The Saint (Aces #7)

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington, Virginia

Rushing footsteps and panicked voices pulled Amelia Stone awake.

In the upstairs guest bedroom of her sister’s house, she pinched her eyes shut as though she could force herself back to sleep.

Rain pattered on the windows like fall-inspired white noise.

Just as she pulled the thick comforter up to her chin, drifting back to sleep, the sounds from the first floor wafted into her room again.

Worried voices? Fast-moving feet?

She propped herself on her elbows and squinted through the dark room.

It was barely illuminated by an overcast night and a crack of dim light that poured through the ajar door.

She’d watched a cheesy horror movie with her sister and brother-in-law before bed, and maybe that was why she heard—or thought she heard—voices from downstairs.

Any scary movie worth its salt started with pandemonium at home.

Amelia sat up in bed.

The sleep-soaked cobwebs in her mind slowly faded.

Hailey and Jonathan’s voices were clearer.

Though she couldn’t make out the words, the muffled sentiments rang out as urgent and problematic.

She crept out of bed, pulled a sweatshirt over her shorts-and-shirt pajama set, and opened the door an inch.

Even at their noisiest, Hailey and Jonathan Dumont were reserved and quiet.

“Hails?” Amelia stepped into the hallway and padded barefoot to the top of the staircase.

Are they fighting? She couldn’t fathom that.

“Guys, is everything okay?”

No answer came.

A shiver ran down Amelia’s spine and up her bare legs.

The house was a small colonial in a nice neighborhood.

They’d converted the first floor from a traditional layout to an open concept.

Their shared office space was the only closed-off area.

That Amelia suddenly couldn’t hear them was as worrying as their voices had been a moment before.

Amelia perched at the top of the stairs and couldn’t understand why the lights were out if Hailey and Jonathan were up and active.

“Hailey?”

The house was quiet again.

Amelia couldn’t see either of them from her vantage point at the top of the stairs and didn’t want to butt in if they were arguing.

But they never argued, and something about their tone was unnerving.

They weren’t angry or frustrated.

Were they anxious? Frightened?

She heard them again.

Amelia crept down a few stairs and pinpointed them in their office, but she couldn’t make out the conversation—and she shouldn’t eavesdrop.

But she couldn’t help it and tiptoed farther down.

“…they know…”

“…in danger… assets…”

“…missing… help…”

Jonathan’s rushed steps approached from the home office.

“They know, Hailey. And if they do, we’re in trouble.”

Amelia scurried up to the middle of the staircase.

She bit her lip then faced the unavoidable.

“Is everything okay?”

Jonathan stopped short at the base of the stairs.

He was almost panting and ran a hand over his face as though trying to get his act together.

It didn’t help. “You’re awake.” He cast a furtive glance out the slender glass panes framing the double doors of their home entrance.

She sank onto her bottom and held onto the banister.

“What’s wrong?”

If not for her sister and brother-in-law whisper-panicking in the middle of the night, Amelia would’ve thought they were debating the plot points of the night’s movie.

She’d never seen Jonathan anything but composed.

Affable and smart, her brother-in-law was the poster child for calm, cool, and collected—just like Hailey.

“Jonathan, what’s wrong ?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as though answers to the unexplained problem were painted on the insides of his lids.

The weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

For every second he didn’t answer, a cavernous, concrete-lined pit at the bottom of Amelia’s stomach grew heavier.

Finally, Jonathan clipped, “We’ve got to get her out of here.”

“Me?”

Hailey walked across the beautiful living room decorated with paintings and sculptures they’d brought home from work trips abroad.

She moved to her husband’s side.

Unfamiliar worry lines creased her forehead, and she bit her bottom lip much like Amelia was doing.

Their mannerisms were quite similar, though not their personalities.

Hailey was just as unflappable as Jonathan.

If she’d had an anxious moment in her life, her sister had known how to channel that emotion into a productive one—not Amelia.

When nerves and anxiety hit, Amelia felt it then buried it.

She wore it heavy across her chest like a secret cloak.

She might get the job done, but it wasn’t pretty.

“It could be a false alarm.” Hailey checked the slender window on the front door just as her husband had.

The tense lines that had creased across Hailey’s forehead deepened, belying that hope.

Jonathan’s lips pulled down.

“How did they let this happen? We’ve been so careful.”

“Powerful people with infinite resources,” Hailey mumbled.

“It’s always been a risk.”

Amelia tried to understand the cryptic conversation.

Jonathan and Hailey were two of the quietest people Amelia had ever known.

Hailey was a professor of art history.

Jonathan was a researcher for high-end auction houses.

They were smart, reserved, and not prone to hyperbole.

Maybe one of Jonathan’s high-end buyers was unhappy with a purchase.

Amelia had heard them discuss multimillion-dollar transactions.

She could appreciate buyer’s remorse after dropping as much as the annual budget of a small town on a single piece of artwork.

“You two are freaking me out.”

A long, dark look passed between Hailey and Jonathan, conveying a silent, terrifying message that Amelia didn’t understand.

Hailey’s gaze flitted from her husband toward the front door as though she could see through the heavy double doors and into the shadowy night.

“If we’re right, we don’t have long—we need help.”

Jonathan nodded.

“We’re right. Amelia needs to get someplace safe—”

Amelia’s eyes peeled wide open.

“It’s not safe here?”

“Not anymore,” Hailey whispered.

The fear in her face transformed into something Amelia couldn’t describe.

It was almost guilt—or sadness.

“I’m sorry we dragged you into this.”

“Into what ?” Exasperation had an iron grip on Amelia’s chest and continued to crank up the tension.

They ignored her. Hailey hurried from the foyer and disappeared into the unlit living room.

“This will sound crazy,” Jonathan said, “but you have to do what she tells you to do.”

Sound crazy?

Amelia was watching craziness unfold in front of her.

She replayed his words in her head but didn’t ask him to explain.

They wouldn’t. That much was clear.

Hailey returned with a permanent marker, adding another layer of what made little sense.

She rushed up the stairs and grabbed Amelia’s hand.

When her sister touched her, Amelia realized she’d been clinging to the railing.

Hailey pulled her down the stairs.

“Go out the back door. Get to your car—”

“Not her car,” Jonathan called from the shadowy office.

“And we can’t use her phone either.”

“You’re right.” Hailey paused but didn’t let go of her as she searched the dark foyer for answers.

“We have keys to the Callaghans’.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good idea.” Jonathan returned with a book tucked under his arm and what looked like a bank deposit bag the size of a pencil case.

He unlocked the zipper with a short, fat key and pulled out two cell phones.

“We check on their cat and water their plants sometimes,” Hailey explained as though any of her words could make sense.

“When they visit their grandkids out of state. And they’re always day-tripping.”

“You want me to wake your neighbors up in the middle of the night? And say what?” Amelia’s pulse punched in her neck.

She pulled her hand from Hailey, but her sister wouldn’t let go.

“No. Don’t wake them. Just go in and use their phone.” Hailey finally released Amelia’s hand.

“They have a landline. Check in the kitchen or living room.”

“Chances are,” Jonathan added as he walked out of view, “they won’t even be home.”

Hailey uncapped the marker with her teeth and scrawled a phone number on the inside of Amelia’s forearm.

“Go out the back door. Stay low. Go to the house across the street. The one with ferns on their front porch. Use their back door. Don’t turn on any lights.”

The ink dried on her arm, cool and chemically scented.

Her nose wrinkled as she stared at the numbers clearly written on her skin.

Jonathan returned with the book and a key chain.

“Leave this on any bookshelf, and use this key to get in their back door.” He indicated a single house key capped with purple plastic.

“Jiggle it if it sticks.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Amelia shrank from the key.

Everything would change if she followed their directions, if it hadn’t already.

“Call this number.” Hailey capped the marker.

“And say—you need to listen, Amelia. You have to repeat these exact words.”

Amelia tore her gaze from the key chain dangling in Jonathan’s hand to Hailey.

The desperation painted on her face made Amelia’s stomach turn.

She shook her head. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Why?” This has to be a nightmare.

If only I could wake up.

“If someone’s coming here, we should all leave. Or call the cops.”

Hailey didn’t acknowledge the reasonable options.

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.”

“What?”

“I can’t explain. You have to remember this.”

“No, I don’t—”

“ Amelia . Listen.” Gone was Amelia’s unflappable sister.

Hailey’s sharp expression was unfamiliar and dangerous.

“Say it. Repeat it. You need to remember this if you’re going to get us help. Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.”

Banana.

Light bulb. Chicken.

Heart?

“Say it!” Hailey smacked her hand on the railing.

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.” Her sister had never raised her voice.

Panic closed Amelia’s throat.

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart,” she managed.

“Good.” Hailey guided Amelia off the stairs.

“Remember those words in that order. Say it again.”

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.”

Hailey moved next to her husband.

“Call the number. Say those words. Tell them we need help. They’ll handle everything else.”

“Until they do,” Jonathan added.

“Stay inside, and stay put. Head down and away from the windows. No lights. No nothing. Wait until they say you’re okay.”

“They who?”

“Whoever answers the phone.” He stared at Amelia as though he wanted to push her out the door.

“Go. Now.”

Hailey stepped closer.

Her pinched lips rolled together as though too much had to be left unsaid.

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.”

“Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart,” Amelia repeated, defeated.

“Why can’t you come with me?”

“We have a duty to—” Hailey caught herself with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

“We just can’t leave. Not yet.”

Duty to what?

Serve? Honor? Protect?

They worked on antiques, on insured possessions owned by people who managed their own security and protection.

Hailey and Jonathan didn’t slink around in dark houses, whispering about danger and demanding Amelia break into someone’s house with a string of random words.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to do this. I’ll explain as much as I can later—and, Amelia, I love you.”

A strange noise caught their attention.

They froze for a nanosecond.

Jonathan moved first. He grabbed Amelia and dragged her toward the back door.

“Don’t turn around. Don’t look back. Get to the Callaghans’. Leave the book. Keep the lights off. Lock the door. Call the number. Tell them we need help.”