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I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “I get it, you speak Chinese and German.”

“Don’t forget Spanish and French,” she adds. “But really, whatever you want to be called, I’ll call you. I just need you to do it.”

She’s trying to get back at me. That has to be it. She’s still mad about last year. I hand the invite back to her. “Sorry, can’t go as your plus-one.” I head toward the building where we’ll be debriefing on how this afternoon’s training went. My analysis? Badly.

She catches up to me. “What? Why not? It’s a matter of national security! You live for this stuff.”

“Sounds like he wants you to play,” I tell her. “I’m not you.”

“No, and you never will be,” she says. “Unfortunately for you, because your speed could use some work.” She hurries ahead of me and walks backward, facing me as she adds, “I’ll still be playing, just behind the scenes.”

“Payne, is this really a good idea? There’s got to be another way in.”

“Sure, maybe, and if I had more time, I could figure it out, but the Con starts in a few days. My boss says he can get the green light if I find someone by the end of today. All I’m missing is my man on the inside.”

“And you really want me?”

“No, I need you.” Her cheeks flush the lightest touch of pink.

A different day, a different time—a lifetime ago now, it feels like—those words changed everything. Almost. Now… well, too much has happened.

She shakes her head. “Look, forget about me.”

I wish I could.

“The FBI needs you,” she amends.

I scoff. They really don’t. Instead, I ask, “Why me?” I don’t actually need to ask it. I have dozens of undercover operations under my belt, each one a success. I can do accents, wear disguises well. I don’t fear being in tough situations. Though lately that hasn’t felt true. I guess I ask because I want to know why she, the woman I can’t seem to get enough of or get away from, needs me. Especially after I pushed her away. “Are all the agents at FBI New York booked up?”

“Yes, and a couple people are going on vacation. Our resources are already spread so thin,” she says. “You’re from out of town. You won’t be recognized.”

I shrug. “I’m sure most of the Santas competing will be from out of town.”

“It’s a physical competition, and the games look intense.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you were always pretty good at playing games.”

“And while I’m good,” she says, ignoring me, “I know you’ve been placing in the top one percent in the Bureau—”

“You’ve been tracking me?”

“I track all the stats,” she emphasizes.

“All I’m hearing is that you need me for my muscles.”

Scarlett gives me a look. “Both times Santa’s made contact, there have also been riddles alluding to more, and you’ve always been an expert at cracking codes. I’ve been able to solve them so far, but I have a feeling there are more coming and they’re only going to get more difficult.”

“I’ll be sure to study up on my Christmas carols.”

“You have the linguistics background, and I know how your brain works. You’re the best person to do this. When I’m managing the case, I don’t trust anyone else as much as—” She cuts herself off and scrunches her forehead. “I trust you with my life. Unfortunately.” We stand in the middle of the street, regarding each other, the silence between us tense.

I cut off the emotions before they can surface. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You need me for my muscles and my brain,” I tease, giving her a winning smile. “Thanks, I needed this boost.”

She glares at me. “Do you think this is all one big joke, having to dress up like Santa? Do you think it’s beneath you or something?”

“Of course not.” It’s a bomb threat. Nothing about this is a joke or beneath me. And I want to protect her. Always have. But so far, I’ve only managed to cause more harm than good. “What if I have holiday plans?”

“You don’t.”