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“Oh, I’m playing all right. Just not the game this person wants,” I try to say intimidatingly. “I don’t know why I was dragged into this, but now I’m involved, and I’d very much like to stay alive.” I twist a martini glass a little too hard in the crushed candy canes and the glass cracks in half, along with my resolve. “I thought Secret Santa was supposed to be fun.”

He uses the moment to search my hands and arms for cuts. There’s not a trace of amusement on Nathan’s face when he angles his head toward me and says, “I promise, Payne.”

I slide the broken glass and crushed candy into the garbage. With so much out of our control, we’re not supposed to make promises. It only creates false expectations—with ourselves and with others—but right now, I need to believe that our intimidator won’t get away with this. And when Nathan says he promises, I believe him.

Then Nathan asks, “What else is on your mind?”

He’s asking this here? We don’t have an audience right now but the bartender will come back any minute from grabbing more napkins, and the Santa Wannabes are dancing to Britney Spears’ “My Only Wish (This Year).”

“I don’t appreciate the threats on my life, obviously, but I’m also feeling a little guilty that the timing worked out well for me professionally,” I admit. “I need to prove to my boss and the Bureau that they didn’t mess up taking a chance on me or my idea.”

“Timing?”

“I’ve been desked for months—”

“Dear Jesus—”

“Santa language,” I whisper.

“Rudolph.” Nathan grimaces. “Dear Rudolph. Better?”

“Much.”

“You’ve been desked? What happened?”

I almost tell him about my last operation and how I really messed up, but this is the last place this conversation can happen, and I don’t want Meyers and Bird thinking I’m not ready for this op. Plus, Nathan’s not that person to me anymore. Maybe never really was. To make matters more ominous, Sadistic Santa is literally in this room right now. Who knows what they can hear.

I let the candy dissolve on my tongue before I reply. “It’s a long story, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is beating Sadistic Santa at his own game. That’s my only wish this year,” I say, lip-syncing right as Britney sings it.

“I’m sorry you’re missing your trip,” Nathan says. “I remember you were worried about sacrificing time with your family when you joined the Bureau. Time with family is… Well, you never get that back. You weren’t really given a choice here. I know you’d do anything to protect people, whatever the cost, but still, it can’t be easy.”

I swallow thickly. It’s not him remembering this fact that surprises me. Agents have excellent memories and are trained to notice and recount details. It’s that Nathan rarely talks about his family. I don’t know why the change of heart, but I appreciate his gesture.

“Thank you.”

“And for what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ve proved yourself plenty,” he adds. “You’re one of the best.”

“Did you really just say that?” If I sound genuinely confused, it’s because I am.

He pushes off the bar and straightens his jacket. “I meant it, too. It’s not just me who thinks so. You know how solid your reputation is.”

Was.

“But you think I’m hasty and too trusting,” I say.

“Did you not go rogue and follow a low-credible tip?”

I shift footing in my strappy heels. “Well, yes, but my gut told me it was real, and it was.”

“And are we not on an undercover operation that we only had a few days’ worth of prep for?”

“For the record, this is not how I would’ve chosen to spend my holidays.”

“When I said those things about you, that was my adrenaline talking,” he says in a gentle tone. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me. Because of a mistake I made.” His jaw tightens. “But you care more than anyone I’ve ever worked with, and while I’d love not to have to cosplay Santa for an entire day, it’s good that we’re here, on the inside.” He smirks. “Leave it to you to come up with this idea.”

We’ll see just how good this idea is as the next twenty-nine hours unfold. Still, I’m genuinely touched by his comment. “Thank you for saying that.” I grab a new tray and start crushing a fresh batch of candy canes. “Speaking of prep, you’ll be pleased to find that Nate Lambros from Chicago now has social media profiles. In case anyone looks you up.”

“It’s still not enough for us to get too comfortable,” Nathan says. “You remember New Year’s Eve.”