Under the Rose

by Kathryn Nolan

  “He called Abe?” she asked. I nodded. Understanding flooded her features. But she was still searching my gaze, searching for the deeper truths hidden behind Gregory’s scandal.

  “Before this panic attack,” Freya started, “do you think you had others?”

  I held her gaze. “Yes.”

  “At work?”

  My jaw clenched. “Yes.”

  “How many hours a week do you think you were working?” she asked. Her fingers continued to soothe my body.

  “About seventy,” I said. “I never had a weekend off. I slept maybe…four hours a night? If I was lucky?”

  “And how did you feel when you were there? When you worked cases?” she asked.

  “Exhausted. Confused. I was anxious from the moment I got to work until I fell into bed at night.”

  Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she kept her composure. “That’s how I felt. Back at Quantico.” She tipped forward, brushing our lips together in a sweet kiss. “I can’t believe you’ve felt that way for years.”

  My throat was so tight I could barely swallow. “Not all the years. But…most of the years,” I admitted. “Those kinds of feelings are pretty normalized at the Bureau.”

  “I know they are,” she said. “Doesn’t mean you have to work a job that makes you feel that way. Sounds a lot like burnout to me.”

  I flipped over her hand, traced my fingers inside her wrist. “I used to think I’d feel energized being an agent. Used to think the stress and anxiety were the same as flashing my FBI badge. Something to be proud of. Because it meant you worked hard, had a hard job worth doing. But I—”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly embarrassed. “I felt happy working this case for Codex. And we still did the right thing. Caught the bad guy.”

  “Only broke a handful of laws.” She smirked.

  I grinned. “I wasn’t aware it could feel this way. Fulfilled but not crouched beneath my desk panicking. Nothing was ever done at Art Theft. No tasks ever accomplished. Every case I closed only freed up my time to tackle the foot-high stack that sat on my desk, taunting me. I’m not sure the system is set up for you to feel healthy.”

  “Interestingly,” Freya said, “I feel a little sad about your dad.”

  “Plot twist,” I said.

  “He believes in what you’re saying. Believes in subverting happiness in pursuit of duty or honor, even if it affects your relationship with your son. I imagine it’s tough being Andrew Byrne.” She paused. “I still think he’s a dick though.”

  I laughed softly. “I’ve laughed more with you in the past seventy-two hours than I have the past seven years.”

  “Laughter is the most important thing in this world,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s not been a part of your life.”

  “Fun hasn’t been a priority,” I explained.

  “I can remedy that,” she said. “And for what it’s worth, you deserve a job that fulfills you without draining you dry.”

  “Like being a private detective?” I asked. The words opened my throat, loosened my chest.

  Freya’s lips parted, as if surprised. “You know my thoughts on this, Sam.”

  “We had fun, didn’t we?” I asked. “Once we worked together?”

  She sat back, sipped her tea. Chewed on her bottom lip. “We had the most fun. And I know how I feel about Codex. About the job we just did. But I don’t want to muddy your thinking.”

  “Tell me why you chose it,” I urged.

  More lip-chewing. “Finding Codex felt like finding a second home. A second family. It’s not like we don’t work long hours or have high stress levels. But it’s not as heavy, with much less pressure. And Abe is cautious of burnout and seeks to protect his staff at all costs. I don’t think you find that with many supervisors at the FBI.” Here, her pretty cheeks flushed. “Once you and I started working together, being partners again felt like…”

  I waited her out. Waited until she said, “Being your partner made me feel like I could do anything. Like I’m good at my job. Like dropping out didn’t mean I was a failure. Last night, beating Ward like that…” She murmured it under her breath like she couldn’t believe it. “I knew. Knew you had my back. Knew I could best any thief in that room. Knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

  I reached forward and dragged my ex-enemy—blankets and all—back into my lap.

  “Being your partner is an honor, Evandale,” I whispered against her mouth. “You’ve never been a failure a single day in your life.”

  She kissed my cheek. “There you go, being a superhero again.”

  “And you take my breath away.”

  That stilled her, had her staring at me for a long time.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to know, regardless of what happens today, you shouldn’t have to suffer to earn your father’s love. Or his respect. From what you’ve told me of your mom, she really embraced life, didn’t she?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “I’m sorry your father took that from you,” she said.

  I rubbed a strand of her golden hair between my fingers, remembering all those arguments we used to have about my dad. How confused I’d feel, having to defend a man who infuriated me all the damn time. Who withheld his love, his affection, and his respect out of a distorted sense of honor and duty. The Bureau above all else.

  Even your only child.

  “My mother encouraged me to chase whatever happiness I discovered. To treasure the joy, no matter how small. She believed in changing your mind, starting over, trying new things. She was never rigid, always flexible. Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I said.

  “Your mother would be overjoyed to know we’re having this conversation right now,” Freya whispered, kissing my cheek. “I imagine she’d be cheering for you to blow up your life. Start fresh.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Yeah, she would.” I tucked that knowledge away for safekeeping. A knowledge that couldn’t be taken from me, that would be cherished. “When did you get so smart?”

  “Oh, so you’re admitting I’m smarter than you now, Byrne?”

  “Yes. Or at least smart enough to listen to me when we’re working an undercover case.” I tickled her again as she shrieked with glorious laughter. But then she executed a complicated move, sending me flying off the couch and onto the floor. She landed on top of me with a happy oof and immediately pinned my wrists down.

  “Who’s the smart one now?” she teased. We were breathing heavily, for several reasons, and I mentally calculated how much time we had before we hit the road.

  “How fast can you get ready?” I asked, skating my palms along her thighs.

  “Five minutes, tops,” she murmured. “I just need a sweater and my yoga pants.”

  “Good,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Where?”

  “To Quantico, of course.”

  “And what will we be doing there?” she gasped. “Don’t tell me we’re finally gonna fuck in the library.”

  I sat up, bringing our mouths close together. The magnificent grin on her face was all the confidence I’d ever need.

  “That can be arranged,” I said. “But first, I’ll need your help quitting the FBI.”

  Her mouth formed a surprised O. She tapped her chin. “Hmmm. If you quit the FBI, where on earth would you work?”

  I closed the distance between our mouths, kissed her for a sweet, breathtaking moment. “I heard Codex is hiring.”

  My irritating, beautiful, genius rival tackled me to the floor in a bear hug.

  46

  Sam

  At 10:59 a.m., I lowered myself into a chair in front of my father’s desk at the FBI’s Quantico offices in Virginia. The Deputy Director had cleared the room, shut the door—and now looked at me with a professionally neutral expression. With a casual air, he flipped the file on his desk open with one finger, scanned it. Nodded.

  “
The OPR’s initial investigation into your role as Gregory’s partner has come back favorably,” he began. “They found not a shred of evidence of fraudulent activity. Gregory, however, was arrested on criminal charges late last night.”

  “Pleased to hear it,” I said. With Freya’s guidance, I’d driven down here wearing my ragged Princeton sweatshirt and sweatpants, feeling nothing but liberation from years of stuffy, ill-fitting suits. But his shrewd eye had scanned my wardrobe and clearly found me lacking.

  “Are you sick?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” I replied. “Just wanted to be comfortable.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he left it unaddressed. “Given your successful role in the infiltration of this Empty House secret society, the Bureau is excited to welcome you back into the Art Theft division. I have assured them that your outburst was due to your shock at hearing the news of Gregory’s actions. And that you’ve gotten your stress levels under control.”

  “All due respect, sir, but what I was feeling isn’t something you can—”

  “You’ll begin with a brand-new partner,” he spoke over me. “His name is Patrick, and he brings five years of experience working in white-collar crime. He’s eager and looking forward to working with you. Your staff, additionally, informed me of their eagerness for you to return.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I said. “I barely know them.”

  “You’re in charge. They don’t need to know you.”

  I looked out his wide office window. The last time I’d sat in this office, I’d been overwrought, stress levels a mess, my body experiencing a combination of fear and shame. Funny that when he’d mentioned working for Codex, I had no idea that it would bring Freya and me back together. How insignificant, those words—Abraham has offered to allow you to work for Codex until all of this blows over. I’d nodded, accepted the terms of my punishment, and didn’t think twice. I certainly didn’t think it would reconnect me with the woman I loved.

  “I won’t be returning to the FBI,” I said.

  Interestingly, my body responded to these controversial words with nothing but calm, layered with happiness. I actually smiled at my father.

  “You’re not needed at Codex anymore,” he continued. “Abe will finish the paperwork on his end. And you have much to do here concerning Bernard Allerton. You are returning. Today, in fact.”

  “I’m resigning from the FBI,” I said. More plainly this time. “So no, I won’t be returning.”

  “That’s preposterous,” he barked.

  I shrugged. “I’m not lying or exaggerating. I’ve already started the resignation process with human resources.”

  For the first time in all the years I’d known him, my father was speechless.

  “Thank you for everything,” I continued. “And thank you for ensuring the OPR investigation went smoothly. I’ll be moving to Philadelphia. You can visit whenever you’d like.”

  “Doing what?” His tone was sharp.

  “I’ll be joining Abe Royal’s team at Codex. As a private investigator.”

  Freya and I had called Abe on the drive down. His voice on the phone was smooth—but pleased—when he said, Why, Samuel, I was thinking it was time we added another member to our crime-fighting family.

  “You’ve been placed with a new partner,” my father countered.

  I thought about the bespectacled goddess sitting outside these doors—probably chewing on a pen while reading a book.

  “I have a partner, actually,” I said. “We worked together on The Empty House case. We’ve got good chemistry.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  I made my way to the door. I cracked it open six inches and spied Freya doing exactly what I imagined. My ex-enemy sat cross-legged on a chair, wearing a giant blue sweater with a halo of pens sticking out of her messy bun. When she felt me watching her, she caught my eye. Beamed a big, carefree grin my way. Flashed me the thumbs-up.

  My father must have caught my expression because he looked for himself.

  “Ah,” he said shortly. “Ms. Evandale.”

  “You were right about her,” I said. “She is the most talented field agent I’ve ever seen.”

  He cleared his throat, tightened his cufflink. “Serving this institution is in your blood, Samuel,” he said quietly. “I envisioned you rising through the ranks here. One day being a director yourself. It would make me happy to see that.”

  He was still avoiding my gaze—but his body language indicated how uncomfortable he was.

  “I understand what your intentions have always been,” I said. “But you saw me the day you broke the news about Gregory. That’s how I feel every day here. I don’t want to feel like that. I want to feel good about my job. About my life.”

  For a moment, his expression softened. “You think working with Abraham will achieve that?”

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “Nothing is a guarantee. But I have to at least try.”

  He cast his gaze downward as if he was studying the most interesting thing on the floor. “Samuel,” he said. “It would make me more than happy to see you stay here at the FBI. It would make me…proud. I am proud. I’m proud of you.”

  It was the most vulnerable display of emotion he’d ever shown me.

  He hadn’t cried when my mother passed away. He’d remained stoic and vigilant even at her funeral. But I’d never told him that I’d caught him that night, after her funeral, after the hundreds of weeping guests had finally left. I’d come down late at night, in need of a glass of water, and I could just make out his silhouette in our pantry. Crying quietly, as if worried he’d wake me.

  I’d never mentioned it. And we’d never spoken of anything so fragile, or real, as the loss we’d gone through together. But even as he said the words I’d ached to hear my entire career—I’m proud of you—suddenly, they were no longer enough.

  Working at Codex meant I’d be proud of myself. It was a crucial difference.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. The non-formal name startled him. “I’m proud of you too. And I’m proud of myself, whatever career path I choose. But this is no longer the right place for me. Besides, Abe will still work with the FBI whenever Codex needs the help. I’ll be here in spirit.”

  My father ran a hand through his hair—a gesture I’d never seen before.

  I hugged him. Just for two seconds. It was extremely awkward. We disengaged like two work acquaintances.

  “Are you, um…” He coughed a little. “Are you and Ms. Evandale…more than work partners?”

  Freya was walking toward us, book tucked beneath her arm. Seeing her like this, in FBI offices, was stirring waves of nostalgia. Of course, she used to wait outside the library to study with me every night. Of course, she’d bring me cookies when she saw I was sad. Of course, she’d wait patiently while I shattered my life—and started a new one.

  She had always been there, waiting for me.

  “We are,” I said.

  He slipped his hands into his pockets, gave a curt nod. “Your mother and I used to bicker constantly.”

  Now it was my turn to be startled.

  “It’s important to have a partner who challenges you,” he said. “I’m sure that’s what Ms. Evandale does.”

  “She is smarter than me,” I said.

  “What’s this about me being smarter than you?” Freya said brightly, coming to join us. She shoved her glasses up her nose and gave my father a firm handshake.

  “It’s nice to see you in person again, Ms. Evandale,” he said.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Byrne,” she said. “Did Sam extend an invitation to visit the Codex team in Philadelphia?”

  “He did,” he replied. “I’ve always found the city of Philadelphia to be adequate to my liking.”

  “That’s high praise,” she said. “Adequate or not, you’re always welcome.”

  My father checked his watch, frowning. “Yes, well, I’m late for my next meeting. I trust human resources will be in touch to finalize your plans.�
�

  “Yes, sir,” I promised. With a slightly awkward pat on both my and Freya’s shoulders, he closed the door to his office.

  She spun on her heels. She mouthed what happened?

  “I think my dad’s going to miss me,” I guessed. I looped an arm around her shoulders, turning her toward the exit. Catching the stares of every stressed-looking staff member of the office of the Deputy Director.

  This time? I didn’t care one bit.

  47

  Freya

  For the first time in seven years, I was back on the grounds of Quantico’s Training Academy. The campus was directly next to the FBI field offices that housed the Deputy Director, Art Theft, and other divisions. While I’d left this place and joined a team of butt-kicking private detectives, Sam had stayed here. Stayed here and suffered, to hear him tell it.

  We walked together across the large, green field, the sun setting his blond hair alight. The thought of Sam Byrne with anxiety and panic attacks, burnout and exhaustion, made me want to punch everyone here in the face. But he’d changed course—was changing his mind—and the two of us were about to become—

  “Partners,” he said, reading my thoughts as usual. I hooked our pinkies together, reveling in the new freedom of our intimacy. “I told my dad we were partners.”

  “What kind?” I asked. Even in gym clothes, he was broad-shouldered and brave-looking. There was even a hint of stubble on that strong jaw.

  “I told him you and I would be partners at Codex. And that we were romantic partners.”

  I stopped, yanking him to a halt. “Samuel Byrne.”

  He was trying not to smile. “Freya Evandale.”

  “Are you my boyfriend?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged—even though my heart was racing. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Constant arguing.”

  I hummed a little. “Go on.”

  “Wild sex.”

  I arched a brow. “Do go on.”

  He leaned down until his lips were at my ear. “Love letters.”