CHAPTER TWELVE
Thick sheets of rain poured down as Camden pulled out of the federal prison complex.
The weather had only gotten uglier since he first arrived almost two hours before.
The wait hadn’t been good for his attitude.
They had certainly known he was coming, but the CIA didn’t care.
They were there to screw around.
He checked the mirrors and watched for tails.
He glanced over. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She rubbed the thin coat over her arms. He turned the heat up, but her rubbing her arms might have been a self-soothing technique as much as it was trying to warm herself.
“Where are we going?” Amelia asked.
He would take her anywhere she wanted, but he guessed the eventual destination would be her condo.
“Wherever you want. Your home?”
She wouldn’t look over.
Amelia rolled her lips together and gnawed on the bottom one, as though that might ease her apprehension.
“Yeah. Sure. That makes sense.”
“We don’t have to go there. Somewhere else?”
“No, you’re right…”
He stole another glance.
“Amelia, consider me your taxi. If there’s someplace else, just say the word. If you need to call someone and let them know where you are, tell me.”
Maybe she didn’t trust him.
He certainly wouldn’t trust anyone if he’d lived through the bullshit she’d experienced.
“No.” She still chewed on her lip.
“I don’t want to inconvenience you…”
Was she kidding?
“…but could we stop someplace for drive-through? I’m starving.”
He had to laugh.
He’d been worried she didn’t feel safe, but she was hungry.
He should’ve thought of that.
The food in prison had probably been crap.
“Of course.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about that.” They were still about an hour from Arlington.
He recalled an exit with several options not too far away.
“Burgers? Tacos? Subs? What are you feeling?”
“All of the above?” she joked tentatively, as though testing out how much she could lean on him.
“How about subs?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He checked his side view mirrors then spent another moment studying the woman curled into a ball in the passenger seat.
Her lips were rolled together, pressed into a tight line as she stared out the window.
“Do you need to call someone?”
She shook her head.
“I paid an enormous amount of money for a lawyer. He was supposed to pass along a message to my business partner.” Barely raising her drooping shoulders, Amelia shrugged half-heartedly.
The woman was defeated.
Even her attorney didn’t have her trust. A small part of Camden itched to make things right in her world.
She continued, “It either got to Veronica, or all hell’s broken loose, and my company is in a tailspin. Not much I can do either way right now. It will probably be in a tailspin anyway. Who wants their corporate meeting planned by an accused murderer? Forget weddings or bar mitzvahs.”
Her bitterness was warranted.
Again, the niggling itch to fix her world scratched just beneath the surface of his chest.
“Maybe a friend?” he asked.
The corners of her mouth dipped as her frown tugged down.
She fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket.
“I don’t want to explain to anyone that I didn’t kill my sister and brother-in-law. Even people who know me would have to jump through serious cognitive hurdles to be okay with me. I mean, I was arrested. That doesn’t happen unless there’s a preponderance of evidence. At least, that’s what I used to think.”
Her flat affect worried Camden.
He stole another glance.
He couldn’t stop. She was tired—beautiful but exhausted, with the spark he’d heard over the phone beaten out of her.
“Let’s get some decent food in you, and if you change your mind, let me know.”
A sign along the highway came into view and listed fast food and gas stops.
He changed lanes and exited.
“Know what you want?”
“Turkey and cheese. As big as they’ll let you order.”
Well, she might’ve been quiet and staring out the window, but at least she still had her appetite.
He parked in front of the brightly lit sign.
“Anything else?”
“Bottle of iced tea if they have it. Lemonade if it’s just fountain drinks.”
“Be right back.”
The shop had no line.
Camden ordered, keeping a protective eye on their vehicle.
Another car pulled in and blocked his direct line of sight.
He rubbed the back of his neck and repositioned so that he could wait for their food and see her simultaneously.
He didn’t think the CIA would swoop her back into custody, but he never would’ve thought they’d arrest her for murder.
Shit happened. He would be ready for it.
His phone buzzed with a text message.
Beth’s name made him double-check on Amelia before reading the message.
She was staring blankly out the window.
His jaw clenched. Camden drew in a deep, angry breath and swiped his phone.
Beth: How is she?
“How the fuck do you think she’s doing?” he muttered.
Instead of asking that, Camden tried to come up with a more professional response but couldn’t.
In the end, he typed out his initial thoughts, F-bombs and all, and hit Send.
Beth: I want to meet with her.
He snorted. There was an absolutely zero percent chance he would let Beth anywhere near Amelia.
Camden: Are you out of your mind?
He had no justification for putting his foot down, but he did it anyway.
His boot would slam over and over until Beth understood she couldn’t get her deceptive claws into Amelia.
Besides, no way would Amelia go for a meeting with the people who facilitated her arrest. She was traumatized, downtrodden.
Her fiery spark was so dim that Camden worried it would stay dark.
Beth buzzed his phone again.
Beth: I’m out of town for the next three days.
I’ll arrange a meeting when I get back.
Camden: What part of “you’re out of your mind” said to you, “Hey, let’s consider this idea a go”?
Beth: I’m not the bad guy.
Camden: I could argue all day long that you’re wrong.
His order was called.
He pocketed his phone and picked up their food.
As the rain beat down, he jogged to the driver’s side, wondering when—or even if—he would find a good time to bring up Beth.
“Here you go. Twelve-inch turkey, toasted with extra cheese.” He handed over her bag and placed the drinks on the center console.
“And a lemonade.”
“Oh, you’re a saint.”
Camden snorted.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but that’s a first.” He unwrapped his Italian sub and folded the paper along the bottom half.
The rain drilled over the roof and windshield.
He gestured to the convenience store across the parking lot.
“Anything else before we go?”
“No. Thanks.” Her nervous gaze darted about the rainy night.
“If we’re not in a rush, you don’t have to eat while you drive.”
“I’m your chauffeur. We go wherever, whenever you want.”
“A chauffeur, huh?” Amelia played with the cap of her lemonade bottle.
“Who knew life’s luxuries were earned with a little bit of prison time?”
“I think you’ve earned that and a lot more after the government’s little stunt. You can probably put your attorney to work on damages and restitution.”
Amelia cocked her head and, after a long moment, put the lemonade back in the cup holder as though doing so took all her mental energy.
She stared into her lap then finally tilted her head toward him.
“What do you mean? What stunt?”
He stopped chewing then swallowed hard.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
“Why would the government owe me—I mean, I think they should. But why would anyone else?”
The sub paper crinkled in his hand.
The rain smacked. Every little noise stood out as silence rolled between them.
His mind jumped back to earlier.
She’d hugged him—she’d been surprised by him.
“Your lawyer didn’t talk to you?”
“I haven’t talked to my lawyer in days.”
His mouth went dry.
His mind drafted several new text messages to Beth that were infinitely less friendly.
“You mean… no one talked to you about this?”
“The guards had me shower and change out of my jumpsuit, and then they walked me out to you. No one said a word.” Her eyes widened.
“I thought my attorney bailed me out or something. And you… I don’t know… just magically appeared.”
“God. No.” Camden pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Amelia. You’re out of there. Done. As if it never happened.”
“But…”
“I’m positive there’s an army of CIA tech dudes scouring the internet to erase any trace that this ever happened.”
Eyes wide, her jaw dropped.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Dead serious. This isn’t even like a presidential pardon. This is erasing the past.” He threaded a hand into his hair, completely unsure where to begin.
He didn’t have specifics, only his marching orders after unleashing Jared Westin on Beth’s bosses.
“I can’t believe no one told you.” Camden laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
He thought she might smile or celebrate, but Amelia collapsed as though she didn’t have to hold up the weight of the world.
She twisted her fingers together and watched the raindrops splatter onto the windshield and roll away.
“I don’t know what to say.” She turned to him again, uncertain, and quietly offered, “Thanks.”
“I didn’t do it.”
The corners of her eyes tightened.
Her forehead tensed as she studied him.
After a long moment of scrutiny, her lips quirked.
“I think you’d say that even if you arranged the whole thing with the president.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Doubtful.”
She dropped her head back and drew in a deep breath as though catching her footing in life once again.
But then she froze, and the relief drained from her expression.
“Did they find my sister?”
He didn’t want to deliver bad news.
Part of him hated that she still held out hope.
Part of him admired her tenacious, albeit semi-delusional, faith that Hailey was waiting for rescue.
After all, a majority of his assignments involved rescuing people whose chances of survival were low to nonexistent.
Without question, he would find Hailey for Amelia.
He just wished he had some idea how to do that.
“Not that I know of.”
She nodded and sank in on herself.
The inside of the vehicle felt dark and lonely as she processed that.
Finally, Amelia picked up her sub and took another bite.
They polished off their subs without talking.
The engine and heater lowly hummed.
The rain blurred the outside world.
He didn’t know what else to say and broke the quiet by turning the windshield wipers back on.
“Do you care if I doze off while you drive?” she asked.
“Of course not.” Camden balled up his trash and took a long drink of his Coke before pulling back onto the road.
Two minutes later, Amelia was asleep, breathing softly as he cruised down the highway.
An hour later, they arrived at her condominium complex.
He was happy to see they hadn’t plastered her door with crime-scene tape.
Camden parked in the spot closest to her place.
Amelia slowly woke up.
“We’re here?” She wiped her eyes and glanced out the window.
“You’re parked in my spot… Which means my car is…?” She checked the other windows.
“Not here.”
“Five bucks and another sub says it’ll be here by morning.”
She laughed quietly, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“You’re optimistic.” Her face fell.
“I don’t have my house keys.”
“I’ll get us in without hurting your door if they locked it.”
“You don’t think they did?”
He shrugged, not trusting anything that had happened to that point.
“They probably secured it somehow.” Camden pulled out his wallet.
“Give me a minute.”
“I don’t think a credit card in the doorjamb will work on my deadbolt.”
He winked.
“Probably not.”
A minute later, pocketing a key-picking set, he returned to the SUV.
“Your palace awaits.”
“Really?” She blinked.
“Just like that?”
He nudged his head toward her door.
“Go see for yourself.”
She studied the front of her condo and pulled her lower lip into her mouth, nervously biting it.
“Will you go inside with me? Unless you have someplace else to be.”
That was the least he could do.
“Sure. I’m all yours. Whatever will make you feel safe.”
Amelia wasn’t sure what to expect.
They walked in the rain toward the front door.
Each step closer became heavier.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Even the front porch light was on.
But uncertainty danced in her stomach.
Rain slogged over her.
When she could almost touch her front door, she stopped abruptly.
Her heart raced. Grief roared in her chest. Panic paralyzed her legs.
She couldn’t move. She felt like walking inside would be a reminder of the domino fall of events that had ruined her life.
Camden rested his strong hands on her shoulders.
Like a powerful, protective force of nature, he remained behind her, not pushing her on or promising life would return to normal when she walked inside.
He simply stood there to support her.
Rain dripped down her cheeks and plastered her hair to her head.
He squeezed the tense muscles under his long fingers.
“Do you want to leave?”
Embarrassment and anxiety curled together and wound up her spine.
“This is so stupid.”
“It’s not. You’ve been through hell.”
She turned and lifted her chin.
His hands ran down her arms and fell away.
Rain poured over them, soaking through her coat.
“Why is this so hard?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head like life wasn’t fair.
Like he didn’t have an explanation.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
But she had nowhere and no one.
She didn’t want to see anyone and couldn’t imagine where she might ask him to take her.
Floundering in the middle of a rainstorm made her feel like a fool.
She wiped the water off her cheeks and shook her head, determined to push through her reluctance.
“No, I can do this.”
Without giving herself a chance to overthink the situation, she opened the front door and let them in.
“Oh God.”
“Holy crap,” he muttered.
She hadn’t imagined they’d trashed her place, but all her belongings had been strewn everywhere.
Amelia inched inside as though walking through a minefield.
Her stomach turned. She held out a hand to block Camden from viewing the disaster zone that used to be her cute condo.
“It did not look like this when they arrested me.”
He let out a long whistle.
“They absolutely wrecked your place. What the fuck?”
Tears sprang into her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She didn’t want him to think she was superficial enough to cry over tossed drawers and disheveled cushions.
“Let me look around before you go any farther.” He sidestepped her position by the door.
“I’ll do a quick assessment.”
What did it matter?
She could see the damage that had been done.
Amelia trailed her fingers along a wall.
They’d taken her pictures down.
The frames were partially stacked on a side table.
They’d opened her mail and left unorganized stacks next to the picture frames.
On the floor, someone had piled the books from the shelves.
“They really didn’t have to do this,” she told him as he returned from her bedroom.
“You have no idea,” he muttered.
“Prepare yourself. It’s a mess.”
Amelia walked into her bedroom.
The mattress lay against the wall.
The box frame lay over one of the two windows.
The blinds were up, and the lights had been left on.
Her neighbors would have plenty to gossip about.
Her pillows had even been removed from their cases.
She picked up a discarded pillow sham and held it out as if it might be contaminated.
“What was I hiding in my pillows? National secrets?”
Camden’s gaze swept through the room.
“They were looking for something. That’s for sure.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Yeah. I get that.” He eyed her drawers hanging out of the dresser and the pile of clothes mounded on the floor.
Some items had been scattered as though people had walked over her clothing and kicked away anything that had caught on their shoes.
“Why don’t you pack a bag?”
“Yeah. I’ll stay at…” At Hailey’s popped to mind first. Amelia cringed.
When would her mind stop jumping to Hailey as though her sister were an option?
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Camden.
“When will I stop thinking my sister is a phone call away? That I can just drive over to her house and stay in her guest room like I have a hundred times before?”
He avoided stepping on her clothes and moved to her side.
Again, he squeezed her shoulder.
Her chin dropped. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks.
She couldn’t hide the tears anymore.
They burned on her cheeks.
She missed her sister, missed her life.
“When will it stop hurting?”
His thick, muscled arms encircled her, and she folded into him.
His hold was so safe.
He was so warm. The steady beat of his heart was all the answer he offered.
This guy wasn’t the type to tell her to shake it off or to say the cliché bullshit that time would heal.
For that, she was eternally grateful.
Finally, her tears stopped.
But she wasn’t ready to pull away from the safe cocoon of his protective hold.
“Maybe I’ll stay here and hide from the real world.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. Her smile curved against his sternum.
She drew in a deep breath.
He smelled peppery and masculine—which reminded her that she smelled like prison soap.
Amelia jumped back, flustered and blushing.
“Sorry. I need a shower in the worst way.”
He cracked a handsome grin that made his eyes shine with amusement.
“I didn’t notice.”
She looked toward her bathroom, longing for a hot shower but terrified that they’d done as much damage in there as they had throughout her condo.
He seemed to read her mind.
“You want to jump in the shower before we do anything else? How much could they do to your bathroom?”
Probably a lot.
“If they dumped my soaps, I’ll lose it. That’ll be the straw that breaks me.”
“If they did, we’ll handle it.”
“You’re one of those can-do people, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I am.” He sauntered over to the bathroom and flipped the light on.
“It looks like the rest of the place.”
A dejected groan caught in her throat.
“Really? What the hell?” She tipped her head back, trying to channel his can-do attitude, but remembered she’d recently been talked into a new shampoo and conditioner set that was supposed to be otherworldly.
It had come with a price tag to match.
“What about my shampoos?”
He craned his neck but shrugged.
“Can’t see them. All right. This is the plan: You shower and pack a bag. They’ve put me up in a safe house not far from here. It has only one bedroom, but I’m sure the couch is a pullout, and even if it’s not, the couch is huge. I’ve fallen asleep on it almost every night I’ve been here. And there’s two bathrooms. You can have one all to yourself.” He studied her face.
“You can trust me. I give you my word.”
He was about the only person on earth she trusted.
But his offer was more generous than she had any right to hope for.
He kept doing things for her—rescuing her from prison and then from her tossed condo.
She wasn’t a taker and didn’t want to leech.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s an inconvenience for you.”
“It’s a safe house. It exists for the sole purpose of housing people when shit hits the fan.” He gestured to her clothes, mattress, and box spring.
“It’s hit the fan, sweetheart.” He walked over to the windows, pulled her mattress back, and fixed the blinds, but there was no space for him to set the mattress up.
Her dresser drawers were in the way.
“You can’t stay here.” He returned it to the window.
“Look, if you don’t want to stay where I am, I’ll leave you there and get a hotel room. No big deal.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not. You should be somewhere safe. Like a safe house .”
She shook her head.
Her life didn’t make sense anymore.
“Why are you doing this?”
He almost laughed.
“That’s a hell of a great question.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully.
“It won’t make sense.”
“Ha. Nothing in my life makes sense. Try me.”
Camden paced around her piles of clothes and back again.
He didn’t meet her eyes at first, as though trying to decide how much of what he wanted to say should be shared.
“That first night that you called… I’d never heard someone so scared who still kept their composure.”
“I wasn’t composed.”
“What you did—how you held it together…” The corners of his lips quirked, and he side-eyed her as though she were remarkable.
“You made an impression.”
Her jaw slackened.
She blushed under his absurd gaze.
He thought entirely too much of her.
“I hid under a bed and tried not to cry.”
“Tomato. To-mah-toe.” He shrugged.
“Not many people in your position would still be alive.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“So,” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had swallowed her up.
“The safe-house plan works for you?”
Amelia’s skin tingled.
“Really. I can’t ask you to sleep on the couch.”
“You’re not asking, and it’s where I’ve been sleeping anyway.”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
“You don’t mind?”
He half laughed and shook his head.
“Not even a little bit. Promise.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder.
“I’m going to go put your sofa back together and have a seat. Take as long as you need.”
“I can hurry—”
“ Amelia .” He leveled her with a serious look.
“Waiting on you isn’t some great imposition. Take a shower. Chill out. Blow-dry your hair or whatever. I’m going to put furniture back together and kick back until you’re ready.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Shit, babe, are you listening to me? I know . But I’m going to anyway.”
She crossed her arms. “‘No’ doesn’t usually work on you, does it?”
“ No .” Entertained, his dark eyes brightened.
“I usually get my way.”
A shiver ran down the back of her neck.
“Noted.”
She turned toward the bathroom and discovered the army of agents hadn’t found it necessary to dump out her new shampoo or conditioner.
They didn’t even touch her bath gels or soaps.
Ten minutes later, Amelia had lathered her hair into a soapy mound and dropped her head back into the steamy shower to let the bubbles wash away.
She scrubbed her skin until it was pink, and when she could find nothing else to do, she lingered under the hot spray and tried to forget everything—at least for a few minutes.
Everything except for Camden.
He was impossible to ignore.
This wasn’t the time to notice her savior had all the makings of an action-movie hero: dark tousled hair and smoldering eyes, muscles for days, and a jawline that could halt traffic.
But that wasn’t what she’d first registered when he arrived to rescue her.
Amelia clocked him as unflappable safety personified.
After all, he was the boot-camp yogi, who had told her how to breathe while someone was trying to kill her.
She was registering him now.
She couldn’t help it.
He was a chauffeur-turned-real-estate-agent who was putting her couch back together after feeding her fast food.
That was one hell of an original spin on the knight in shining armor, but that was what he was.
But that made her the damsel in distress, and she wasn’t sure that title sat well with her.
Amelia turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a thick towel.
Blowing out her hair didn’t take long, but then she took an extra few minutes to slather her arms and legs in lotion.
He had said not to rush, and she wanted to luxuriate after her time in prison.
Packing her bag took longer than expected.
She hadn’t factored in the ground search required to locate everything she wanted.
By the time she returned to the living room, Camden was relaxed on her couch, and her living room didn’t look like a tornado disaster zone.
Her eyes widened at the dramatic change.
“Cam.” She spun in a circle.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It’s done.” The chairs had been returned to the dining room.
The cushions and throw blankets were back on the couch.
Framed pictures had been returned to the hooks on the walls.
All her kitchen cabinet doors had been shut.
It almost looked normal.
He’d even propped up a picture of her and Hailey from the stack on the table.
“Ready to roll?”
Amelia’s heart ricocheted.
She picked up the photo.
“Thank you.”
“That’s your sister?” he asked.
“Yeah. From my birthday party a couple months ago. We were at the beach.” They had worn matching wraparound sun dresses.
“We always threw each other fun birthday parties. It was sort of our thing.” Amelia gave a watery smile and held the picture to her chest. Her eyes closed against the tears that burned them and clogged the back of her throat.
“I’ll never have a family party again.”
But that might not be true.
Hailey could be anywhere.
They could have killed her like they did Jonathan—whoever they were—but they also might not have.
“What if she’s not dead?” she asked.
“What if she’s out there waiting for help, and no one is looking for her?”
Camden inhaled and let it out slowly.
“I don’t know.”
Her chin dropped.
“They go after their asset. They don’t just leave them to drown if it can be helped.”
Another they .
There were so many unknowns.
“Whoever they are, they have gone through a lot to make the world think Hailey is dead.”
He didn’t disagree.
Amelia realized that he likely not only knew who they were but might work for them.
Camden had said they would stay in a safe house.
He was driving a big black government-issue vehicle.
They could all be the same people.
But he’d promised her she was safe with him.
Did she believe it?
Yes. She did.