One Wrong Move (29 page)

He’d failed. The suspect was dead, and now there was no taking him to court. No chance of proving his guilt.

Camden should be glad.

On the bright side, Dare wouldn’t have the chance to wield his power in prison, and they had plenty of proof to put his associates and several crooked cops behind bars, possibly for life.

Then there was Rayma. She could go back to her life, without him, and find herself a good man while he began his next assignment, wherever that might lead. James was offered jobs with the DEA and the FBI, but he refused them both, claiming he made plenty of money to see him through. He was happy, he had a life outside of work, and he was semi-retired and could pick and choose his cases.

Camden could go to work for James.

He tried to push that thought away, but his mind dwelled on it more and more. James had a small one-man business and probably couldn’t afford much, but if he and Camden put their experience together and worked as a team, they could both make it, and probably grow the company by leaps and bounds.

He was in love. Dammit, he was in love with Rayma, and there was no denying it now. He knew how it felt to almost lose her, to almost die himself, and he knew she was the woman he could spend the rest of his life with and be happy. No other woman would compare, and no other woman would make him feel such joy and insanity at the same time. No other woman could give him what she could.

When the right woman came along, it was stupid to let her go. The thought lingered until it became a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Everything reminded him of Rayma. The sand, the beach, the wind. Every time he looked around the safe house, he thought of her. He had to do something before he lost her for good.

And soon.

Moore dragged in, still wearing his clothes from last night. “Lacey’s going to make it.”

“What?” Camden asked.

“She’s going to be okay.”

“Damn, I thought she was dead.” He was glad to hear she was alive, even though he could have died because of her. His skin tightened as he wallowed in his feelings. He didn’t know what to think.

“Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to tell you before.” Moore took a cigarette from his pocket and chewed on it. This time, Camden didn’t blame him. He could use one himself. “I saw Rayma there.”

Just hearing her name weakened him. His knees buckled. “Where?”

“The hospital. She and James were there. She’s going to be leaving soon.”

Camden nodded. Was that his cue to do something?

“I owe you an apology,” Moore continued.

“No, you don’t.”

“I’ve been hard on you. I’ve accused you of things you shouldn’t have had to take. You’re a damn fine agent.”

“Darrell is dead. If I were a fine agent, he’d be facing prison time.”

“The world’s a better place without him,” Moore said.

Camden couldn’t disagree. “I’m thinking of retirement.”

“What?” Moore’s voice rose. “You can’t do that. You still have a lot to offer us.”

Yeah, the more he thought about it, retirement sounded better and better. It didn’t mean he’d never work again, he’d just make a living being a normal person and not living a persona.

“No,” he said, his own certainty surprising him, “retirement sounds good.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Rayma

Rayma glanced through a closet she hadn’t seen in months. She’d lost count of how much time had passed since she’d been home. Since she’d had a normal life, rummaged through her closet and had her own clothes.

Since she’d seen Camden.

Beacon rubbed against her ankles, and when he didn’t get the result he sought, jumped onto a shelf in the closet and bumped his head to hers.

She bumped back and scratched behind his ears. “If you’re not here to help me pack, then you might as well leave.” Rayma picked him up and set him on the bed, where he crawled into her suitcase and made himself at home. “And don’t worry, I have no intention of leaving you behind.”

She and Beacon were going to stay at her friend Caitlyn’s home in North Carolina while Caitlyn and Wesley traveled around the world to do their thing. She was moving out of her Hammer Bay apartment and taking a sabbatical. She couldn’t wait.

She would hide away in the mountains, start writing a novel, and do some serious soul-searching.

The mountains sounded like a good place to start. She could be close to her friend, far away from any beach memories of Camden and almost getting shot, and she could start her new career of writing.

Her blog was making some money as she posted about her adventures living in a safe house, but she wanted to stop thinking about that life. She wanted to forget everything about it. Eventually she’d write the story Moore had promised her, but she wasn’t ready.

Beacon meowed, and she picked him up and rubbed under his neck, behind his ear, then next to his tail. “You’re going to love the snow. The cooler weather.”

The door banged open. She dropped the shirt she held, and Beacon bolted from her arms. She considered running with him. Darrell was dead, but who knew what enemies might still want her gone.

“Rayma?”

Her heart pounded. Thighs shaky, knees weak, she felt her mouth grow dry when she recognized Camden’s voice. Her pulse pattered as his footsteps approached, then he stopped in the doorway.

Three weeks had passed with no word from him. Beacon came out from under the bed, arched his back, and sauntered over to him.

Camden knelt down to pet the cat. “Hey, little buddy.”

“Camden, how nice to see you.” Kill them with kindness. He hadn’t bothered to call or attempt to see her after the hell they’d gone through that night three weeks ago. He hadn’t bothered to see for himself if she was okay. Sure, he knew she was, but he hadn’t bothered to see for himself.

And what did that tell her?

She fought off tears. No more crying. She thought it’d be as easy getting over him as it had been with Keegan, but so far it wasn’t.

That’s because I love him, and I never loved Keegan
.

Sweat burned in her armpits, and she fought hard to maintain control as she folded clothes into her suitcase. He continued to pet Beacon, but finally stood, though he didn’t come any closer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out on another mission?” Rayma asked.

“I’m taking a break.” He cleared his throat, the only indication he might be a tad uncomfortable.

She’d never known him to be uncomfortable.

“I’m thinking about going to work with James.”

She stopped folding her next shirt. “James?” He nodded. “Why?”

“It’s time to do something different with my life. I’m wasting a lot of it going undercover to be someone I’m not.”

“You’re busting a lot of drug dealers. That’s not a waste.”

He shrugged. “I went to visit my family. I hadn’t seen my niece since she was a baby, and my nephew is practically grown now. I don’t want to miss out on my family anymore. I don’t want to miss out on you anymore.”

What’d he just say? Her senses were a little muddled. She wasn’t sure if he even meant his words.

“I found the woman of my dreams,” he continued. “The woman who finally makes me want to settle down.”

Did he expect to just come in here and pick up where they left off? Was she crazy enough to let him?

The old Rayma would block off her feelings, try to push him away for fear of getting hurt. The old Rayma had too much pride to give him another chance. She’d tell him to leave, that things would never work out, then she’d go on to live her life alone and full of emptiness. The old Rayma would convince herself it wasn’t worth it, she could trust no one, that he’d change his mind eventually. She’d convince herself she was happy just as things were and that she was only in love with the idea of being in love.

This
Rayma realized sometimes you had to get hurt to experience the pleasures of life. Sometimes you had to take a chance on someone you care about. And no matter how much she didn’t want to, she did care a lot about him. She loved him.

“I’m in love with you, Rayma.”

Okay, now she had to sit on the bed. She moved aside the luggage. Beacon jumped into the suitcase and settled in, watching them. Camden came over to sit beside her.

Shit, now he’d hear how loud her heart beat. Now he’d see how badly she shook.

“I have plans,” she said.

“Am I in them?”

“They don’t include working with James.”

Camden shrugged. “Didn’t really want to do that anyway. It was the first thing I thought of to do that wasn’t the DEA and might bring me closer to you.”

“I’m going to stay at my friend’s house in the mountains for a while. Take a sabbatical from life in general. Maybe even move up there.”

“Alone in the mountains?” His eyebrows rose, crinkled. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing.

He could come with her. A week or two of intense lovemaking, living alone in a mountain house where it took twenty minutes just to get to town, would definitely show her whether or not a long-term relationship with him would work.

“I don’t even know what your real last name is.”

“O’Neill. Camden Alexander O’Neill.”

“O’Neill?”

“My ancestors were Irish. See, I have an O in my last name, too.”

She considered the name, swallowed her next words. It wouldn’t be too hard to switch to O’Neill if it came to that.

Whoa, slow down
, she told herself. “You haven’t known me long enough to love me,” she told him.

“I know I’ve never felt this intensely about anyone in my life. I know I’ve never wanted to sleep with a woman more than twice and wake up beside her in the morning. I know I’ve never wanted to give up my career, even myself, for a woman.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“I want to do it. I once heard being in love meant you couldn’t live without that person, and if you had to, you’d be miserable. I don’t want to spend my life without you.”

“It took you three weeks to decide this?”

“I wanted to know how I felt for sure. I didn’t feel like you deserved any more bullshit.”

Her heart nestled softly in her chest at his words. She’d exposed her soul to him and he knew exactly what she’d been through. “You’ll have to learn to use the door and stop barging in and scaring me,” she said.

“I can learn to do that.”

Fear overcame her hope for a future with this man, and she spoke those fears. “You’ll regret giving up your career later. You’ll resent me.”

Camden laughed, more like a scoff, and took her hands in his. He held her gaze while she held her breath.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been in love before,” Camden said. “Never wanted to be. If you don’t love me right now, I understand. Just give me a chance, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you fall.”

***

She was falling, all right.

Camden had fallen, too, practically over his own two feet, when he got to have dinner with the infamous Wesley Joel Webb. If that wasn’t enough, they stayed in Wesley’s house for the past few weeks while Rayma searched for her own. Camden was in awe of the rooms lined with trophies and plaques, Wesley’s shop of fix-up cars—they already planned on working on them together—and the man’s all-around good nature. Wesley, in turn, was in awe of Camden.

Yes, she was falling, each and every time he nibbled her earlobe, grabbed her hand for a leisurely hike in the mountains, or walked into a home she was considering buying and given his take on it. She respected his opinion, and after all, he could be living with her in the near future.

She was afraid when the weeks turned to months that he’d get bored. He’d want his old life back—undercover work, being someone else. It offered a challenge, and excitement. Where was the challenge now?

“The challenge is figuring out how to make you happy in a different way, every day, for the rest of my life,” he’d said.

Rayma knew when she’d walked into the home of her dreams. It was perched on a mountainside, a stream running in a canyon below, with tall pines looming around. A built-in pool accompanied the mountain slope and it only took five minutes to get into town.

For the first time in her life, she bought a house, with money she’d saved and the advance she’d received for her memoir about her undercover life.

“I have an idea,” Camden said on the night she moved in. He’d fixed an elaborate meal complete with wine and candles, and served it on the deck overlooking the mountains. “I’m thinking of opening my own restaurant around here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And if we really wanted to get into it, we could invest in some log cabins, make a small resort with cottages and a restaurant.”

“We?” she asked, smiling.

He moved in closer and grabbed her hands. “I don’t ever want to do anything without you again,” he said.

“What will you do when you get bored?”

“With you? Hah. As if.”

“I was thinking about opening my own private investigator business,” Rayma said.

“There is that. But I don’t care if I never have to investigate anything again as long as I live.” She laughed, and he brought her face in to meet his. “Except the inside of you.”

He kissed her, long and languidly. “I never want to see sand or ocean again,” Rayma said when they pulled apart.

“Oh? And here I was thinking we could have our honeymoon in Barbados.”

“Honeymoon?”

That was when he chose to present her with a small, black box that could only mean one thing. Eyes wide, she took it. “Are you looking for an investment partner?” she teased.

“Yes. You, to invest the rest of your life with me.”

He slipped the ring on her finger. She said yes, right before she pulled his mouth to hers.