and Lewis. Sixth floor, now. Medic team?”
“Let me down,” Samantha said, landing a punch on Zeus’s spine as he opened the door to the stairwell. From what she could tell, he was impervious to her hit.
“Will you walk down the stairs without argument?”
“Yes.”
He slipped through the doorway without letting her down, and took the steps at a jog.
“I said yes, dammit,” she said, barely able to get the words out as his shoulder dug into her midsection with each of his downward steps.
“Don’t believe you.”
“I’m. Going. To. Vomit.”
“Go ahead.”
“Seriously.”
He paused at the next landing, pulled her off his shoulder, and stood her so that her feet touched the floor. He held her up, his hands under her shoulders. Without glasses or contacts, her vision blurred. The stairwell spun from the quick movement. Agents ran past them, on their way up. Black eyes looked into hers as she leaned against the wall for support. He was virtually leaning into her as he assessed her. He smelled of a fresh forest after a rain, of slightly aromatic soap, of musk. So goddamn much like the man of her dreams—if she admitted to herself that such a man or dreams existed—that she could feel herself melting just from breathing the air that surrounded him. “Stop crowding me.”
“Did you eat or drink anything from that table?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Feel okay?”
She nodded. Above them, a door opened and shut. The agents who were running to the upper floors had apparently made it there. “Eric?”
“Don’t know yet.” Dark eyes, devoid of optimism, studied her. He drew a deep breath. Quiet in the stairwell told her that for the moment, they were alone. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. The upside down jogging down the stairs got to me. Plus, I really need my glasses,” she said. “And that was totally unnecessary. You don’t need to manhandle me like that.”
“Glasses will catch up to you. Sam, look—”
“Samantha. Not Sam.”
He shrugged. “Sam to me. Let the rest of the world call you Samantha.” With a jerk of his chin, he gestured to the stairs that led down. “Keep going.” She pretended like climbing down the stairs without her glasses wasn’t problematic and got moving, despite her blurred vision. He fell in step next to her. “When I say leave a room, leave the fucking room. Don’t let our past interfere—”
“Don’t mention our past, Hernandez. Not now. Not ever again.”
“I’m not playing that game. I’m giving fair notice–we will talk about it. I’d prefer sooner, rather than later. I will wear you down, if you insist on pretending it never happened—”
“Oh, it happened. There’s no pretending involved,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm. “It just doesn’t matter now. If it matters at all to you, just think about your wife and your child for perspective. Or,” she gave him a sideways glance as they reached another landing. By her count, they were on the second floor. Even with her pathetic, blurred vision, as he turned to her she saw his jaw was set and his cheeks slightly flushed, “However many children you might have by now.”
“Only one, and about my—”
“That wasn’t a question. I don’t want details.”
“Look, there’s some—”
She put her hand on his forearm, interrupting him as she shook her head. “I repeat. Not interested in details. Decisions were made. We’ve both moved on. There is nothing more to say. Our past is irrevocably behind us and irrelevant to today. We’re professionals. We both have jobs to do here, and my job today is way more important to me than what happened between us seven years ago. Since my life is your job, I certainly hope you’re taking yours seriously as well. Leave the past in the past. It can only amount to a minor distraction that neither of us needs. Don’t waste time on it.”
She turned and continued down the stairs, this time at a jog. No matter how
“Let me down,” Samantha said, landing a punch on Zeus’s spine as he opened the door to the stairwell. From what she could tell, he was impervious to her hit.
“Will you walk down the stairs without argument?”
“Yes.”
He slipped through the doorway without letting her down, and took the steps at a jog.
“I said yes, dammit,” she said, barely able to get the words out as his shoulder dug into her midsection with each of his downward steps.
“Don’t believe you.”
“I’m. Going. To. Vomit.”
“Go ahead.”
“Seriously.”
He paused at the next landing, pulled her off his shoulder, and stood her so that her feet touched the floor. He held her up, his hands under her shoulders. Without glasses or contacts, her vision blurred. The stairwell spun from the quick movement. Agents ran past them, on their way up. Black eyes looked into hers as she leaned against the wall for support. He was virtually leaning into her as he assessed her. He smelled of a fresh forest after a rain, of slightly aromatic soap, of musk. So goddamn much like the man of her dreams—if she admitted to herself that such a man or dreams existed—that she could feel herself melting just from breathing the air that surrounded him. “Stop crowding me.”
“Did you eat or drink anything from that table?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Feel okay?”
She nodded. Above them, a door opened and shut. The agents who were running to the upper floors had apparently made it there. “Eric?”
“Don’t know yet.” Dark eyes, devoid of optimism, studied her. He drew a deep breath. Quiet in the stairwell told her that for the moment, they were alone. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. The upside down jogging down the stairs got to me. Plus, I really need my glasses,” she said. “And that was totally unnecessary. You don’t need to manhandle me like that.”
“Glasses will catch up to you. Sam, look—”
“Samantha. Not Sam.”
He shrugged. “Sam to me. Let the rest of the world call you Samantha.” With a jerk of his chin, he gestured to the stairs that led down. “Keep going.” She pretended like climbing down the stairs without her glasses wasn’t problematic and got moving, despite her blurred vision. He fell in step next to her. “When I say leave a room, leave the fucking room. Don’t let our past interfere—”
“Don’t mention our past, Hernandez. Not now. Not ever again.”
“I’m not playing that game. I’m giving fair notice–we will talk about it. I’d prefer sooner, rather than later. I will wear you down, if you insist on pretending it never happened—”
“Oh, it happened. There’s no pretending involved,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm. “It just doesn’t matter now. If it matters at all to you, just think about your wife and your child for perspective. Or,” she gave him a sideways glance as they reached another landing. By her count, they were on the second floor. Even with her pathetic, blurred vision, as he turned to her she saw his jaw was set and his cheeks slightly flushed, “However many children you might have by now.”
“Only one, and about my—”
“That wasn’t a question. I don’t want details.”
“Look, there’s some—”
She put her hand on his forearm, interrupting him as she shook her head. “I repeat. Not interested in details. Decisions were made. We’ve both moved on. There is nothing more to say. Our past is irrevocably behind us and irrelevant to today. We’re professionals. We both have jobs to do here, and my job today is way more important to me than what happened between us seven years ago. Since my life is your job, I certainly hope you’re taking yours seriously as well. Leave the past in the past. It can only amount to a minor distraction that neither of us needs. Don’t waste time on it.”
She turned and continued down the stairs, this time at a jog. No matter how
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