One Wrong Move by Angela Smith Page B

to eat, why are you eating my fries?”
    “I’m still hungry,” he said.
    “I will be, too, if you keep eating my food.”
    She noticed a man peering her direction and tried to catch his eye, thinking he might be the person she was supposed to meet. If Camden wasn’t the one, he’d obviously ruined that encounter. The man looked away.
    “Would you just go?” she asked Camden.
    “Waiting for your boyfriend?”
    “Yes.” Maybe that would get rid of him. Because as nice as he was to look at, he needed to leave. If this informant had proof of Vin Doux’s drug business, she wanted to get it and get out of here.
    “Shall we meet for lunch again tomorrow?” Camden rose and placed money on the table as if he were paying for her meal.
    “No.” She grabbed the money and thrust it toward him. “And it’s already paid for so don’t bother.”
    He shrugged, took the money, and glanced around. Rayma did, too, and noticed the man was gone.
    “I’ll call you,” he said, whistling as he walked out the door.
    Rayma waited another half hour to see if her informant would drop by, but the man she suspected might be him had long since gone, and no one else approached.
    She blamed Camden. He was funny, charming, a great cook, had an incredible body, and was gorgeous. So she enjoyed his company. How could she not? But she didn’t trust him. Could he be her informant, or was he playing her?
    The oppressive heat ate into her skin as she stepped out of the café. The burger smoldered in the pit of her stomach, as if the sun still cooked the meal inside her. Not a pleasant feeling. The tea she drank rested heavy on her. She almost turned to go back inside for the bathroom when someone grabbed her by the elbow.
    Thinking it was Camden, her temper soared. She tried to jerk away, but the man gripped her harder and pulled her into the back of the alley beside the café.
    She realized it wasn’t Camden first by the smell. Camden had a masculine smell, even if he was in a kitchen all day. Musk combined with ginger. Rum and lime. Something that made her think of sex. This guy’s smell was more like the bottom of an ashtray worsened by the hot sun.
    She forgot all the self-defense lessons she’d learned, and the pepper spray she always carried did her no good buried in the bottom of her purse. When her abductor turned her around and put his finger to his lips to indicate she shouldn’t make a sound, she saw it was the guy from the café. She tried to nod her head but he was constricting most of her movement.
    “Why was that guy with you?” he asked when he dropped his hand. “I told you to come alone.”
    Rayma chugged in air. It wasn’t like he cut off her air supply, but his smell made it impossible to breathe. “I did come alone. He just happened to be there. He recognized me and stopped to talk. I didn’t want him there.”
    “Looked pretty cozy to me. I thought you were interested in what I have.” He held up a military-green bag and shook it in front of her. She tried to stand straight, but her stomach roiled.
    “I am, but I can’t be stupid about it.”
    “How much is this worth to you?”
    “I don’t know. What’s in it?”
    “For two-hundred dollars, I give you the bag and we go our separate ways. You can use the information as you will.”
    “Two hundred? How will I know if it’s worth that if I don’t know what’s in there?”
    He opened the bag and showed her pictures of a building she recognized as Pier 18, along with photos of the restaurant, a few thumb drives, and miscellaneous documents.
    “One-fifty,” she said, handing him some bills.
    He grabbed the money and removed a thumb drive, which he kept. When she protested, he shook his head. “You don’t get all of it if you don’t pay for all of it. Two-hundred was a bargain.”
    She agreed. She didn’t have fifty bucks to be bargaining with and shouldn’t be spending any money right now, especially the type of money that would feed her for a few