“It's new.” Gemini applied coy like a layer of makeup. “Well, not new exactly. We met last year, shared one explosive night, but life took us in different directions. We reunited recently, and things are going…” She looked at her lap with a girlish sigh. “Really well.”
“Sounds like things are progressing quickly,” Calliope encouraged.
“I’m at the point in my life where I know what I want,” Gemini replied.
Calliope hummed her understanding, but her next question was halted by a knock on the open door and a thickly accented, “You wanted to see me?”
Calliope turned in her chair and took in her friend. His face registered no recognition as he stood leaning against the jamb in a sweaty gray T-shirt with a towel draped around his neck. She concealed her elation with less prowess than the trained NOC officer, but she managed.
“Miguel, say hello to Calliope Buchanan. She's a reporter with The Harlem Sentry. We were just talking about you,” Gemini beckoned.
Without sparing Calliope a glance, Cam sauntered into the room and tipped Gemini's chin up with two fingers. “And what were you saying, camaleón?”
He called her chameleon. Calliope registered the odd… endearment? It made sense, she guessed. Gemini March was in the business of changing her appearance as the occasion required. Nevertheless, chameleons also blended with their environment to inconspicuously lure their prey. Cam was telling Calliope in as subtle a way as possible that Gemini March had a hand in his disappearance. If Gemini took offense, she didn’t show it; her face glowed, serene.
Calliope smoothly interjected, “Gemini was just telling me about your romance.”
“Was she?” Cam gazed at Gemini, still holding her chin.
“And what did she say?” he asked.
“Just that it was new. And promising,” Calliope answered.
“I think she is right about that. This beauty has captured me,” Cam said, never taking his eyes off of Gemini.
Gemini removed his hand from her face and kissed his fingertips. “You mean captivated, darling. Not captured.”
Cam turned to the door. “I need a shower.” He nodded to Calliope. “Enjoy your visit.”
“We were just finishing up,” Gemini said.
Calliope seized the opening. Gathering her things, she directed her comment to Gemini as Cam headed out the door. “Oh, that reminds me. My assistant mentioned a restaurant on the water outside of town, La Sirena? Do you recommend it?”
Gemini followed the bow and flex of Cam's backside as he walked from the room then returned her attention to Calliope. “La Sirena? I don’t think I know it, but you can’t go wrong with most beachfront bistros. They catch the fish right there. Try the caldereta. It's a local seafood stew. You won’t be disappointed.”
Calliope passed Gemini a business card and stood. “Be sure to keep me updated—on the fashion and the romance.” Calliope leaned closer. “From the look he just gave you, I’m betting there will be more to the story.”
Gemini did not mask her pleasure at the observation as Calliope continued, “And best of luck with the runway show in Jakarta.”
“I’m thrilled to be doing it. Marcus is showing his line all over the world in the coming months. Indonesia is our first stop, then on to Tokyo, Beijing, and Kuala Lumpur. The days of fashion hubs being limited to New York, Paris, and Milan are over. The top new designers are coming onto the scene in places like Budapest and Stockholm. It's an exciting time to be in fashion.”
Calliope made note of Gemini March's Asian itinerary. “I’m sure his new designs will be amazing. New Yorkers will be waiting for his return with bated breath.”
Gemini escorted Calliope to the villa's main entrance. They exchanged air kisses and pleasant goodbyes as the sedan pulled up.
Calm and composed, Calliope waited until the car was out on the main road before she squealed.
Cam entered the bathroom and stripped off his sweaty clothes. With perfunctory efficiency, he started the shower and stepped in. For a long time he stood, face in the stream, soap in his hand. Then he laughed out loud.
They had found him.
Cam was used to being on his own. If his cover were blown or he were taken, he would simply vanish. If he were killed on an op, his family would receive word that he died in a car accident or a plane crash, and that would be that. A new NOC officer would be put in place; the silent war would wage on.
This new reality brought him back to his SEAL days, a squad of brothers—all of them willing to lay down their lives for their country or their teammates. Cam had forgotten what that felt like until he stood in the doorway of that room and saw Calliope.
There had been times in his work for the CIA when Cam had nearly broken cover—an informant had been outed, or a woman was being assaulted. However, he had remained stoic, repeating the mantra that kept him sane: the greater good.
His work went beyond the emotional toll of merely living as someone else; it rattled the foundation of what made him moral. It hollowed out his soul. It had isolated him in a way far beyond simply being alone. And now here he stood, naked in a shower, secure in the knowledge that Calliope was right now reporting her findings to Steady, Tox, and the team. Cam had to pull his lips into his mouth to stifle the Hooyah! that wanted to burst from within him.
He lathered the bar with renewed vigor and formulated a plan. He didn’t need to be rescued; Atlas had repeatedly said Cam could leave any time. Although, he wasn’t convinced Gemini echoed that sentiment. What he needed was support, and the men and women of Bishop Security had come to provide it. Cam imagined this feeling was something like when a bully corners a kid in the schoolyard and threatens to kick his ass, and out of nowhere, the kid's friends appear behind him and say, “We’d like to see you try.” The Conductor was orchestrating some dark scheme that involved Cam. He knew it like he knew the sun would rise in the morning. Well, now he had his team at his back. We’d like to see you try.
As he ran his hands over tired muscles, his thoughts strayed to Evan. Evan and her little golden box—he almost laughed at the double entendre. She was so perfect in her flaws, so sexy in her naivete, so beautiful in her passion for her search. Cam hadn’t felt that fire for his work in years. He swallowed the regret that threatened to choke him. Evan would never know Cam; she knew Miguel, a man without conscience and incapable of redemption. Cam might have loved Evan, but Miguel knew only apathy. Miguel had excavated compassion from his hollow soul.
Soap trickled into his eye, jarring Cam into the now. Rinsing quickly and drying off, he made his way into the bedroom to change. He needed to go another round with Gemini March, a task that was proving more exhausting by the hour. More importantly, he needed to find a way to get to the restaurant Calliope had mentioned, La Sirena, and explain to the team what was happening.