Page 5 of Freeing Camila

He wanted to know her story, but just as quickly as that thought struck, he pushed it away. Overwhelmed with his own dark burdens, he couldn't afford to get involved in someone else’s hidden history. He’d patch her up and let her go and never look back.

But why did the idea of never seeing her again make his chest feel tight?

CHAPTER3

Little Victories Bucket List No.13: Make a new friend

The man'ssharp words about not trusting strangers hung heavy in the air. Cammie wasn’t naïve enough to believe that everyone she met had good intentions. But in her experience, it was the people she should have trusted the most that were the least trustworthy. Namely, her monster of a father.

She shuddered, the betrayal a cold fist clenching her heart, the image of her father’s true self and his unspeakable acts seared into her mind. The memory sent a wave of icy dread through her. One day, could she possibly reflect on those past days without feeling the intense, physical reaction she had now? Could she ever reach a point where the thought of those days wouldn’t trigger the familiar tremor in her hands, the rapid beating of her heart, and the suffocating feeling of horror? What she wouldn’t give for a moment of peace, a moment free from her fear, worries, and anxiety. The ache in her heart was palpable as she thought of that indeterminate, obscure time. A moment she yearned for with every fiber of her being.

But for now, she pushed all thoughts of her father and a future free from his evil reach away to focus on the man in front of her. Safely on the ground, she could finally see him clearly, and took in every detail. A wide chest and broad shoulders dominated her view, requiring her to crane her neck to see his face. She knew she was short, but she figured this guy was well above the average male in the height department. Considering his size, she fantasized about what it would feel like if he hugged her; she imagined it would be an all-encompassing experience.

She tore her mind away from that thought and focused on his face. His dark hair, dampened slightly with sweat from his recent run, clung to his forehead and she felt the inexplicable desire to brush it aside. Strong brow, full lips, sharp cheekbones, all combined to create a dazzling display of man, and while she found all those many aspects of him attractive, it was undeniably the intense, captivating gaze in his eyes that ensnared her the most completely.

There were stories behind those dark orbs. Stories she instinctively knew were locked away, a silent burden he carried. In her mind’s eye, she could imagine the darker flecks of brown scattered across his irises as tiny, dark marks holding the memories of some past traumas or hurts he had endured. Like a constellation of sorrows. And the dark circle surrounding them represented the box where he kept them tightly confined and hidden from view. His eyes, pools of untold stories, sparked a torrent of emotion within her, leaving her breathless and utterly captivated.

She shook her head, mentally berating herself for her quixotic thoughts.

“I’ve seen the very worst of what humanity is capable of, sprite. Trusting a stranger so quickly isn’t smart,” he said, his brow furrowed as he misinterpreted her subtle head shake.

Strangely, his assertion, a statement advising against trusting him, did nothing to dissuade her; in fact, it merely caused a smile to spread across her face. “If you were really untrustworthy, you would have walked on, leaving me in that tree. Probably snagging my bag on your way past. I think I can risk trusting you.”

A sudden flare ignited in his eyes, hinting at a complex mixture of emotions that were difficult to read. She had barely begun to consider it when he swiftly and completely erased any emotion from his face, leaving it blank and impassive. The sight of him so quickly hiding himself away from her caused a hollow ache to form in her chest, a feeling of emptiness and rejection that settled deeply within her.

What the hell was wrong with her? She’d just met the man. Heck, she didn’t even know his name. It was utterly baffling how the mere act of gazing into his eyes could evoke such a powerful, almost overwhelming torrent of emotion within her.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, a silent gesture that said, “It’s your call.” Then he started walking away. “Come on. Let’s get that scratch treated.”

Hastily grabbing her bag from the base of the tree where she had placed it, she ran to keep pace with his significantly longer strides. As she drew alongside him, his paces visibly shortened to match hers.

“I’m Camila. Cammie,” she said, introducing herself with her new name for the first time. Surprisingly, it came easier than she expected.

“Jeeves.”

Intrigued and slightly perplexed by the unusual name, she tilted her head and stared at him, a brow furrowed in confusion. “Nickname,” he said by way of explanation. She thought he’d leave it at that, but then he continued. “Wade Butler.”

“Ah. Butler. Now Jeeves makes sense. Clever. Mind if I stick with Wade?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Wade it is, then.” After a few quiet steps, she asked. “You from around here?” She was referring to Bell Creek, the small town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains that served as her current hiding place.

“Transplant.”

She liked that response, curt as it was. “Me too.”

“So you said.”

“What brought you here?”

“Job.”

“What do you do?”

The man’s pause was brief, a mere hesitation, but because she was so attuned to him, she felt its impact immediately. “Security.”

Cammie wasn’t sure that was the full answer to his job, but it was all he was willing to share with a virtual stranger at the moment. She had the sense that he had an active job. He was fit and had an edge that told her he’d had specialized training. Former military, perhaps. The SEAL’s that had rescued her had that same bearing. The men that had taken her had that same edge too, but she felt that Wade’s was different. An edge that was meant for good, not evil.

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