Page 49 of Brazilian Surrender
“So do I,” Jaeger said, and while he expected the faces of Ellen and Trevor to inundate his mind with memories of a happier time, it was Camila’s sensuous brown eyes and sweet smile flooding his memory. Camila. Wasn’t that why he chased this guy, beating him up even though he was no longer in the case. Because she’d become…family? His pulse raced, a different emotion pumping and expanding his veins. Hope. Hope he’d met the woman to make him whole again. To piece him back together.
O’Brien squirmed and outmaneuvered him, pushing him away. But Jaeger only allowed him a step or two, before firing a shot to the back of his leg.
Surprised, O’Brien lost balance and fell to the ground. Jaeger quickly pinned him down before he could move. “Fuck,” O’Brien swore, blood seeping through his jeans.
“This is what you get for trespassing in my house. Who are you working for?”
“I don’t want to die,” O’Brien said, fear flickering in his dark eyes. “I have a son.”
“You can go back to him after you tell me. Or not.” Jaeger pointed the gun to O’Brien’s head. His blood chilled, knowing damn well he’d do whatever he needed to keep Camila safe, “Just the name.”
“Mark. Mark Hamilton.”
…
“Drop the knife,” a voice said from the other side of the room. She raised her gaze to Jaeger. His face didn’t give away a thing; he’d slipped into full detective mode, his expression somber and focused.
A silly hope fluttered her pulse. Did he come back for her out of duty or could there be something more? Maybe a few days away were enough for him to come to terms with his emotions. I’ll never find out if I’m dead. She moved her wrists, finding hope in being able to find more room ever since the tape softened a bit due to her sweat. A cramp worked its way up her arm, discomfort stiffening her.
Jaeger pointed his gun at Mark, who didn’t move a muscle. “Drop the knife.”
“No,” Mark hissed out. “Drop the gun. Let’s chat.”
Jaeger’s gaze landed on hers, and she shivered. She parted her lips, unsure of what to say. He flashed her a reassuring glance, and she swallowed a lump of frustration. We’ll work this out. We’ll work this out.
“Let her go first.”
“No.”
“No one else has to die,” Jaeger said.
No one else has to die.The words reverberated inside her, the sad way he pronounced them, probably unbeknownst to Mark, but she felt them in her core. He didn’t want her to die, didn’t want to lose her. Hell, she couldn’t die.
She stared at Jaeger, hoping to give him visual cues. He’d shoot Mark if he tried to cut her throat. Because he…cared for her even if he hadn’t declared his love. She trusted him; he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She trusted him with her life.
She had to do her part. Distract Mark. Time to play the game. “Listen, it’s just a matter of time until Frank finds out you’re behind all this. If you kill me, Jaeger will kill you. Why don’t you let me help you? We can all come to an agreement. You’re filthy rich. You can flee the country if you want.”
“And you still want me to believe a by-the-book girl like you would help a criminal?” he asked, but the pressure of the knife against her decreased, even if he still held her. She let her breath out slowly, careful not to bite against the sharp edge. Memories from when she’d been attacked as a teen flashed in her mind, but she fought them with every cell of her being. Her lips trembled, her upper body shaking. Focus on here and now. You kneed him and ran. What can you do now? She gave a sideways glance to the bowl.
“Yes, if that means sparing me. I know you’re not a killer. You had an accident. Sending you to jail won’t bring Lee back.”
Jaeger’s expression softened. “I’m not losing her.”
“Jaeger—
“I’ll do it.” His eyes searched for hers, and she didn’t miss the flicker of hope in his gorgeous green pair. Moisture evaporated from her throat. “I’m in. I can’t lose you, Camila.”
Mark let out a mocking chuckle, loosening his grip on her. “Well, isn’t this great? If you two lovebirds think—”
Jaeger erased the distance between them swiftly and launched onto Mark before he had the chance to react. Camila tried to follow the blur of two bodies rolling on the floor. The only sounds were their groans and fists hitting each other. A jolt of panic assailed her. What if…what if Jaeger got seriously injured—even dead—trying to save her?
She scooted the chair to the console table, desperate for a shot at escaping. A charge of adrenaline traveled through her, energizing her entire body. The sounds of the two men groaning and punching hits at each other muffled the chair screeching on the wood floor. When she reached the table, she turned around and took a deep breath.
If she tried to grab it and the vase fell, her only chance to free herself would be done. Exhaling, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling until she tasted blood. Fear had no place right now. She stood midway, taking the chair with her, the tapes binding her ankles clutching her tight. Squatting, she worked her fingers into the bowl, and when she felt the cold metal, the key ring, relief filled her heart. A small victory.
Because she’d been loosening the duct tape, she found room to move her fingers, and began to press the hard, sharp edge into the material. When she’d been able to nearly cut most of it in the middle, she swiftly removed what was left of them and grabbed the bowl from the table, when she heard a loud grunt. Her blood cooled.
She recognized Jaeger’s voice. Her clammy fingers almost dropped the glass vase.
