on hers. “We don’t need to do a bait and switch. We just need to make it a couple more weeks, until Darrell has his party. Then this will all be over. Don’t risk your life again.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him, but she followed. As they walked, he surveyed the area to make sure no one tailed them. Her scent stole his breath, something like melon and musk, and it made him angrier and more frustrated.

  He couldn’t help but think this operation needed to be over soon, before he did something stupid, like fa
ll in love.

  ***

  Rayma

  Later that evening, Rayma almost talked herself out of going to see Camden. Halfway to his apartment, she’d begun to turn around and tread back to the house when she noticed him in the garden. He was kneeling in the dirt, his shirt pulled around his head like a do-rag, as if the heat of the day was upon him.

  Which meant he was shirtless. Instead of the sun, moonlight embraced him, casting a luminous outline around every angle of his body, accentuating the lining of his arms, down his ribcage to where his waist tapered to the edge of his jeans.

  Rayma shivered.

  Despite the lack of sun and the quakes in her body, it was hot outside. He was covered in sweat and probably bug spray—a necessity around here.

  He pulled weeds and, when he came across a ripe vegetable, picked it and placed it into a bag next to him. A small birdbath complemented a bench in the corner of the garden, which glittered with flowers along the fence on both sides. No outside lights marred the perfection of the panorama, and the lack of light created a peaceful and cozy atmosphere.

  It didn’t help to calm her nerves.

  She padded toward Camden, and he tensed, whipping his head up. When he noticed her, he relaxed somewhat and turned his attention back to the plants, but his body was still rigid and waiting.

  “Moonlight gardening?” Rayma opened the small gate to the garden and stood away from him. His muscles bunched, the tension radiating from his body matching hers.

  “Yeah.” Camden stood and wiped the grime from his hands onto his jeans, which were already covered with dirt.

  She wished he wouldn’t stand. It was hard enough to make sense of her feelings, especially when her nerves were clashing around inside. The length and breadth of his body sapped every ounce of energy she had left. Her legs trembled.

  “Even in the moonlight it’s as hot as a mo-fo,” he said.

  “Exactly how hot is a mo-fo?” Rayma asked as she knelt down to pick a weed. It was safer to sit, and she let her butt hit the dirt.

  Camden laughed, shrugged, then knelt back down and joined her. “Not real sure, but probably pretty intense.”

  As intense as your anger earlier? She wanted to ask, but didn’t.

  “I don’t have time in the day anymore to tend the garden.” He picked a flower and placed it behind her ear. She smiled, all the while debating what she would say to him.

  Will you do to me what you did on the beach? Will you let me taste you? Will you forgive me for leaving and understand that I had to without me having to explain it? Will you stop ignoring me? None of those would be appropriate, but at this point, she was tired of being prim and proper.

  “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for saving my life.”

  Camden’s eyes widened, but he quickly schooled his expression and shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Well, thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Silence. He resumed pulling weeds and picking vegetables, and she raked her fingers in the earth, enjoying the soft loam in her hands and urging it to relax her. The soft glow of the moonlight helped her to be more open and honest, as if the darkness was hiding her vulnerabilities.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult. I have a hard time trusting people, especially men.”

  Camden paused, holding his trowel in the air before he dropped it. “Who hurt you?” he asked as he sat fully on the dirt and regarded her as if he’d wait as long as necessary for an answer. She wanted to like him for that, but the intensity of her emotions from past to present caused her to back away.

  “Which time?” she asked with a laugh, doing whatever she could to lighten the mood. Though she felt shielded by the dimness, she could see every inch of him. Still, the mask of protection was there, making her more brave. “My mom, my dad, ex-boyfriends.”

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  “The man I thought was my father wanted to see me. That’s who I was meeting today. He’s been in prison.”

  Camden’s breath emerged in a low sigh. His eyes flickered, but he quickly recovered and cocked his head, studying her. “Why?”

  She let out a mild laugh. “To inform me he wasn’t really my father.”

  “I mean, what did he do?”

  “Don’t you already know everything there is to know about me?” When he didn’t answer, she laughed and continued. “My mom went halfway insane when he went to prison and checked into a facility, where she met a woman. They’re living together now.”

  “What did your dad do?” he asked again, this time more forcefully.

  Rayma couldn’t tell him. Even though she knew none of it was her fault, the shame of Camden knowing was too much for her to bear. Tears welled in her eyes and he scooted closer to her. He took her chin in his hand, and his breath grazed her mouth with a light touch.

  “He told me the man I’ve always wished was my father is my father. Just another deception in my life I’ve had to deal with.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You had nothing to do with it.”

  “I’m sorry for the hurt it’s caused you.”

  “I was on the phone with James reaming him out for not telling me he was my dad when you hung it up on him. He’s probably worried sick.”

  “Serves him right,” Camden said. “But how do you know he even knew? Maybe he was never told the truth, either.”

  “I know he knew,” Rayma said. “It all makes perfect sense now.”

  Camden, as if not knowing what to do or what to say, picked at another weed and patted the dirt around a tomato plant.

  Rayma slapped at a mosquito.

  “You wanna go inside?” he asked. “Have a glass of wine? Talk about families?”

  Rayma laughed, but inside, her heart felt like a leaden vessel pulling her deeper downstream. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  He gasped, as if that was the last thing he expected her to say. She closed her eyes and began to scoot away.

  What was she thinking?

  If only she could hang her head in shame without looking like a total idiot. If she were a child, she’d stand up and run, pretending it never happened. She could claim temporary insanity. She could escape to her room, but she’d have to face him eventually.

  He touched her and pulled her closer. She opened her eyes. His lips found hers in a whisper-soft caress. His hand brushed past her cheek, and he gripped her behind the neck, holding onto her hair. Holding onto her.

  His cadence turned hungry. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, anchoring onto his strength. She felt safe with him, but he couldn’t protect her from her own emotions, the one thing she needed protection from. Succumbing to anything but raw sexual hunger would be her downfall.

  He drew away, shivering, a deep but barely perceptible tremble, as if holding back was killing him.

  “Are you sure?” His voice was raspy, indicating a vulnerability she attempted to hide.

  Standing, she took his hand and pulled him up, never more sure of anything. As much as she’d love to feel the soft earth beneath her, this was not the place for their first time.

  Her legs were unsteady as they went to his apartment, but Camden took his time. He flipped on the lights, seeming to withdraw from her. Was he having second thoughts?

  The light made things awkward, too glaring and obvious, emphasizing her doubts.

  He opened a cabinet, searching, then pulled out a couple of glasses and poured them both a glass of wine.

  She took a sip, second-guessing each and every action and body movement.

  “I need a shower.”

  She set down her glass and brushed her palms across his naked shoulders, rubbing down his back. She didn’t mind her men dirty, but the image of a shower together was too tempting to resist. “So do I.”

  He turned to her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.

  Fears fled—fear of falling, fear of feeling, fear of turning into a woman who
depended too much on a man. Right now she wanted him, needed him, and nothing else mattered.

  “The shower can wait,” he said.

  ***

  Camden

  He felt like a complete idiot.

  He’d been with enough women to know what he was doing. He never stumbled. He never second-guessed himself. And his heart never pounded as furiously against his chest as it pounded now.

  He was always a confident and self-assured lover, using every pleasurable moment to its fullest and knowing exactly what the woman wanted. Then he’d leave, walking away as if it was the best thing to ever happen, but it was time to move on.

  He wanted Rayma, and he didn’t want to leave afterward. What that meant, he wasn’t sure, only that he wanted to touch her, taste her, experience her, and possess her. But if he didn’t stop acting like a teenager, she’d laugh at him and leave.

  She was just a woman. He’d been with countless women in the past. Women he never really knew and never cared about. Though quality came before quantity, he was still a man who loved women.

  Loved. Past tense. For now he could think of no other woman he wanted to be with other than Rayma O’Riley.

  Instinct took over, and he wrapped his hand around her waist. His mouth came down on hers, and he tasted the tartness of the wine on her tongue, making him feel as if he’d already drunk the whole bottle.

  She pulled away, trailing her hand down and off his arm as she took first one and then another step back. The femme fatale smile on her face almost did him in. He groaned and tried to grab her. Her smile only grew larger as she evaded his touch.

  He grinned and hung his head in defeat but shot his eyes straight into hers.

  He sprang for her, grabbed her, and drew her closer. Her fingers fluttered along his ribs to find the button on his jeans. His chest muscles jumped as her palms skated up to his head to undo the shirt tied there. Dirt fell onto his shoulders, and she merely flicked it away.

  She removed his do-rag from his head and ran her fingers through his hair. She obviously had the control, and he liked it, but he wanted her to like it more. He slipped his hands up under her blouse and savored her soft skin, her perfect breasts, and tried to kiss her.