If Carter had already scouted out three phones, it meant none of his team felt real comfortable being out of communication during this operation. If they thought they had something he needed to know, they'd get a message to him telling him which phone to head to based on the level of urgency involved.
Carter nodded, "(a), we need you; (b), we saw smoke; (c), grab your kitty cat and run, 'cause we got ourselves a five-alarm barn burner."
"Fine. Only use 'em if you need 'em." He looked down at the manila envelope in his friend's hand. "Am I going to like what's in that file?"
Carter handed it over with a shrug and reached for a soaking French fry. "I doubt it. Guy sounds like a real winner. He the one who developed whatever it is everybody's after?"
"I don't think so, but the one who did thinks he's been acting weird lately. He might be the loose lips that sink this rowboat."
"What about the girl?"
Noah's eyes narrowed. "What girl?"
Carter snorted. "The one who left the little souvenir on your neck."
Noah had noticed the bruise while he was shaving that morning, but he'd hoped his collar would cover most of it. Especially the impression of Sam's tiny, even teeth.
"No." His denial was automatic. Sam might have gotten dragged into all this through her association with Annie, but she wasn't involved. And even if she had been, he would have kept anyone else from finding out about that.
"Okay, if you say so. But if you want my opinion, women who get themselves caught up in the middle of military operations? Not generally the kind you take home to Mom."
He had to fight not to picture exactly that—bringing Sam into his parents' comfortable old farmhouse upstate and watching her charm his dad and help his mom with the dishes.
"No one's bringing anyone home," he said, forking up a mound of Swiss-covered corned beef. "And no one's caught up in anything. It's just a mission."
Carter just raised an eyebrow and chomped a fry. "Whatever you say, Boom."
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Samantha, you've been washing that pot for ten minutes now. I think it's clean." Sam jumped and splashed herself with soapy dishwater. "Sorry, Aunt Ruby," she muttered. She quickly rinsed the pot in question and set it in the drainer to dry. "I was distracted."
"I never would have noticed."
The two women stood in the kitchen of Ruby and Henry Howell's house trying to make a dent in the mess generated by seventeen six-year-olds and their associated parents and guardians. The women had already run two loads through the dishwasher and had made a good start on number three, but the dishes just kept coming. Part of that could have to do with the fact that the food kept coming as well. No one had ever gone hungry at Aunt Ruby's house on a regular day. On celebration days, like Evie's sixth birthday, they didn't even go satisfied. As far as Ruby was concerned, it was stuffed or nothing.
Finishing her latest batch of pots, Sam pulled the plug and let the sink drain to be refilled with clean water before she started on the empty serving trays from the last round of provisions. Several of her cousins had just left for the backyard loaded down with newly filled ones, and it was better to keep up with these things as they happened rather than wait for everything to be over. If they tried that, they'd be scrubbing until Memorial Day.
"So what time is your boyfriend coming by to pick you up?" Ruby asked as she arranged slices of ham on a large platter. Her slim, capable hands held surprising strength, even into her sixties, and her posture was just as straight as always. She looked like she should be a farmer's wife somewhere in the middle of the country, not a real estate agent from Brooklyn. She had that kind of strong, capable, salt-of-the-earth look to her.
And one of the sharpest minds Sam had ever met, which was why Sam didn't let the casual tone of the question fool her. "I never said he was my boyfriend, Aunt Ruby. But he's coming at seven." She glanced at the clock. "Any minute, I suppose."
Ruby stopped her fussing and planted her hands on her hips. "You can tell me he's not your boyfriend until the cows come home, young lady, but you'd better not say any such thing in front of your uncle or your cousins. Not if you're going to come to a party smelling like that."
This time, Sam couldn't even attempt to brazen it out. "It's not what it seems like—"
"Samantha Olivia, I might be getting old, but I am not an old fool. And this nose still works just fine. If the man on your skin is not the man who's going to be knocking on this door in a couple of minutes, then you and I need to have a serious talk. That's not the way I raised you, and I certainly hope it's not the way you're intending to live your life."
"They're the same man, Aunt Ruby," she sighed, drying her hands on the dish towel. "It's just… more complicated than it seems."
Ruby laughed, her handsome features softening. "Darling, it always is. That's how you know it's worth it."
"What do you mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything if you don't have to work for it, Sam."
The back door of the kitchen opened and Sam's uncle Henry strode up from the backyard, her cousins John and Robbie on his heels.
"My Sammie has always been a hard worker," Henry bragged, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and hauling her against his side. "Ever since she was a little girl."
Sam smiled and returned her uncle's one-armed hug. "Thanks."
"Yeah, she worked my last nerve a time or two," John drawled, snagging a slice of Ruby's ham and getting his hand smacked in the bargain.
He leaned up against the door frame leading into the hall toward the front of the house and winked at his cousin. The oldest of Ruby and Henry's three children, John had been nearly eight when the squalling infant called Samantha had been deposited in his parents' laps. Sam had wanted to be just like John and had followed him around accordingly, which meant she probably had worked a nerve or two. Of course, he'd long since gotten even. Beginning about the time that she'd started dating.
The thought made her take a new look around her. Uncle Henry still held her pinned to his side in a steely, if affectionate, grip, and John and Robbie had casually placed themselves flanking the doorway through which Noah would be forced to enter.
Come into my kitchen, said the big, bullying wolf spiders to the fly, she thought sourly.
"The three of you can just cut it out," she said, restricting her glare to her cousins, but she did lift her uncle's arm off her shoulder and step away from his side. "I'm not sixteen anymore. You have no reason and no right to play Spanish Inquisition when Noah gets here. I can handle my own love life, thank you very much."
"See, that's exactly the problem," Robbie said, running his hand along his jaw and rasping his evening stubble. "You having a love life. That's not something we're all that keen on. Especially not with some guy none of us have ever met."
She rounded on Ruby and Henry's youngest child, the one now barely able to drink. "Don't you even try to play this game with me, Robbie Howell. I changed your diapers, you know, so I sure as hell am not going to start taking orders or advice from you."
"Samantha! Watch your language."
The sting of Ruby's expertly flicked dish towel was familiar but barely made Sam blink. She was working up too good a mad for that. "I'm sorry, Aunt Ruby, but they're being ridiculous. I'm twenty-nine years old. It's time for them to stop treating me like I was just nine."
"You were a lot less trouble when you were nine," Henry growled.
"We're not being ridiculous," John disputed. "We're just looking out for you."
"I can look out for myself."
"We can help."
Briefly Samantha debated the merits of throwing up her hands versus curling them into fists and planting them in her cousins' faces, but she never got to make the final decision—which was leaning heavily toward the fists. The doorbell rang, and before she could even take a step toward the hall she heard the front door open and someone who sounded like John's wife, Sharon, speaking.
"You must be N
oah," she said, her light voice welcoming and cheerful. "I'm Sharon, Sam's cousin-in-law. Come on in. Sam's in the kitchen along with a few of the others."
Sam watched her cousin John's smile turn feral and his fingers flex, and she resorted to the fist anyway. Or at least the elbow, which she promptly jammed into his side.
"Be nice," she hissed, as two sets of footsteps tapped down the hall toward them.
If the welcoming committee surprised Noah, he didn't show it. He swept an efficient gaze around the crowded kitchen, pausing to smile at Sam, before his gaze settled on her uncle. Noah stepped into the room as if her cousins didn't exist and extended his hand to Henry.
"You must be Samantha's uncle," Noah said, his expression relaxed and neutrally friendly. "I'm Noah Baker. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Howell."
Samantha watched as her uncle sized Noah up before clasping his hand in his own. His expression wasn't giving anything away, but she knew Noah had already earned a couple of points. One just from the innate calm and self-possession with which he'd entered the potentially volatile situation and the other from his manner of speech. He'd addressed her uncle as "Mr. Howell" instead of as "Sam's uncle Henry" or, heaven forbid, just "Uncle Henry," a mistake only one of her boyfriends had ever made. After that, Sam had learned to date smarter guys.
Noah had also called her Samantha, instead of Sam, something not many men would have thought of. Everyone called her Sam. That was even what she called herself most of the time, but Uncle Henry had always been quick to point out that her name was Samantha and that anyone who couldn't manage to remember that in a formal situation wasn't showing her the proper respect.
So Uncle Henry had liked that, but that didn't mean she could relax yet. Noah wasn't out of the woods.
"I'd like to say that Samantha has told us a lot about you, Mr. Baker, but I'm afraid that would be a lie. This week is the first we've heard of you."
"I met Samantha about six months ago, sir, through my younger sister. Abby's husband was working with Graham Winters at the time on a diplomatic matter, and she introduced us."
Henry's brows rose. "A diplomatic matter. Is that what you call it when a fiend from the Below tries to take over the world and start a war with the demons that spills over into all of life Above?"
Noah didn't blink. "It's more concise, sir."
That won a chuckle. "I suppose it is."
Samantha tried to break in. "Uncle Henry, I think it's time for Noah and me—"
"Let me introduce you to the family," Henry said, holding out his hand to his wife. She took it and stepped to his side to look up at Noah with a small, polite smile. "This is my wife, Ruby."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Howell." Like a good officer, Noah didn't extend his hand to Ruby, but he shook hers when she offered it. "Samantha speaks of you and your family very warmly."
"Thank you, Mr. Baker," Ruby said. "Oh, but Samantha tells me you're in the military. I should probably be addressing you by your rank, shouldn't I?"
"It's major, ma'am, but it's not necessary. I'd be very happy if you'd all just call me Noah." He smiled. "It makes things a lot easier."
Ruby's smile turned from polite to pleased. "Noah, then."
"And these are Sam's cousins," Henry said, gesturing to the three figures still standing near the door. Sam could hardly believe he'd already called her Sam in front of a date. This was unprecedented! "The one on the right is our oldest son, John. You met his wife, Sharon, at the front door."
Noah nodded to Sam's cousin, but he didn't step forward to offer his hand. He nodded politely to Sharon. "Ma'am."
"And Robert is our youngest," Henry continued. "Our daughter, Caroline, fits in the middle, but she and her husband, Jason, are out back with the kids right now."
"Please give her my regards," Noah said, nodding. "I wouldn't want to interrupt the festivities. It sounds like they're having fun out there."
The whoops and shrieks filtering in from the yard made that an easy guess.
Shaking her head, Sam stepped forward to touch Noah's arm. That was about all the physical contact she was willing to risk in front of this crew, but she wouldn't feel right making him stay to deal with any more of this. "Noah, we should probably get going, shouldn't we?"
"Whenever you're ready," he replied, and when he looked down at her she could see his eyes twinkling.
Why, the jerk wasn't fazed by any of this! He was perfectly comfortable with her family. It would serve him right if she decided to go upstairs and powder her nose for an hour or two while leaving him to their tender mercies.
"Would you care for a bite to eat or a drink before you leave, Noah?" Ruby offered, smiling up at him.
"No, thank you, ma'am," he refused. "Your kitchen smells amazing, so believe me when I say it's a tough offer to pass up, but I made reservations for Samantha and me at eight, so we should be leaving if we want to get to the restaurant in time."
"Well, we won't keep you, then. You two go and enjoy yourselves."
"Thank you, ma'am." He nodded to Ruby and offered his hand to Henry again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. I hope I'll have the opportunity again soon."
"You be careful," Henry replied brusquely, but Sam noticed he looked more pleased than intimidating. "Take good care of our girl."
"I intend to, sir."
Placing one hand under Sam's elbow, Noah gently turned her and steered her to the door, pausing only briefly to acknowledge her cousins. "Mrs. Howell, gentlemen, a pleasure." Then they were down the hall and out the front door and heading for the curb.
"I'm parked just down the street," he said, as if nothing unusual had occurred in the history of the world. "The club lent me a car. I had moral objections to picking a woman up for a date and then putting her on the subway."
The hand on her arm moved to the small of her back to guide her along, and Sam cast him a narrow, sideways glance. "So that's it? We're just going to move along and pretend that little episode never even happened?"
He bent his head to give her a look of mild surprise. "What do you mean? I thought it went pretty well."
"It did! That's the thing." She let him help her into the passenger seat, not even really realizing how silly that bit of chivalry was, because with him it seemed completely natural. Of course he would hold her arm while she got in, wait for her to buckle her seat belt, and then close the door behind her. That was just Noah. It certainly wasn't enough to distract her while he circled the car and climbed in behind the wheel. "You might claim that you're human, but only a supernatural force could have managed that scene with my family. What did you do?"
"I was polite," he said, shooting her an amused look as he pulled out into traffic. "I did get the impression that some of the men you've dated hadn't thought of that."
"That wasn't just polite. Unless you call what a snake charmer does with a cobra 'polite.'" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window, feeling thoroughly off-balance. She'd expected to have to protect Noah, to defend him from her family's tender mercies, and instead they'd practically invited him to sit down to dinner and make himself at home.
"Why would it bother you that your family didn't hate me on sight? Did you want them to?" His eye remained on the traffic, but she could sense his focus on her. "Was dating a rude human supposed to be some sort of slap at them that I failed to cooperate with?"
"Of course not. I love my family and have no desire to deliberately make them unhappy, and I'm not so callous that I'd date anyone just for the sake of some silly statement."
"Then what's got you so on-edge?"
A good question. Sam wasn't sure she knew the answer herself. He really had thrown her off-balance with her family by fitting in so smoothly, but that was just surprise that would pass soon enough. Honestly, she was glad they'd liked him, for reasons she wasn't quite ready to examine too closely. So what was bothering her came from someplace else entirely, and Sam was pretty sure it was somewhere in the vicinity of Boston, Massachusetts. Li
ke Cambridge. In a microbiology lab.
She sighed and tried forcing her muscles to relax. A few of them even cooperated. "I'm sorry. I guess I am on-edge. I'm still worried about Annie. I haven't heard from her since that e-mail on Wednesday."
"I thought it said she wouldn't talk to you again until tomorrow."
"It did, but I don't have to like it."
He smiled. "No, I guess you don't."
Straggling to bring her attention back to the moment, Sam glanced out the window and saw the cables of the Brooklyn Bridge as they passed back into Manhattan. Her curiosity piqued. "So where are we going for dinner?"
"Wherever you want."
"I thought you said you made reservations someplace."
His mouth curved. "I did say that, didn't I?" He shot her a quick look of amusement. "You didn't recognize an exit strategy when you heard one?"
She felt her own lips quirking. "You mean you lied to my aunt and uncle?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"Actually, I'm relieved. If you'd been completely perfect, I'd have had to check under your bed for a pod."
His next glance was still amused but much, much warmer. "Sweetheart, anytime you want to look under, over, or inside my bed, you just say the word. It's entirely at your disposal."
She felt a rush of heat and had to resist the urge to squirm in her seat. "Major Baker, I think you might be flirting with me."
"If you're not certain, I'll just have to try harder."
Sam's memory flashed back to Thursday night and she wondered what his trying harder might entail. She reached for the button to roll down her window.
Beside her, Noah chuckled. "Feeling warm, Samantha?"
She started to glare at him, then thought better of it. Instead, she reached across the console between them and put her hand on his thigh just below the crease in his hip. She squeezed. "I'm fine," she said, lowering her voice, consciously making it deeper, huskier. "Have you given any thought to what you'd like to have for dinner?"
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