CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Palma, Mallorca
December 14
The following evening, after a calming walk on the beach, Evan tucked into an early dinner at a quaint pub near the marina. She knew she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t help her natural curiosity. The text from the girl named Twitch, confirming her people would be borrowing her Zodiac, had Evan's instincts aflutter. She wanted to watch this secret spy mission and see that man, Cam, take her Zodiac and escape. What harm could it do? She was just a patron at a local bar enjoying a quiet dinner. No one would be the wiser. Moreover, she justified, the man had rescued her after the stingray attack, possibly saving her life. It was natural to want to make sure he made it to safety.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to spy on the spies. See the good guys win.
Her thoughts wandered to another man, a man who most definitely was not a good guy. She hadn’t given herself time to process the events in the cave—neither the discovery nor the self-discovery. She had experienced pleasure at the hands of a man. What's more, she had wanted to take it further. She almost couldn’t admit to herself her uninhibited desire to push Miguel Ramirez onto his back and fuck his brains out.
It was crass. It was primal. It was dirty. And it was a massive breakthrough for her. Evan had downplayed the impact of her first sexual encounter. She was shy as it was, the date rape driving her further into her shell. She forced herself to be social, even date, but when all was said and done, Evan always seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she entered her quiet bedroom at the end of the day. In that cave, however, the sigh of relief came when Miguel touched her, not when he stopped.
The memory flowed through her like warm whiskey. She shuddered. God. Of all the men in the world, why him? He was dark and threatening and most certainly some sort of criminal. And yet, as she recounted the event in her mind, Evan felt neither shame nor recrimination. He had been a study in duality: kind yet fierce, considerate but passionate, protective yet threatening. The combination was… intoxicating.
She glanced up from her food, and through the window, she saw a man prowling toward the dock: his build and gait familiar. It was not, however, the man who was supposed to be there.
It was Miguel Ramirez. Heading straight for her Zodiac.
Evan jumped from her seat and tossed all the Euros in her wallet on the table without bothering to count. She burst out the doors of the restaurant.
Moving like a jungle cat, Cam loped across the wet sand and climbed up onto the wide wooden dock. There. Just as Twitch had said, the Zodiac bobbed in the water a safe distance from the larger boats, a pink beach umbrella poking from the sand on the nearby shore. He started to move again when quick footsteps coming up behind him had him spinning, his hand reflexively reaching for his holstered Sig that was not there.
Evan. Suddenly it became clear. This was her boat. She must have been watching from a distance and assumed Miguel Ramirez was up to no good. His suspicions were confirmed when she stage-whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You need to get out of here right now. There are, er, officials in the area who won’t like you poking around down here. If they find you here, you’ll be in big trouble.”
He started to approach her, to deliver a threat and scare her off when suddenly his eyes locked with her steely gaze, and he realized something. She wasn’t reprimanding him. She was warning him. Yes, she wanted him gone, but it was as much for his safety as the integrity of the op. He grinned.
“What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled again
Cam knew what he had to do. Despite being utter anathema in his world, he felt the impulse with the certainty of a sunrise. For the first time in all his time with the CIA, he did it.
He broke cover.
“Relax, Evan. I’m Cam. You’re the one who needs to skedaddle.” He spoke in his ordinary, American voice.
Cam leaned forward, and, with a gentle finger to her chin, he closed her mouth.
“But…but…oh.”
“I don’t have time to explain,” he continued, “but thank you. For the boat.”
“Oh, ah, okay.” Evan stared at him in a daze, processing the ramifications of his admission.
Without thought or hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. It lasted only a second, but Cam felt it to his toes. It was as if someone had struck a tuning fork, and whatever note his body emitted matched perfectly with her note. He pulled away, his lips clinging to hers, and breathed her in. Then he turned and made his way to the Zodiac. Only once he had released the boat from the cleat and silently paddled away from the dock did he turn back to Evan.
There she was, still as a statue, a torrent of emotions on her beautiful face.
There he was, in uncharted waters, watching her as the small boat drifted.
There it was.
Zing.
At the edge of the beach, standing in the mist next to the man who had been following Miguel Ramirez since he arrived, Gemini March stood in a trench coat and fedora, looking like a World War II spy.
She was displeased.