Stolen By The Queen: A Narcos Romance

Chapter 27

Ryan had one of the agents working the safe house take the lunch to Camila, needing some distance from her to clear his head. She'd gotten under his skin, he was past the point of no longer admitting that to himself. And now he had the unpleasant job of deciding what exactly he was going to do with her. 

"Agent Jack Brockwell, how goes it Agent McCallister?" A redheaded agent with freckled skin and burly arms sat across from Ryan in the makeshift kitchen break room, sliding a hot coffee his way. "Looks like you've had a day." 

"Sorry I didn't get myself nice and pretty for you." Ryan took the coffee, taking a gulp, hardly feeling the hot liquid burn down his throat. His shirt was still bloody, his fingers and nails caked, his slacks covered in gravel dust. He hadn't even thought of it until now, too focused on getting Camila's near lifeless body hooked up to an IV and removing all the glass from her skin. 

"Well, I'm sure you've never head of me, but your reputation, Agent McCallister, precedes you. So I won't waste your time with any small talk or pleasantries." Agent Jack Brockwell steepled his hands on the table. "We have word that the Sinaloa Cartel is within a two hour radius. Now, it's our job to keep you and you're..." the agent trails off, not sure of his words when it came to describing Camila, "you're guest safe. But it's also our job to ensure this safe house isn't compromised." 

Ryan finished  the coffee tipping his head back before crushing the paper cup and tossing it into the trash bin across the room. "We'll be gone within the hour." 

"That's not absolutely necessary, we may be able to--"

"Trust me." Ryan cut him off, standing from the table. "It is. I need a pistol." 

Agent Jack Brockwell stilled for a moment, unsure about the surly, brash nature of the infamous Agent McCallister seated across from him. But he pulled the pistol from his waistband, sliding it across the small plastic table, Ryan's fingers curling around it as he slipped it easily into the waistband of his pants. 

Ryan grabbed a lunch plate before leaving the kitchen, his features taut as he headed back toward Camila's room. When he thrust open the door, she lifted her head in surprise, he shoulders still a bit weak and slumped as she sat on the edge of the bed, her long legs dangling to the ground.

Ryan forced his gaze away from her body to meet her eyes, noting the genuine shock in them.

"What?" Ryan stalked over and sat the plated lunch on her bedside table, "you didn't think I was coming back?"

"No," Camila breathed, her eyes tracking from the food back up to Ryan's face, "I wouldn't blame you if you left me." 

Ryan barked out a humorless laugh, dragging his hand through his hair as he turned to lean against the room's door, his eyes latching onto the still unopened manila envelope. 

"What's in it?"

"You didn't look?" Camila stood from the bed, trying to move a few paces before realizing her arm was still attached to the IV bag. 

"Shit, hold on." Ryan closed the distance between them, his strong callused fingers delicately removing the IV needle from her arm and wrapping it around the IV bag stand so that Camila could move freely. She froze for a moment, the heat of his body shrouding her, his height dominating as she stared at the ground through her lashes, too ashamed to make eye contact with him this close. 

Ryan grumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he backed away, as if being near her pained him. 

Camila inhaled a shaky breath as she reached for the manila envelope--the papers she'd traded for Ryan's life. Her hands trembled as she reached inside, pulling out a leather portfolio.