Reckless

I trusted you! I fell in love with you. At least, I thought I did.

How can this be happening?

Hunter looked at Cameron quizzically. After his exchange with Tracy, his smug smile was back.

“You do realize you’re mentally ill?” Hunter said.

Cameron turned slightly and leveled his gun squarely at Hunter. “Be quiet,” he snapped. “No one’s interested in your opinion. You can see why I had to have him kidnapped,” he said to Tracy. “Here was this self-important nobody, this womanizing gambling addict, planning to destroy not only me but my company, everything I’d worked for.”

Hunter laughed. His lack of fear seemed designed to antagonize Crewe. It was working. “You’re a psychopath.”

“I SAID BE QUIET!” The gun shook in Cameron’s hands. “I’m talking to Tracy, not you.

“I’m not a psychopath,” he told Tracy, looking suddenly vulnerable. “At least, no more than you are. No more than anybody who goes through what we’ve been through and realizes they have nothing left to lose. After Marcus died, everything changed.”

For a split second Tracy’s heart went out to him and she felt at one with him again. The old connection between them, the spark that had been lit so unexpectedly in Geneva, came back. Cameron had lost Marcus, and Tracy had lost Nicholas, and that had been enough to bring them together, to fuse them emotionally for a time. Because for a time, losing Nicholas had been the only thing in Tracy’s life. The only event, the only emotion, the only thought, the only point to her existence. Cameron had found her in that moment—or had she found him?—and they’d fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

But no more.

It wasn’t only that Cameron had clearly never been the man Tracy thought he was. That he was deranged and dangerous, a killer. Tracy was different too.

The pain of Nick’s death would never leave her. But it wasn’t the only thing anymore. There was a whole world out there, a world full of other people, other lives, other hopes and dreams. Tracy might not know those people. But they mattered. Humanity mattered. Truth mattered. At least to her.

Cameron kept talking.

“Before Marcus’s death, I had a life outside the business. But afterwards, Crewe Oil was all I had left. People talk about morality, about justice, about right and wrong, about God.” He snorted derisively. “It’s all nonsense. Life and death are arbitrary. When Marcus died, I knew there was no God. No justice. No right or wrong. No mercy. Continuing to act as if there were would just have been . . . irrational.”

He looked at Tracy pleadingly, as if willing her to understand.

“Tell me about Althea,” Tracy asked him, playing for time. “About Kate Evans. You recruited her?”

“Yes. We met at a conference in New York. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror.” Cameron sighed nostalgically. “Not like you and me. There was no physical attraction. But I recognized Kate’s despair from the outset. Her need to lash out against a world that had robbed her of the only thing she cared about. This woman didn’t care if she got shot. She didn’t care what happened to her. My purpose was Crewe Oil. Kate’s was destroying the CIA. But we understood each other, Kate and I. She was prepared to follow my directions, at least at first.”

“Did you tell her to kill my son?” Tracy glared at Cameron, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.

“No!” He sounded genuinely horrified. “Absolutely not. I had nothing to do with Nick’s accident, Tracy. You must believe that.”

Tracy studied his face, looking for any sort of clues. Did she believe it? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore.

“Think about it,” said Cameron. “Why would I lie?”

“Because it’s what you do?” Hunter interjected.

Cameron swung around furiously. For one awful moment Tracy thought he was going to shoot Hunter then and there. But he held back. For the moment at least he was more interested in Tracy.

“After Bob Daley’s execution, I lost contact with Kate completely,” he went on. “Group 99 had already served their purpose for me. I have no idea why Kate decided to involve you, and I sincerely wish she hadn’t. What we had was real, Tracy. That night in Geneva. Hawaii . . . I developed feelings for you. Real feelings. Feelings I thought I would never have again.”

Tracy held up a hand. “Please, don’t.”

“It’s the truth. I tried to keep you close. To control the situation. I still hoped, somehow, to spare you. But when the Brits brought in Jeff Stevens, and the two of you began closing in on Drexel together, I knew there was no hope. Once you found Hunter, he would tell you the truth about me. Between you, you would make sure his story got published. I couldn’t let that happen. But I did love you, Tracy. I did want . . .”

Before he could finish, Hunter exploded off the couch like a missile. With an earsplitting noise that was half scream, half roar, he launched himself at Cameron. Tracy watched as if in slow motion as Hunter flew through the air, head down, arms outstretched, reaching for Cameron’s gun like a rugby player diving for the ball.

It was so unexpected, it took Cameron a fraction of a second longer to react than it should have.

But not long enough.

Tracy saw Cameron’s expression change from surprise, to anger, to determination. Then a shot rang out like a single clap of thunder.