Page 60 of The Saint

She tried not to pout. “It’s easier said than done.” Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m a little bit of a control freak.” That was why she’d wanted to let go and let Camden take on that burden.In bed. Heat rose to her cheeks. She wondered if he knew that. His index finger tapped against the Manhattan again as though he might have an inkling.

Their appetizer arrived. She spooned the cheese onto a toasted baguette—the screech of a fire alarm wailed. Diners gasped. Silverware clattered. False alarm or a kitchen fire? A moment of uncertain surprise hung in the dining room as everyone waited for everyone else to make a move.

“Sorry for the interruption—” the restaurant manager called between wailing cries of the fire alarm. Bright white lights strobed. He directed the room as though flagging a Boeing 747 into a terminal parking spot. “—proceed downstairs—” The alarm wailed again. “—apologize for—”

The diners nearest them stood. Camden caught Amelia’s arm. “Hang tight.” He scanned the room. For the most part, patrons shoved arms into jackets and gathered belongings. They fell into a single-file line down the stairs. One man was chugging his beer. Another shoveled dinner into his mouth. Most weren’t going to wait for the fire marshal to show up and announce they could proceed back to their soon-to-be cold meals.

Camden bucked the trend and ignored the single-file line. He moved to the wall by the front of the building and quickly peeked out the window. A strobe light spun above his head. Amelia crept to his side. “What are you looking at?”

“Trouble.”

She glanced at the window closer to her. Her heart seized. “Cam.”

Two men were watching the stream of restaurant diners flooding into the cold night. The roar of approaching first-responder vehicles intermixed with the fire alarm. Their lights colored the busy street, announcing their arrival moments before they screeched to a halt.

“Excuse me.” The manager hurried over. “You have to leave.”

Camden took her hand and hustled down the stairs. He stopped a woman coming from the kitchen as she pulled off a chef’s hat and on a coat over a kitchen uniform. “Two hundred bucks for your hat and jacket.”

She frowned but immediately took Camden up on the offer when he showed the cash.

“Put it on,” he told Amelia. “Quick.” He stopped a man wearing the same stained kitchen uniform and made the same offer.

Amelia pulled the white jacket over her clothes. It smelled of grease and food and had stains splashed on the sleeves. He did the same.

“Leave your jacket. Tuck your hair up.”

She balled it all under the hat and pulled it as low as it would go. They stayed close to the last group of kitchen workers and followed them into the back alley. For as large and tall as Camden was, he managed to disappear into the small group. Some joked. Others pulled out smokes. He made conversation with a man in Spanish. She ducked her chin. They filtered pasttwo men that stood like sentries searching for a woman on a date.

A fireman poked his head out the door they’d just stepped from. “Farther back. Farther back, people. Remember the drills from kindergarten.”

The horde of kitchen staff continued past the dumpsters. Some kept going. Others clumped up. Soon, they would stand out as impostors among the group. She glanced at Camden. Well, maybe not him. He had become one of the guys. How could he morph into another person in front of her eyes? Amelia stood out like a beacon of fear, with her stiff walk and inability to look anywhere but at her feet or Camden.

“Keep walking,” he said as though they’d been chitchatting easily the entire time. “Not too fast.”

She wanted him to take her hand or to pull her to safety.

“Good. Just like that. Right foot. Left foot.” He strolled by her side as they peeled off from the herd. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

Her boot-camp yogi was always looking out. They made it to the corner. He quickly scanned the street. “All right. Let’s ditch the kitchen scrubs.”

The scent of grease stayed with her as she handed him the white jacket. He stuffed them into a garbage can as they walked by, arm in arm, on the strangest first date, if it could even be called a date. The night had crashed and burned before it even started to get anywhere good. But she had learned major details on Camden. Most notably, he was a confirmed bachelor.

She didn’t know why that mattered. He would return to the Middle East. She would figure out how to kickstart her life again once Hailey was home safe. Whatever happened with Camden would be a fantastic distraction and would never lead anywhere.

She ducked her face into his strong arm and surreptitiously peeked at their surroundings. No one stuck out. Nothing out ofthe ordinary caught her eye—a sedan with tinted windows crept by.

“Chin down, sweetheart.” He’d seen it, too, and pressed his lips to the top of her head as though they were a couple out for a stroll. “Tuck your face close to me.”

“They’re looking for me.”

“Seems like someone is.”

The cold weather was their friend. It didn’t look strange as Amelia curled into his body. At the corner, they turned off the main street. Without the bright lights from businesses and headlights, they tried to disappear into the shadows along the residential block. Camden inched apart, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and made a call.

“We’ve got a situation.” Camden explained the fire alarm, the men stationed by the exits, and the cruising vehicle. “You’ve got my location?” After a long pause, he sighed. “New safe house. New ride.” He glanced at her. “I don’t think she should either.” Camden listened as they walked, and she wished the conversation was on speakerphone. “Got it. Thanks.”

He pocketed the phone.

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