The Intelligence Unit Series

Camila sat back at the tiny kitchen table in the safe house and put her pencil down. Over the past two days, she'd drawn three detailed images of the man who had tried to kill her, two of which she'd sent to Sergeant Sinclair and Special Agent Calloway yesterday. Camila had thought that digging deep to remember the man's face, his cold, flat stare and the sharp set of his jawline that had marked his determination to kill her, would freak her out. In a way, it was unsettling to see his likeness right there in front of her rather than in her mind's eye-after all, she was human, and the man had tried to bury a bullet in her head. Roman's, too. But getting the man's likeness on the page so the Intelligence Unit could track him down and bring him to justice for what he'd done to that police officer-what he'd tried to do to her-had brought Camila a sense of strength she hadn't expected. The Intelligence Unit's response to the drawings had further bolstered her. Even Matteo had been visibly impressed with the details she'd been able to put on the page. Creating one last drawing that allowed her to face the man, even if it was only on paper, gave her power.

She felt strong. In control. And all of it had started with Roman's belief that she was brave.

Camila's heart tripped behind her T-shirt, and she was helpless against her smile as she pressed a palm over the rapid thump-thump-thump that rattled her chest (annnnd a few other, more delicate parts of her) whenever Kai Roman popped into her thoughts. Under a different set of circumstances, she might be tempted to believe all that bliss was the result of the toe-curling, breath-stealing s*x they were having, because o*****s that good? Definitely cause for a perma-grin. But when he'd opened up to her about his past, Camila had felt his fear and pain in her own heart. She'd thought her response might be flimsy-he'd lost not only his beloved mother far too young, but his wife on top of it, to the point that he'd been too scared to let anyone in for six years. How could anything she'd offer bring him comfort? Somehow, though, when she'd wrapped her arms around him and he'd clung to her right back, they'd formed a wordless connection she still felt now, days later. She trusted Roman. She cared about him. And if she wasn't careful, she was going to fall for him.

"Hey." A bottle of water appeared from over her shoulder, and she looked up just as Roman leaned down to plant a quick kiss over her mouth. "You've been in here for a while. Thought you might want some water."

"You're taking my safety very seriously," she said, arching a brow at him as he sat down beside her, looking hotter than anyone wearing track pants and a T-shirt had a right to.

The sexy little grin he sent in her direction did nothing to ease the heat brewing between her thighs. "According to you, I take everything seriously, remember?" Roman dropped his gaze to her sketchbook, his expression growing serious. "I thought you sent the drawings Sinclair asked for to Intelligence yesterday."

"I did," Camila said, shifting her focus to the nearly done sketch in front of her. "This one is extra. I know it sounds weird, but it's kind of therapeutic to have one that I can face." "That's not weird." He looked again, then measured her with a glance she couldn't quite read. "This drawing is incredibly accurate."

While the cameras at her apartment building had only given the Intelligence Unit partial snapshots of the man, both Camila and Roman had seen his face in that hallway. It had only been for a few seconds, but she was never going to forget what he looked like. I guess everyone has a party trick," she said with a shrug. "Mine is remembering faces well enough to draw them."

"I

Roman opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the satellite phone they kept on the kitchen island rang, making Camila jump.

"God," she murmured, taking a deep breath to counter the spike in her pulse. "One of these days, I'm going to stop startling at every little thing, but today is so not my day."

Roman shook his head, already halfway to the phone. "That's weird. It's after hours, and we're not supposed to have a check-in until tomorrow morning."

Well, that did nothing to ease her nerves. But there was a whole protocol for what would happen if there was an immediate threat to their safety, and it involved a hell of a lot more noise than a call on the sat phone. "Oh, God," Camila said, a thought hitting her on a delay. "Do you think the Intelligence Unit found him?" Why else would they call at-she checked the clock on the microwave-seven in the evening?

"Let's find out," Roman said, answering the call with a gruff, "Roman." He listened for ten seconds that lasted roughly fifty years in Camila's head, then reached for the laptop they used for all of their video calls. A few seconds later, Sergeant Sinclair's face appeared on the screen, the rest of the Intelligence Unit seated behind him at their desks, and Roman lowered the phone in favor of standing beside her at the kitchen counter.

Sinclair didn't waste any time with small talk. "Roman. Camila. I know we weren't scheduled to meet until tomorrow, but there have been some developments, and we wanted you to know as soon as possible."

"Did you catch him? Tell me you caught him," Camila said, unable to fight the adrenaline-tinged anticipation filling her veins.

"We don't have anyone in custody," Sinclair said, "but we do have some actionable leads and an update that will change things significantly."

Roman straightened. "Start at the beginning and tell us everything."

"First thing's first," Sinclair said. "Camila, this is A.D.A. Tara Kingston." A pretty, curvy redhead appeared on the screen, smiling politely, and Camila smiled back even though she was a little confused. "We'd like to show you a photo array to see if any of these people's eyes look familiar to you. Would that be okay?"

Camila's confusion disappeared, her heartbeat speeding up. "Sure. Of course."

"There will be six images total," Capelli said, beginning to type. "I can enlarge any of the images, if you'd like. Take as long as you need with each one, and just let me know if you need to go back for another look at anything." "Okay."

More typing, and an image appeared on the laptop on a split screen with the Intelligence Unit. It only showed the person's eyes, but they were too narrow, and both eyes had a mix of blue and brown, rather than just the one. "No. That doesn't look right," Camila said. Capelli flipped to another, but that one wasn't right, either. Then another, and ugh, maybe they weren't going to be able to-

"That one!" Camila cried. Her pulse pressed rapidly at her throat, but that didn't stop her from saying, "That's the robber from the vault. Number Four." "Are you sure?" Tara asked.

But Camila didn't need to think twice. "Yes. I'm one hundred percent sure. That's definitely the one."

Tara looked at Sinclair. "It's a perfect match to the drawing. In conjunction with what you uncovered, that's enough for an arrest warrant."

The words weren't lost on Roman. "With what you uncovered? Who is she?" he asked, and the photo array disappeared in favor of a driver's license image of a white woman with dirty blond hair in her late twenties, maybe early thirties.

"This is Portia Whitlock, twenty-eight. She lives about thirty minutes outside of Hot Springs, Arkansas. Her name popped up in a nationwide search of all women with registered driver's licenses who have blue/brown heterochromia. That's where the images in the array came from. You can thank your boss for the access to those databases, although we still had to comb through the matches."

Roman didn't look the least bit surprised, and Camila got the distinct feeling he was biting back an 'I told you so. "She's pretty far from home," he said, and the sergeant nodded.

"She has been for some time. Local authorities did a few knock and talks, trying to pin her down, and she hasn't been seen at her last known address for over eight months. No current employment records turned up, either. She quit her job at a local mini-mart around that same time. No forwarding address." "How about family?" Roman asked, and here, Matteo chimed in.

"Ex-husband, Trent Hewitt. Lives in Little Rock and hasn't seen her for over a year. We did some digging on the guy. He's not exactly a paragon of virtue. Couple of minor busts for drug possession, all pled out with time served and fines. But we didn't find anything to suggest he's not telling the truth about Portia. Mother, Victoria Reyes, is deceased. Meth overdose. And step-father, Decker Reyes was stabbed to death in a bar fight nearly a decade ago. However"-more typing, and an image of a white man in his early thirties appeared next to Portia's DMV photo-"she has an older brother, Archer Whitlock, thirty-four. LKA also outside of Hot Springs, although he seems to have disappeared right alongside his sister."

Camila examined both faces carefully, but the man, Archer, didn't look familiar at all. "He looks like a pretty average guy."

Sergeant Sinclair made a noise of agreement. "Six feet. One eighty-five. Entirely average height and build, actually."

Roman's chin lifted in recognition. "So, you think he might be the leader?"

"That's kind of a stretch, right?" Camila asked. Sure, he fit the general description and he hadn't been around for the local police to talk to, but didn't they need a whole lot more to go on? "It would be," Matteo said. "Except for this."

Both images disappeared, replaced by one that made Camila's blood freeze and the hair on the back of her neck stand at immediate attention.

The man who had tried to shoot her was staring her directly in the face.

"Oh, my God," Camila whispered at the same time Roman went completely still beside her. "That's him. That's the man who tried to kill us."

"That's the bastard who shot at us a couple of days ago," Roman confirmed. "Definitely."

Sinclair nodded as Capelli made the image of the man smaller, then lined it up beside the photos of Portia and Archer. "Thorn St. James, thirty-four. Priors for assault, battery, destruction of property, drug possession...the list is impressive. Not in the good way. He did a nickel for the A and B in an Arkansas prison and was released last year. He and Archer Whitlock are known associates, although Whitlock's never been charged with anything. Archer is the only link between Portia and St. James that we can see."

"Facial recognition software matched Thorn's mug shot for the partial we pulled from the surveillance footage from your apartment building. He's also a dead ringer for the drawings you did, and his height and build are a match for the third robber," Matteo said to Camila, whose brain was tumbling with so many questions, she had no hope of keeping them all straight.

"So, you can get a warrant for him, too, then, right? I mean, he matches the facial recognition and Roman and I just ID'd him."

Every single detective froze, all of them exchanging glances in some type of weird, non-verbal code that made Camila's hackles rise. "What?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

"Please tell me you have a line on how to find this a*****e," Roman said, and Sinclair shook his head.

"Firefighters at Station Seventeen were called to a car fire down by an abandoned industrial park in North Point. By the time they arrived, the car had been burning long enough that not much was left."

Roman let out a hard exhale. "Let me guess. The car they used to rob the bank?"

"St. James's body was found in the trunk," Matteo added quietly, and Camila's breath jammed to a halt in her lungs.

"He's dead?"

Roman looked as shocked as she felt. "How?"

"The M.E. said it's going to take a while to know for sure, but he'd been shot five times," Sinclair said. "Three of the five wounds would have been fatal all by themselves, so until the tox screen comes back, that's what she's ruling as cause of death." Camila pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of the news. "Okay, but what does that mean? This guy, Thorn, right? He's the one who came after me. If he's dead, am I safe?"

"Not necessarily," Sinclair said, at the same time both Roman and Matteo said, "No."

Sinclair arched a brow and took point on answering her question. "This is where things get a bit murky. Camila, Roman, this is Dallas Garrity." A sandy blond guy who looked to be in his late thirties appeared on the screen. "He's a psychologist for the Remington Fire Department. Normally, he counsels first responders experiencing job-related trauma, but for the last couple of years, he's also been training as a criminal profiler. We've brought him in to assist on this case."

"Hi, Camila. Agent Roman," Dallas said. "I know this is a lot to have thrown at you all at once. I'm here to help in any way I can."

Camila decided not to wait to take him up on the offer. "Can you start by helping me understand what's really going on, here?"

It was testament to his skill as a mental health professional that he didn't even blink. "I can try, sure. It might be helpful for us to start with what we know. You've been able to identify both Portia Whitlock and Thorn St. James as assailants in several crimes. If Archer Whitlock is also involved in those crimes, as the evidence strongly suggests, then it's possible he'd want to harm you. It's also possible, though, that he's more interested in avoiding the risk of getting caught, and he'll simply go into hiding. I'm here to help the RPD figure out which one of those things he's more likely to do based on what we know about his personality and past behavior."

Camila processed his words, slowly nodding. "Okay. So, what do you know about this guy?"

"Well, assuming he's the leader in these bank robberies-and I think that's a pretty safe logic leap, considering the evidence the Intelligence Unit is gathering-he's very calculated and very smart. But the attack on the two of you doesn't really fit that M.O. The attack does fit with what we know about Thorn's personality, and as far as we can tell, Thorn acted alone when he tried to harm you. Obviously, it put all three of them at risk for exposure, and if he did it without Archer's knowledge or approval, that probably pissed Archer off."

"So, you think Thorn attacked us without Archer knowing, and it caused an argument that Thorn clearly lost?" Roman asked.

"It's entirely possible," Dallas said, and Roman finished his train of thought.

"It fits. Archer finds out what Thorn did, realizes the guy is a liability he can't afford, and pops him for the trouble. Then, Archer does double duty by torching both the car and the body," Roman said. "Any evidence from both the attempted robbery and the murder was almost certainly destroyed by the fire, and now he and Portia don't have to worry about Thorn getting sloppy or going rogue anymore." "Pretty diabolical, killing a member of his crew like that," Matteo said.

Dallas nodded. "Agreed. It does speak to Archer's ruthlessness, which we can't ignore. It would also suggest that he's not going to rob any more banks-at least, not any time soon. He had a reliable system that's been disrupted. The process won't work without Thorn. Not as it stands, anyway."

"So, do you think he'll just run?" Camila asked. The three of them-now two, she guessed-didn't have any connection to Remington, and they already had a bunch of money from the other bank robberies. Running seemed like the smartest thing to do. "He might," Dallas said. "He knows Intelligence has leads that will eventually point to his involvement in these robberies. Disappearing would increase his chances of getting away with his crimes, and he's certainly got the money to do so." "But," Roman said, his tone suggesting that something equally likely was hiding behind door number two, and Dallas lifted his hands in concession.

"But he also knows what Thorn knew. Camila can positively identify Portia as one of the robbers, and that's dangerous for both of them."

Tara chose that moment to chime back in. "But far more dangerous for Portia. Yes, your theory that Archer is behind the robberies and Thorn's murder is sound, but so far, that's all it is. A theory. All of the evidence against him is circumstantial." "So far," Sinclair said, but Tara shook her head.

"I can't work with 'so far. Unless you find a smoking gun-preferably a literal one-that ties Archer to these crimes, we can only charge her for the full ride."

Camila thought back to the day of the robbery. The eerie calm of the leader. The absolute control he wielded like it was its own weapon and no. No way. "Portia might have been there, participating in those robberies, but she wasn't in charge. It was him. No question."

"The leader-whoever he is-was definitely calling all the shots in that bank," Roman agreed. "And the footage from all the other robberies backs that up."

"So, where does that leave us?" Camila asked, her temples beginning to pound.

"Well, unless we come up with something to link Archer to Thorn's murder, which isn't likely given the state of Thorn's body or the car he was found in, it leaves us without enough evidence to arrest either of them for that crime," Tara said. "Camila's ID puts Portia in the bank, so it potentially endangers both of them, assuming that Archer is our third guy, of course. But if we want to take him down, we'll either need a confession-which I think we can all agree isn't going to happen-or we'll need to get her to flip on him." Roman's spine went ramrod straight at the same time Camila's breath caught in her lungs. "That would work," he said.

"It would be her word against his," Tara said, "but, yes. With the video footage from the robberies and depending on what she'd offer as proof, it could work. Either way, right now, our case hinges on Camila's testimony. Without that, we have nothing." Camila's gut dropped, a ball of dread forming low between her hips. "Oh, my God. Do you think Archer will try and come after me like Thorn did?" If she disappeared, both of them would walk free.

"No one's going to hurt you," Roman said, his voice so loaded with hard-edged certainty that she had no choice but to believe him.

Dallas's blond brows lifted in curiosity, although he didn't voice it. "I think, right now, that's very accurate. First of all, Archer has no idea where you are. But even if he were to obtain your whereabouts, he's too smart to try to infiltrate an FBI safe house. The chances he'd be able to harm you and get away with it there are very, very low. He knows it's not worth the risk."

"Okay," Camila said, shaking her head. "But I can't stay here forever."

"Let's tackle this one day at a time," Sinclair said. "Now that we've identified Archer as a person of interest and we have an arrest warrant for Portia, we can use that to our advantage. We'll get their faces out there with BOLOS on both. If they stay in Remington, someone's bound to see one of them eventually. We'll keep investigating Thorn's homicide in the meantime, too. See if we get a ballistics match or some DNA evidence that leads us to Archer."

"If this guy is still in Remington, mija, we will find him," Matteo said. "But, for now, you've got to just lie low for a little while longer until we do."

"I agree. Staying here is the best way to keep you safe, for now," Roman said. He reached down to lace his fingers through hers, the contact calming Camila enough to allow her to breathe. "Okay. I trust you."

Sinclair nodded. "We'll continue to check in daily with updates, and we'll coordinate with Special Agent Calloway to keep her in the loop, as well. Hang in there, you two. We're doing all that we can to find Archer and Portia Whitlock so you can come home." "Copy that," Roman said. He disconnected the call, closing the laptop, and as hard as Camila tried, she couldn't process everything that had just happened. Roman turned to face her. "Hey. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but this is going to be okay."

Camila's thoughts spun and swirled, and God, the memory of being on that bank floor, of Thorn trying to shoot her and Roman in that stairwell, and now the knowledge that someone even more evil than him might want her equally dead? She just wanted to forget those things existed, if only for a little while. To feel normal. To feel safe and right and good.

She wanted Roman.

"It doesn't feel like it right now," Camila agreed, moving toward him until they were less than a foot apart, and Roman opened his arms wordlessly to pull her close.

"Are you okay?" he whispered into her hair.

"Well, the homicidal madman who tried to kill me was found dead in the trunk of a car that had been set on fire because an even more homicidal madman, who also wants me dead, killed him and put him there, so in a word? No. I'm definitely not okay." Roman pulled back to look at her. "I'm going to keep you safe, Camila. No matter what happens, no one is going to hurt you. I swear it."

"I just want..." Camila broke off, her heart beating faster as she closed her eyes to absorb the feel of Roman's arms, tight and warm around her shoulders, and this. This was where she felt safe. This was where she belonged. What she wanted. Her body lit with need, sudden and urgent, and she pressed up to kiss him the exact same way.

"You," Camila said, her mouth still on his, the words barely slipping out. She kissed him again, heat building between her legs. "I just want you."

Concern flickered through Roman's liquid bronze stare, even as Camila felt his breath catch, his chest on her chest. "Are you sure? That phone call was a lot. Maybe we should-"

"No." She knew this was impulsive, but she didn't care. "Look, I know this is a big deal. I'm not trying to deny that, or to minimize how serious it is. But even if it's just for tonight, please. Please. Let me have this. Let me have you." Roman didn't hesitate to kiss her, and in that moment, Camila knew two things. One was that when he had sworn to do anything to keep her safe, he'd meant it.

The other was that she was in love with him.