One Wrong Move (26 page)

“It could be enough,” Moore said, a gleam in his eye, “to bring him down for good.”

“Rayma doesn’t need to be involved in this,” Camden said. That edge, the one creeping up on him all day, was in full force. Shawn had been killed in cold blood. Fletcher was dead. Joe would be, if Darrell found him before they did. He wasn’t going to let Rayma get involved.

“Why not?” Rayma countered. “I’ve been involved in this ever since my first blog post.”

Camden wouldn’t be swayed. “We’re doing the bust at the party.”

“Is that necessary now?” Rayma asked, her voice hinging on desperation.

“Yes. To get the ultimate sentence, it’s necessary. This video helps, and I hope he’ll go away for life, along with the rest of his cronies. But we’ve got to play this to the end.”

“Camden’s right,” Moore said. “Let’s get a copy of this and have forensics study it from all angles. Then we need to finalize our game plan.”

“Look at this,” Arnie muttered.

Everyone stilled, afraid of what else there could possibly be.

The video aimed at Joe, who sat in a chair in an empty room and spoke into the camera. “If you’re seeing this, it’s already too late. Shawn and I have lost the fight against Darrell Weberley and his team. Shawn because of his death, and I because there’s no more hope. We were part of that team at one time, before we realized how he was poisoning young people. We hoped to put a stop to him, hoped his power would be taken away, but the cops wouldn’t listen, the news wouldn’t listen. It’s hard to win a war with only two soldiers fighting. We’re sorry to involve you. We hope you’ll send it to the right people and not get any more involved. When we started this war, we never expected it to get so ugly.”

***

Rayma

Rayma was crying by the time the video ended. That was definitely the guy who had given her the information, but why had he asked for money? Why had he made it so difficult on her? If he’d wanted to win the war against Darrell, why not just give it all to her? Had they been starving for their next meal?

Or maybe he’d entrusted her to figure it out and do something about before it was too late, and he wouldn’t have to hand over the recipes and payroll.

Darrell had found Shawn. She’d seen him killed in cold blood, and she was afraid Camden would be next. Had he also found Joe, or was Joe still out there, hiding?

She gripped Camden’s arm, finding comfort in that small touch.

He turned to her and held her in his arms, soothing her as his palms rubbed up and down her back. “Are you okay?”

She nodded into his neck, blinking away the images in her mind.

“I think it’s time we take a field trip to the beach,” Camden announced. “Rayma and I could use some fresh air.”

Moore’s hands spread out over the computer. “After this?”

“We’ll be disguised. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Moore said.

Rayma loved the idea. She missed the water, the gulf, the sand in her toes, and she hoped the sunshine would help her forget the images of the man being gunned down so heartlessly.

Camden won the argument. He changed his clothes, wrapped a bandana around his head, and wore shades and a cap. Rayma pulled her hair back and donned a wide brimmed hat and sunglasses, and they were off to the beach to enjoy some vitamin D.

The sun was high in the sky, the tight air making it difficult to breathe. A few people milled along the beach, embracing the lazy afternoon. It was summer, it was hot, and even though it was a weekday, people were out enjoying the water.

Rayma was shocked that Camden let them wander as far from the house as they did. They found a place in the sand near the water to lay out a blanket. The salt water splashed a slight reprieve from the heat if it came up just right.

She held up the bottle of sunscreen. “What some?”

“You going to rub it all over me?” he teased.

She threw it at his chest and lay on her belly. “No, but you’re going to rub it on my back,” she demanded.

“I can’t stop thinking of that night I found you in the bathtub.” Camden poured a mountain of sunscreen on her back and began to rub it in.

She turned her head to him. “I thought you were coming to kill me.”

“I carried you out of there, stark naked, and didn’t do a damn thing.”

“I remember you doing something,” she teased.

Camden chuckled. Heat rose within her chest. She tried to forget the video and pretend she and Camden were on a leisurely outing instead of trying to escape the stress of the safe house. She wouldn’t mind replaying the scene of them together the last time they’d been alone on the beach, but that would have to wait until later. This beach was way too crowded.

“So what made you choose your career?” Rayma asked, to make small talk. “Have you always wanted to go undercover, or did you just fall into this position?”

Camden stopped rubbing her back and crossed his feet on the blanket. “It was the course my life took.” He paused and looked out over the gulf. She sat up and grabbed his leg to rub his feet. “I was seven when my brother overdosed on drugs. Too young to know much at the time, but I wasn’t too young when my friend became addicted. I did nothing to help him, and he died.”

After a bout of silence, Rayma grabbed the lotion bottle and splattered some on his nose in an attempt to lighten the mood. There had already been too much seriousness. “I’m so sorry. That must have been a horrible experience. But don’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. There was nothing I could do.”

“You’re doing something now.”

“Not really.”

“How many drug dealers have you put behind bars?” Rayma asked.

“Only to get out again.”

“Even if they were there for six months or six years, that’s six less months they had to spread their disease.”

“Unless they had someone do it for them.”

“Feeling melancholy today?” she asked as she lowered her shades, just a hair, to peer at him.

“Every time I think of my brother and Greg.”

Rayma placed a hand on his leg. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “What about you?” he asked, changing the subject as he lay down on his back beside her and laced his hands behind his head. “Why did you choose your career?”

“I was always an inquisitive child. Like a cat with nine lives, I was always getting into some kind of trouble. I used to go treasure hunting with my brothers, who made it extra difficult for me. After Richard, I believed people deserved to know the truth about things. Seems my life was somehow mapped out for me, too.”

She closed the top on the lotion she still held and set it aside, adjusted her hat, and continued. “James helped. He was a detective with the police department until he became a private investigator. He encouraged my interest, but I also saw how much his job affected him. I mean, he’s had problems. His wife left him, things like that. It wasn’t easy on him, but that was mostly because he was a workaholic. Since writing was my second hobby, I chose to do reporting.”

“Let’s give you a test,” Camden said as he sat up.

“What kind of test?”

“Come on. I’m going to test your investigative skills.”

“Okay.” As she shifted on the blanket, her breasts nearly grazed his arm. She punched him playfully when his stare lingered a little too long.

He pointed to a couple walking through the sand. “Take that couple over there. What is it about them that’s unusual?”

“She’s taller than him.”

“Could be the fact she’s wearing heels on the beach.”

“That’s definitely unusual,” Rayma said. “Maybe she’s trying to be sexy. Some men might like a swimsuit covered up by that long, lacy thing she has on, with high heels to match. Look at that couple.” Rayma pointed out another pair who seemed enthralled with each other. “Think one of them is teaching the other mouth-to-mouth?”

Camden laughed, but Rayma sensed the tension in his body as he studied the first pair. The woman in the heels carried a large bag. She dropped it in the sand as if she couldn’t handle it anymore. For an instant, she looked right at them.

Suddenly, the woman reached into her purse. Camden rolled over Rayma as several loud pops disintegrated the peaceful aura. Sand shot up around them, and people screamed and started running. Camden jumped up and hauled Rayma into his chest as he shielded her with his body between her and the shooter.

More gunshots, a short and staccato rhythm, had Rayma’s mind racing. She went with Camden, and they ducked behind a beach hut.

He thrust his phone at her as he dug into his shorts and pulled out a pistol. “Call Moore.”

Rayma’s body shook as she found Moore’s number and hit send. When he answered, she fumbled with words. Camden snatched the phone from her, gave Moore the scoop on what was going on, and waited as agents came to retrieve them.

***

Camden

Camden didn’t knock when he barged into Dare’s office in the back of Vin Doux. “Why the hell was someone trying to kill me?”

Dare puffed on his cigar and studied a computer screen. Then he pushed his chair back from the desk, clasped his hands behind his head, and propped his feet up on his desk as if this a casual visit.

“You lied to me. You told me she left you.”

“She did,” Camden said. “She contacted me today. She wanted to meet at the beach and talk. You said you thought she might have something important of yours. I wanted to see what she had to say.”

“Yeah? What did she have to say?”

“Didn’t get much of a chance to find out, thanks to your goons.”

Darrell placed his feet on the floor and shuffled papers on his desk as if to dismiss Camden. “I told you she was going to die whether you did it or whether someone else did it. Didn’t look like you were going to do it.”

“You almost killed me in the process.”

“So don’t get in my way.”

Rage boiled Camden’s blood to the point he wasn’t thinking clearly, not only for his own safety but for the fact Rayma had almost been killed because of this son of a bitch. Fletcher had been killed, and he’d seen Shawn’s death on the video.

He took three long strides to Darrell’s desk and hauled him up by the collar.

He shoved the man against the wall. “Don’t make a foolish mistake like that again.” Then, realizing what he was doing, he let go.

Dare chuckled, a light, menacing sound.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Camden thrust the USB drive, of which they’d made several copies, at Dare. He was able to grab it before it fell to the ground.

“There’s something not right about you,” Darrell said as Camden made his way to the door.

Camden, his heart pounding with adrenaline he could barely contain, turned. “I don’t like to be shot at.” He opened the door and very carefully closed it.

He was angry and afraid. He’d been a fool to allow Rayma to go outside. He’d been a fool to let himself get so wrapped up in her presence that he let his guard down.

He’d been a fool to confront Darrell like that.

***

Darrell

Darrell snuffed out a cigar that lingered, untouched, in the ashtray and watched as Camden strode out the door. He would hate to lose the guy. He would hate even more to find out he was a cop, or worse, an undercover agent, but he was beginning to get that tingling sensation behind his ears that indicated something was wrong.

Whether it was Camden or not had yet to be determined. After all, how many agents could last as long as he had without losing it or making a fatal mistake? It had been after Lacey came into Dare’s life that things started to go sour. Camden was renting from Lacey, big deal. Maybe Lacey had arranged it that way. What would be better than to have Darrell’s chef as her tenant if, in fact, she was investigating him?

Darrell stood, stretched, and reached for his phone. There was only one way to find out the truth of this mess, and it started with the woman he knew was an undercover agent. Thanks to Lacey, Cyndi had been exposed.

And, thanks to Lacey, her life was about to end.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Camden

Camden’s heart pounded as he walked out the door of Vin Doux, his senses on high alert as he waited to see if anyone would follow him. Nobody did.

As he looked out over the gulf, he could practically feel the waves wash over him, pound him, but it wasn’t peaceful this time. He was swirling in those waves, being tossed back and forth inside the roiling waters. He had too much to think about, to worry about, and too many things to do to feel peaceful.

His cell phone rang, jarring him. He answered, expecting Darrell. The unavailable number usually came from one of the many cell phones he had.

“Is this Camden Alexander?”

“Who’s asking?”

“James Noose.”

Oh hell, Rayma’s dad. How had he gotten this number?

“We need to talk,” James said.

“Spit it out.”

“Meet me at Café Sands.”

What? James was in town?

Shit.

“You’re in Hammer Bay?” Camden asked. He had to play this cool. No way could James know about Rayma right now. No way could anybody know where she was until she was completely out of the line of fire.

“I’m here to find Rayma. I’m starting with you.”

***

James was seated and eating when Camden arrived at the café, as if he knew he wouldn’t disobey his orders to meet. He had no appetite but ordered a burger and fries anyway.

He’d pictured him as average height, plump build, and cop stereotype. What he got was a person who looked average on the outside, wore shades to hide his inquisitive eyes, and someone with more intelligence than most technology wizards. He expected a supercilious jerk that thought ‘former cop’ meant something. He received a man who was self-assured, confident but not cocky, and genuinely concerned for Rayma.

He saw a lot of Rayma in him, and wondered why she’d never noticed their similarities. They even ate their French fries the same way.

When he took his dark shades off and looked into Camden’s eyes, he experienced a brief conundrum. How could he lie to this man and tell him he had no idea where Rayma was? How could he allow him to continue his search for Rayma and possibly go to Darrell next? Dare would want to know where Rayma was and possibly kill James for his association.

How could he risk that?

“So are you going to tell me where Rayma is?”

“You mean your daughter?” Camden couldn’t help the barb, and his gut tightened when James’s gaze landed on him. He could understand why James made a good detective. His eyes were like a magnet, daring people to talk.

“Am I going to have to ask again?”

Camden chewed on his burger, the onions stagnating in the pit of his stomach. He trashed the remainder, rolling it into the packaging and balling it up. “No,” he finally replied. “I need to make a phone call.”

“I can find you. Wherever you go, I can find you.”

Camden had no doubt the man could, as long as he was Camden Neil Alexander. He wouldn’t be for much longer.

He wouldn’t be able to find the safe house unless he followed him, and Camden was too smart for that.

“I have to make a phone call,” he said again as he stood. “Wait here.”

He stepped aside to make a private call. James waited, but watched intently. Camden studied him from the corner of his eye but kept the rest of his face and his mouth hidden. For all he knew the man could read lips.

“Moore,” Camden said. “We’ve got a problem.”

***

Rayma

“What’s going on?” Rayma shouted when Moore abruptly pulled her from her post by the window and told her to get her stuff.

She’d been watching outside, waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for Camden to come back. None of those actions were good for her.

“We’re moving you to a different place.”

Dread pinpricked her skin, and her mind reeled with all the terrible things that could still happen. “What about Camden?”

“Camden and I will stay here.”

“What?” she said. “No.”

“It’ll look fishy if he suddenly moves,” Moore said.

“I’m staying here,” Rayma said.

Moore shook his head and ushered her out the room, toward the stairs. “You’ll be safe where you’re going. You’ll have agents all around you.”

She pulled away and started walking to the stairs herself, but she wouldn’t make this move easy on them. “Where is Camden?” she demanded.

“He went to see Darrell.”

“What?” she whirled around to face Moore, who was only steps behind her. “He’ll be killed. We were shot at already.”

“He can handle himself.”

She stormed upstairs to her room and quickly began to grab her things from the bathroom, holding back tears. She was afraid, so afraid this would end in Camden’s death. She’d seen what Darrell could do, what he would do to those who turned on him.

As she entered the bedroom, she stopped short. She had some clothes, a notebook, some books and toiletries, but other than that she had nothing. This had been her home, she had fallen in love, and still she had nothing.

The kitchen door opened and slammed shut. Rayma raced down the stairs to find Camden. She would make him see reason and tell him that she was safer with him. Her first instinct was to run to him, exclaim “You’re home!” and jump in his arms.

Then she noticed the man behind him, and all her senses grew numb.

Her mind faltered. Her heartbeat slowed. “What are you doing here?” Her first thought was something horrible had happened. Why else would James be here with Camden?

“I came to see you,” he said. “Called Camden and told him I wasn’t giving up until I found you. You’re living in a safe house?”

Rayma nodded.

They’d been on good terms the last time she saw him, but seeing him again was almost like meeting her father for the first time.

Technically, she was. Last time she’d seen him, he was only a friend.

How did she feel? God, she was confused. She wanted to hug him and punch him at the same time. She wanted to rant and cry. Did she love him like a daughter loves a father? Maybe when she was twelve years old. Now? Now he was a friend, someone she’d looked up to, someone she could call on at any time. She was done playing games, pretending dolls were students and she was the teacher, pretending Barbie was her friend and they were going swimming together. Pretending James was her dad and could make all her boo-boos go away.

James held out his hands but didn’t advance toward her. She remained standing where she was. Camden slowly backed away, as if she and her dad needed this time to talk alone.

The chasm between them could have been filled with one hug, but she didn’t take it.

“Can we talk?” James asked, dropping his hands.

Rayma shrugged, trying to act indifferent when a myriad of emotions raged within her. But that rage was her primary focus. “Sure.” She didn’t move. Whatever he had to say, he could say it right here.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Camden said, his gaze flickering over her as he walked out.

Rayma’s hands shook as she opened the liquor cabinet in search of one of Camden’s expensive bottles of wine, but all she saw was rum. “Can I fix you anything?”

“I’m good,” he said, sitting at the table. She chose to stand. “We’re not going to be able to talk if you act that way toward me. And you might as well get used to me because Camden only allowed me here if I stay to the end. He informed me we’d be moving to a different safe house, so now you’re stuck with me.”

Rayma would argue moving later. For now, she wanted to interrogate James. “So…how long have you known?”

James sighed. “I suspected from the beginning, and confronted your mother. She admitted it was true because she hadn’t had…” He glanced at Rayma, obviously unsure how far he should take the story.

“I’m a grown woman,” she said. She could handle anything he had to say.

“They hadn’t had that kind of relationship in a while. After she found out she was pregnant, she made sure to get Richard in her bed so he wouldn’t suspect it. Apparently, he knew anyway. I thought things would change once he went to prison. Your mother made all kinds of threats against me if I told you.”

“Like what?”

“She threatened to run off with you. She threatened to go to court. She threatened all types of things.”

“Oh, like you couldn’t find us?”

“I didn’t want to take the chance and, if you’ll remember, I was married. She allowed me to take you all the time anyway, as a friend. We spent Christmases together. I’d never have had that opportunity if I’d told you.

“God,” he exclaimed as he pushed his hand through his hair. “It killed me to learn what Richard did to you. I never would have thought…”

Rayma had the sudden urge to comfort him, at least with words. What Richard had done wasn’t his fault any more than it had been hers. “He didn’t do to me what he’d done to other kids. He never got that chance.”

“I wanted to kill him. If he hadn’t gone to prison, I would have fought for custody of you. I should have anyway.”

It suddenly hit Rayma that James was stressed. He’d lost weight. Was that more gray in his hair? He’d always been a drinker since his wife left, but not a lot, and never had he looked so haggard.

“Did your wife leave you because of me?”

James shook his head. “You know the story behind that. Hell, my wife was cheating on me before I ever thought of cheating on her. She needed more out of life than what I could give her. I was a police detective. I left her alone too many nights. She wanted more.”

Rayma came to sit beside him and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” James said. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wish I could change how things happened.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rayma said, even though it still burned that she’d never known.

“I should have told you when you got older. Your mom couldn’t make threats then. But I was afraid you’d hate me, like you do now.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m upset with you, but I don’t hate you.”

Moore and Camden burst through the door. James jumped up, his face draining of color. Moore’s hand shot up in a “wait” signal, then all hell broke loose and he started giving them rapid-fire instructions.

“Camden, get out to your apartment and don’t act startled when Darrell knocks on your door. You have movers coming. Rayma, you and James go to your room and do not come out. Take Beacon with you and do not let him out, either. Lacey, meet Darrell at the door. Find out what he wants. You’re just here, on a lazy day, but you expect your husband back in the next hour.”

“Darrell’s here?” Rayma asked. James gripped her hand and started ushering her out, but her feet wouldn’t budge.

“Go to your room,” Camden urged.

James took control as he got her into her room, shut and locked the door. He sat on the bed with her, his lips pressed in a thin line. If there was ever a time she needed her dad, this was it. She was glad he was here.

Beacon meowed, pacing near the door, stretching to reach the handle. He hated to feel trapped, and right now Rayma didn’t blame him. She felt trapped, too.

She jumped up from the bed and picked up her furry monster, cradling her face in his fur. “It’s okay, Beacon baby. Momma’s here. It’s okay.” Her voice broke, tears flooding out of her.

James came to her side, took the cat and set him gingerly on the bed, then wrapped Rayma in his arms.

“It’s okay, Rayma. Just like you told Beacon, it’s all going to be okay.”

Daddy’s here to take care of things.
She snorted at the thought and pushed him away, still feeling awkward in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I…” His voice faded, and Rayma turned away. She’d accepted him back in her life because right now she had to, but she still hadn’t come to terms with his lies, with the fact his blood was her blood. Although she’d forgiven him, she wasn’t sure things would ever be the same again.

He held up his hands. “I never meant to hurt you or lie to you.”

She pivoted toward him. “Do you really think that’s what I’m upset about right now?”

He flinched, but she didn’t feel guilty about her words. “No. You obviously care about Camden.”

Groaning, she turned away and fell onto the bed. Right now, she didn’t need to have this conversation with her father—the man she’d known only as a friend her entire life.

“I care about Camden’s life.” She schooled her voice, trying to convince herself that’s all it was, trying to convince James. “The man who wants me dead is in his house as we speak.”