liked—this was becoming my new craving. I’d always liked slamming Sam down onto his back with a knee to the chest. It was undeniably gratifying to best a superhero. But now, as his tongue stroked against mine, I remembered Sam pinning my wrists, holding me down. The deep trust we had as sparring partners mirrored our intimacy as rivals—as much as we argued, you couldn’t spar with someone you didn’t trust not to hurt you.
Sam’s thumbs stroked across my cheekbones, and I whimpered. He pulled back. We were panting in the still-sudden quiet. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize every time you kiss me,” I whispered.
“I miss…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve missed watching you kick ass, Evandale.”
I’d spent all those weeks at Quantico secretly watching Sam succeed—had he also been watching me? But if he had, wouldn’t he have seen how every little thing sent me into a nervous tailspin?
Police sirens sliced through the softness. Sam shoved us both back against the far wall, and our necks craned to stare at the front door.
“Excuse me, is everything okay in there?” Knock knock knock. “It’s Glen, from across the street? Just wondering if you need the police?”
Sam straightened his bowtie and adjusted his cufflinks. Winked at me again. And walked confidently to the door.
No one had ever told me that your annoyingly smug enemy could wink at you and turn your bones to mush. If they had, I would have been better prepared for my body’s aroused response.
“Glen?” Sam’s deep voice was assured. Calm. Always use their names had been a little psychological trick our instructors used to tell us. “Is that you?”
I could hear a man sputtering, surprised. “Oh! I didn’t…I mean, is everything okay? Also, who are you?”
“Julian King,” Sam said. “I’m the new director here at Philosopher’s Hall. We had a private event this evening, and I’m tidying up. Tripped the damn alarm while I was securing the windows, I’m afraid.”
The whine of the police sirens was definitely on our block now. The red-and-blue lights rippled across the walls of books across from me. But their engine wasn’t slowing down.
“Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” said Glen, who was clearly the block busybody. “I only wanted to make sure you weren’t a murderer or a thief or a common vagrant.”
“No thieves here, I can assure you,” Sam said. “And we’ve always appreciated the care you show. Shannon has spoken highly of you during our meetings.”
More surprised sputtering from Glen. “Oh my goodness, Shannon said that? Shannon’s a dear. Happy to be of service. And glad everything’s all right. You have a nice night.”
“Same to you, Glen,” Sam replied.
I marked Glen’s footsteps back down the front stairs. And then the cop car sliding right past us, off to chase down another crime.
“Nicely done,” I breathed, letting out the world’s biggest exhale.
Sam nodded, glancing behind him. “Okay. Alarm off. Cameras off. Cops gone.”
I propped my hands on my hips. “Let’s go find those love letters.”
31
Sam
My job hadn’t been this exciting in years. My job had been tedious and panic-inducing. Depressing. Working for Codex was actually having fun. It was different and intriguing and satisfying all at once.
I glanced sideways at the gorgeous firecracker standing next to me.
She was certainly not the reason I was enjoying hunting down criminals again.
Although Freya was the reason I’d acted against my better judgment—or any judgment—twice. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her full smile—the one that made her so very Freya. The one she’d flash to her favorite professors or friends or those boyfriends I’d hated. It was wide, cheeky, dimpled. It was carefree and silly.
And she’d pointed it right at me with precision.
What choice did I have except to steal one more kiss?
“If you were nineteenth-century love letters encoded with perverted messages—where would you hide?” she asked, straightening her glasses.
“Where were those rooms you saw that had the glass cases?” I asked.
Freya glanced at her phone. “Good call. And we’ve got a deadline. We’ll know in sixty minutes if we’ve been on the right track.”
“Staying here longer than an hour anyway is risky. We need to move,” I agreed. “The longer we’re here, the more likely we’ll be discovered.”
She brushed past me, waving her hand. “Second floor. Race ya to the top of the stairs.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not everything has to be a—”
But she’d already scooped up the ends of her dress and was sprinting up the carpeted staircase. I shook my head and took off, too