and was desperate to put it down someplace safe for a while so she could rest. And he found himself wanting to offer to take it off her hands for a while, so that she could get the rest she needed, preferably by lying down next to him. What was really odd was that, in that moment, that was all Sam wanted to do. Just lie beside her. Just be close to her. For as long as she needed him to be there.
Then she dropped her hands back to her sides, squared her shoulders and lifted her head. And he remembered that she was a federal agent, just like him, and she knew she couldnât afford delicacy any more than he could. She didnât need him, he thought. She didnât need anyone. Just like Sam didnât need anyone, either.
âKeep it brief at your parentsâ house,â he gently advised her. âTell them youâll see more of them tomorrow. Then come back here and get some sleep. Youâll need to be at your best tomorrow if weâre going to pull this thing off. We need to be convincing as newlyweds and prospective parents. Weâll have to go over this with your mother before our appointment, anyway. Sheâs going to go with us to Childrenâs Connection and introduce us to the woman whoâll be handling our case. Laurel Reiss is her name. Sheâs actually currently on leave because of a family situation, but sheâs doing your mother a favor, being our case worker. Your mother thought she would be best for the job.â
âDoes Laurel Reiss know about the investigation?â Bridget asked.
âIâd wager she knows thereâs an investigation ongoing,â Sam said. âConsidering how workplace grapevines operate, there probably isnât anyone atChildrenâs Connection who doesnât know about the investigation, and weâve questioned quite a few people there. Laurel Reiss may very well be someone the agent assigned to the case has talked to, but she doesnât know that you and I specifically are a part of it.
âAs far as everyone at Childrenâs Connection is concerned, nobody, and I mean nobody, knows you or I work for the FBI, except for your mother and sisterâeveryoneâs being given our history according to our cover story. And your mother, father and sister are under strict orders not to reveal our true identity to anyone, orders theyâll follow, because they know it could endanger you if the information got out. So when we go to Childrenâs Connection tomorrow, itâs as Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Jones, wealthy, upscale newlyweds who have recently relocated to Portland and who are anxious to start a family, but canât, so they want to adopt.â
Bridget nodded. âMrs. Samuel Jones,â she repeated. She lifted her left hand and surveyed the heavy golden ring on the third finger. It matched the larger one Sam wore, both of them, Pennington had joked, a wedding present from the Bureau. âI never, ever, thought Iâd give up my name for anyone,â she said.
And Sam had never, ever, planned on asking anyone else to take his name again. But he had asked someone to do that once upon a time. And the woman heâd asked had agreed to do it. Then sheâd made a mockery of his name. And him. He wasnât likely to let something like that happen again.
âItâs only for show,â he reminded her. âI doubt itâs even real gold.â He lifted his own left hand and wiggled his fingers against the strange weight. It had been a while since heâd worn one of these. And the one heâdowned before had only been a cheap bit of gold-plated metal that had turned his finger green. Appropriate, really, all things considered.
âOh, itâs real gold,â Bridget said, turning the ring first one way, then another. Even in the dim illumination from the lamp, it caught the light and threw it back in a bright twinkle.
And, of course, sheâd know real gold, Sam thought. She was,