Under the Rose - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,21

adopted her but adapted overnight to being an indoor love-bug.”

I poured steaming water into two blue mugs with Earl Grey teabags and caught Sam tapping Minerva lightly on the nose.

“Minerva, as in McGonagall?” he asked. “Harry Potter, right?”

I tilted my head. “How would you know about that? You told me at Quantico that you never read for pleasure.”

It had been a random anecdote he had shared with me one day, pestering me as I dog-eared a worn paperback before a sparring session. My little nerd-girl heart had wilted at his admission.

He lifted a shoulder. “I read.”

“Yeah?”

“I read those books, anyway.”

“You read Harry Potter?”

“After you told me about them.” He looked a little uncomfortable.

“Oh,” I said, completely shocked. “Did you enjoy them?”

“Yeah. I read them all in a week.” Sam didn’t smile, but he did hold my gaze while sipping his tea. Minerva butted her head against his shoulder. Picturing him in bed reading my favorite books made me feel fizzy, like a shaken-up can of soda.

“I finally understand why you used to call me your personal Malfoy.” His tone was dry, mouth curved like a comma.

I hid a smirk. “I never could figure out the spell to shut you up.”

He raised his mug at me in cheers. “Same.”

I scratched my bun, pretended to be interested in my tea. Sam touched a fingertip to his mug, which had a picture of a vintage Nintendo controller. The text beneath read Self-Rescuing Princess.

“You had this at Quantico,” he said.

“Well, I’ve been nailing my personal brand for years,” I shrugged. Our gazes met for a feverish second. Dropped immediately.

“So you’re probably a Gryffindor,” I said.

“Extremely brave and incredibly strong? Of course.”

I tapped my lip. “And yet you weren’t valedictorian of our class at Princeton, were you?”

He didn’t reply, but his nostrils flared. Slipping back to our constant back-and-forth felt as soft and comfortable as a favorite sweatshirt. Sam’s eyes, however, lacked any sense of comfort. Instead, they flashed dark blue and hungry.

I took a step back—startled—and bumped into the counter.

“We should prepare,” he said. “Delilah dropped a few things off at my hotel room this morning.” He slid two driver’s licenses my way—there were our wallet-sized pictures and the address of King Barnes Rare Books. Mine falsely identified me as Birdie Barnes.

“The things the kids can do these days,” I remarked. “Who did Delilah use?”

“A gentleman she referred to as Grim.”

“The less an FBI agent knows about him, the better,” I said. “Grim enjoys strolling through the legal gray-area, same as Codex.”

“I got that impression. He make IDs for you often?”

I shrugged, pocketing the fake ID. “Depends on how deep we’re going. Usually we’re not undercover for long. But for an event like this, I’m sure they’ll require identification.”

He held a dangling chain out across the counter. “Delilah also gave me this watch and this necklace for you.”

“Spy shit,” I cheered, slipping the necklace from Sam’s outstretched fingers. I dropped it over my head, the gold bauble landing right below my breasts. “There’s a tiny camera in here.”

“Did Grim make these for you?”

“Please,” I said. “You can get this at Best Buy.”

Another almost-smile from my rival. He showed me the watch on his wrist. “Camera inside here too.”

I nodded. “Without a warrant, I’m guessing you’re bound to private investigator rules. That means we can legally take pictures of anything we see that’s shady. But we can’t record voices or conversations.”

“Got it.”

“What else did you and Del review last night?

“Playing up the notoriety angle. Letting our fans fawn over us. Inciting a sense of trust by allowing them to feel close to us.”

“I like it.”

“We don’t speak unless spoken to,” he continued. I knew this lesson, but my nerves clamored to hear it again. “Listen and watch everything. Let everyone else do the talking. Allow for silences. No promises, no commitments.”

“Birdie and Julian are sexy thieves, I think,” I said.

“This is based on evidence?”

“You don’t think we’re sexy?” I kept our eyes locked as I drank, saw Sam’s flick down my body for a nanosecond.

“Sure.” His voice was thick. Clearing his throat, he said, “My sense is that Julian and Birdie are extremely wealthy. Smart and savvy. Elegant.”

I snorted. “I’ll have to work hard to nail down elegant.”

“You won’t,” he said.

I touched my hair, unsure of what to do with that. “So…sexy thieves with adoring fans who are elegant and filthy rich. Got it.”

Sam stared down at his mug, turning it left and right. “Codex has been working more intimately with book dealers than the