a word.
“When did you have sex?”
I hid my face behind the blanket. “Can you read minds?”
“I can read my best friend.”
I glanced at the pelting rain, wondering where Sam was right this very instant. I’d seen him on the phone, and based on his body language, I guessed it was his father.
“We had sex in the back seat of his car yesterday morning,” I admitted.
Delilah smirked. “I’ve also enjoyed sex in a vehicle with Henry.”
“Girl, I know it.”
“It must have been very intense.”
I started to make a joke—per the usual—but found I couldn’t. It was late, and I was exhausted, and I’d had a knife pulled on me not three hours earlier.
“I’m terrified of my feelings for Sam,” I said.
“Is he going back to Virginia?” she asked.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that he will,” I said. “He was born to be an FBI agent. It’s in his blood.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Delilah said, standing and kissing the top of my head. “If you think you’ve been hiding your feelings for Sam, you have no idea how obvious he’s been these past few days.”
“What do you mean?”
“That man is in love with you, Freya,” she said. “Like hearts-in-his-eyes love. So keep trusting. Because I’m guessing you’ll figure it out.”
I watched a drop of rain slide down the window. Lightning illuminated the framed picture of my mom and me, dressed up as FBI agents. “All those years,” I said, “we did nothing but argue and fight and compete. But we were never apart from each other. I worked hard to convince myself I was annoyed by his presence. Except we waited for each other outside the library to study every night.” I smiled at the memory, so sweet now. “Who willingly studies with their archnemesis every single night for hours?”
She grinned. “Nemeses in love, my dear.”
I covered my face again. “We were fighting our feelings.”
“I know,” she said, mirth in her tone. “Henry knows. Even Abe knows. Strangers on the street know. The moment I saw the two of you together in our office, I would have bet my life savings you loved each other.”
“Oh, god,” I wailed. “Henry and Abe know?”
Delilah crouched down until we were eye-level. I tugged the blanket down, blowing the messy hair from my forehead. “Frey.” She was fighting amusement. “Frey. The man shot someone for you tonight. Sam’s not your enemy.”
My pulse fluttered like moth wings, body and mind fully accepting what I’d realized while kissing Sam Byrne in the elevator.
I’d let him into my heart. There was no going back for me.
“He’s my love,” I said.
Her smile widened. “He most certainly is.”
“And he’s amazing at sex.”
“That is also extremely obvious.”
“I have to tell him how I feel,” I said, softly this time. Serious.
Delilah nodded. “You can do it,” she said. “You were extraordinary tonight. I’m truly proud to be your best friend, Frey. Always.”
Her warm praise lit me up. I wrapped the blanket more tightly around my shoulders and beamed at her.
“Thank you,” I said. “I never thought I’d have a real friend like you. When I was younger, I, you know, didn’t always have the nicest time with friends. You taught me that friendship is real. And it means everything to me.”
“Well, you can’t get rid of me now,” she teased. But her eyes were shining.
“I don’t plan on it,” I replied. I held her hand, squeezed it hard.
Delilah blew me a kiss before slipping out the door. I exhaled, forehead pressed to my knees, thoughts a riotous mess. The minute I’d looked up and spotted Sven and Ward with their guns on Sam, years of training and self-confidence had snapped back over my bones. I’d never felt stronger than slapping that gun from Ward’s hand and punching him in the face.
But even more than that—Sam and I had done it. We’d gone undercover, together, as book thieves. Infiltrated a secret society. And we got the damn letters back. I’d done that with the man I loved. A man who believed in me.
I’d done it because I’d believed in myself.
The sharp knock was barely audible through the rumbling thunder. Blanket wrapped around myself, I shuffled like a burrito and opened the door.
It wasn’t Delilah though.
It was Sam.
The lightning flashed, highlighting the muscled edges of his big body outlined in my doorway. He was soaked to the skin, the rain plastering his white tuxedo shirt to his broad, ridged chest.
“What are you doing here?” I breathed. He was the most magnificent thing I’d