Chapter Eleven

JUSTINE

 

Alexandra’s smile shines in the rearview mirror as Campbell falls out of sight.

“Nice to meet you, Justine.”

I have no idea what to think of Alexandra Briggs. The faint lines around her eyes and mouth put Alexandra in her fifties, although she’s taken incredible care of her skin. Some of the red in her hair is dye, but it blends so well the base color must be all-natural. The honey-sweet glimmer of a Southern accent hangs off a few of her words, yet so few that either she’s been away from home a very long time or went out of her way to strip that edge from her voice.

“Likewise.” Here’s hoping anyway. “People don’t usually value my time this much.”

“Does Campbell?”

I smile. “They’re the primary exception.”

The warm amber of her eyes hardens. If Campbell sometimes reminds me of a serpent, she’s a wolf, one within easy reach of my throat. “What are you doing with them? Because if this is some fling, you’re putting yourself in a very dangerous position.”

“I uprooted my entire life to be with Campbell.” I don’t try to keep the anger out of my voice—it’s a baseless accusation. “Beyond that, it’s none of your damn business.”

Alexandra relaxes in her seat, folding both hands into her lap. “That’s what I like to hear. You’re tough as you look. Rare trait in anyone.”

Campbell said this wasn’t a test, but it sure does feel that way.

“Did you really hassle them to ask me if we’re in a committed relationship?”

“I also wanted to make sure you were safe,” Alexandra counters, and despite my kneejerk instinct to defend Campbell, it’s clear she’s serious. “They don’t have a very good track record at keeping other people alive.”

“Unless you’re trying to tell me they murder the women they date, I’m not worried about Campbell’s work. I know what they do.” After that meeting with Natalie, I’m more of an accomplice than an innocent bystander.

Alexandra chuckles. “No, nothing in that vein, darling. But it’s been a long time since Campbell connected with anyone. Back when I met them, they weren’t even capable of it.”

Six years. I can do the math. “You were a mercenary too.”

“I was with the SEALs for twenty and change first, but yes. Time marches on. I wasn’t going to be climbing the chain of command anymore, so I took a better offer.” The humor on her face disappears. “Well, it looked that way at the time.”

Campbell has mentioned what they used to do, and Ulysse implied a few things, but neither one really gave me a full answer. They were right: this might be the only chance to ask what I want to know, without making Campbell endure the memories.

“What were they like back then?”

Her lips purse. “You sure you want to know the answer to that?”

It’s a deeply unfair question, doomed to make me all the more intrigued. “Yes.”

“Well, they were far better with a rifle than they should have been for a corpse-lugger, that’s for sure.” Alexandra sighs. “Of course, that was before I found out what happened to their unit or saw that every waking moment, they practiced getting better. Wake up, wash up, load up. On repeat like a machine. They blazed through training, so we started assigning Campbell targets on deployment.”

Her eyes drift, away from the mirror and into the darkness surrounding us.

“Listen, I’ve done a lot of monstrous things because I thought it would keep the right people safe or because I thought it was making my country better. A load of shit, of course, but I did believe it at the beginning. I believed it until I saw a lot of supposedly honorable men point a twenty-two-year-old at gun runners and drug lords, anyone the unit had a grudge against from prior missions. Smiled and told them to pull the trigger. Bang.”

I wince. “Was it part of the job?”

“The initial justification, sure. We were making the area safe so the army wouldn’t have to bomb the place to the ground, or claiming a bounty. Except it didn’t take anyone in charge long to figure out that Campbell would kill anyone they were pointed at. Anyone. They never missed a shot, and they never asked about the risks.”

Last night is making more and more sense. “It sounds as if they were trying to die.”

“They were.” When I tense, Alexandra offers a sympathetic smile. “I caught Campbell in the middle of the real deal once, sitting there with a nine-mil to the head. They asked me why it was so easy to do it to other people, but not themself. Asked if I would do it instead.”

Jesus, Campbell. “What did you say?”

“We talked a while, got to the heart of the problem. At that point, killing wasn’t just easy. It was a compulsion. Death was the only thing that made sense.”

They said something similar to me in Chicago, but I hadn’t realized how deep the truth cut. It isn’t just about what they’ve lost; it was hammered into them, mind and body alike, over and over.

“Did you tell them to change careers?”

Alexandra’s expression splits, caught between wry and sad. “I wish I’d been that clever, but I was half afraid they’d turn on the unit to get a fix. For a while, I tried to cull the numbers, less work, less time behind the scope. They needed something else—some meaning in it all. So I told Campbell they had a problem with authority, that they should go kill people that deserved it, and got them ousted from the company.”

“Wow. Pretty risky time to try tough love.”

“My maternal instincts didn’t kick in until a few years on estrogen.” Alexandra laughs. “I was convinced I’d never see them again. Then I got a postcard a while later with a phone number on it. Rest said: ‘My rates start at fifty grand. Know anyone who deserves it?’”

Now that sounds like Campbell.

“They’re doing better now, I think.”

“It does appear that way.” Alexandra shakes her head. “I have to admit, I always suspected there was a chance a job would go so bad they’d break permanently…but I never thought a job would go so well that they’d start smiling again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you.” She gestures forward. “But we’re out of time, so the last thing I’ll say is to be careful. They shut down when they’re in pain. Flipping that switch isn’t easy. I hope that if it ever gets stuck, someone is kind enough to put Campbell down for good.”

Anxiety seizes my heart in a tight grip, but I don’t have a chance to answer before Campbell pops the driver’s side door open and takes their seat. Their eyes sweep between Alexandra and me before they twist the key to start the engine. I have no idea what they see, but Alexandra doesn’t blink, smile set in place.

“Would you be so kind as to drop me by my car so I can make sure Ms. Wagner gets some sleep tonight?” she asks.

“Sure.” Campbell says, glancing over their shoulder to put the vehicle in reverse. “You owe me, by the way.”

Alexandra huffs. “Excuse me? What the hell did I do?”

“I told Justine our date tonight wasn’t going to be about work. You ruined that.”

“It’s okay,” I interject. The fact that the first thing on Campbell’s mind was defending our time together is deeply endearing. “She missed you terribly. We needed a little girl time to get all the tears out.”

“Aren’t you a devil in a black dress?” Alexandra quips. “Now I know why they’re so enamored.”

“You have no room to judge,” Campbell grouses, wrenching the wheel to bring the car onto the main road.

They drop off Alexandra without incident, then turn around to bring us to the chateau. For the first part of the drive, I’m not sure what to say—or if I should say anything at all. Alexandra hadn’t told me anything in confidence, but I don’t want to run my nails over Campbell’s old wounds, even by accident.

“How was your walk?” I ask.

“I caught a glimpse of the real castle, which I’m sure was very noble sometime before the Revolution.” Campbell’s eyes stay locked forward, unyielding as headlights. “Mostly I was thinking about Victor. The faster I take him down, the better.”

They’re not wrong. “But you’re okay? I know Alexandra surprised you, and you’re not a fan of surprises.”

“We’ve known each other too long. I should have known she would make a move. Especially once she saw you.” Gray eyes flicker off the road for all of a second to meet mine. “Xandra didn’t ask anything about Richard, did she?”

Thankfully not. “No.”

“Good.”

Campbell doesn’t comment further, staying silent until we’re back at the house. They pause a foot past the foyer, car keys still in hand. “Are you going to be okay here by yourself for the next few days?”

Between dinner and Alexandra, I’d forgotten they were planning to spend the rest of the week in Paris. “I can always paint.”

“That’s not what I meant.” They step past me and toward the stairs. “Never mind. I’m getting worked up over nothing.”

I frown, following Campbell up the steps until we’re in the bedroom. They strip off their jacket, exposing the holster holding their gun in place, every movement second nature. “It’s not nothing if it’s you, Campbell.”

Their fingers pause over the clip of the holster. “What did you and Alexandra talk about?”

“You, mostly.” I doubt that’s a surprise, but I don’t want to lie, even by proxy. “How the two of you ended up meeting.”

“It’s a terrible story.”

Campbell still isn’t looking at me, but I close the distance between us and press against their back. My hand fits over theirs, brushing against the gun. “Why do you still carry one of these? It…it doesn’t seem like you really want to use it.”

“Habit,” they mutter, “and necessity. What I want doesn’t matter when it’s the most effective tool for shutting someone down.”

“I wish you would have said something,” I murmur against their shoulder, “before teaching me how to shoot. You don’t have to hurt yourself on my account.”

Campbell stiffens. “That’s unavoidable.”

No, it isn’t. “Campbell, look at me. Please.”

A veil of silence falls between us, but the moment I’m about to pull away and apologize, Campbell turns in the circle of my arms, eyes finding mine. Their gaze is unreadable, not because it’s empty, but because too many emotions are competing for dominance, a frenzy played out in a thousand subtle expressions.

“Alexandra told me that if I started feeling again, I’d have to take the bad with the good, and she was right.” Campbell’s voice hangs above a whisper, but it’s pierced through with shame. “I get angry when people question what we have. I don’t want to leave for Paris because I’m afraid. Last time I left you, it was not knowing if you’d ever want to see my face again. But if I don’t kill Victor, Natalie is going to die, and if I don’t kill someone, the urge is—”

I trace my fingers across Campbell’s shoulders, catching the stress trapped there like bands of iron. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You shouldn’t.” Despite the rejection, reluctance leaches into every word. “Surveillance is the dullest thing a human can do. You stay still hour after hour, waiting for another person’s life to move. I don’t want to box you up in a hotel room for days when you could be here enjoying yourself.”

“That isn’t a no.” Before they can counter, I smile. “And even if it is an ‘I know better,’ you’re leaving one important factor out of the equation.”

Their brow furrows. “What?”

“Maybe that I’m a grown woman with a choice in the matter?” I smooth a minor wrinkle out of their shirt, then another. “I can spend my time however I want.”

Campbell’s frown deepens. “It’s dangerous for you to be that close to a target.”

It was dangerous for me to go to dinner too. It’s dangerous to be in a room full of weapons that Campbell could use at any moment. Being with them is always a risk, but I’m afraid saying that out loud would give the wrong idea. I’ve accepted that I could get hurt, so what’s one more step?

“How close would I be?” I ask, although it’s mostly rhetorical. “You’re watching him. He’s not going to end up in our hotel room.”

Okay, maybe using our was on purpose, but I’m worried about them. Alexandra’s comment about a contract going bad is branded on my mind—losing Campbell for three days after Natalie’s pictures set them off isn’t a comfortable equation.

They close their eyes. “Justine.”

“Tell me no, and I won’t push.”

“I can’t.” Campbell swallows hard, tension bobbing in their throat. “I always want you with me.”

“Come here,” I coax, drawing my fingers down Campbell’s arms, stiff and still against their sides.

They bend to wrap me in a tight embrace, bringing my face against the curve of their shoulder. Campbell kisses the top of my hair, whispering approval as I run my nails in a slow pattern along the small of their back.

“I know you’ll keep me safe.” My senses are awash in crisp linen and the clean scent of Campbell’s skin, warm and familiar. “So what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Losing you the same way I’ve lost everyone else.”

“You still have Sofia. There’s Ulysse, and Alexandra.” The last relationship clearly has some baggage, but she’s alive and well nonetheless.

“Have you noticed I tend to keep a handful of countries between them and myself as often as I can?” A faint thread of humor slips into Campbell’s tone, enough for me to grasp onto. “It’s the people in my direct proximity I’m concerned about.”

“You’re not a bomb waiting to go off, Campbell.” I feel the argument building in their body and pull away far enough to look them in the eyes. “You’re not. I don’t believe it, not after how far you’ve come from who you used to be.”

“It’s not like wiping a mark off my record,” they insist. “I can slide back. Things could get a lot worse again.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the other important question. “The other night when you were upset, is it because you thought about killing me?”

Campbell’s eyes snap wide. “No. No. It was…self-directed.”

That confirms the twisting feeling in the bottom of my gut but shores up the determination coursing through me. “I’d want to stay with anyone who had been through that, especially the person I love. You’re no exception.”

Whatever argument they were summoning stops there. Campbell sighs before letting go of me. “All right. But I’m serious—this is three days of staring out a window that you’re signing up for. If I see Victor, I have to move in alone. Completely alone.”

“Of course.” Victor needs to get what’s coming to him, and assassination is not my area of expertise. The last thing I want is to blockade Campbell’s way. “I’ll bring a sketchbook and keep you company while you’re in the room.”

Subtly, the balance tips. Campbell breaks away to pack, and I do the same, taking the smallest bag out of my suitcase to fold in a few days of clothes. Everything they’re choosing looks lowkey—athletic wear, a worn tourist shirt with Notre Dame splashed on the front—so I tilt my choices toward the comfortable. From what they said, I’ll be lounging on the bed most of the time.

“Are we going tonight?” I ask.

“That depends on…” Campbell pulls out their phone and flips through two screens before tapping an app with a dull black icon. A map appears on the screen, a small blinking red dot standing out in the center. “…where Victor is. Which looks to be about forty minutes from his place making loops around Natalie’s apartment.”

My blood turns cold. “She’s still at the hotel, right?”

“As far as I know.” After dropping their phone into a pocket, Campbell kneels to zip up their bag. “Which means he could spend the entire night trying to track her when he figures out she isn’t coming home. I’d certainly appreciate that.”

The more time he’s searching and finding nothing, the more time Alexandra has to get Natalie safe—and Campbell can set up shop without Victor knowing a thing.

“I can be ready in five minutes.”

They go rooting around in another suitcase and pull out a slender black box I haven’t seen before. “Don’t forget a charger for your phone. I can’t tell you how many times that’s the last thing I remember.”

The box disappears out of view, but I’m sure I’ll find out what’s in it later. Getting packed this fast means not wasting any more time. I duck into the bathroom for a few things and emerge a moment later to find Campbell waiting by the doorway with duffel in hand.

“You’re sure about this?” they ask.

I press up onto my toes to kiss them. “Yes. Ask again and I’ll make you carry my bag downstairs.”

Campbell promptly takes my bag anyway, and their low laugh at the stupefied look on my face is far too endearing for being so smug. Stealing it back is pointless, so I follow them down the stairs, wondering if there’s a way for me to take their car keys and make a point. Then again, I’m not really in the mood to drive.

We’re on the road twenty minutes before I realize I forgot to cover my paints for Ulysse’s gift. I swallow a curse, ignoring the lurch in my stomach. What am I worried about? There’s always more where those came from.

And I’ve already made my choice.