Page 86 of The Saint

That was interesting and maybe a little too close to home for Camden to be comfortable with. He typed quickly.

Camden:What do you know about Jonathan Dumont’s parents?

Shah:Give me five, and I’ll let you know

“Everything okay?” Amelia asked as they finally passed the law enforcement stationed at the door and stepped into the cold sunlight.

“Just getting a lay of the land before we walk in someplace.” He slipped on sunglasses and glanced at Shah’s message.

Philippe Dumont: retired from the French government's Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Brigitte Dumont: fundraiser for art museums and board member for a dozen European charitable boards.

How about them apples?Jonathan Dumont’s parents were French spies. He scanned the crowd and wondered what else they might learn from who had been in the church. Camden sent the videos to Shah and asked him to see if any names or faces were worth noting.

“What’s going on?” Amelia eyed his phone. He’d been texting more in the past five minutes than he usually did in a day.

“I don’t know yet. Could be nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you really trying to protect me from something?”

Would it be so bad if he were? It was his job, after all.

“Jonathan’s parents were diplomats.”

She hummed. “I bet the French throw amazing diplomatic receptions. The food and wine alone might be enough to make me daydream about work.”

Amelia didn’t get the significance of diplomatic jobs. She saw it through her lens as a professional party planner: food, wine, locations, guest lists. Camden’s point of view wasdecidedly more intel and analysis. He didn’t want to change her perspective on the Dumonts unless he had to.

After searching around and finding no threats, he guided her to the car. If someone wanted to abduct or kill Amelia, right then was as good a time as ever. Where were the threats? The better question was why they weren’t there.

Camden pushed that to the back of his brain to let it marinate. He plugged in the address.

Amelia glanced at their destination. “Georgetown. Fancy.”

Her train of thought was yet another reminder that Amelia was strong as hell but unprepared for the danger she’d been forced into. He maneuvered the stop-and-go traffic across town and fifteen minutes later arrived at the address, a three-story federal-style brick house. Black shutters framed the large windows. A wrought-iron railing curled around dual staircases to the front door, flanked by manicured ivy.

He cruised by.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Yup.”

Valets waited for arrivals as chauffeured sedans dropped off. Camden wanted to circle the block first and give Titan as much time as possible to analyze the videos he’d sent. By the time they’d returned to the front door, he didn’t have an update. This wasn’t exactly like going into a dangerous assignment.

How risky could a funeral reception be?“Ready?”

Amelia nodded. He parked and offered their names to security, who stepped ahead of the valet. They were approved with a nod, and Camden left the car running as the valet approached, rounding the hood to get Amelia. He scanned the brick sidewalk and opened her door.

Camden waited for the needle pricks of unknown eyes on his back. He searched mentally for the anticipation of danger. It didn’t come. Tracking them from the church would’ve beenhard. Where were the attack dogs that had followed them across Alexandria?

Maybe the men searching for her were using her guaranteed location to search some other place she might’ve been. Perhaps their safe house was being compromised again.What the hell were they looking for?

The front door swept open ahead of them, and they were greeted and directed into a parlor room of stately-looking people dressed in black. Amelia stayed by his side. They bypassed the small clumps of guests talking intimately and ambled into the formal living room. Mr. and Mrs. Dumont held court by a gas fireplace. Waitstaff worked through the space with trays of champagne and bite-size appetizers. It was a sad little party for people with lots of money and connections. Amelia didn’t fit into the mix.

From what he knew of Amelia and Jonathan, they didn’t either. Then again, that was their cover. He understood Amelia’s confusion.

Jonathan’s parents joined them with a less formal greeting than at the church. Mr. Dumont asked, “Camden, who did you say you worked for again?”

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