Page 12 of Freeing Camila

He couldn’t go through that again. He wouldn’t.

That had been the deal when he’d agreed to continue his employment with Condor’s Overwatch. No personal security missions. Flint had agreed to his conditions. But now, he was reneging on that agreement and, by his quick retreat from the conference room, his boss knew it.

Pushing his way out of the room, Jeeves strode into Flint’s office just as the man took his seat behind his desk. Before he could say a word, his boss sighed.

“I know what you are going to say.”

“We had a deal,” Jeeves insisted.

“I know. But the woman isn’t in any immediate danger. Think of it as making a new friend.”

Jeeves scoffed. “A new friend.”

“Look. I know what you’ve been through changed you.”

“With all due respect, you know nothing,” Jeeves snapped, anger a fiery spark igniting the sharp words.

“I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you doubt your ability to protect others. And I know it's all complete bullshit,” he spat, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Give it to someone else. I can’t do it.”

“You can and you will,” Flint insisted, his jaw set, before letting out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “You’ve got it in your head that you fucked up that night. I get it. Second guessing yourself.”

“It’s not second guessing. It’s fact. If I hadn’t lost focus?”

“There was no reason to think an attack was imminent. I’ve read the after-action reports, Jeeves. The gathering was supposed to be peaceful.”

Jeeves let out a short, sharp scoff, the sound tight and dismissive. “It was Columbia. That country rarely experiences lasting peace. Especially when it comes to the terrorist factions, their hidden agendas, and the constant threat of violence. While I was off dicking around, people died. Liam died,” he finished, his voice strained, the unspoken sorrow of his best friend’s death palpable in the tight constriction of his lungs.

“It’s tragic, but we all know that’s a possibility given our jobs. He knew what he signed up for. And what happened is not your fault.”

Jeeves let out a bark of laughter, a bitter, chilling sound that held no trace of mirth. “Maybe I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, but my actions leading up to the attack didn’t help.”

“Jeeves?”

“No,” he barked, cutting the man off. “You know it’s true. While I was getting my rocks off in the woods, those innocent women were dying.” Unable to stand still, his agitation drove him to pace the small, confining room. The stifling atmosphere closed in on him. With a frustrated hand running through his hair, he felt an overwhelming urge to scream, a primal cry that seemed to be building up inside him and threatening to erupt. But even if he unleashed it, it still wouldn’t drown out the screams of those women and girls who had only gathered in a like-minded pursuit to bring Columbian women into the twenty-first century. Strong, independent women who’d been so proud of the things they’d accomplished that day. Only for betrayal from one of their own to bring it all crashing down.

The guerrilla fighters had swept through the village, strafing the huts and tents with gunfire before Jeeves could even begin to wrap his brain around what was happening. He’d been in the jungle outside the village waiting for a woman from the gathering that had caught his eye. It was a moment of weakness that would haunt him for life.

Despite his initial fucked up response of blaming Sutton, Jeeves knew deep down that Liam’s death was a direct result of his delayed response. The bitter taste of regret constantly lingering in the air as waves of ineptness swamped him. “Shit. I don’t even know why you keep me on knowing how badly I fucked up,” he muttered, his voice thick with despair, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

“Fuck that shit out!” Flint’s shout reverberated through the room, jolting Jeeves out of his disturbing recollections. “I’m only going to say this one more time, so listen up. There. Was. No. Fuck up. Were mistakes made? Yes. But what mission didn’t come with its fair share of mistakes? The fact is, you got the primary out of there. She’s safe and living a good life because of your actions. Sutton has moved on. It’s time you did too. I think Camila Pierce is the key to making that happen.”

Shit. Jeeves recognized the unyielding tone in his boss’s voice and knew it was futile to argue further. A sigh, heavy with resignation, escaped Jeeves’ lips as he nodded slowly.

“Just be her friend. That’s all that’s needed at this point,” Flint said, the harshness leaving his voice, replaced by a more measured, calming tone.

Befriend Cammie. For some inexplicable reason, he sensed that the situation was destined to become far more complicated and problematic than was actually necessary or warranted.

CHAPTER5

Bucket List No.2: Get a job

The moment Cammiewalked through the door of the Flour Power bakery, she was hit with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked goods—a symphony of sugary delights. The second thing that hit her was the thought that maybe she should have eaten something prior to her arrival. Her waistline wasn’t going to be happy with her if the scents were any indication of the tasty quality of the treats.

Making her way to the counter, she took in the atmosphere. The bakery had a retro hippie feel. Bright teal tables shone, each surrounded by chairs in a rainbow of contrasting colors: teal, red, yellow, purple, and orange, creating a cheerful and vibrant atmosphere. Hanging above the tables were whimsical lights, each one shaped like an orange mushroom, adding a touch of whimsy to the scene. One wall showcased a long bench seat that spanned several tables, adorned with an array of colorful pillows of various textures that invited a person to sit and stay a while.

But the counter itself was the true statement piece. The construction consisted of numerous strips of wood, each individually painted with a distinct color from the spectrum of the rainbow, creating a visually striking piece. The woman behind the counter was a vision in swirling colors, matching the vibrant decor, her laughter as she chatted with customers echoed the room’s lively energy. Her animated conversation was underscored by a delightful tinkling; the many bangles she wore on her wrists chimed rhythmically, a percussive accompaniment to the lively flow of her speech.

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