“After you,” Sam gestured for the agents to precede him. He let them walk a few yards ahead, out of hearing range, before bending down to whisper in Hannah’s ear. “Nice catch on the warrant.”
“When you work for the DOD, you get really good at reading the fine print,” she said from the side of her mouth. “I’m assuming you guys have squirreled away the suspect in question, so me telling these suits to do their search is okay?”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “And since you brought up the suits again, what’s cheugy?”
The look of disdain she shot him might have driven a lesser man to his knees. “Come on, old-timer, keep up. Cheugy means démondé, untrendy, out-of-fashion.”
“Old-timer?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Well”—she shrugged one shoulder—“you’re older than me. Thirty-four, right?” When he nodded, she went on, “Which in our fast-paced world is basically ancient. Have you started receiving pamphlets from AARP? If I were to open your medicine cabinet, would I find it filled with chewable antacids and Bengay?”
“Men in their prime”—he puffed out his chest—“get sore muscles too, you know. And are you telling me you’ve never had a single bout of indigestion?”
“I’m telling you you’re over the hill the moment you no longer understand what the youths on the street are talking about.”
“I take it your boyfriend is your age?” He didn’t know why he asked that.
Okay, maybe he did. He was curious what kind of man the feisty, ineffable Hannah Blue would choose.
“Boyfriend?” One jet-black eyebrow arched up her forehead.
“Cesar? The one who makes sure you apply SPF?”
“Ha!” She tossed back her head and laughed. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the creamy length of her throat. “Cesar is my best friend and roommate. He does two shows a night at the Kit Kat Lounge. And this morning he introduced me to his latest conquest, a tall, Viking god who goes by the name of Pete.”
When a wave of relief washed over Sam, he told himself it was because he still saw her as that thirteen-year-old kid and thoughts of her with a man felt...icky. “The Kit Kat Lounge? Isn’t that a drag club?”
“Mmm.” She nodded. “Cesar is a very handsome man. But Cesarine? She’s unquestionablythemost beautiful woman in the whole of Chicago.” She tossed her heavy hair over her shoulder and slanted him a look. “You should come to one of her shows. The girls backstage would have a field day with you.”
“Meaning what?”
“You ooze heterosexuality, Sam. And that’s like catnip to a drag queen.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re setting me up for an exercise in humility?”
“Probably because you’ve always had an uncanny sense of self-preservation.”
He snorted at her lightning-fast reply. Even as an adolescent, she’d been able to match him word-for-word. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he told her affectionately.
He’d meant it as a compliment, so he was a little confused when a strange look came over her face. But it was gone before he could study it.
“Well that makes one of us.” She pointed to the large scar running along the front of his neck. “Do I even want to know how you got that?”
He grinned and offered his arm as they followed the agents across the grounds of the compound. “Depends. Do you have a death wish? Because if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
His teasing smile faltered when her eyes met and held his. That strange sensation was back.
This time he told himself it was simply his excitement at seeing her again after so many years. A blast from his past.
When the voice in his head answered back with,Are you sure about that?he chose to ignore it.
10
Hannah couldn’t get over the sight of Sam.
He was everything she remembered.
And more.
