CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Palma, Mallorca
December 15
Cam emerged from the shower and dried off, careful to avoid his injuries. The pain was almost a relief. It was easier to focus on his marred skin than the pain in his chest. Evan had called him Miguel. She had wanted Miguel. Why? He applied a fresh bandage to his hip, pressing down on the raw flesh. Miguel was a lowlife out for his own gain and nothing more. How could she be drawn to such darkness? How could she want a man who had done the things Miguel had done?
It was like a psychotic love triangle.
He shook off the lament. It didn’t matter. His work with the CIA was over. He could now finally bury Miguel Ramirez. And Evan? His emotions were a knotted ball of twine that he just didn’t have the energy to untangle.
He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked out to the bedroom only to halt when he spotted Chat sitting at the desk reading something on his phone.
“Hey, hermano. Everything okay?” Cam asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Chat's brown eyes met his.
“Just bracing myself for the shitstorm of ribbing from the guys.”
“Yeah, I can’t help you there, brother. A supermodel kidnapped you. It sounds like the title of a bad porno.”
“That's exactly what I said!” Cam bellowed.
When their laughter subsided, Cam pulled on a T-shirt and v-neck sweater.
“So, how did you leave things with Evan?”
Cam turned to the dresser to avoid his friends’ probing gaze. “There are no things to leave.”
“You sure about that?” Chat probed.
The simple question broke Cam's emotional dam. He sat on the bed and spoke to the floor. He shared how his undercover work had created this fracture in his personality, how he had taken all of his negative qualities and poured them into Miguel Ramirez. How he sometimes felt physically sick thinking about the things he’d done. Finally, he confided the worst of it. Evan had wanted Miguel. She had prayed in that cave for Miguel to help her.
Chat listened, his bald head nodding along, his chocolate eyes understanding. When Cam had finished, Chat drummed a pencil on the desk. “That's a lot to unpack.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me ask you, when you go under, when you take on the persona of Miguel Ramirez, you prepare, correct?”
“Yes, for weeks. I study his background, establish the legend. I have to be prepared for any situation. I have to respond as Miguel without hesitation.”
“But this time, you didn’t have time to do that, correct?”
“Well, the identity is already established.” Cam countered.
“Yes, on paper, you know everything about Miguel Ramirez, but were you him? Had you immersed yourself in the cover?”
Cam thought about it, keeping his eyes to the ground.
Chat continued, “I ask because I think when you rescued Evan from the stingray attack, you were Cam.”
Cam spoke to the floor. “She called me a seal.”
“What?”
“When I was carrying her out of the water, she said, ‘You’re a seal.’ She meant the animal, but I almost dropped her.”
“That proves my point,” Chat insisted.