Under the Rose - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,83

egotistical, smarmy shithead. And as I watched my partner pace back and forth, his body language screamed tension. His only verbal contribution was “Yes, sir.” or “No, sir,” in a clipped, respectful tone. I wanted Sam to tell me what was going on with his ex-partner, with his job, with his mental health. But his walls remained high and guarded.

Sam ended the call, slapping it against his palm before joining me in the hallway.

“He’ll do it,” he said. “He wants all of us on a video call in an hour.”

I blew out a breath. “That was fast, huh?”

“He pulls the strings,” he said. “Plus, you know he has a unique way of getting people to do his bidding.”

“I remember.” I took his hand in mine. “But we’re still the ones kicking ass. Not him.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m expected back in Virginia to meet my new partner tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “I mean, right. I guess I thought you were going to be our consultant for a few weeks?”

“Me too,” he said quietly. “But it appears as if my consultant role is being terminated early by my father.”

I bobbed my head, tried to keep my tone casual. “Sure, sure. Sounds good.”

This was the real complication of our hot, angry fucking. This warmth in my chest had finally been given room to breathe, to blossom. Which was bad news, since Sam was heading back to the FBI after this anyway.

His expression was etched with concern. But before he could say a word, Henry and Delilah burst through Abe’s front door with more coffee and swift questions. We spent an hour getting everyone up to speed and tossing out strategies and ideas. The hour flew, and before I knew it, Abe was casting his computer screen onto the large white wall in his living room.

The face of Andrew Byrne appeared. I hadn’t seen him in seven years, but he hadn’t aged. His hair was still short and silver, expression still sharp and critical despite the early hour. The minute the call began, I watched Sam shrink into himself—the action was minute, subtle. But I knew Sam.

I wished Andrew Byrne were here in person. I’d slap him in the fucking face.

Henry, Delilah, and I were squished onto the couch. Abe was sitting in his high-backed chair like a king. Sam stood ramrod straight.

“It’s nice to see you, Andrew,” Abe said mildly, one finger at his temple.

“You as well,” Andrew replied.

They were both obviously lying.

Abe introduced Henry and Delilah—but stopped when he got to me. The Deputy Director concealed his reaction to seeing me well. I remembered what Sam had said in the car—my father said you were the brightest trainee he’d seen in a long time.

“Ms. Evandale,” Andrew said. “You appear well.”

“Sir,” I said shortly.

Abe arched his brow at me.

“Thank you for helping us,” I said through gritted teeth.

“The FBI’s help is obviously needed,” Andrew said, eyes cast off to the side as he read a document. “You were right to call me, Samuel.”

Sam was silent.

“You’re welcome for gaining entry to an elite secret society the Bureau’s been trying to access for years,” Abe said dryly.

I cough-laughed into my fist.

“Come now, Abraham. We would have gotten there eventually. Pity you got there and can’t move forward without our help.”

“The clock is ticking, gentleman,” Delilah cut in. “Surely we can continue fighting over jurisdiction after we prepare our agents to go deep undercover. What can the Bureau do for us?”

I nudged Delilah’s shoulder with mine. “You’re a bad bitch,” I muttered.

“I would just prefer if you didn’t get shot tonight.”

“Same, girl,” I replied.

Andrew sighed audibly. Put the document down and stared at us from his office at Quantico. “The Bureau is intrigued by the names that Samuel brought forth. Dr. Bradley Ward and the Alexanders have high status and an extreme amount of privilege. The fact that you believe they may be connected to Bernard Allerton is additionally intriguing.”

Intriguing was surely Andrew’s codeword for we’re shitting ourselves.

“And Roy Edwards certainly has some cache,” I added. “Trust fund brat with a penchant for attention-seeking tabloid exploits. I’m sure he wasn’t on a short list of potential criminals.”

Andrew’s mouth thinned. “Also intriguing. Of course, all of this could end up being hearsay. This auction could be perfectly legal and above board. And if that happens, I will blame the resulting waste of time and resources entirely on all of you.”

That knife-sharp gaze landed on Sam, who seemed to accept it gratefully.

“And yet,