Chapter Thirteen
The oversized SUV maneuvered onto the narrow street in Del Ray Alexandria. Large trees, sparse with the remnants of brown leaves that hadn’t fallen, watched protectively over the parked cars and cute houses that sat sleepily on the cold, rainy night. Amelia watched as Camden circled the block.
“For all the evasive maneuvering tactics I’ve been trained on,” he said, “nothing helps when trying to park this beast in this neighborhood.”
He turned again and found a postage-stamp–sized parking spot. She had her doubts as he threw the vehicle into reverse, but with two quick moves, Camden had parked at the curb.
They stepped out of the warmth and into the blustery night. She immediately missed the close proximity to Camden. She felt they’d been sheltered safely from the world and stepping outside would ruin it.
He grabbed her overstuffed carry-on bag and led the way through the quiet neighborhood patchworked with small bungalows and craftsman houses.
Some were brimming with personality, with art in the yards and windows.
Others were neat and tidy without personality.
But none of the homes were the same, forming a mismatched masterpiece far different from her boring condo complex.
“I’ve held events in Del Ray a couple times,” Amelia said as she kept pace with his ground-covering stride. “There are fun restaurants and bars to rent out for small weddings or corporate cocktail hours. Especially if the client is trying for a non-DC vibe.”
“I’ve never been here before. I just asked not to be in a swanky DC hotel.”
They walked up to one of the generic houses with the shades drawn tight on the windows.
A No Soliciting sticker had been placed above the doorbell.
He turned the key in the door and led the way into the dark.
Camden locked the door behind them and hung his keys on a hook.
He turned on a light switch as they went in and dropped her bag at the bottom of a staircase. “Make yourself at home.”
Amelia did a quick inspection from the entryway.
“As safe houses go, this seems to be what I’d expect.
” The furnishings were generic and decidedly bachelor-pad–esque: sprawling leather couch, big-screen television.
A football sat on a coffee table. Maybe he was a sports guy. “Did that come with the house?”
He laughed, scooped up the ball, and tossed it to himself before he turned on another light in the living room that opened into a kitchen. “It flew here with me.”
He flew here? Her debt to him was only growing.
That was the moment she should thank him again profusely and excuse herself.
He hadn’t signed up to socialize. Just to be her rescuer.
This saint of a man had gone above and beyond to help when she had no one in her corner.
Yet she didn’t walk away. She couldn’t. She felt a pull to learn more about him. “Where are you from?”
“I grew up in New Jersey.”
“Are you more of a Jersey Shore type or Hoboken?”
He tossed the football overhead and caught it. “What makes you think I’m either?”
Amelia shrugged and admitted, “Those are the only two places I know anything about. I took a shot.”
Gently, he lofted the football her way. Somehow, she caught it and marveled at herself, surprise widening her eyes.
His grin hitched. “Good catch.” Camden leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over a chest as wide as the northern seaboard. “I’m from a town north of Trenton—pretty industrial, where there’s not much except for hardworking people working harder than they probably should.”
He didn’t say those were his people, but she thought they were: hardworking and with an ethic that didn’t quit—the kind of moral code that would find her when she needed help. She ran her finger along the lacing of the football. “You and Hailey don’t work for the same people, right?”
“No. We’re… in the same orbit, but you couldn’t even call it the same industry.”
“You answered the phone number she told me to call.”
“Sometimes our assignments cross, but we have different employers.”
She didn’t know what to make of that. She couldn’t compare it to the way corporate event planning interacted with all industries. Or could she? She didn’t know enough about him to hazard a guess.
Outside, the wind picked up, and a low gusting howl smacked against the windows.
She turned toward them. The pulled blinds blocked the view, but Amelia could imagine the large, nearly bare trees waving their branches as the storm picked up.
Sheets of rain pummeled the house. It made her feel very alone with this larger-than-life man.
He’d earned her trust, but she didn’t know if she’d made the right decision.
“You should tell me who you work for,” she said.
He gave her a funny look and walked toward the refrigerator. “How come?”
Because she was staying in the house with a stranger and essentially knew nothing about him. By his facial expression, she guessed he wasn’t allowed to share the name of the supersecret employer that had the ability to pluck her from prison. “How about this: What’s your last name?”
“Brooks.”
“Camden Brooks from New Jersey. Family?”
He laughed. “Yup. I’ve got one of those.”
“I don’t.”
He faltered. “I didn’t mean…”
Amelia set the football on the kitchen counter. “It’s fine.” She twisted her fingers together. “My parents died in a car accident.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I really didn’t mean—”
“Honestly, it’s fine.”
She didn’t like the pity in his face and looked beyond him.
The kitchen was tidy. She didn’t suspect he’d cooked while staying there.
The counters were empty except for the football and a toaster.
The hand towel looked as clean as the day it left the store.
She took a seat on a barstool at the counter as he opened the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and took the other barstool.
Camden cleared his voice and said, “Hailey and Jonathan worked for an agency that was breached. No one knows still the extent of the problem, but at the time, their agency issued an all hands on deck. Anyone who could—”
“That’s you. A different agency.”
“We’re probably considered contractors in this situation.”
“Oh.”
He set one of the water bottles in front of her and cracked open the other. After a long pull, he added, “My company was able to help when the request came in. I was assigned to pick up the phone if any calls were routed our way, and that’s how we came to meet.”
“Serendipity, I suppose.”
“I suppose.” He chuckled and rolled the water bottle between his hands. “What else do you want to know?”
Oh, about a million other things. If this is a safe house, where do you usually live? Do you normally travel, rescuing people out of prison? She couldn’t imagine a day job like that, but she hadn’t imagined extraordinary day jobs really existed.
His chiseled jawline shifted with a curious half grin. “Nothing?”
“I have questions… but I don’t know where to start.”
He nodded as though he understood. “Start with the basics.”
“All right.” She opened her water bottle and took a small sip. “So you’re not with the government?”
“Correct.”
“But your vehicle had government plates.” She cocked her head. “How does that work?”
“The government contracts with my company. It’s their show and, for the most part, their resources.”
“Who do you work for?” she tried again.
That time, he offered without hesitation, “Titan Group.”
Amelia raised her shoulders. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Guess they don’t plan galas or networking happy hours.”
His lips quirked as though she’d asked if his company flew rockets to Mars or trained ballerinas. “Nope. Not unless your events need hostage negotiators or armed reconnaissance.”
“Oh…”
Amelia suddenly saw where Camden fit in the world.
It wasn’t chauffeuring prison releasees through the suburbs or reassembling her tossed furniture.
He was the type of person who jumped from helicopters or scaled enemy-covered mountains.
He was the type of person who helped spies and spooks and civilians who were in far over their heads.
Her throat had gone dry at the revelation, and she sipped her water again.
“It hadn’t occurred to me to offer those services to my clients.
” Her mind reeled as more pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, but she tried to downplay the eye-opener.
“Maybe that’s a niche I should look into.
Clients in need of hostage negotiators.”
He laughed, sounding casual and cool, like nothing he’d shared was a big deal. “You don’t want the headaches that come when we have to show up.”
That raised the question of where had he come from.
“Where did you fly in from?” she asked.
He rolled the water bottle between his hands then capped it. “The Middle East.”
Her lips parted, and she blinked. He’d come all this way to help her out. What were Hailey and Jonathan involved in? “Really?”
He nodded.
She waited for him to elaborate. More than a dozen countries existed in the Middle East. “Is your location a secret?”
“Do you know what a ghost team is?”
Her lips pursed as she thought the phrase over. There was surely a joke to be had about the supernatural and zombies, but she didn’t have the energy to find it. “Nope. That’s what Titan Group is? A ghost team?”
Ghosts floated through walls. They weren’t seen unless they wanted to be, and they yelled boo.
Camden was handsome—sexy, if she was being honest—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be scary.
Shadows lay behind his dark eyes, not to mention his size.
His presence projected the distinct possibility that he could morph into something scary.
“How to explain a ghost team.” He ran a hand into his hair and mussed it as he thought. “There are a lot of moving parts to Titan.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Well, that’s not vague or anything.”