Page 46 of Brazilian Surrender
Chapter Fourteen
Jaeger’s phone buzzed.
He scratched his stubbled chin. Four days ago, he’d let her go from his life. Yes, he’d been a coward, a word he usually wouldn’t use to describe himself. But, shit, he thought by making the right decision he’d feel better about it.
The caller persisted, and his phone kept ringing until he fetched it from between the pillows and lifted it to his ear. “Jaeger here.”
“Hi, I’m Jeb. Listen, some time ago you knocked on my door and offered me a reward if I ever saw Sean O’Brien in the building again…”
Jaeger immediately sat upright and searched for his gun and wallet in the bedside drawer. “He’s there?”
“I bumped into him as I carried in my grocery bags. He just walked into his place.”
“Good. Don’t say anything. I’m coming.”
“What about my money?”
“You’ll get your money.”
Jaeger rushed through traffic, the whole time thinking this had to mean something. Adrenaline pumped in his bloodstream, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He no longer worked on the case, so it’d be easier to send the information to Frank and let him deal with it.
Yet…couldn’t do it. He stepped on the gas, cursing the five o’clock jam. He couldn’t let go, not if it meant he’d help find the culprit. Someone had killed Camila’s dog, threatened her, and offed her best friend. Someone still wanted to hurt her, one way or another—he’d come to terms with losing her, eventually, but hell, he’d never come to terms with hurting her.
…
Camila opened the door. “Oh, thank you for coming,” she said, holding Mark a tad tighter than necessary. He hugged her back, then ushered her back inside, and shut the door behind him. A wave of warmth enveloped her, and she realized she should have invited him sooner. She’d wanted to have Mark over for dinner for days. Sure, seeing him tightened her heart a little, but his presence also brought her sweet memories of her dear friend Lee.
For the past few days, she’d been avoiding answering phone calls and getting out of her place. She should stock her fridge, wash her hair, and move on with life, but every time she remembered her last conversation with Jaeger her heart ached.
He tapped her back. “You’ve been through a lot. I’m surprised you wanted to make dinner, but I appreciate it.”
“Of course I do,” she said, imagining Lee would want her to take care of Mark. Lee had loved that man, shared some of his best moments with him. Why shouldn’t she take the opportunity to get to know Mark better as a friend? And be there for him during such a tragic time. Besides, she could use some company, too. “It’s been lonely. What would you like to drink? Red or white?”
“Red,” he said. “What do you mean, lonely? How about that hunky detective? Isn’t he like your bodyguard?”
Jaeger. Images of his handsome, complex face flooded her mind. I told him I loved him and he turned me away. Why did she expect him to act any different if he had set the rules from the beginning?
“He’s gone,” she said, grabbing a bottle of red wine from the pantry. Gone. The word brought a chill to her spine, as if he had disappeared from good. She clasped the Merlot, wishing she could bottle up the overwhelming pain she didn’t want to process. She took a deep breath and had to swallow hard to push past the lodge of frustration in her throat.
In the past few weeks, she’d said good-bye to her dog, to her friend. She should have known saying good-bye to Jaeger meant following the natural course of things. Her heart thumped at the base of her throat. Losing Jaeger had been so very different—and painful. “It’s hard to talk about it.”
Mark hovered around the kitchen island, tasting a couple of appetizers. “It’s okay. You can trust me. I’ve lost someone, too.”
She nodded, and tears welled up inside. No. This is supposed to be a dinner about Mark and being there for him. I can’t make it about me and Jaeger. “I can never compare. You lost Lee because some psycho killed him. I lost Jaeger because he doesn’t have the balls to give himself a second chance.”
She turned to grab the wineglasses.
“Don’t minimize your pain, my dear,” he said softly. “I know sometimes losing someone who’s alive can be just as bad.”
She doubted it. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. Camila bent down to retrieve the corkscrew from the bottom of the drawer. When she stood up, she was about to grab the wine bottle when Mark pulled her toward him, and before she could gasp, he shoved a wet cloth on her face. Immediately, she dove into the darkness.
Camila opened her eyes, the objects around her blurry and unstable. She blinked several times until her field of vision cleared. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. A piece of duct tape restrained her lips, and when she swallowed she tasted glue.
She squirmed and realized someone had tied her to a chair in the kitchen. Not just someone.
Mark.
Cold sweat slicked her forehead.
