Page 39 of The Saint

“What you did—how you held it together…” The corners of his lips quirked, and he side-eyed her as though she were remarkable. “You made an impression.”

Her jaw slackened. She blushed under his absurd gaze. He thought entirely too much of her. “I hid under a bed and tried not to cry.”

“Tomato. To-mah-toe.” He shrugged. “Not many people in your position would still be alive.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“So,” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had swallowed her up. “The safe-house plan works for you?”

Amelia’s skin tingled. “Really. I can’t ask you to sleep on the couch.”

“You’re not asking, and it’s where I’ve been sleeping anyway.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “You don’t mind?”

He half laughed and shook his head. “Not even a little bit. Promise.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go put your sofa back together and have a seat. Take as long as you need.”

“I can hurry—”

“Amelia.” He leveled her with a serious look. “Waiting on you isn’t some great imposition. Take a shower. Chill out. Blow-dry your hair or whatever. I’m going to put furniture back together and kick back until you’re ready.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Shit, babe, are you listening to me?I know. But I’m going to anyway.”

She crossed her arms. “‘No’ doesn’t usually work on you, does it?”

“No.” Entertained, his dark eyes brightened. “I usually get my way.”

A shiver ran down the back of her neck. “Noted.”

She turned toward the bathroom and discovered the army of agents hadn’t found it necessary to dump out her new shampoo or conditioner. They didn’t even touch her bath gels or soaps.

Ten minutes later, Amelia had lathered her hair into a soapy mound and dropped her head back into the steamy shower to let the bubbles wash away. She scrubbed her skin until it was pink, and when she could find nothing else to do, she lingered under the hot spray and tried to forget everything—at least for a few minutes.

Everything except for Camden.

He was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t the time to notice her savior had all the makings of an action-movie hero: dark tousled hair and smoldering eyes, muscles for days, and a jawline that could halt traffic. But that wasn’t what she’d first registered when he arrived to rescue her. Amelia clocked him as unflappable safety personified. After all, he was the boot-camp yogi, who had told her how to breathe while someone was trying to kill her.

She was registering him now. She couldn’t help it. He was a chauffeur-turned-real-estate-agent who was putting her couch back together after feeding her fast food. That was one hell of an original spin on the knight in shining armor, but that was what he was. But that made her the damsel in distress, and she wasn’t sure that title sat well with her.

Amelia turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a thick towel. Blowing out her hair didn’t take long, but then she took an extra few minutes to slather her arms and legs in lotion. Hehadsaid not to rush, and she wanted to luxuriate after her time in prison.

Packing her bag took longer than expected. She hadn’t factored in the ground search required to locate everything shewanted. By the time she returned to the living room, Camden was relaxed on her couch, and her living room didn’t look like a tornado disaster zone. Her eyes widened at the dramatic change. “Cam.” She spun in a circle. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s done.” The chairs had been returned to the dining room. The cushions and throw blankets were back on the couch. Framed pictures had been returned to the hooks on the walls. All her kitchen cabinet doors had been shut. It almost looked normal. He’d even propped up a picture of her and Hailey from the stack on the table. “Ready to roll?”

Amelia’s heart ricocheted. She picked up the photo. “Thank you.”

“That’s your sister?” he asked.

“Yeah. From my birthday party a couple months ago. We were at the beach.” They had worn matching wraparound sun dresses. “We always threw each other fun birthday parties. It was sort of our thing.” Amelia gave a watery smile and held the picture to her chest. Her eyes closed against the tears that burned them and clogged the back of her throat. “I’ll never have a family party again.”

But that might not be true. Hailey could be anywhere. They could have killed her like they did Jonathan—whoevertheywere—but they also might not have.

“What if she’s not dead?” she asked. “What if she’s out there waiting for help, and no one is looking for her?”

Camden inhaled and let it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

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