36. Greg

As the plane touched down, my gaze was immediately drawn to the cluster of reporters visible through the terminal windows, their cameras poised like vultures. Despite anticipating this, a part of me still recoils at the reality. Tilly's curse under her breath confirms she's sharing my sentiments, though Sam, still lost in her music while sleeping, remained oblivious for the moment.

"Yeah, this is gonna be rough," I say.

"Put the cuffs on me," Tilly suddenly suggests. My head snaps her way, but I'm met with a serious look in her eyes.

"Til, no."

She reaches across Sam's lap and grabs onto my arm. "She doesn't need this, Greg." Her eyes are begging. "And we both know she's not going to run."

"Fuck," I mutter. The airplane seems so small, with too many people around. I can't protect her here, not from wandering eyes and judgment. But Tilly can. I run a hand through my hair, half wanting to pull it out before giving Tilly a nod.

Tilly wakes Sam gently, but Sam's attention turns straight to me. "What's going on?"

"Til's gonna wear the cuffs. You just head straight to the curb. There will be a black sedan waiting. Okay?" I don't wanna give her the opportunity to argue.

"Why?"

"Reporters," Tilly says. I shoot Tilly a glare as Sam's face blanches. Deciding it's better just to put our plan to fruition, I unlock the cuffs and toss them to Tilly. She snaps them over her wrist and laughs. "Yeah, I can see how this would be hot."

All three of us chuckle nervously. The idea to bring Tilly along, at her insistence, of course, was really smart. Without her, I don't know if Sam would have even let me into the hotel room. As much as I wish I could be everything Sam ever needs, I have to admit, what Tilly and Sam share is beautiful.

As Sam gets up, rubbing her wrists, she announces, "I guess I'll see you guys in a bit," and hurries away to blend into the crowd; I lose sight of her as she slips behind an older couple as we all disembark from the plane. I admired her courage, but the weight of the situation presses heavily on me as Tilly and I prepared to face the reporters swarming just beyond the gate.

The reporters descended on us the moment we stepped off the plane, their questions sharp and relentless. "Elaine! Why'd you do it?"

"Any chance of cutting a deal with the DA?"

"Where's the gun?" Handcuffed and trying to shield her eyes from flashing cameras, Tilly remains silent as I guide us through the chaos. The two of us navigate through the cluster fuck, not answering or even acknowledging the hounds in our shadow. Somewhat unscathed, we leave the terminal and head straight towards the curb, where the undercover police car waits. If everything goes according to plan, Sam will be hidden in the back. Tilly gets in first, in the passenger seat, and I get into the back. Sure enough, Sam is there, her face buried in her hands.

The officer wasted no time, starting the car. "Hey Sanderson, guess you brought a consolation prize too?" I forced a chuckle, replying, "Yep. But be careful, she bites." Turning to Sam, I see silent tears dripping off her chin, a sight that twists my heart.

A rage boils inside me. We should have insisted on a private flight or not arresting her until we were on American soil. But there's nothing to be done about that now. I'm well aware that we aren't alone. Letting the FBI, or anyone for that matter, know how deep my feelings go for Sam is not an option. Still, I can't resist. My knuckle goes under her chin and tilts her face up. "You okay?"

She sniffles and nods.

"Good because it'll be the same at the courthouse." It's tough love time, even if I hate it.

The officer driving is nodding along. "We'll get out under the sally port, but the vultures will be waiting."

Sam, wiping her eyes, voiced her fear, "Are they going to put me in a cell?"

I can only offer a shrug. "Maybe for a while. The paperwork can take some time, but I'll push to make it as quick as possible. Penny is already there."

Tilly turns from the passenger seat, her cuffed hands jingle as she moves. "Babe, this is just the circus. People will get bored once they realize you're not an adorable monkey banging cymbals together."

There's a small smile on Sam's face at the ridiculous and nonsensical metaphor, but still, she's reserved. Chewing on her bottom lip, she asks, "And if they don't?"

Without missing a beat, Tilly offered a daring solution, "Then we run back to Costa Rica." Her words sent a chill through me. The possibility of Sam not being acquitted was too real, her potential fate in a federal prison looming over us like a dark cloud.

The thought of Sam, vibrant and full of life, confined to a prison cell struck a deep fear in me. She thrived in the sunlight and needed the ocean's embrace. I haven't known her long, but it was clear that she wouldn't be the same without these things. The days she missed surfing when we were together in Costa Rica were awful. Quite frankly, those were the days we fought the most. I hate even thinking about it, but my Sam is kind of a grumpy mess without her time on the water.

Exhaling deeply, I tried to push away the mounting worry. "No use thinking about the ‘what if's,' Sam. Your sister sounded confident that this arrest was just a formality. The lawyers and her are all very sure you're not guilty." Conversations with Penny during Sam's absence had given me insight beyond what Sam knew, yet with the company of an unfamiliar officer; discretion is paramount. My face is scrunched up, a healthy mix of frustration and concern. I hate not being able to reassure her more, to touch her and kiss away the worries. I settle for a pat on the shoulder instead, like a fucking coach sending in a relief pitcher. It's almost pathetic, but she gives me a grateful smile.

Arriving at the courthouse, history seemed to repeat itself with the swarm of reporters echoing our earlier encounter at the airport. The sally port is practically blocked. We all get out as soon as the large garage door is closed behind us. Guiding Tilly nto the station, there are ten officers waiting. This whole thing has been so blown out of proportion, but the media does love a scandal, and Sam has been on the run for nearly a decade. When one of the uniforms tries to haul Tilly to booking, I stop them. "She's Sam." I point to Sam and then to Tilly. "This is a decoy."

"Decoy? What is she, a mob boss?" one officer quipped, her tone laced with skepticism.

Her dismissive remark set my pulse racing. "She's a human and doesn't really have the capacity for all this bullshit. Maybe you could do your job and clear the entrance to the sally port next time." Beside me, Tilly's body tensed. She knows I'm seconds from losing my shit.

"Don't," she whispers under her breath. Clenching my jaw, I give her a mumbled curse word as my only reply.

We just need to get through this crap, and then we can go to Penny's house. At least Sam's sister knows about our relationship, or at least that we had one previously. Though we slept in the same bed the night before and shared one hell of a kiss, I don't really know where we stand right now.

I need to be careful and slow. Not just for appearances but because I know Sam's going through a lot. The last thing she needs is some horndog chasing after her.

When we're led to the booking area, Sam's expression—one of pure sorrow—stops me in my tracks. Moving to her side, I can't hide my protective nature, not when it comes to Sam. "If you aren't absolutely necessary for the booking process, Out! Now!" I shout, my rough voice bouncing off the walls. Technically, I have no status here. Yes, I'm an FBI agent, but that doesn't mean I outrank anyone at a Police Station. This is their case; I just brought her in.

Thankfully, no one argues with me, and the room empties until only one officer remains. "Fingerprints," she simply stated, guiding us to the machine.

As we complete the formalities, we're led into a holding room where Sam's face remains blank. "What now?" she asks. There's a weight of uncertainty that's hovering around her. Gone was my confident, sexy, free-spirited woman. In her place is this almost childlike creature without any ability to feel anything other than fear. She's a frightened shell of herself, and I fucking hate it.

And still, I can't even touch her. I fluff the hair on the back of my head in frustration. "The lead prosecutor will come in and you'll sign some stuff. The judge will need to look over it before signing off. Then someone will get the ankle monitor attached and you'll go straight to your sister's place," I say.

"You'll be with me?" The hope in her voice is heartbreaking.

"I won't leave you until they make me, okay? And even then, I'll be close by," I promise, the words heavy with a commitment I hope I can keep.

As she wipes her eyes, there was a sudden knock on the door. An agent, who I think is the woman I've spoken with a few times to coordinate things named Tackett, and Penny walk into the room. Sam jumps up from her spot against the wall to wrap her sister in a tight embrace. The sight of both women crying hits me hard, and I swallow hard to keep my own emotions in check.

It's remarkable how much Sam and Penny look alike, though Penny is a bit taller, and her eyes are a deeper shade of brown compared to Sam's hazel. Both of them have this vibrant copper-red hair that really emphasizes that they are in fact, related. For a moment, the resemblance was almost amusing, a light moment in the midst of all this chaos.

The agent's interruption is another in a long line of frustration. Can't she see this is important to the women? "Elaine Williams?" she asks, and something about hearing that name makes me tense up.

"She goes by Sam now," I find myself saying.

"Of course. Sam. I'm Agent Tackett," the agent introduces herself. "I have some items for you to sign. It just says that you'll be released into your sister's custody and fitted with an ankle monitor on a promise to appear. The charges are listed on page three; first degree murder, evading police and misuse of a passport."

"Misuse?" Sam echoed, clearly taken aback by the accusation.

"Well, yes, Ms. Williams, you can't just steal your sister's passport," Agent Tackett explains as if it was the most straightforward thing in the world.

I could see Penny tensing up at that, and I tried to discreetly shake my head. Her interrupting anything at this point will just delay Sam's release.

"I see," Sam says. Penny's arm wraps around her sister's shoulder, a silent show of support.

Agent Tackett continued. "Yes and once the medical procedures are complete, you will stand trial. Until then, Penelope Bennet will be responsible for you. If you disappear again, she will be charged with contempt of court as well as aiding and abetting a felon. Do you understand?" Sam nodded, and I knew she wouldn't let her sister suffer because of her.

"Okay, perfect. So, if you'll sign here," Agent Tackett said, placing the folder on the table. The sheer volume of paperwork was daunting.

"Whoa, wait. Where's the lawyer?" I ask, nearly snatching the pen from Agent Up-Tight.

Penny's voice was small but firm. "They reviewed it yesterday and gave their blessing." I nod, though Agent Tackett's gaze on me is filled with suspicion.

"It's kind of odd to have the arresting agent so invested," she says, giving me the once over.

"Just want to make sure my hard work doesn't go to waste. If she signs something that hasn't been reviewed, she can use that for a mistrial down the road."

Agent Tackett seems satisfied with the explanation and hands Sam the pen. Sam signed diligently, though her hand trembled with each one of the signatures on the many pages.

When she's done, the Agent reviews everything in silence before getting to her feet. "Where am I going?" Sam asks. Fuck, I really do hate this.

"You'll need to wait in the holding cell." Agent Tackett's voice is firm, devoid of the empathy I desperately wish she'd show. An officer grips Sam by the arm, leading her away, and I have to force myself to swallow the anger boiling inside me. I want to intervene, to tell him to ease up, that there's no need to scare her further.

"You'll be out in no time, Sam. Just a few hours. Okay?" I try to infuse my voice with confidence, with a reassurance I'm far from feeling. She gives me a shaky nod, her movements stiff with anxiety. Watching them lead her out of the room, my heart constricts, and I struggle to breathe normally, feeling as though I'm the one in handcuffs.

After they're gone, Penny moves to stand beside me. "Thanks, Greg. I really couldn't have done this alone. Should I wait here?"

I shake my head, trying to think practically. "It could be a while. You need to call the lawyers, put pressure on them so we can get her to the hospital for those tests. We should both head to your house." It's the best plan we have to ensure Sam doesn't stay in that cell any longer than necessary.

Penny nods and pulls out her phone. I see the same resolve in her eyes that I know is in my own. We're both ready to do whatever it takes. Together, we'll fight for Sam, ensuring she gets through this ordeal with all the support she needs.