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“I’m the liar,” Gwen blurted. “I don’t want you lying for me, Jack.” She stood and circled the desk to face Carter. “Camila needed us undercover at that show, but she said she couldn’t be the one to ask us to go. I had to make up a story. This has always been her op.”
“Gwen,” Gray bit out, stepping forward. He looked genuinely worried, as if her sharing that information was going to have some strange Final Destination butterfly effect and fuck with the future. Just like Camila had worried might happen.
But maybe we’d already altered what was going to happen anyway? Maybe it was safe for us to lay the cards out on the table now that we’d made it past the show and the danger it presented?
Carter looked up at the ceiling, a deep breath inflating his chest as he worked out how to react.
I stole a look at Charley, ensuring she was still okay. She gave me a small nod, but I also knew she had to be uneasy about what would inevitably come next: her turn to tell the full story to my team. To explain why we were up against Brant Luther in the first place. At this point, I pretty much had all the pieces, but it’d still be helpful to hear them all at once to better grasp the full picture.
“Go back to what you were saying,” Gray said when Carter had remained oddly quiet.
When nobody else said anything, I looked at Gray and realized he’d been speaking to me.
“Camila only asked us to help her stop the stolen prototype from being sold last month. That her team would handle who those men worked for,” I shared. “At the end of that op, I bumped into Charley at the bar the night before we flew out. Camila was supposed to be there and bailed on us—the both of us.” A fact I’d only recently learned.
“If Mila, um, Camila, knew I was in danger there, then why the theatrics? Why not just tell me I needed to go?” Charley asked, eyes on me.
“That butterfly effect thing?” Gwen offered, more like a question than a statement.
“Because it was Brant’s men that we stopped. They were selling the stolen tech,” I said, finally piecing it together. “Someone from Brant’s team more than likely planned to head to South Africa to figure out how and why things went south. And my guess is that someone would’ve stumbled upon Charley there.”
“And that man is probably who we’re looking for now,” Charley whispered, shock laced into her agreement. “But because you and I met, and I saw your weapon in your hotel room that morning, I panicked and moved that day. Stealing the chance for him to bump into me there.”
“Right.” I dove my hands into my pockets, feeling so damn uneasy about all of this.
“But then I was upset we moved just when I was starting to fall for that guy there,” Lucy joined the conversation, “and I received the invite to the show.” She turned toward her sister on the couch. “And I made you feel like shit for moving, so I convinced you to let us go on the show when you otherwise would’ve said no.”
“Fucking butterfly effect,” I hissed in agreement with Gwen’s analysis. “Camila said she kept messing things up. By taking the job in Cape Town, we inadvertently sent the man after Charley and her sister there. And then because I met Charley and scared her off . . .” I cleared my throat.
“I wound up in Brant’s path anyway.” Charley banded her arm across her abdomen. “What if him finding me is meant to be? What if I can’t escape this fate?”
“You’re forgetting an important piece, though. We wouldn’t know women were missing if not for this new course of direction,” Gwen said, her tone soft. “Camila couldn’t run facial recognition from an image in her mind when she realized someone was after Charley, but she could connect enough dots to lead her to the reality show. And to the fact something was going to happen to Charley there. And that was when she put it together that women had disappeared after the show.”
“You’re a really good actress,” Carter interjected in an antagonistic voice, shaking his head. “Acting shocked back at the lodge about Camila’s—”
“Don’t blame her,” Gray snapped out. “Gwen doesn’t work for her or for us. She can do whatever the hell she believes is right.”
Gwen lowered her focus to the tiled floor, and I hated the look of shame Carter’s clenched jaw and disappointing stare seemed to inspire. “I’m sorry.”
Carter focused on Gwen, and his shoulders dropped as whatever pent-up frustration he was dealing with seemed to dissipate a touch. “I’m . . .” he said around a swallow, “sorry. I was out of line.” He waited for her to meet his eyes before continuing. “Camila’s a stubborn pain in my ass when it comes to her safety, and I should be mad at her, not you.”
“Let’s just focus on the fact we know what in the hell is going on now. Brant Luther’s still a thief, and now he’s abducting women, too,” Mya spoke up, cutting through the tension with a gentle hand. “And he wants Charley and Lucy bad enough he was willing to pay the cartel a million dollars and raise a shit storm with the Feds as a result, to get to them.”
“And no, it’s not fate something bad will happen to you,” I said, eyes on Charley. I couldn’t shake her words that were drowned out in the noise of the blame game among my team. I cut across the room, not giving a shit we had eyes on us, and hauled her into my arms. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
“I, um, I can try and use this piece-of-shit laptop to hack the CCTV cams near where we worked in Cape Town. See if I get a hit on anyone connected to Brant Luther’s legitimate organizations,” Gwen offered. “Their photos and names will be on his company’s website. And maybe Charley will recognize someone from the footage.” Her voice was tentative, as if getting on Carter’s bad side had rattled her normal control. It was weird, and a little disconcerting. Gwen didn’t usually have a problem pissing off anyone.
“There’s too much footage to look through. Just focus on finding Brant right now while we wait to get an ID on the man doing Brant’s bidding,” Gray suggested, hands planted on his hips as if realizing he needed to take charge given Carter seemed a bit off. “But I think it’s time we hear the whole story. Why does this man so desperately want you?”
Charley peeled herself free from my arms and faced my best friend, but before she could answer him, Carter’s cell rang.
“It’s Camila. Hold on.” Carter answered the phone, and listened quietly for a moment before hissing, “Just be careful. She could be leading you into a trap.” Another pause. “And I know this is your op. And I’m pissed you kept it from me.” One more beat of silence before he walked over to Charley and offered her the phone. “If you’re up for it, Camila wants a word.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHARLOTTE
No, I wasn’t up for a conversation with Mila. Ca-Mila. Not yet. I needed a second to breathe. To process. To not be mad at her for lying to me. Even though I really had no right to be angry since I’d lied to her about my background, too. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite, but . . .
