Page 31 of Freeing Camila

“He hasn’t had anything new since he let us know the Piras had sent men to Hawaii.”

“Why he’d do that?” Eggs asked.

“Baker seemed to think Piras got word his daughter had escaped. Through some unknown means, Baker thinks he discovered information about the SEAL’s mission in Colombia; from this, he inferred a possible link to her escape, believing the two events were somehow related.”

“So, what? He thought he could just send men to a Navy base to question a bunch of SEALs about a classified mission?” Eggs asked skeptically.

“He’s panicking,” Flint remarked. “Cammie was never supposed to be found. She escaped his grasp, and now he’s frantically attempting to mitigate the potential ramifications of her disappearance. He’s desperate to protect himself from the fallout. The cartel will retaliate.”

“Maybe we should just let the cartel do their thing and let them take him out for us,” Eggs suggested, the chilling implication hanging heavy in the air.

“That could work,” Haley agreed. “He’s obviously got connections in high places. He’s got power, influence, and enough dirty secrets to bring the powerful down with him. But now that I’m in his system?” She smirked. “I could light a match.” With a subtle glance, she looked at their boss, seeking his permission in a non-verbal request for consent.

With a nearly imperceptible nod from Flint, Haley’s fingers danced nimbly across the keys, a flurry of motion. “Cammie still needs protection,” Flint stated while Haley did her thing. “Valeria’s still out there, and the cartel’s backing makes her a volatile and dangerous,” he added, his voice tight with unease.

“Agreed,” Jeeves replied.

Flint's icy gaze fell upon him, causing a wave of dread to wash over him, filling him with a sense of foreboding. “And she deserves to know the truth.”

Jeeves’ jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. He knew it was coming and had dreaded it. He would have to initiate a conversation with her, a conversation that would inevitably reveal his awareness of her past. He hoped she would forgive him for his deception. A cold dread, like icy fingers, tightened his gut as he contemplated the outcome. She’d have to forgive him. He couldn’t imagine stepping away from her now that he’d gotten to know her.

If only he could forgive himself.

CHAPTER13

Little Victories Bucket List No.21: S’mores

The grocery bagwas heavier than it should’ve been, swinging against her thigh with every hurried step. The fading light painted the quiet street in gold and shadow, and the spring breeze stirred the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder again—casual, she told herself. Just checking. But the street was empty.

Still, the feeling clung to her. Watching eyes. A weight between her shoulder blades.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, her fingers gripping the handles of the bag a little too tightly. It wasn’t the first time lately she’d felt it—that uncanny sense of being followed, shadowed.

There had been no word from Baker, who had promised to inform her of any updates regarding her father’s movements. The absence of any news from the former SEAL felt like a heavy weight on her chest. A heavy silence that amplified her anxiety and unease. Combined with the prickling sensation on her skin, the feeling of eyes on her back, and she became a tight bundle of nerves. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was in her head.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe she was just tired. Maybe her nerves were playing tricks again.

But then—footsteps. Too slow to belong to a jogger, too steady to be the wind.

Her heart kicked into a sprint even though her steps stayed the same. She clutched the bag tighter and quickened her pace, eyes darting toward the safety of her apartment building just a few blocks away. Her keys were in her pocket, but she didn’t dare fumble for them just yet. Not with another two blocks to go.

Then, from behind, a low voice cut through the buzz of her nerves. “Hey,” the deep voice said gently. “You okay?”

She spun fast, her heart leaping into her throat. Her grip tightened around the bag like it was a shield.

It was him.

Wade.

As he stood there in his leather jacket, his hands held out in a peaceful manner, his sharp brown eyes quickly scanned her features, giving her the impression that he missed absolutely nothing.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added quickly, taking a slow step closer. “I saw you from across the street. You looked . . . tense. Is everything okay?”

Tense? That was an understatement. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but the sight of him—steady, familiar—eased it slightly. He had that way about him, even when she didn’t want to admit it.

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly. Too sharp. And with a slight quiver.

---