Abe said, cutting our argument off cold. Sam and I were still glaring at each other, assuming our favorite adversarial positions—and Abe’s decision shocked us both.
“What?” Sam said.
“Um…what?” I echoed.
Abe was writing Julian King and Birdie Barnes on the board. “Freya, you’ll be working your first undercover case as Birdie Barnes. Sam will be Julian King. Spend tonight and tomorrow morning developing your cover stories so that you can successfully uncover where Jim Dahl is, where those letters are, and who the hell has them. Once we have that information, we can make an extraction plan.”
Delilah and Henry were already jumping into familiar action—but I was still frozen in place.
“Freya?” Abe said. “Do you have any issues with this?”
I had about a metric fuck-ton of issues with it—but with my irritating rival sitting next to me, I decided that a smug, “That sounds grand,” was my best next play.
Internally, I was screaming like a banshee. I’d let my need to win against Byrne convince my boss to send me undercover on a high-profile case with a hard deadline and Sam as my partner.
Debating with Sam in class had been my favorite thing to do—pressing on the vulnerabilities in his arguments. Exposing the flaws. He did the same to me in the most aggravating way possible. It was our version of a relaxing Sunday morning brunch.
I’d let Byrne yank me into an argument I accidentally won. And now my most annoying enemy would have a front-row seat to all the reasons why I couldn’t hack it as an FBI agent.
“Sam?” Abe arched a brow his way.
“We’ll make it work, sir,” he replied.
Abe tapped the whiteboard. “Well done, Freya. Seems like your behind-the-scenes work was exactly what we needed to put you undercover.”
I nodded meekly—an action Delilah didn’t miss. She glanced at me, her face kind.
“What if I helped you and Sam prep tonight?” she said. “We can run through scenarios for your characters, get the two of you on the same page.”
“I’d love that, actually. Should I call for more emergency tacos?” But when I stood to give my friend a grateful hug, the room slanted violently, and I pitched forward, vision gray.
“Hey, careful,” came Sam’s voice, sounding uncharacteristically gentle. But his hands were locked tight around my arms, cradling me. I blinked. His face swam back into view. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” I said, uneasy. Adrenaline had tricked my body into staying awake for almost two days straight.
“When was the last time you slept?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed.
“I’m going to guess Monday,” Abe said. Delilah was already pressing a glass of cold water into my hands.
“I get a little fainty when I’m not sleeping,” I explained. With control, Sam edged me upright. I was wobbly, but able to drink the water. While trying not to notice the heat of his reassuring palm low on my back.
“I know. This used to happen at Princeton during finals,” he said. “I once caught her before she fell down a flight of stairs at the library.”
The glass paused at my mouth. “Wait. You did?”
“You forgot my act of dramatic heroism?” he asked, voice dry.
The memory flared to life, buried beneath a hundred others. We’d been at the top of the fourth-floor staircase at Princeton’s library. It was late, past 1:00 in the morning. I’d been teasing Sam, being silly—my flirtatiousness a by-product of having slept a combined six hours in three days. One moment, I’d been trying to get him to laugh—a pointless endeavor. The next, I was tumbling down the stairs.
And Sam had caught me. When my eyes opened, I’d been clutching at his worn black sweater, fingers grazing the hard planes of his chest. He’d looked terribly frightened. And I’d wondered what would happen if I leaned in and kissed his throat.
“I…remember it now.” My voice was shaky. “Your heroism did not go unnoticed. Thank you.”
“You don’t look right,” he continued—looking like he had that day, holding me in the stairwell. Although he had the nerve to look hotter.
“I am, I promise.” My smile at Sam was truly sincere, which brought color to his cheeks. “Anyway, where do you want to chat, Del?”
“Not a chance,” Abe said, nodding at Sam, who was already gently escorting me toward the door. “Delilah will drive you home.”
I inhaled to argue, but a vicious yawn stopped me in my tracks. Exhaustion settled over my bones, threatening to drag me under.
“The next seventy-two hours are going to be stressful,” Abe said quietly. “I won’t have my agents