Page 38 of The Saint

Camden’s gaze swept through the room. “They were looking for something. That’s for sure.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Yeah. I get that.” He eyed her drawers hanging out of the dresser and the pile of clothes mounded on the floor. Some items had been scattered as though people had walked over her clothing and kicked away anything that had caught on their shoes. “Why don’t you pack a bag?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay at…”At Hailey’spopped to mind first. Amelia cringed. When would her mind stop jumping to Hailey as though her sister were an option? She squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Camden. “When will I stop thinking my sister is a phone call away? That I can just drive over to her house and stay in her guest room like I have a hundred times before?”

He avoided stepping on her clothes and moved to her side. Again, he squeezed her shoulder. Her chin dropped. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks. She couldn’t hide the tears anymore. They burned on her cheeks. She missed her sister, missed her life. “When will it stop hurting?”

His thick, muscled arms encircled her, and she folded into him. His hold was so safe. He was so warm. The steady beat of his heart was all the answer he offered. This guy wasn’t the typeto tell her to shake it off or to say the cliché bullshit that time would heal. For that, she was eternally grateful.

Finally, her tears stopped. But she wasn’t ready to pull away from the safe cocoon of his protective hold. “Maybe I’ll stay here and hide from the real world.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. Her smile curved against his sternum. She drew in a deep breath. He smelled peppery and masculine—which reminded her that she smelled like prison soap. Amelia jumped back, flustered and blushing. “Sorry. I need a shower in the worst way.”

He cracked a handsome grin that made his eyes shine with amusement. “I didn’t notice.”

She looked toward her bathroom, longing for a hot shower but terrified that they’d done as much damage in there as they had throughout her condo.

He seemed to read her mind. “You want to jump in the shower before we do anything else? How much could they do to your bathroom?”

Probably a lot.“If they dumped my soaps, I’ll lose it. That’ll be the straw that breaks me.”

“If they did, we’ll handle it.”

“You’re one of those can-do people, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am.” He sauntered over to the bathroom and flipped the light on. “It looks like the rest of the place.”

A dejected groan caught in her throat. “Really? What the hell?” She tipped her head back, trying to channel his can-do attitude, but remembered she’d recently been talked into a new shampoo and conditioner set that was supposed to be otherworldly. It had come with a price tag to match. “What about my shampoos?”

He craned his neck but shrugged. “Can’t see them. All right. This is the plan: You shower and pack a bag. They’ve put me up in a safe house not far from here. It has only one bedroom, butI’m sure the couch is a pullout, and even if it’s not, the couch is huge. I’ve fallen asleep on it almost every night I’ve been here. And there’s two bathrooms. You can have one all to yourself.” He studied her face. “You can trust me. I give you my word.”

He was about the only person on earth she trusted. But his offer was more generous than she had any right to hope for. He kept doing things for her—rescuing her from prison and then from her tossed condo. She wasn’t a taker and didn’t want to leech. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s an inconvenience for you.”

“It’s a safe house. It exists for the sole purpose of housing people when shit hits the fan.” He gestured to her clothes, mattress, and box spring. “It’s hit the fan, sweetheart.” He walked over to the windows, pulled her mattress back, and fixed the blinds, but there was no space for him to set the mattress up. Her dresser drawers were in the way. “You can’t stay here.” He returned it to the window. “Look, if you don’t want to stay where I am, I’ll leave you there and get a hotel room. No big deal.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. You should be somewhere safe.Like a safe house.”

She shook her head. Her life didn’t make sense anymore. “Why are you doing this?”

He almost laughed. “That’s a hell of a great question.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “It won’t make sense.”

“Ha. Nothing in my life makes sense. Try me.”

Camden paced around her piles of clothes and back again. He didn’t meet her eyes at first, as though trying to decide how much of what he wanted to say should be shared. “That first night that you called… I’d never heard someone so scared who still kept their composure.”

“I wasn’t composed.”

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