The Mogul And The Muscle

I was going to get to the bottom of everything—it was my job and failure wasn’t an option—but an unsettling thought lingered in the background. What came next?

What would I do when Cameron didn’t need me here twenty-four/seven? Would I go back to my place? Live alone again? See her in her off hours… if she still wanted to date me when I wasn’t shoved in her face all the time?

I’d lived alone for a long time. I was used to being on my own. My parents lived in Minnesota and once every couple of years I went out there to visit. But we’d never been a close family and they had their own life. I hadn’t been a big part of it since I’d left home at eighteen. Five years ago, I’d walked away from the CIA. Felt like I had to cut ties in order to move on.

And what did I have now? A couple of friends. A loft I’d never meant to keep. A second career I’d never meant to start. A life I couldn’t seem to figure out.

Until Cameron.

I breathed in the scent of her hair. Felt her curl up against me. I’d been searching for something since moving to Miami. Purpose. Direction. A new focus for my life. I hadn’t expected to find it in the form of a tall redhead with a sharp wit and a weakness for sexy shoes and key lime desserts.

But somehow, I had.

The alarm buzzed on the bedside table and Cameron stretched her long limbs. I rested my hand against her stomach while she took a deep breath. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Morning.”

I kissed the tip of her nose. “Morning.”

This was good. It felt right. And a twinge of fear took root in the pit of my stomach. The fear of losing her.

That was decidedly uncomfortable. There weren’t many things that scared me. I was cool under pressure—an essential skill in my former line of work—but this wasn’t the kind of fear that made people hesitant to cross a bridge or swim in the ocean or walk into a meeting surrounded by armed men liable to shoot first and not ask questions in a foreign country where you didn’t have diplomatic immunity.

That last one was probably just me.

But this fear was different. Deeper.

“I guess we should get moving,” she said, her voice still sleepy.

“Yeah.”

Pushing that little knot of fear aside, I reluctantly let her go so we could get ready for the day. She met Inda for an early workout. I did some cardio and enjoyed the view—Cameron, not the sparkling waters of the bay. We showered, dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast, and headed to her office.

I drove her Tesla. The seat went back just far enough to accommodate my height. It was early enough that there wasn’t a lot of traffic, and an overnight rainstorm had left everything looking fresh.

Cameron was already working, flipping through emails on her phone. Her hair was up and her beige suit was tailored perfectly to her beautiful frame. She wore a pair of nude heels—subdued, but sleek and professional.

The back of my neck prickled, and I shifted my shoulders, rubbing my shirt collar against it.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

I checked the rear-view mirror. “Why?”

“You did the neck thing.”

“Neck thing?”

“Yeah. You move your shoulders and kind of stretch your neck a little. It usually means you’re concerned about something.”

My eyes kept darting to the mirrors. Something felt off. “I guess you’re figuring me out.”

She smiled. “I guess so.”

An SUV followed a few car lengths behind us. It had been there almost since we’d left Bluewater. Maybe that’s what was bothering me.

“It’s probably nothing, but a car back there looks like it might be following us.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because if I was following someone, I’d do exactly what they’re doing.”

There was one way to find out.

I changed lanes and took the next exit, my eyes flicking to the mirrors to see if the SUV would take the same route.

They did.

Keeping an eye on the SUV, I changed lanes again and took a series of right turns, effectively driving us in a circle. The SUV did the same.

We were definitely being followed.

“Are they still back there?” Cameron asked.

I nodded, my mind shifting to evasion tactics. Instead of speeding or darting around other cars—standing out made it harder to lose a tail—I kept with the flow of traffic and looked for potential visual barriers.