Page 45 of Brazilian Surrender
Devastated. The word echoed in his ear. Camila had lost her parents, her dog. Was it fair to keep playing with her heart? If he continued, it’d only make things harder for her. Besides…he slammed his hands down on the countertop. Maybe deep down he didn’t want to find the criminal, because if he did, she’d be either out of his life for good or he’d have to face his own hypocrisy. He wasn’t ready for either, but he had to make a choice.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, eyes widening at his hands.
He shook his hand, the pain tingling his knuckles. Ultimately, he hadn’t been able to protect his wife and son. Was it fair to keep Camila without finding the culprit, and to keep from protecting her the way he should? Damn it. This misleading domestic bliss had to come to an end. “Camila, we need to talk.”
She put the knife to the side and dried her hands on the apron. “What is it?” she asked, her face sobered as if she could pick up on his energy. Shit. This wasn’t going to be an easy chat.
He cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes. She deserved his complete honesty. “I was chatting with Burlo about something important.”
“What is it?”
“He’s a good friend and did a lot for me when I worked with him. But he can’t keep on working alongside me because I’m not on the force anymore.”
She backed until she leaned against the counter, and folded her arms. “We didn’t have him before, right? We’ll be okay.”
I want you to be okay.“The option would be to give him my case…he can take it from here and find the link. I can still provide Omar to protect you, free of charge of course. But I haven’t gotten far for the first time in my career, and it may be because I keep getting distracted.”
“Because of me?” she asked. She didn’t cry yet, but her lips trembled a little and her face reddened in warning.
“No.” He massaged his throbbing temples. “Because of me.”
“So, this is a clean break?” she asked, and a tear finally made its way down her cheek. His stomach curled like someone punched him. “I’m someone else’s problem, and we say good-bye.”
During his lifetime, he’d had to give people bad news. He was used to tears, frozen stances, and the occasional desperate shout. But the way she glared at him, without any filter, tears streaming down her face, yet the expression was much more of challenge than pure sadness.
“I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. I’ll go, but I need you to know I’ve fallen for you.” She uncrossed her arms and took a deep breath, her chest rising.
He shook his head. Fuck. His heart came to an abrupt halt, then resumed beating at a much faster pace. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m an intuitive being with emotions.”
He glanced at the floor, unable to keep looking at her. “Exactly. You’ve been through the wringer the past few weeks. You’re vulnerable,” he said, unsure if the last sentence was about her or himself. No wonder he hadn’t found the connection between her stalker and Lee’s murderer. He wasn’t at the top of his game—and subconsciously prioritized the magnitude of his developing feelings for her.
She let out a sarcastic laugh, one he had never heard from her before. “Are you acting condescending because you think my feelings are a big inconvenience to you?”
“More like a liability. I never take long to crack a case, and my performance has been below average this time because I got involved with you,” he said, hoping it sounded convincing.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It could have taken anyone else as long.”
“A part of me didn’t want it to end because I had the perfect excuse in sleeping with you and keeping you as a client.”
She angled closer, hands perched at her waist. “So? The client part will be over, but that doesn’t mean we have to be over.”
After all, what were the chances of having her as a client again? Null. He rubbed the back of his neck trying to alleviate a stubborn ache. He hadn’t been able to protect her…not completely. He hadn’t discovered who the bad guy was, even though he should have been good at this.
If something had happened to her…his chest tightened. It would have been his fault. He had to stop this nonsense. It was one thing to sleep with her; it was another to build a life with her. He may not be a cop anymore, but he still dealt with dangerous people, street thugs, and fearless types who had nothing to lose. Bringing a sweet soul like Camila into his world wouldn’t just be wrong—it would make him question his decisions every day. Worrying about it would make him unfocused on his tasks—and maybe at the cost of someone’s security or life.
He glanced at the floor. “I’m sorry, Camila.”
“For being a coward?”
His throat burnt with regret of what he was about to say. But if he wanted to truly protect her, he had to let her go. He’d failed her, and she’d come out unscathed. What if she hadn’t? Would he survive losing her like he’d lost Ellen? “Yes.”
She stepped forward, and a single tear rushed from her eye, sliding down her cheek. She looked him in the eye and lifted her chin. He couldn’t tell if she dared him to tell the truth, or dared herself to believe what she’d just heard. He stretched to his full height, squared his shoulders, and managed to pull off a serious stance. If she suspected his real feelings, he’d be lost.
He curled and uncurled his fists and wished he could beat the hell out of a punching bag. Not having emotions had been easier than pretending not to have them—and damn her to hell, she’d been the one to teach him the difference.
She stormed out of the kitchen, and he heard the sharp sound of a zipper. By the time he made it to his bedroom, she had shoved several pieces of clothes inside her bag. “I’m leaving now.”
“Let me call Omar first. I’m not letting you out there by yourself.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and put on her shoes. “Screw you. I can’t stand to stay here for another minute with you.”
“I never lied to you.” Just now. “I never told you I wanted a long-haul relationship, Camila.”
She surged to her feet, holding her bag. “Yes, you’re right. Your honesty can be a turnoff sometimes. I wanted you to show me things. To get to know you. Maybe after all this, all we’ve been through, I’m an idiot for thinking you could do the same for me.”
His gut clenched, and when she moved past him, he jerked away. His stomach contracted like he had just lifted a three-hundred-pound bench press. He opened his mouth to speak, but common sense caught up to him and he simply clamped his lips. A slow heart rate reminded him he still breathed.
Losing her was, in some ways, worse than death.
