Page 22 of The Saint

She snorted, but that might have been her plan. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an evasive answerer?”

“All part of my training,” he joked. “Why don’t you get some sleep? If the agents stop by again, answer their questions, and try not to read too much into what they say or don’t.”

“Is that what you would do?” she asked.

“Probably. Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Get some sleep, and take care of yourself, Amelia.”

She didn’t have a reason to keep him on the phone but didn’t want the call to end. His voice was soothing and made her feel safe, as though this man with all the answers and some of the excuses could erase the nightmare she’d been trying to manage.

The line disconnected. She checked her text messages and saw his number. She opened the message.

Camden Brooks

Just his name. To the point and without bullshit—just like him. She saved him in her phone. His name and number were comforting, but they didn’t make her any sleepier.

Amelia rolled onto her back again and stared at the ceiling. She decided against taking sleeping medicine and futilely tried a couple of tricks. She counted sheep, but that became a game of how fast she could think of the numbers. Then Amelia tried to count backward from a thousand. The task proved boring but not in a way that made her drowsy.

Sleep.Go to sleep. Demanding that she fall asleep only made her more frustrated and wider awake.

Her phone screen illuminated on the nightstand with a silent incoming phone call, and she smiled when she saw his name. She answered, “Hey.”

“Amelia. Hey.”

Her heart hammered a hundred miles an hour. The way he said her name made her insides flip.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she said.

“How many people call you in the middle of the night?”

Her stomach fluttered. She grinned into her pillow. “Only you.”

“Good to hear.”

She curled her knees to her belly and held the phone close. “Did you decide to tell me about your super-secret office?”

The quiet rumble of his amusement skimmed over her senses. “No. Sorry to disappoint.”

He wouldn’t disappoint her. “You would not believe the secret lair I’ve conjured up in my head.”

“Trust me. The place I work is more than you can imagine.”

“I have a very creative, very vivid imagination.” She caught herself, wondering if that sounded like something other than how she meant it. A blush warmed her cheeks, and she quickly added, “Did you ever watch that movieMen in Black? The one with Will Smith and the aliens? That’s about where my head’s at.”

He laughed. “Pretty close. Sans the aliens.”

“Ah, man. Too bad.”

“I don’t mean to keep you up. I know it’s the middle of the night where you are—”

“But not you?”

“Not exactly—that’s for another day, okay?”

She liked that their conversation would continue. Amelia snuggled against her pillow. “Okay.”

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