Page 108 of The Saint

Esme held his gaze. “If I could tell you, I would.”

He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Esme. Had he really thought he might find Amelia there? “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Relock the door on your way out.”

Camden’s chest ached. It was more than the blisters and burns on his chest. He couldn’t find Amelia, and an ever-increasing panic had shredded his heart. He retraced his steps and was momentarily blinded when he returned from Esme’s dungeon and into the sun.

Why did Esme want to know about the first night he’d spoken to Amelia? Camden put the car in drive and tried to strangle the steering wheel. He didn’t know where he was driving. Camden could only think about the most blaringproblem: His woman was missing. He had no choice but to find her. But then what after that?

His temples throbbed. He would make sure she was safe, then the job would be over. He would be heartsick, but one way or another, Amelia would have answers. That was what mattered.

The main phone number from the Abu Dhabi headquarters appeared on the center dashboard as his phone rang.

He jabbed the screen. “Yeah?”

“Are you driving?” Amanda’s voice flooded the car through the speakerphone.

“Yeah. Pulling onto the Beltway.”

She paused as though waiting for Camden to offer more details, but he didn’t have much of a plan.

“Where are you headed?”

“Don’t know yet,” he admitted.

“Do you know Beth Tourne is trying to find you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to know what she wants?” Amanda pressed.

“I already have the gist. There’s an issue with a local contact.”

“Camden, are you okay?”

“No. Everything’s fucked. Amelia is missing, and we’ve got nothing but problems.” He checked traffic as he merged.

His phone buzzed.

“I sent you GPS coordinates.”

“To what?” The only answer he needed to hear was Amelia.

“I don’t know.”

Camden’s grip tightened.

“But that’s where you need to go,” Amanda said.

The call ended. Her message was displayed on the screen. With one touch, the directions loaded. He recognized the streetname from the night he’d called in the emergency help request in Arlington, Virginia.

Twenty minutes later, Camden pulled onto the street. Unmarked vehicles were parked in a driveway and on both sides of the road. He parked behind one and spotted Beth’s Lexus. What the hell was she doing here?

A man in a suit was guarding the front door and stopped Camden.

“I need to talk to Beth Tourne.”

He spoke into his shirtsleeve and waved him to one side. “Stay here.”

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