Page 34 of The Saint

Her cheeks flushed. Wet hair dripped down her back. They retraced their path to her solitary cell. Once alone again, Amelia used a cheap plastic comb to detangle her hair in front of the plastic mirror next to her cot and toilet. The comb didn’t help. She used her fingers instead as a flood of questions floated to mind.

Had her attorney secured her bail?

Was this what she had to wear to her arraignment?

Why wouldn’t anyone tell her anything?

She had neither detangled her hair nor come up with answers to her questions before a different guard opened her cell door.

“Put your hands out,” the guard said.

The man handcuffed her and led her out of the cell. Just as before, a secondary guard awaited outside the door and walked with them as though Amelia were dangerous enough to need two armed officers escorting her through locked, empty halls.

That time, they walked in a different direction. She couldn’t recall if she’d been that way before or if she was walking toward freedom. The journey brought her past more people. She saw several other inmates, all wearing orange jumpsuits. They had far greater freedom than she’d had and were grouped together in common areas or in cells that housed several beds.

After navigating a series of locked doors and pass-throughs, Amelia was led into a garage bay. An oversized black SUV waited, the driver’s door open. A man the size of a mountain stepped out. He wasn’t her attorney. He was no one she’d ever met before, but the fury on his face and the storm in his dark slate eyes told Amelia his name before he opened his mouth.

When he did, it was a guttural growl that left no question as to who he was. “Get those fucking cuffs off of her.” Tension ticked in his chiseled jaw as she was unshackled. “Are you okay?”

She almost laughed. “I haven’t been okay in weeks—Camden?”

He rolled his lips together as though he were fighting back a hundred things to say, but he nodded. “I’m sorry it took this long for me to get to you.”

Tears blurred her eyes, and Amelia moved toward him. She wrapped her arms around his strong neck, stifling a sob, and let gratitude wash over her. She tried to say thank you. Genuinely, she tried to let go of him, but she felt like she was holding onto safety and sanity. He would keep her safe. He would protect her, just as he had the first time they’d spoken.

“It’s okay.” One hand cupped the back of her head as the other soothed the length of her spine as though they’d been friends for years. “I promise it’s going to be okay.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Thick sheets of rain poured down as Camden pulled out of the federal prison complex. The weather had only gotten uglier since he first arrived almost two hours before. The wait hadn’t been good for his attitude. They had certainly known he was coming, but the CIA didn’t care. They were there to screw around. He checked the mirrors and watched for tails.

He glanced over. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She rubbed the thin coat over her arms. He turned the heat up, but her rubbing her arms might have been a self-soothing technique as much as it was trying to warm herself.

“Where are we going?” Amelia asked.

He would take her anywhere she wanted, but he guessed the eventual destination would be her condo. “Wherever you want. Your home?”

She wouldn’t look over. Amelia rolled her lips together and gnawed on the bottom one, as though that might ease her apprehension. “Yeah. Sure. That makes sense.”

“We don’t have to go there. Somewhere else?”

“No, you’re right…”

He stole another glance. “Amelia, consider me your taxi. If there’s someplace else, just say the word. If you need to call someone and let them know where you are, tell me.”

Maybe she didn’t trust him. He certainly wouldn’t trust anyone if he’d lived through the bullshit she’d experienced.

“No.” She still chewed on her lip. “I don’t want to inconvenience you…”

Was she kidding?

“…but could we stop someplace for drive-through? I’m starving.”

He had to laugh. He’d been worried she didn’t feel safe, but she was hungry. He should’ve thought of that. The food in prison had probably been crap. “Of course.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about that.” They were still about an hour from Arlington. He recalled an exit with several options not too far away. “Burgers? Tacos? Subs? What are you feeling?”

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