said.
“I wouldn’t ever let you get hurt,” he said.
“I know that,” I said, “and I appreciate it. Next time I’ll strap you to my back, okay? Make it even.”
His eyes twinkled before he nodded at the parking garage where we’d parked his car that morning. Glancing behind us, we jogged down the aisles until coming to his car and climbing inside.
My phone rang the minute we locked the doors. Abe.
It was fifteen minutes past midnight. I put it on speaker while staring at Sam across the console.
“Good news or bad?” I said by way of greeting.
“Bad,” Abe said. “Unless you have those letters in your hands?”
Sam exhaled an angry-sounding breath. “No, sir,” he said.
Silence, and then—“Scarlett and I just had a long conversation. She said this other firm walked into Francisco’s office at the Franklin Museum with the George Sand love letters. All thirteen of them, in pristine condition.”
“Fuck me,” Sam swore.
“Abe, that’s not possible,” I said. “We just spent a very strange night with these weird-ass rich people, and they couldn’t stop talking about the letters. We all had to write down what we were bidding on at this auction tomorrow night. Or tonight, rather.”
“What’s happening tonight?” Abe asked.
Sam and I exchanged a look.
“We don’t quite know, sir,” Sam said. “A kind of underground auction, I believe. Evandale wrote down that we were most interested in purchasing the George Sand letters. Nine other people were there. Dr. Ward read the slips and announced that all of us were interested in the same exact item.”
“The letters,” I said.
“Ward could have been lying, or it could have been a trick,” Abe said. “They could have forged copies.”
“That firm could have forged copies,” I said.
“I suggested the very same thing. They are, of course, going about authenticating them. But until then, consider our contract canceled and the case finished,” Abe said.
Sam slapped the steering wheel with his hand. Glared out the window. The finality of it hurt more than I anticipated, especially considering how badly I’d wanted off this case from the beginning.
“Sometimes we try our hardest and we still fail,” Abe said.
“This is a mistake,” I said. “Believe me, I’m the last person to ever suggest this, but I think we need to keep our cover. Go to that auction. The letters are there.”
“They can’t be in the hands of the museum and at this auction,” Abe said shortly.
“Sir,” Sam said, “I agree with Freya.”
We shared a tentative smile.
“Unless you can gather concrete proof, I can’t authorize the two of you moving forward,” Abe said. “Risky and expensive are the two things I try and avoid the most, as you well know. The two of you have worked non-stop for the past forty-eight hours. Go home. Sleep. We can debrief in the morning and see if the authentication comes back in our favor.” He shifted his tone. “I’ll even bring you donuts.”
“That actually doesn’t seem appetizing right now,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
There was a pause until he said, “I know you’re disappointed.”
Sam was about to tear the steering wheel in two.
“It’s fine,” I said and knew I sounded pissed. But I was. “We’ll see you at Codex in the morning.”
Abe hung up the phone, and I let it drop onto the console.
“Those letters can’t be real,” I said.
“I cannot believe we’re not going to close this case,” Sam growled. “I should have threatened Ward in the basement when I had the chance.”
“Do you disagree with the decisions we made as partners?” I asked, tone icy.
“You made decisions,” he shot back. “And I made decisions. We made barely any decisions together as partners.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “We actually worked well together tonight. At least I thought we had.”
“Negative, Evandale,” he said. “If we lost this case, it’s because you’re too stubborn to listen to anyone but yourself.”
“Says the most stubborn person I know.”
Sam turned to face me fully in the car. I was struck with the massive size of him. He’d tossed his jacket in the backseat, and the white shirt could barely fit the breadth of his shoulders. He’d been tugging at his bowtie, which was now open, revealing an inch of bare chest. One hand was in his hair, one hand was wrapped around the back of the seat like it was tethering him down.
“I think it was true at Quantico and it’s true now,” Sam said quietly—but fiercely. “We don’t work well together. We lost this case because of it. The two of us together are a