Page 95 of The Saint

“Oh God.”

His gaze shot back to the elevator as another man entered the fray. Camden couldn’t place him. “Who’s that?”

“I think he was at the Dumonts’ reception.”

Camden had a way with faces and couldn’t recall that one. “I don’t remember him.” But that didn’t matter.

“Or maybe when we went out to dinner. I don’t know.”

“All right. Take a deep breath. They don’t see us.” Possibilities rolled through his mind. The best-case scenario wasthat the second man was a federal agent, and he was tracking her pursuer. Worst-case scenarios were a much longer list. “We’ll leave and figure this out later.”

Shah and Parker would be able to do wonders with Esme’s guest list. No way had someone simply sneaked in.

She shook her head. “What if they have Hailey?”

“They don’t have her here.” He took her hand and snaked through the crowd. They stayed along the perimeter. Why the hell had he gone to the roof? “You keep an eye on the second guy. Let me know if he heads our way.” With his focus trained on the first man, they skirted around conversations. He pulled up short.

She clung to his arm. “What?”

The first man had pulled a hairpin turn and retraced his footsteps. He was moving quickly as if he’d gleaned information about their position.

“Cam—” She pointed the opposite way. “Guy two is angling our way.”

Fuck.“No problem.”

There couldn’t possibly be only one way on and off the roof. He assumed that, much like the dark hallways Beth had led them through, the exits and emergency doors weren’t lit. They existed. He just had to find them.

Both men were coming at them from different angles. He didn’t know what they intended to do when they got to Amelia, and he wasn’t about to find out. Camden beelined toward a table of men smoking cigars. “Anyone got a light?”

“Sure—”

He swiped a Zippo. Curses trailed as he pulled Amelia toward the bar. “Sorry, man.”

“Cam?What are you doing?”

“Keep moving with me, babe.” He strode by the bartender and searched the bar’s liquor shelf.

“What the hell?” the bartender demanded.

Camden ignored him, eyed the labels, and swiped two of the highest-proof bottles he could spot.

“You can’t—”

With one bottle in hand and the other tucked under his arm, Camden dragged Amelia again, with another trail of curses.

Both of the men who’d been tracking Amelia now spotted him. They rushed forward, knocking over people and tables. Smart party guests hurried away from the spectacle. Curious ones leaned into the drama and got in the way. But no one was in the danger zone when Camden pulled the pour spout from the first bottle. He handed it to Amelia. “Dump this behind us.”

Wide-eyed and terrified, she didn’t question him. Amelia turned the bottle upside down. He pulled out the second pour spout and did the same. They rushed between tables.

“Empty,” she announced.

Camden grabbed it and smashed both bottles on the cement tiles. “Run for the elevator.” He double-checked that their trail of liquor had avoided the partygoers, lit the Zippo, and threw it onto the shattered glass. It ignited with a whoosh. Fire licked over their liquor trail and danced. But it was only enough to create a distraction.

Camden ran toward her. Amelia had called the elevator. Its glass doors opened as he arrived. The operator jerked back as they jumped in. He caught the chaos behind them. Camden hit the button to close the door.

Amelia pressed against the glass wall as they closed in on the first floor. “That was him.”

“The guy from the first night?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

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