Page 94 of The Saint

Somehow, the schmoozing came to Amelia almost as well as it did to Camden. Listening to herself was almost an out-of-body experience.

“I wonder if I’ve ever been to one of your productions.” Marissa raised her brows at Esme.

“If you haven’t, you—and your buyers—would…”

Esme’s words turned into static. Amelia laser focused on a man fixated on her. She was sure she knew that man. But she couldn’t see him anymore. He’d disappeared into the party. Where had she seen him before? The funeral? No. Maybe at the reception hosted by the Dumonts? Her heart raced. Her skin prickled with a warning. Someone was watching her. Camden needed to know. They needed to—

“Briana?” Camden asked.

Her long, feathery eyelashes batted. “I’m sorry—”

Another man—a scarier man—was speaking with the man she’d just seen. They both turned toward her. Amelia jumped back and ducked behind Camden.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Camden offered Marissa. “I think we need to get some air.”

Amelia glanced over his shoulder. Had that been the man who chased her that first night when life had turned upside down? But she didn’t see either man anymore.

“There’s a lovely rooftop garden,” Esme added. “Fresh air under the stars if you haven’t been upstairs yet.”

That was all the excuse Camden needed as Esme guided Marissa away with expert finesse.

“Cam, I—”

“Not here.”

She took his hand and threaded past the human sculptures and under the aerial acrobats. She didn’t look over her shoulder but could feel the men watching her. Or maybe she’d made it up in her head.Why would they be here?Beth had said the people who did the dirty work wouldn’t be at Esme’s party, only the people who employed them.

She tried to remember what they’d been wearing. Perhaps she could describe the men to Camden. But she couldn’t recall details. Maybe the problem was all in her head. The stress of the night, the made-up cover stories, and bondage art had tricked her mind into danger. Amelia’s stomach bottomed out.God.She’d screwed up a potential lead. Maybe Marissa was Hailey’s contact.

“Maybe I didn’t see what I thought I saw.”

“Don’t say anything yet.” Camden pressed her closer to his side. “Wait until we’re alone.”

A glass elevator with a uniformed operator carted them to the top of the three-story warehouse. They walked out into the cool air. Many guests had had the same idea as they did. Camden pushed them through a throng of people. His hand was at the base of her spine. Camden took her partially drained champagne flute and handed his and hers off to passing waitstaff with such elegant coolness that she could imagine him as James Bond.

She pushed onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his ear. “We need to leave.”

Worried, Camden dropped his gaze to her. “What did you see?”

“Beth was wrong.” Her gaze bounced over the large space.

The cold weather hadn’t kept most people inside. They gathered around the outside heaters surrounding a bar. Others were using the more secluded space to enjoy their private activities out in the open.

“I can’t be here.”

Camden checked their surroundings. His eyes skimmed over laughter and fornication, searching for what spooked Amelia. “Amelia, honey.” He caught her cheeks in his hands and forced her to focus on him. “What did you see?”

“The man who chased me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Camden tucked Amelia behind a trellis draped with fairy lights, silk, and ropes. He didn’t like his angle, but it was the best he could do to keep the elevator and the crowd in his line of sight. He could manage without a weapon. But his biggest problem was a lack of information. They hadn’t planned to visit the roof. Hell, he hadn’t known it was an option. Esme hadn’t provided them with the exterior schematic. No one had counted on Amelia blanching and all but falling out of her cover story mid-conversation. They’d stupidly convinced themselves she could simply defer to him in the event of a problem. Everyone had been wrong to let her do it, including him.

Her gaze swiveled from side to side.

“No big deal. We’ll head home.” He didn’t have his phone to signal the driver. Their extraction instructions relied on the valet and staff at the building’s entrance. Calling up their car wouldn’t take long, but Camden wanted her surer on her feet before they bailed.

Panic drained the color from her face. He followed her gaze to the elevator. A single man, tall and wiry, fitting the description Amelia had given that first night, scanned the opposite way they had maneuvered. “Okay. We have sight of him. We’ll avoid—”

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