CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The power had returned sometime after Amelia somehow fell asleep the second time.
The struggle was real.
If insomnia had been hard to deal with at home in her condo, it was damn near impossible to manage with a shirtless Camden sleeping in the same house.
She could still feel the kiss he’d placed on her forehead.
She’d gone her entire life without sparks exploding in her lungs like glittering fireworks—all that from a chaste good night kiss.
Well, it wasn’t that chaste.
Had she really asked him to stay?
Embarrassed heat rushed up her neck and swallowed her whole.
Daylight would cast an awkward blanket over them.
Amelia didn’t want to go downstairs and face reality or the dead-sexy man she’d semi-propositioned during a middle-of-the-night conversation.
Her cheeks burned. He deserved to be canonized if he didn’t breathe a word.
Amelia took a few minutes to procrastinate, snooping through the bathroom and closet, then she readied for the day, dressing and tying her hair into a loose, low bun.
After another scrutinizing glance in the mirror—nothing could be done about the dark circles that had taken permanent residence under her eyes—she crept downstairs.
The heavenly scent of coffee met her.
She scanned the living room.
A pillow and blanket were folded at the end of the leather couch.
Amelia inched farther away from the stairs and saw Camden hunched over his phone with a pen in one hand as he jotted notes on a small pad of paper.
“Good morning.” She beelined for the coffeemaker and the mug he’d set out for her.
She could feel his gaze.
The last night replayed in her mind a thousand times for every step she took.
“There’s tea bags in the cabinet if that’s what you prefer.”
“Coffee packs more of a caffeine punch.” She poured a cup, still not hazarding a glance at his face.
“Pretty sure I won’t function today without it.” Slowly, she turned around.
That intense, soul-searching gaze of his was locked on her.
Good God. His scrutiny was far more like a smolder.
“Did you sleep okay on the couch?”
“I can sleep anywhere.”
“I seem to have the opposite problem.” She opened the fridge and found it mostly empty.
Behind her, Camden walked across the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and held out two plastic bottles: sugar and shelf-stable creamer.
She took both. “Thanks.”
He remained nearby as she doctored her coffee.
“Any more nightmares?”
Nervous heat crawled up her neck.
“Nope.”
She girded herself for a serious talk.
Camden would set ground rules.
The biggest one should’ve been a no-brainer: She shouldn’t have asked him to stay with her.
Stay hadn’t been specific.
She could have just meant in the room, on the far side of the bed.
But with all the energy bouncing between them, what she’d said had been a lot .
“That’s good.” He returned to his place at the breakfast bar, a complete gentleman who didn’t mention a peep about anything from the previous night.
“There are protein and granola bars in there.” He gestured at a pantry door.
“Oatmeal and a couple other add-water-and-heat options.”
The butterflies in her stomach didn’t think that was a great idea.
They stormed around like metalheads in a mosh pit.
Still, she went through the motions of making apple cinnamon oatmeal.
As she moved to the microwave, Camden grabbed the football from the counter.
He paced. Her butterflies rioted.
The microwave beeped, and Amelia retrieved her breakfast and watched him pace.
His forehead was tight.
His eyes were downcast. Each toss of the football was executed from muscle memory.
She wasn’t sure he realized he was even holding the thing.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Camden turned and clapped a hand over the ball.
His long fingers flexed into the leather.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Well, hell.
Not only did he not want to talk about last night, he wanted her to meet someone, perhaps a shrink.
After everything she’d been through, a mental health checkup probably wasn’t a bad idea, but she wasn’t sure any therapist would believe a single word she said.
Maybe that was why she’d poured her soul to Camden.
She needed an outlet, and he knew the truth.
“Why are you making that face?” He lifted the football to his shoulder and, with a get-ready gesture, waited for her to raise her hands.
“Catch.”
She caught the soft pass.
“Do you want me to see a psychologist?”
His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t answer.
Instead, Camden clapped his hands together once and held them out.
“Back at me.” She gingerly threw it in his general direction.
He caught the ball and didn’t laugh at her awkward toss.
“That wasn’t what I was thinking of, but it probably isn’t a bad idea.”
“There’s not a therapist on Earth who will believe a word I say. They’ll gaslight me. I’ll get upset, and a vicious cycle will start.”
He laughed.
“Well, good thing I wasn’t going to suggest a psychologist.” He walked to the far side of the counter and tossed the ball again as though playing catch during a breakfast conversation was par for the course.
“Good catch.” He spun the ball in his hand and gave her an easy throw.
“There are plenty of therapists who will believe you. There’s probably more spies per square mile around here than anywhere else in the world.” He reached out and snagged her very bad throw.
“Or you can keep talking to me. Unlicensed. Untrained. But un- judgmental.”
Maybe he mentioned “un-judgmental” because of their late-night conversation.
Right then, she didn’t feel judged and wasn’t a tenth as mortified as she had been when walking into the kitchen that morning.
Maybe the coffee helped.
Maybe it was just Camden.
She chewed her lip. “Who should I meet?”
“A woman who worked adjacent to Hailey and Jonathan. They traveled in the same art circles and worked for the same agency.”
“Oh…” Her eyebrows rose.
She hadn’t been in the same vicinity of the person Camden might want her to talk to.
Amelia’s interest was piqued.
“Will she help me find Hailey?”
Camden twirled the ball in his hands.
It didn’t take someone well-versed in human behavior to see he wasn’t sure if Hailey was still alive.
“Maybe.”
“When do we meet her?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned.
“She’s not entirely bought into the idea of meeting you.”
“Why not?”
“She hasn’t said exactly, but I think she doesn’t see the value in it.”
“Why do you?”
Camden pursed his lips and tossed the ball to himself.
“It might give you some closure.”
Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Because Hailey’s dead?”
“One of two distinct possibilities.”
“What’s her name?”
“Beth.”
Beth sounded like a reasonable name for a reasonable person.
Amelia’s thoughts fast-tracked.
“I could tell Beth I’m willing to help find Hailey. She could put me to work, maybe track down whatever they’re working on. I wouldn’t even hold it against them that they tried to ruin my life to cover up their mess.”
His grin hitched.
“I can run that by her, but I don’t think it’s her call.” He set the football on the counter and eyed her uneaten oatmeal, which looked like gelatinous goo.
“Let’s walk down to Mount Vernon Avenue for breakfast.”
As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.
At least it was quiet enough that he wouldn’t have heard.
Going out for breakfast was one hundred percent better than cold oatmeal and anything else their safe house might have stocked.
Amelia had learned several things about safe houses since her arrival.
First, not every safe house was built like the ones in the movies.
Theirs didn’t have a generator that kicked on, nor did it have a security system of laser beams and motion-activated security cameras.
The doors and windows looked industrial-strength but weren’t hard to open.
Second, the cabinets were packed with shelf-stable food that probably wouldn’t be a culinary delight.
Third, many weapons and tactical things were shoved into and secured in various hidey-holes, crevices, and drawers.
She’d never been inches away from a gun before and had no idea how many varieties of knives were available.
The bathroom mirror cabinet had bathroom-sized weapons just like the bedroom closet had closet-sized weapons.
All of that, she learned after quickly snooping before getting ready and finding what was, according to her best guess, some kind of shotgun that could immobilize a rhino.
It seemed to her that Camden could have mentioned the firepower casually shelved within arm’s reach of probably every room.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t something he thought much about.
They stepped out the front door, and Camden breathed in the crisp air that carried the scent of sunshine and cold weather.
Sunbeams streamed through the bare trees.
Wet leaves carpeted the street and sidewalks and were plastered over parked cars.
He placed a hand at the small of Amelia’s back as he guided her in the right direction.
They meandered toward Mount Vernon Avenue.
A light wind picked up as his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Camden knew it would be Beth before he saw her name.
Beth: Who are you and how do you have so much influence over what I do?
After Amelia spitballed the idea of looking for Hailey, Camden had decided he wasn’t above asking for favors.
That Boss Man enjoyed pulling rank over people at the CIA was simply a bonus.
He held up his phone.
“We have our meeting.”
Amelia stopped short.
Her eyebrows arched.
“With Beth?” Her smile made her dark eyes sparkle.
“I knew she’d be open to help.”
“ Open might be a stretch, but she’s going to meet us.” He typed a short response to Beth.
“We can get our breakfast to go.”
An hour later, Camden pulled into a Fairfax County neighborhood that looked ordinary and boring, and it was except for the CIA property at the end of a cul-de-sac.
“Here we are.” He slowed as the GPS announced their destination.
Tall pine trees wrapped around the backyard of a small house intentionally made to be forgettable.
Nothing about it was interesting nor ignored.
The landscaping was generic, the grass trimmed.
The drapes hung closed, and the porch light was likely on a timer.
The house would have the lore of suburban gossip.
Maybe neighbors recalled an older couple had once lived there.
Perhaps the house had been stuck between two parties litigating an unending divorce.
No one in the neighborhood would be able to remember names or faces, and more importantly, no one would ask questions because the HOA bills were paid on time and the grass never grew too long.
Camden’s black SUV with government plates would likely raise an eyebrow or two if anyone was home to notice.
But it was the middle of the workday on a tiny cul-de-sac.
Whoever saw his government plates would forget by the end of the day.
He parked in the driveway next to Beth’s Lexus.
“Is Beth nice?” Amelia asked.
He considered. She presented herself as nice, but Amelia might not know what he meant.
Camden decided to answer with a warning.
“She’s a spook. Trained to manipulate people. So take anything she says and you feel with a grain of salt.”
“Do you trust her?”
He scoffed.
“Absolutely fuckin’ not.”
Amelia laughed at his honesty.
“All right, then. Good to know. Let’s meet Beth the Spook.”
From the moment he told Amelia about the meeting with Beth, she’d perked up.
Amelia had walked faster, talked faster.
Her cheeks had more color, and her voice had a hopeful edge that made him nervous.
She wouldn’t get from Beth what she imagined she might.
The urge to repeat his warning hung on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short.
Amelia would be able to see through Beth’s song and dance.
They approached the front door.
He didn’t bother to knock and walked inside.
“We’re here.”
The house was furnished as generically as the exterior had been maintained.
Looks were deceiving though, and he bet bells and whistles were staged throughout the space to ensure its occupants’ safety.
Beth walked from the living room.
Camden lifted his chin to say hello.
As though her last text message hadn’t said to screw off, Beth smiled like a queen welcoming them into her castle and strode with her hand outstretched.
“Amelia.” She was warm and personable and scarily likeable.
“It’s really great to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Amelia replied, though she didn’t match Beth’s level of bullshitting bluster.
“Would you like coffee?” Beth guided them toward the kitchen.
“I brought pastries from one of my favorite little places. The almond croissants are my favorite, but you can’t go wrong with the coffee cake muffins.” She gestured to a platter awaiting their arrival.
“They’re made with oranges and are pretty much an excuse to eat cupcakes for breakfast.”
Amelia hovered by the counter and barely glanced at the spread on the table.
“We just ate.”
Beth shrugged happily, playing the part of the happy homemaker putting on a domestic show.
“More for me.”
Camden eyed Beth and Amelia.
He compared the two women.
He shouldn’t have, but his brain categorized them before he could focus.
They were both type-A and driven, successful in their arenas, and they were memorably, distinctively attractive, but that was where the similarities ended.
If anything, they were opposites.
Beth wore fancy high heels and clothes that cost a small fortune.
Amelia wore simple flats and jeans that Camden couldn’t steal his eyes from.
Beth’s hair seemed to laugh in the face of the recent rain and humidity.
Amelia had tied her smooth, dark hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck.
“You worked with Hailey and Jonathan?” Amelia asked, not wasting a moment of time.
Beth angled her head.
Her eyes cut to him and back to Amelia when he didn’t meet her inquisitive gaze.
“We traveled the same circles, but no. Our assignments didn’t intersect.”
“Do you consider yourself friends?”
“Sure. I did. They were great people.”
Camden noted how Amelia spoke in the present tense and Beth in the past. That made sense, but the distinction made him uneasy.
Mistrust darkened Amelia’s eyes.
“I thought I’d met most of their friends. My sister and I are really close.”
A model of patience, Beth nodded with a perfectly crafted empathetic smile.
“My job is very different from theirs.”
“How so?”
“I socialize. I flirt. I meet people and establish myself as someone who knows a thing or two about art and history.”
“That’s how you know Hailey and Jonathan?”
Beth nodded.
“They taught me a great deal and have saved my ass when I was in way over my head.” For the first time, her expression didn’t look expertly crafted for maximum manipulation.
“I’m really sorry for your loss.”
Amelia stepped back and bumped against the counter.
He wondered how many times she’d heard that phrase and how many times her mind had kept her from screaming that Hailey was only missing and not dead.
“You okay?” Camden asked under his breath.
She nodded, not keeping her voice as low as his.
“I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
Sympathy registered on Beth’s face.
That was the second time he believed her expressions since they arrived.
“I have problems sleeping too,” Beth admitted.
“Nightmares.”
Amelia’s cheeks paled unevenly.
He could see her pulse dance in her neck and didn’t know if sadness or fury was to blame.
She turned toward him.
“Could we talk?” With a nod toward Beth, she added, “Privately.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Maybe taking Amelia there wasn’t his best idea.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I can step out if you like.” Beth pushed her perfectly coiffed hair behind her ear and smiled reassuringly.
“Or, if there’s anything I can do—”
“There’s not.” Amelia backed from the kitchen and beckoned him toward the front door.
Beth remained unfazed, keeping pace with Amelia’s retreat.
“I’ll step into the living room and let you two have the kitchen.”
“I’d rather go for a walk.”
“It’s freezing outside.” The corners of Beth’s eyes tightened.
“And I think it’s supposed to pour again soon.”
He glanced out the living room window and noted the much darker skies.
Beth wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not going to melt.” Amelia’s eyes bore into Camden.
“Will you?”
He laughed.
“Nope.”
Beth moved ahead of them and opened a closet door in the foyer.
“I’m sure we have an umbrella around here somewhere.”
“Stop. I don’t want anything from you.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
If Camden hadn’t known better, that edge of paranoia in Amelia’s words would have caught him off guard, but she was well within her rights to not trust Beth.
“Don’t worry about an umbrella. We’ll be fine.” He took a backward step and bypassed Beth as she had the audacity to look offended.
“Let’s roll.”
Beth laid her hands on her hips.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Amelia made him proud by suppressing what had to be a monumental eye roll, though as she passed, she tacked on, “You’d be shocked to hear all of the ridiculousness I’ve put up with lately.”
Camden had a good idea how done Amelia was with Beth and the CIA.
That didn’t bode well for her hopes of working together to find Hailey.
They walked out the front door as the first fat raindrops fell again.
He was exhausted by the weather and wished for Abu Dhabi’s warmth.
Camden eyed Amelia’s shirt and shoes.
Neither would do well in the rain.
“I’ll grab your coat.” He headed toward the SUV.
“I don’t want it.” She trudged over the lawn.
“I just want to clear my mind.”
“Guess the wind and rain will do that.” He jogged to catch up.
His arm itched to wrap around her, as though protecting her from raindrops would make everything better.
“What’s the matter?”
Amelia didn’t seem to notice the rain.
“Are you concerned she was wearing a wire? That the house is bugged?”
She stopped abruptly.
“No. That never occurred to me. Why would she—” Amelia shook her head.
“God, why am I dealing with this insanity?”
The rain rolled over them.
“But you won’t stay inside or take Beth’s umbrella?”
“I just wanted to leave. I didn’t want to touch anything from her or the CIA . It couldn’t be any clearer that she thinks Hailey is dead, and it felt stupid to ask about helping find her. I mean, Jonathan is dead, and I can’t process that yet.” She balled her hand into a fist and looked like she might scream or cry—either one would work for the situation.
“I miss them both so much. All while Beth is buying the perfect pastry, talking about how great they are. I wanted to strangle the smile off her face.”
“Beth isn’t the enemy.” Though he agreed she could have taken her picture-perfect persona down several notches.
The CIA’s involvement wasn’t making Amelia’s grief any easier.
“She’s a tool in your arsenal. You can use her to get what you need.”
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been giving Amelia hope.
Camden ran a hand into his wet hair as rain soaked his shoulders and his clothes clung to his back.
“I need to keep walking.”
He nodded and kept by her side.
The rain poured over them.
They reached the top of the cul-de-sac.
Her head dipped back, and she stared at the clouds.
“Cam, when will this get easier?”
He’d never lost a loved one.
He’d never had to deal with the unknown.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” Not having the answers made him feel helpless.
The only thing he could do was help her regain her composure and get her out of the rain.
Little droplets ran down her cheeks and caught on her eyelashes.
“Do you want to keep walking or head back?”
Amelia wiped rain from her face and headed down the cul-de-sac toward the main road.
“I want to find my sister.”
If her sister was still alive.
Given the amount of time that had passed, what had happened to Jonathan, and the crazy way Amelia ended up in prison, he didn’t think Hailey’s survival was possible.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” She yanked him to face her.
“ I want to find her. As in physically.” She released him and gestured blankly toward the rain-slicked street.
“I want to search for her. Look at places they think she could have gone.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Even ignoring the level of danger she was asking for, no evidence existed that Hailey was alive.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Tell me what to say to Beth to make it happen.”
The more desperation he saw in her eyes, the more he wasn’t sure Amelia needed to gallivant around the CIA’s backyard, searching for a missing asset.
“There’s no telling what—”
“Camden, please.”
“You need to understand what happened leading up to that night.” He didn’t have permission to explain, and she didn’t have clearance.
Yet there he was, about to open his mouth because he couldn’t stand her radiating pain.
“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘NOC list’?”
She shook her head.
“Essentially, it’s a list of agents and their covers. It identifies who is undercover and who they are in their everyday real lives.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m not privy to its reach or the damage or how much is still unknown, but…” He really needed to shut his mouth.
“But what?”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“A couple of weeks ago, a NOC list hit the black market. An unknown NOC list. No one knew what was on it or who had access. Hell, I don’t even know if everyone took it seriously at first.”
“It was obviously serious,” she said bitterly.
“I’m saying all this because the level of unknowns was— is —astronomical. We don’t know what Hailey and Jonathan were working on, but it was enough to kill for.”
She looked completely unmoved.
“This isn’t like an episode of CSI or Without a Trace . You can’t follow a lead and find an answer. It’s not that simple.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” She crossed her arms.
That indifferent expression morphed into one that was somewhere on the scale between indignant and pissed.
His stomach bottomed out.
“What? No.”
“I never suggested it was simple. I just want to discuss it.”
Clearly, he’d made a misstep and needed to get better footing in the conversation.
“What I’m saying is—” He took a deep breath.
“I’m telling you Beth will shoot you down.”
“Why?”
“At the most basic level? You’re untrained.”
“They put me in prison. Clearly ,” she tossed back at him, “they think I can handle some level of danger.”
“There were guards, and you were in solitary confinement.”
She twisted her lips as the wheels kept turning.
Amelia wiped water off her cheeks.
“What if you help me too?”
A wild goose chase for a dead female asset that the CIA hadn’t turned up?
With an untrained woman who was garnering more and more of his attention in very unprofessional ways?
No. Absolutely not. It would be the kind of huge mistake that had earned him the reputation for being impulsive.
“Depends.”
Her face lit up, and Camden felt that in his soul.
She didn’t wait for him to backtrack and turned them around, pulling him back toward Beth.
They walked into the house.
Fluffy white towels waited for them on a console table by the front door.
Beth thought every situation through.
It was good to know she was always thinking of the next steps, possible reactions, and their ramifications.
She was tenacious. That was probably one of the qualities that made her good at her job.
If she wasn’t already on her way to being a CIA handler, he bet it would happen soon enough.
He wasn’t sure how well Amelia’s ask would go, but at least Camden wouldn’t be the one shutting it down.
“I started a fresh pot of coffee,” Beth called from the kitchen.
“Of course she did,” Amelia grumbled.
He snickered. Beth was like some kind of lethal version of a prep school PTA president.
Once again, he found himself comparing the two women.
Amelia was actually the tenacious one.
If Beth was an always-scheming PTA caricature, Amelia was positioning herself as David versus Goliath.
But who was Goliath?
The CIA? The group who murdered Jonathan and abducted Hailey ?
Both, probably.
Amelia untied her bun, rubbed the towel over her hair and shoulders at lightning speed, and sped off toward Beth while he was still wiping the rain off his face.
Shit. They should’ve thought out their request. The wording would matter.
It almost had to be Beth’s idea.
They needed to know all the angles and dangers already and have a plan to overcome them.
He needed to channel his inner Liam Brosnan.
Camden’s team leader did that in his sleep.
It was the first time he’d ever wished Liam’s cautious forethought was one of his own qualities.
He followed Amelia into the kitchen and saw Beth eyeing her, sensing they were about to drop a burdensome request. Still, true to form and nailing her PTA-president performance, Beth greeted them with a lift of the coffee pot.
She poured it into three waiting mugs.
“How do you take your coffee?”
“I want to help find my sister,” Amelia answered.
Beth set down the pot with unreadable detachment.
Her bright smile remained in place as though Amelia had asked about field-trip duty.
“If you tell me what Hailey was working on, I’ll jump in. Just hand me a list of everything you know.” Amelia squared her shoulders.
“I’ll tell you everything I find out. I just want to find her.”
“Even if I knew what she was doing, her work was classified.”
“I’ll swear on a Bible or sign my name in blood. Whatever it takes to—”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Beth almost masked her condescension.
Camden picked up on the thinly hidden superiority and was positive that would only fuel Amelia’s fire.
“And even if it did,” Beth continued, “I don’t have time to help you. You can’t just go into the field blind, without training, and—”
“Camden said he would help.”
Beth’s lips flattened before her gaze swiveled, eyes fiercely challenging him.
“Did you?”
He grinned, thinking Beth’s head might explode.
“I can do the heavy lifting, and I’m sure Titan could work out the classified part.”
“As if it’s that simple.”
“Sometimes it is.” His flippancy was just enough to balance Beth’s condescension.
The truth was that he had no idea if Boss Man would sign off on a wild goose chase, but Beth didn’t know that.
She also seemed to hold Jared in untouchable regard.
That would work in Camden’s favor.
Beth blinked slowly and took her time to calculate a response that said no way.
“We could call Jared now,” he offered.
“I bet we could…” Beth let out a deep breath and turned toward the cabinets.
“Let see if this place has some peppermint schnapps or something. Because everyone in this room will need it.”