Page 96 of The Saint

“Yeah.” Her chin bobbed up and down as her long eyelashes fluttered.

For a moment, he thought she would fall apart completely. But then he saw she was the same woman from the first night and their date night. Amelia’s backbone was made of steel.

“Esme isn’t going to like that,” she said.

The elevator dinged as they passed the second floor. Camden laughed. “Neither is Beth, but I don’t care.” Getting Amelia out safely was his top priority.

The elevator opened. The lack of security blocking the way gave Camden another round of questions about the party they’d walked into with the CIA’s backing. Esme had sent them into a dead end.On purpose? And what the hell had those men intended to do?If they wanted to eliminate Amelia, there were easier ways to do that. They’d had a clear shot. The only possible answer was they’d wanted to grab her. Beth and Esme were the ones who’d given them the opportunity.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“This is not how tonight was supposed to go,” Beth announced when she walked into Camden’s safe house. She stopped short, staring at Amelia. “God, that dress and makeup is enough to make me stop what I’m doing.” She tilted her head. “Are you sure the two men who looked at you weren’tlookingat you? Given where you were and all…” She gestured from Amelia’s head to toe and back again. “You’re fresh on a scene that probably doesn’t get many new faces. And you’re gorgeous.”

“Give me a break, Beth,” Camden growled. “You sent us there. How much do you think I trust you at the moment?”

“If I was the problem, those men would have beenhereand not crashing a private party.”

“Private with a very exclusive guest list. So Esme is the problem.YourEsme.”

“No.” Beth shook her head. “Look. I’m just spitballing ideas, my friend. I don’t know if Amelia was spooked or too new to the scene. It could have been the dress.”

“Like I said”—his irritation rumbled like thunder—“give me a fucking break, Beth. That’s the biggest load of bullshit.”

Amelia didn’t like the pseudo-compliment or the way Beth downplayed the evening. Camden had literally set a fire. That wasn’t hysteria. She glanced his way. His scowl had deepened.

She rolled her lips together. “Why would the men who killed Jonathan and took Hailey be at Esme’s party? I mean, they’re looking for me. But why? They could’ve pointed a gun at me from a hundred yards away and killed me. They could’ve done that at the restaurant too.”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” Camden muttered.

“I don’t know,” Beth admitted. “I bet Esme would like to know as much as we do.”

“No, I’m pretty sure we care more.” He stopped and held out his hands. “Everything touching this situation has been a clusterfuck. It was before Titan was brought into this, and it hasn’t stopped yet. What the hell is going on with you people?”

Beth wasn’t fazed as Camden bore down on her. “If I had any idea—”

“No, Beth. You’re supposed to show up here with ideas. Things a little deeper than spitballed bullshit on Amelia catching everyone’s eye.”

Her phone rang. “It’s Esme. Can you cool your jets for a hot second, or do I have to go outside and freeze while I take the call?”

“Take the damn call.” He spiraled the football into the couch and stomped into the kitchen.

Camden rummaged through cabinets and drawers as if the answers to his questions were organized in Tupperware. He strode around the kitchen like a caged panther in a zoo.

“Cam.” Amelia waved him over. “Sit with me.”

At the very least, they could eavesdrop on Beth’s phone call together. Thus far, all Beth had said was “uh-huh” and “perhaps.”

He perched on the edge of the couch.

“Easy, cowboy.” Amelia laid a hand on his back, slowing running it up and down. It would be performative to remind him he was the reason she was safe. “Thanks for fighting the good fight against the CIA.”

His shoulder muscles tensed, and he glanced over his shoulder. “That’s not something you have to thank me for.” Irritation flexed in his jaw. The tendons on his neck seemed more pronounced. Camden glared at Beth as if he wanted to say more, but he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Beth ended the call and didn’t look more informed than when she’d answered. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Camden growled and leaned back on the couch. He crossed his arms. “Productive conversations don’t start that way.”

“Well, then, we’re on the same page before I even start.” Beth smiled. “Esme’s just as surprised as we are, and even more surprisingly, she’s not furious you tried to burn her building down.”

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