Page 40 of The Saint

Her chin dropped.

“They go after their asset. They don’t just leave them to drown if it can be helped.”

Anotherthey. There were so many unknowns. “Whoever they are,theyhave gone through a lot to make the world think Hailey is dead.”

He didn’t disagree.

Amelia realized that he likely not only knew whotheywere but might work for them. Camden had said they would stay in a safe house. He was driving a big black government-issue vehicle.Theycould all be the same people. But he’d promised her she was safe with him. Did she believe it?

Yes. She did.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The oversized SUV maneuvered onto the narrow street in Del Ray Alexandria. Large trees, sparse with the remnants of brown leaves that hadn’t fallen, watched protectively over the parked cars and cute houses that sat sleepily on the cold, rainy night. Amelia watched as Camden circled the block.

“For all the evasive maneuvering tactics I’ve been trained on,” he said, “nothing helps when trying to park this beast in this neighborhood.”

He turned again and found a postage-stamp–sized parking spot. She had her doubts as he threw the vehicle into reverse, but with two quick moves, Camden had parked at the curb.

They stepped out of the warmth and into the blustery night. She immediately missed the close proximity to Camden. She felt they’d been sheltered safely from the world and stepping outside would ruin it.

He grabbed her overstuffed carry-on bag and led the way through the quiet neighborhood patchworked with small bungalows and craftsman houses. Some were brimming with personality, with art in the yards and windows. Others were neat and tidy without personality. But none of the homes were the same, forming a mismatched masterpiece far different from her boring condo complex.

“I’ve held events in Del Ray a couple times,” Amelia said as she kept pace with his ground-covering stride. “There are fun restaurants and bars to rent out for small weddings or corporate cocktail hours. Especially if the client is trying for a non-DC vibe.”

“I’ve never been here before. I just asked not to be in a swanky DC hotel.”

They walked up to one of the generic houses with the shades drawn tight on the windows. A No Soliciting sticker hadbeen placed above the doorbell. He turned the key in the door and led the way into the dark. Camden locked the door behind them and hung his keys on a hook. He turned on a light switch as they went in and dropped her bag at the bottom of a staircase. “Make yourself at home.”

Amelia did a quick inspection from the entryway. “As safe houses go, this seems to be what I’d expect.” The furnishings were generic and decidedly bachelor-pad–esque: sprawling leather couch, big-screen television. A football sat on a coffee table. Maybe he was a sports guy. “Did that come with the house?”

He laughed, scooped up the ball, and tossed it to himself before he turned on another light in the living room that opened into a kitchen. “It flew here with me.”

He flew here?Her debt to him was only growing. That was the moment she should thank him again profusely and excuse herself. He hadn’t signed up to socialize. Just to be her rescuer. This saint of a man had gone above and beyond to help when she had no one in her corner. Yet she didn’t walk away. She couldn’t. She felt a pull to learn more about him. “Where are you from?”

“I grew up in New Jersey.”

“Are you more of a Jersey Shore type or Hoboken?”

He tossed the football overhead and caught it. “What makes you think I’m either?”

Amelia shrugged and admitted, “Those are the only two places I know anything about. I took a shot.”

Gently, he lofted the football her way. Somehow, she caught it and marveled at herself, surprise widening her eyes.

His grin hitched. “Good catch.” Camden leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over a chest as wide as the northern seaboard. “I’m from a town north of Trenton—pretty industrial, where there’s not much except for hardworking people working harder than they probably should.”

He didn’t say those were his people, but she thought they were: hardworking and with an ethic that didn’t quit—the kind of moral code that would find her when she needed help. She ran her finger along the lacing of the football. “You and Hailey don’t work for the same people, right?”

“No. We’re… in the same orbit, but you couldn’t even call it the same industry.”

“You answered the phone number she told me to call.”

“Sometimes our assignments cross, but we have different employers.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. She couldn’t compare it to the way corporate event planning interacted with all industries. Or could she? She didn’t know enough about him to hazard a guess.

Outside, the wind picked up, and a low gusting howl smacked against the windows. She turned toward them. The pulled blinds blocked the view, but Amelia could imagine the large, nearly bare trees waving their branches as the storm picked up. Sheets of rain pummeled the house. It made her feel very alone with this larger-than-life man. He’d earned her trust, but she didn’t know if she’d made the right decision.

---