Page 10 of Brazilian Surrender
“She went to work this morning, and after that I took her to her place. She picked up a few things. The cleaning lady she hired will go in today. I didn’t see anything alarming. Also, I installed the cameras you requested.”
“Good.” He removed his key from his pocket and glanced at it before twisting it in the knob. He ran his hand down his face, reminding himself to cool down. Ever since he met Camila, his body was like a kid who kept asking for dessert after dinner even though his parents had said no the first time.
Clearing his throat, he opened the door.
Camila sat on his sofa with her laptop, wearing gym shorts that showcased her shapely legs and a purple tank top that hugged her curves to perfection. She looked completely at ease in his place, and the domestic image tightened his heart for some odd reason. She looked up and smiled. “Hi,” she said in that sultry voice she pulled off without even freaking trying.
He tossed his keys on the kitchen countertop and poured himself some water. If he maintained control of his reactions and emotions, nothing else would matter. He’d find out who wanted to hurt her and why, solve the situation, and move on with his life and not see her again like this—looking lovely in his place. “Did you check your mailbox?”
She nodded. “Nothing today.”
Three days without a new letter. Her stalker didn’t have a real pattern, but would he keep sending other types of warnings like the killing of her dog? Jaeger didn’t want to take any chances. “Let’s look at more videos later.” It had been impossible to go over weeks’ worth of recording at once.
“Of course.” She closed her laptop.
He took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “So, Lee Gibson is an interesting fellow.”
Camila tilted her head. “Yeah, he told me you talked to him this morning. Wanted to know if you could really protect me,” she said, rolling her eyes as if she hadn’t paid much attention to her friend’s suggestion.
Jaeger ran his hand down his face. “How close are you two? Has he ever tried anything?”
She drummed her fingers on her laptop. “Lee loves his boyfriend. Mark is a wonderful man.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She put her laptop to the side and shifted on the sofa. “He’s…sexually fluid. He doesn’t really care for labels.”
He walked up to her, but didn’t feel like sitting. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Camila folded her arms, and he saw the bob making its way down her throat. No matter how uncomfortable this made her, he still needed answers, damn it. Frustration pumped into his veins. “He kissed me once, before he met Mark. We were inseparable, and he got things twisted a bit.”
“That’s why he moved out.”
“No. He moved out a few weeks later, after he met his boyfriend. Not because of me. It wasn’t…weird. Maybe a bit awkward at first.”
“Does he have a key to your apartment?”
“Yes. He’s…family to me, and I know how your detective mind works, but I guarantee you Lee would never hurt me,” she said, her eyes big and soulful.
He’d seen some crazy shit, and people who murdered others for much less than unrequited love. He made a mental note to print a picture of Lee and ask her neighbors if they saw him entering her apartment the day Torto died. He’d pay close attention to Lee Gibson, though he decided not to tell her. “You need to tell me everything. What about Ralph Stewart?”
“He’s someone I dated,” she said.
“Why didn’t you mention him when I asked?” What else was she hiding from him?
She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then chewed on her lower lip. “You’re right, sorry,” she said at last. “I met Ralph in a nightclub six months ago through mutual friends. Ralph seemed like the total package: smart, funny, and good-looking. Then he said he had a fantasy of having a threesome and insisted on it with me, though I told him that’s not my thing.” Her cheeks reddened.
Was there no end to the list of assholes she met? Maybe his facial expression announced his thought, for she folded her arms. “What happened next?”
She drew in a breath. “One day we were at a bar and he brought this girl to meet me. So stupid. I was so mad that I broke up with him on the spot. I ended up saying, ‘Why should she join us in bed, so you can deprive one more woman of orgasms?’ I was doing that girl a favor, and she didn’t even know it.”
He bit back a smile. “Did anyone hear you?”
She exhaled, uncrossing her arms. “Yes. His friends were sitting a couple of tables over. And probably the rest of the bar.”
He grabbed his notepad from the back of his pocket and reached for the pen on the coffee table. Special observations didn’t occur to him, but he wanted to give his fingers something to do even if it meant scribbling on paper. Anything to distract him from the wave of pride surging through him. She related an important incident to him, and he’d be a fool to read more into it. “Did you two talk afterward?”
“No, he’s an immature douchebag. Idiota. I mean, who would do that to a woman? I bet you wouldn’t,” she said.
