Brazilian Surrender Page 2

  “I’m doing a sweep. Making sure you’re not being recorded or taped.”

  She folded her arms. A shiver of fear rolled down her spine. The possibility of a hidden camera never occurred to her until now. Someone could be watching her closely, seeing her every move. She shook her head.

  He took off his shoes. “How long have you known Zoe Callahan?”

  “About a year and a half,” she said. “I-I had another roommate for six months before that, but it didn’t pan out.”

  “Why not?” he asked, as he climbed on her sofa and stretched out to his full height to reach the air conditioning vents. She didn’t want to admire his perfect ass, but merda he wasn’t helping. His buttocks seemed firm, hips narrow, yet with a decent amount of flesh for any woman to swoon over. I should have hired an old, balding detective with a goiter. This Daniel Craig look-alike is trouble. “Camila?” he called, using her name for the first time.

  She blinked herself out of her embarrassing butt trance and realized he was looking over his shoulder, waiting for her answer. “Yes? Oh, the roommate. That was my friend Lee. We took some classes together. He’s amazing, but he met this great guy and went to live with him after four or five dates. So, yeah, that didn’t work out.”

  “I’ll need his full name and current address.”

  “Sure.” The idea of considering Zoe and Lee suspects was laughable. Lee had helped her with her studies and beyond, ever since she’d started her internship, and Zoe could barely remember where she left her gym bag any given day, let alone have the necessary follow-through skills to send out threatening letters from Jersey.

  “Someone from my agency is going to the New Jersey post office where the letters were mailed to look at the street cameras so we can get a copy of their security tapes. I’ll bring them to you and we’ll look at them together to see if you recognize anyone. Chances are only one person is involved.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Did you think of anyone who wants to hurt you?” He stepped off her sofa and put his shoes back on.

  She folded her arms. “No. My life isn’t that exciting. I’ve been spending more time with patients than anyone, really.”

  He gave her a once-over, then grabbed a small notepad from his pocket and clicked on a ballpoint pen. Old school. She expected him to use an iPad mini or another tech gadget. “The Hatch has secured good funding and top-notch professionals.”

  “Yes. Interning at Hatch means a lot to me.” She had never in her wildest dreams thought she’d be able to cope with her dyslexia, then not only graduate from a university but enroll in one of the most coveted internships in the United States.

  “Any of your friends intern there, too?”

  “Zoe left the program last year; it wasn’t for her. And Lee is interning under a different mentor.”

  “Is there a boyfriend in the picture? Ex-boyfriend? Unfinished business?” He scribbled a couple of things on his pad. “Hookups?”

  “Er…” She lifted her hand and touched the back of her neck, unsure what to say.

  “I need to know everyone who’s part of your life, even if they aren’t a threat in your opinion. Let me determine who’s a suspect or not.”

  “Of course.” She rubbed her palms together. “I dated a guy, Jeffrey Morgan, for a few months last year.”

  “Why did you end it?”

  She blushed. “Because we had no spark,” she said. Jeffrey was a good person to know. Very smart and proper, but as a lover he never wowed her. Having sex with him had been safe and somewhat pleasant, like a rerun of a sitcom—entertaining when it happened, but she didn’t have to have it. And she needed to be with someone she couldn’t live without, even if she hadn’t met that person yet.

  “Do you still see him?” he asked, his eyes on hers.

  She shrugged. “I have to. He’s one of the interns, so I see him every day.”

  “Anyone one else?”

  “Juan Gonzalez. We went out on a date a month ago. He told me his tourist visa was expiring and that he wanted to get married,” she said, trying hard to keep a straight face. She should have known the signs when she’d met the guy near the Rockefeller Center and he insisted on having dinner that same day. She’d thought he was a handsome tourist who could maybe be the one to sweep her off her feet and take her to the moon, like Frank Sinatra’s song. Instead, he wanted to take her to the nearest courthouse for a shiny green card.

  “And you passed up on the offer?”

  “In the nicest way possible,” she said. To Juan’s regret, she wasn’t an American citizen so she wouldn’t have been able to help anyway.

  “I don’t doubt.” His lips didn’t curve, but if his eyes could come close to grinning, this had to be it.

  Hello? Earth to Camila? Oi? I have a stalker to worry about. “What if someone just wants to scare me?” she asked.

  “Someone wants you to leave the country, and we need to know why. Amateurs are sloppy and they leave a good trail of evidence behind them, which will make my job easier. But they’re also unpredictable, and this guy seems impatient,” he said. “I need to take a better look at your place. I did a quick sweep now and didn’t find any cameras or recording devices in the living room, but I want to see the rest.”

  God. The fact someone could record her most intimate moments tightened her stomach. “Sure.”

  Thankfully, she’d somewhat organized her room, cleaned the bathrooms, and hid her collection of self-help books on how to meet Mr. Right. Meu Deus. No wonder she had no luck in the happy-ever-after department. She wanted it too much and, as result, kept meeting all the wrong guys. At least that’s what Lee and Zoe told her a few times during their Sunday brunches.

  Jaeger strode across the hardwood floor and did a sweep of the shared office, the half bathroom, and asked her to join him when he entered Zoe’s bedroom. “Does your roommate have a steady boyfriend, or does she bring a lot of friends or guys over?”

  “What? No. I mean, she has an on-and-off boyfriend, Brian. He’s a sweetheart. They are broken up right now. I think.”

  “Did he ever hit on you?”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes. Oh, she may as well tell him the truth. “Once at a party, he had a little bit too much to drink, but that was months ago, and I made it clear I wasn’t interested.”

  “Have you ever told Zoe?”

  “No, I thought it’d be awkward.” And possibly end their friendship. Zoe was volatile and a tad insecure. What if she started to see Camila as competition or felt betrayed? All because of a single time Brian had too much to drink and went after the wrong girl during one of their “off” moments at a party.

  “Has he ever told her?”

  “I doubt it. She never mentioned anything. Zoe wears her heart on a sleeve,” she said. “I’d know if something bothered her.”

  “Okay. I have enough to get started. My team will come tomorrow morning and install some cameras throughout your apartment so if there’s ever a break-in, I’ll know.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, desperate for a sense of security. “Wait. I can’t install cameras without talking to Zoe first. It’s an invasion of our privacy. Are you sure it’s necessary?”

  “It’s prevention.”

  “I understand, but you need to wait until I talk to her. She’s my roommate.” Sure, Zoe often overposted on Snapchat, but that didn’t mean she’d want a stranger to see her every minute of the day. Maybe this whole mess would be fixed by the time she returned to NYC. That’d make things a lot easier.

  “Ask her and let me know when we can move forward. Installing won’t take long, and the cameras will be hidden and are extremely small.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. What if the recordings ended up in the wrong hands? “The whole point of my hiring you is to maintain my privacy, not expose it,” she said, wishing she hid the vulnerability in her voice.

  “Only to me. It goes straight to my account, and it’s protected.”

  Only to him. The words evoked a throb between her legs, and she contracted her stomach in response, willing that silly reaction away. Why did his presence bring out a part so uncharacteristic to her? “Either way, you’re assuming someone will intrude into my home. So far, I’ve only received letters. I just want to find out who sent them.”

  “Ask her and let me know.” He petted Torto quickly, then headed toward the entrance. “Cute dog,” he said before closing the door behind him, and for the first time she envied her dog.

  …

  “I’m almost in there, boss,” Tony said at the other end of the line. “It’s taking me longer than I anticipated, but I should have the files sent to your email by the end of the day.”

  “Thanks,” Jaeger said, and hung up the phone, jamming it in his pocket. Tony was his go-to hacker, and he would deliver as promised. Jaeger spent the day briefing his team, running background checks, and cutting loose ends to other assignments. Unfortunately, Omar and Brenda couldn’t make it until the next day to watch Camila, so Jaeger decided to check on her himself until one of them finished their current assignment.

  He’d already run the background check of Camila’s friends Lee and Zoe, and they seemed clean. Zoe had gotten a DWI a few years back, but that was it. Brian, Zoe’s on-and-off boyfriend, had no encounters with the law.

  Jaeger crossed the street and nodded at the doorman as he entered her building. Her place had been small, but very hip. She paid a pretty penny for rent. Could anyone benefit financially if she left the States? Jaeger got into the elevator and pressed her floor number.

  Camila.

  Earlier that day, she’d given him enough bad-date scenarios for skits in a television comedy show. Why would it be hard for someone like her to find a suitable man? She was possibly one
of the sexiest women he’d ever seen, no doubt with the hottest accent. Besides, she didn’t resemble some of those Madison Avenue stuck-up women he worked for in the past. Wealth hadn’t changed her.

  He caught himself smiling. Camila would make any man happy. She was uncomplicated, carefree, and kind. A regular guy, of course. Not him. The elevator came to a stop, and Jaeger blinked. His head needed to stay in the game, and not on Camila’s endearing qualities.

  He knocked on her door a couple of times without luck. A few seconds later, he heard a muffled wail and his blood cooled instantly. Grabbing his automatic handgun from his holster, he kicked the door open and marched into her place. “Camila?”

  Carefully, he unlocked the safety and lifted his hand, walking from the foyer to the living area while he scanned the place. He noted some bills on the glass console table, but nothing else had moved since the morning. The crying became louder, and he found Camila on the ground, kneeling over a black furry…animal.

  “Torto is dead. I came home from work and found him like this,” she sobbed. Tears streamed down her face, her eyes red and swollen.

  An instinct to take her in his arms and hold her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as he stroked her hair stabbed at him. What the fuck? He wasn’t an actor in some foolish romantic movie. Still, a tingle sizzled the tip of his fingers and shot up his hand and arm. Consoling her wouldn’t make any of that go away. He barely knew this woman, and for Christ sake, she was a client.

  “Let me clear the place,” he said and, just in case, did a sweep in the rooms for the next few minutes to make sure the intruder wasn’t around. When he returned, she was still crying.

  He glanced at the animal, and his stomach clenched. Poor animal. This was not good. Whoever wanted to hurt her was sending a powerful message. They’d upgraded from written threats to real danger. Bending down, he studied the stiff dog and checked the color of the pupils. No damage had been done to the body, which meant someone poisoned it.

  She stroked the dog’s paw, sniffing only to cry louder again. Shit. He hated when women cried in front of him. He’d rather street fight or tattoo his balls than deal with emotional women, because they expressed their feelings in a way he never could. In a way that would break him into pieces if he even tried. “Who could do such thing?”

  She looked him in the eye, and for some strange reason he felt like stroking her blotched face and wiping the tears rolling down her red cheeks. He sucked in a breath. Despite the harassment she’d suffered in the past, Camila was pretty much an untainted individual. She didn’t deserve the shit she was getting.

  “My brother Bruno gave him to me after he found Torto on the street. I brought him here from Brazil because I couldn’t stay away from him.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, uttering the words he got used to hearing after Ellen and Trevor’s death. How many times did people from his department at NYPD scratch their heads when he grew quiet, or whispered one to another, unsure of what to say, during the days following the tragedy? They’d all found it odd when he insisted on going to work after the funeral, defying his boss’s order to take leave.

  She wiped the tears with the back of her hands.

  “We need to get you out of here, Camila.”

  “What? Why do I have to leave my apartment? Can’t I just change the locks?”

  “We’ll do that, but for your safety I don’t want you alone tonight,” he said. He could set her up at a hotel and watch her door all night. Jaeger clamped his lips. Camila was devastated, and taking her to a strange place where she would be alone after losing her pet wouldn’t make it any better. He thought of his aunt Gesa, but he’d hate to drag her into this, though she’d put him in this situation.

  “What do you mean?”

  Send her to a hotel. Send her to a hotel. “I’m going to have one of my team members come over. She’ll take Torto to a vet clinic I trust where they’ll conduct a necropsy. We need confirmation of what type of poison or drug was used to kill him,” he said, and tears brimmed her eyes again. Crap. No, she couldn’t be by herself. He needed to have her secure somewhere, and wasn’t Tony supposed to send out the files anyway? Wouldn’t he need her help to go through them? Bringing her to his place would be nothing more than a practicality. And he liked practicalities. “Then if you want to cremate or bury him, we can have her make arrangements and do what you think best.”

  “O-okay. I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go of him,” she said, her hand clenching the lifeless paw.

  Jaeger covered her hand with his. “It’s okay.” He placed his hand on hers to let her know he’d be there for her. “I’m taking you to my place. Whoever did this is upping his game. Besides, we need to go through those video recordings later and that may take your mind off things. We’ll find who did this.”

  She frowned. “Your place?”

  “Your safety is my priority. Tomorrow I’ll change your locks, but for now I want to keep an eye on you. Make sure you let Zoe know. You don’t have to worry about anything. We’ll sleep in separate rooms. I guarantee you’ll have your privacy.” Besides, the internet in his apartment was secure. He couldn’t say the same thing for a hotel where he’d share the wifi with hundreds of people.

  “I’m only going after someone from your team comes. I’m not leaving Torto all by himself,” she said, glancing at the dog.

  “Of course,” he said, and a part of him admired her. Someone had entered her place and killed her dog—possibly the same person who had sent her threatening letters for an unknown reason. Yet, she refused to leave her dog behind and put a farewell to a dead animal before her own needs and safety.

  Sighing, he texted his secretary, Therese, and asked her to come over ASAP. “You should put some clothes in a backpack. She’ll be here soon,” he said after he slid his phone in his pocket.

  “Okay. I’ll get my stuff when she gets here. I’m quick. Until then, I’m with him.” She stroked the dog’s ears, and he noticed her fingers trembled. Despite her determination in staying with her pet until help came, Camila was shaken. Scared. Sad.

  Jaeger’s neck vein pulsed. That’s why the two of them couldn’t be more different—she wanted to process the death of a loved one instead of running from grief. Hell, he’d managed to ignore the pain but still feel it for the last five years. He sucked in his breath and refused to keep looking at her. The quicker he cracked this case and said sayonara to Camila Duarte, the better.

  Chapter Three

  Camila braced herself when she followed Jaeger into his building in Lower Manhattan. Thankfully, he hadn’t talked much as he drove his sleek German sports car to his place. She felt like a lump of sadness had clawed its way down her throat and stayed there, with no chance of moving.

  Torto is dead. Her eyes begin to water again, but she fought the tears brimming her lids. She tried to swallow, her throat dry and raw. Flashes of the moment she’d walked in her apartment and found her furry best friend lying on the floor, lifeless and stiff, inundated her mind. She shook her head, desperate to get rid of those images. Her temples throbbed, and she felt the blood expanding her veins. Burning.

  “You okay?” Jaeger asked, probably sensing her pain.

  She gave him a sideways glance but didn’t manage to say anything.

  For the first time since she’d met him, she appreciated, and even found solace, in his silence. Her heart heaved with sadness, the memories of Torto popping in her head. Why would anyone want to hurt a defenseless animal?

  Because this person is sending me a message. A chill rolled into her stomach. Someone wanted to hurt her even if she didn’t know the reason. Maybe I should tell my brothers. The thought stabbed at her. No. She’d solve this mess without their help. That’s why she’d hired Jaeger. He seemed to know what he was doing, and he could protect her.

  She wasn’t that young girl who needed her brothers’ help to get rid of an unwanted suitor anymore. She was a grown woman who wanted to make a stand for herself. Giving up now would mean she took care of herself when things were smooth, but not when they got hard—and that type of person she refused to be. After all, she wanted to be a respected counselor one day, which meant a degree of anonymity when it came to her personal life. She didn’t need to headline the criminal pages. Her focus would be her clients, not former stories on the newspapers. If she looked for the police, her future career would be vulnerable.