CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Amelia didn’t think it was possible to share a bed and have breakfast with Camden and remain immune to his charms. She woke in the warm embrace of his thick muscles.
His sleepy grin made her stomach flutter right before he gave her a morning kiss that could melt diamonds.
Her belly flips were on maximum volume all day long, even when she and Camden visited her condo for new clothes.
They couldn’t simply show up at her condo.
If people were tracking her, they likely had her condo under some kind of surveillance.
She checked over her shoulder.
They had parked in a neighboring parking lot and sneaked to her unit through the strip of grass that backed the building.
“Why didn’t they show up when we were here last?” she asked.
“Don’t know.”
Camden never sounded worried.
Even when he armed himself before leaving for her condo, he was still relaxed.
Amelia unlocked her front door and let him inside first. Everything looked just as it had when they left before—not exactly up to its pre–search-warrant glory but headed in the right direction.
He flipped a light switch and checked his wristwatch.
“All right. In and out in five minutes or less, right?”
She shuffled past him.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
His heavy footsteps followed her into the bedroom.
Amelia grabbed an overnight bag.
“Wait.” He poked his head in the small walk-in closet.
“You have to have something bigger than that.” He pulled a large suitcase off a shelf.
“Fill this bad boy up with everything you can.”
That was her huge suitcase, the one she took on long vacations or shared with Hailey on a girls’ weekend getaway.
“I don’t know if I need all that space.”
“Beth is going to show up with designer dresses and crap for Esme’s party. You probably want your own”—he raised a shoulder—“girl things.”
Amelia wanted killer lingerie and thigh-high stockings.
What she had was Spanx.
Those would be needed, though.
She took a quick mental inventory of her closet.
It wasn’t all boring and practical.
She had jeans that made her butt look cute, especially if she wore her new black boots.
And there was that V-neck shirt that dipped farther down than she realized when she purchased it.
She hadn’t worn that anywhere, but she suddenly had a reason.
Camden checked his watch again.
“Just shove everything in, and let’s roll.”
Amelia swept her sweaters and shirts off their hangers then cleared out her jeans and pants, packing haphazardly.
She took more time with her underwear and bras because she would die before bringing the bra that should have been thrown away a year before or the droopy cotton undies.
She packed a small selection of hair and makeup products but none that she would be heartbroken over if they had to abandon it like the bag left at the last safe house.
“One minute,” Camden announced.
She tugged the zipper shut on the mishmash of belongings.
Camden took the suitcase as though it were empty, and she followed out the front door, which she relocked quickly.
They retraced their steps behind her condominium and to the neighboring complex’s parking lot.
They had gotten in and out in less than ten minutes.
“I’m curious if anyone would actually show up.”
He eased them out of the parking lot.
Humming, he arched his eyebrows, seeming to play out the possibilities.
“Let’s find out.”
They pulled into her complex and backed into a parking spot diagonal to her unit.
She could barely see the front door, but that didn’t matter.
Two black sedans with tinted windows screeched into the parking lot.
They didn’t bother to park in a space and blocked several cars in.
Men jumped out and rushed toward her front door.
“That answers that.” Camden used his phone to snap a few pictures.
“Duck down.” He cruised out of the parking lot without attracting notice.
Amelia stayed down but turned and watched through the back window.
Four men opened her door—they had a key?
—and hurried inside her home.
She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if she’d been home—nothing, if she was being honest. Her against four of them?
They didn’t have search warrants.
They had their own set of keys to her house.
Her stomach roiled.
Not until they reached the highway did she finally felt the nausea disappear.
“Those weren’t cops.”
“Nope.” His jaw worked from side to side.
“You know what we never considered?”
She’d thought of hundreds of things and wondered what she had missed.
“I don’t know.”
“We assumed law enforcement left your place like we found it. That they tore it up while serving their search warrant.”
Amelia bit her lips.
“But it could have been those people.”
“They’re looking for you, but…” He checked his rearview mirror for the hundredth time.
Maybe he’d seen something that raised his hackles.
“Why? Because you know something? Witnessed something?”
She nodded.
“But maybe they’re looking for something you have.”
“Like what?” Amelia bit her lip.
Camden drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Do you have keys to Hailey’s?”
“Not anymore. I have all my keys on one ring, and when they impounded my car—” She shrugged.
“I haven’t seen it since then.”
“We need to get your car back,” he pointed out.
“We need to get my life back.” She wrapped her arms over her chest.
The downside would be losing Camden.
Once everything was safe and normal again, he would move on.
Knowing that and understanding that were two different animals entirely.
She would have a crater in her chest when he left.
The highway road noise thundered around them.
She wondered if he was thinking about the same thing.
This was his real life—swoop in, save the day, be on his way.
Amelia hadn’t thought about work or—“Oh crap.” Her stomach bottomed out.
“What day is it?”
“Tuesday. What’s the matter?”
She tried to think back to her calendar, to the last update she’d had on Jonathan.
She’d been playing pretend this entire time when real life should have been calling.
She didn’t want to do everything alone.
Honestly, she didn’t think she could go on without Camden’s help.
“I need to ask you a favor that’s not easy to say no to.”
He glanced over then checked his mirrors again.
“I’m pretty good at saying what I need to.”
“Jonathan’s funeral is tomorrow. Would you go with me?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I go with you?”
She didn’t want to bury her brother-in-law.
Emotion clogged her throat.
“People think I murdered him. Not to mention that I’ll be a crying, snotty mess.”
“Forget the fact that it’s my job to be with you. Of course I’ll go. And fuck what people think.”
The pictures Camden had taken at Amelia’s condo didn’t yield answers.
He’d sent the shots to Parker and Shah.
Neither had been able to identify the men.
The vehicles had been rentals.
The rental applications had been secured with cash and fake identification.
The two men who had picked up the rental cars from Dulles International Airport had spent a fraction of their time on security footage.
Their faces had been obscured, and they had left no record of how they’d arrived.
They were good. Professionals of a caliber that made Camden’s skin crawl.
His phone chimed. Liam’s name was illuminated on the screen.
Part of Camden missed being home with his teammates.
Part of him was scared Liam would pull him off the job.
After all, they weren’t being paid.
He honestly wasn’t sure why Jared continued to allow the situation to go on except for some kind of commitment to a greater good.
He answered the call.
“Hey, brother. What’s up?”
“How’s it rolling?”
“Same as always.”
Liam laughed to himself.
“I don’t think anything about your gig is ordinary.”
“Yeah, well…” He couldn’t disagree.
“You pulling me back to Abu Dhabi?”
“Hell no. Boss Man has some kind of ax to grind with the CIA, and it sounds like shit hasn’t wrapped up yet. Has it?”
“Nope. I couldn’t tell you who’s causing Amelia a problem. But it’s not going away.”
“Yeah. I spitballed with Shah and Amanda.”
“What’d you come up with?”
“A whole lot of nothing.” Liam let out a long breath.
“What’s on the agenda?”
“The brother-in-law’s funeral tomorrow.” He bit his tongue.
No way would Camden discuss their meeting with Esme and the world Hailey and Jonathan had been associated with.
Liam had spent too many years convincing him life wasn’t always a party.
The last thing his team leader needed to worry about was Camden at a sex party on the clock.
“Playing it by ear after that, I suppose.”
“Maybe you should talk to Chelsea. Amelia might be a good candidate for witness protection.”
Liam’s wife, Chelsea, had been a federal marshal and was very familiar with the witness protection program.
The truth landed like a bomb in his chest. They didn’t know who was after Amelia.
They didn’t know why she was in danger.
The CIA had caused this shitshow, so the least the federal government could do was give her a new identity.
Poof—she would be gone.
She would be safe but a memory.
Fuck. That killed him.