Page 35 of The Saint

“All of the above?” she joked tentatively, as though testing out how much she could lean on him. “How about subs?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He checked his side view mirrors then spent another moment studying the woman curled into a ball in the passenger seat.

Her lips were rolled together, pressed into a tight line as she stared out the window.

“Do you need to call someone?”

She shook her head. “I paid an enormous amount of money for a lawyer. He was supposed to pass along a message to my business partner.” Barely raising her drooping shoulders, Amelia shrugged half-heartedly.

The woman was defeated. Even her attorney didn’t have her trust. A small part of Camden itched to make things right in her world.

She continued, “It either got to Veronica, or all hell’s broken loose, and my company is in a tailspin. Not much I can do either way right now. It will probably be in a tailspin anyway. Who wants their corporate meeting planned by an accused murderer? Forget weddings or bar mitzvahs.”

Her bitterness was warranted. Again, the niggling itch to fix her world scratched just beneath the surface of his chest.

“Maybe a friend?” he asked.

The corners of her mouth dipped as her frown tugged down. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket. “I don’t want to explain to anyone that I didn’t kill my sister and brother-in-law.Even people who know me would have to jump through serious cognitive hurdles to be okay with me. I mean, I was arrested. That doesn’t happen unless there’s a preponderance of evidence. At least, that’s what I used to think.”

Her flat affect worried Camden. He stole another glance. He couldn’t stop. She was tired—beautiful but exhausted, with the spark he’d heard over the phone beaten out of her.

“Let’s get some decent food in you, and if you change your mind, let me know.”

A sign along the highway came into view and listed fast food and gas stops.

He changed lanes and exited. “Know what you want?”

“Turkey and cheese. As big as they’ll let you order.”

Well, she might’ve been quiet and staring out the window, but at least she still had her appetite. He parked in front of the brightly lit sign. “Anything else?”

“Bottle of iced tea if they have it. Lemonade if it’s just fountain drinks.”

“Be right back.”

The shop had no line. Camden ordered, keeping a protective eye on their vehicle. Another car pulled in and blocked his direct line of sight. He rubbed the back of his neck and repositioned so that he could wait for their food and see her simultaneously. He didn’t think the CIA would swoop her back into custody, but he never would’ve thought they’d arrest her for murder. Shit happened. He would be ready for it.

His phone buzzed with a text message. Beth’s name made him double-check on Amelia before reading the message. She was staring blankly out the window. His jaw clenched. Camden drew in a deep, angry breath and swiped his phone.

Beth:How is she?

“How the fuck do you think she’s doing?” he muttered. Instead of asking that, Camden tried to come up with a more professional response but couldn’t. In the end, he typed out his initial thoughts, F-bombs and all, and hit Send.

Beth:I want to meet with her.

He snorted. There was an absolutely zero percent chance he would let Beth anywhere near Amelia.

Camden:Are you out of your mind?

He had no justification for putting his foot down, but he did it anyway. His boot would slam over and over until Beth understood she couldn’t get her deceptive claws into Amelia. Besides, no way would Amelia go for a meeting with the people who facilitated her arrest. She was traumatized, downtrodden. Her fiery spark was so dim that Camden worried it would stay dark. Beth buzzed his phone again.

Beth:I’m out of town for the next three days. I’ll arrange a meeting when I get back.

Camden:What part of “you’re out of your mind” said to you, “Hey, let’s consider this idea a go”?

Beth:I’m not the bad guy.

Camden:I could argue all day long that you’re wrong.

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