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“I think so. But it’d help if you tell us what Camila told you on the phone.” I hated being so blunt, but her safety was on the line.
“Camila told us everything will work out how it’s supposed to,” Gray said in a steady tone.
I wanted to believe him, but . . .
“Airport,” Charley said. It was a solid declaration, but I didn’t miss her drawing her free hand to her throat and pinching the skin there. “Let’s do that.”
I turned my attention back to Gray. “We’ll be down in five, ready to roll out.”
Gray nodded, then left and closed the door behind him.
“Tell me what Camila told you.” I let go of her hand, only to reach for her arm so I could guide her onto my lap. She straddled me, wrapping her legs around my body, and I cupped her cheeks while staring into her eyes. “Please.”
Her eyes became glossy as she shared, “She told me everything will work out, but, um . . .”
Fuck, my heart couldn’t take this. “What is it?”
She dropped her focus to my chest, guarding her eyes from mine. “She said you and I won’t end up together. I’m not your ‘the one,’ Jack. And I—I need you to be okay with that. Promise me you’ll be okay with that.”
My stomach protested her words. My heart. Mind. Every damn part of me seized up and rejected that idea. “Why in the hell would she tell you that? I don’t understand.” I shook my head, then set my fist beneath her chin, demanding her eyes, but she wouldn’t give them to me. “Charlotte,” I said around a swallow, “there’s only two ways we don’t end up together. You don’t want me, or I die tonight. So, which is it? Because like hell is anything happening to you, so that option is off the table,” I bit out, my tone gravelly.
“I already said too much,” she cried. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.” A soft curse floated from her barely parted lips before she pushed away from my chest, trying to escape. I drew her back, pinning her tight against my body and she whispered, “What if I changed something? What if I messed up and now someone dies because I told you that?”
“No one is going to die, damnit.” I was on the verge of losing my ever-loving mind if she didn’t come clean with me. And I needed her to, desperately. Because I knew I’d never get shit from Camila if I tried. She was a steel fucking trap.
“I’m sorry. I’m . . . just don’t do anything different. I’m begging you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks now. “Please.” She swallowed and caught a tear on her lip with her tongue. “You need to forget this entire conversation.”
My shoulders collapsed yet again, this time with almost violent force as I put it together. “Camila can’t see your future. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen to you because . . .” The last time I’d experienced this kind of pain in my chest, this kind of all-consuming panic, was when I found out my mom died. And I . . . “No,” I said, my vision blurring from my own tears. “If taking you to the airport gets you killed, then no. New fucking plan.”
“No.” Her eyes widened in fear. “You’re not allowed to know this or else—”
“Or else what?” I held her biceps, scrapping any plan of ever letting her out of my sight. I’d be sitting the mission out and watching over her until Camila found a way to see her future again.
“If you change the plan or tell Gray and the others about this, then both Lucy and I die. And possibly the missing women, too.” She sucked in a ragged breath, her chest hitching with the effort to speak past her tears. “I—I messed up. I wasn’t supposed to let you know. And now if Lucy and anyone else dies, it’s my fault.” She began sobbing hard while she clenched my shirt. “I’m dead no matter what. Please don’t change anything and let me be the reason my sister dies.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JACK
Camila, like Carter, had connections. That meant we had a private hangar reserved for us at the Mariscal Lamar International Airport, about twenty klicks from the safe house. She was talking to Charley near her jet, and . . . what was I doing? Well, I was allowing Oliver to wrap my knuckles after he relentlessly insisted, noticing my hand was a bit busted. I may have lost my mind and put a few holes through the walls in the bedroom after Charley had told me it was her fate to die, and I couldn’t stop it from happening.
I kept my eyes on Camila while Oliver finished up, waiting for my turn to talk to her. I needed her to tell me she was wrong about her visions and that Charley would be okay.
“So.” Oliver spoke for the first time after doctoring me, forcing my attention back his way.
“So,” I repeated, unsure where he planned to go with that line of thought as he zipped up the medic bag he’d borrowed from Camila’s plane—a much better kit than the one he’d used to patch up Gray’s forehead.
Oliver did a not-so-subtle throat clear and shot a quick look toward Charley and Camila. “I take it Camila gave you bad news?”
Not me. Charley. And what in the hell was I supposed to do with the news? I held my hand, the stinging pain there matching the achy throb in my shoulder.
Stealing a moment to think, my gaze drifted over to Shannon sitting on the ground, back to the wall near some boxes. Hands and feet bound. Mouth gagged. She must’ve been a pain in Camila’s ass on the flight. Fuck, she deserved that treatment just for working with the Luther brothers.
Before I could pluck together some form of answer for Oliver, I noticed Camila leaving Charley’s side, appearing to head in my direction. “I have to talk to her, excuse me.”
Oliver picked up the medic bag and left me alone near the hangar door to wait for what I hoped would be a change in Camila’s story. One that ended with a happily ever after.
“She told you,” Camila said, her tone less angry and more apologetic. “And no, she didn’t tell me she told you. I can see it on your face. You have the eyes of a grieving man.”
