Author's Note: Hey guys! I've got a new story for you. It's a little different than what I've done before but I'm really excited about this one and I hope you will be, too! It starts in the middle of 2.10 "Best Laid Plans" and goes from there. Everything you know about Brennan from the show remains true - I'm trying to stay as close to canon detail as possible but take it in a little different direction.

Finally, margie311 and rookiebluefan89 both deserve a huge thank you - they have been so incredibly helpful and encouraging to me as I've slowly been piecing this thing together.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

"So this undercover operation with Boyd, I mean, is it dangerous?"

Sam watches her walk back over to him, raises an eyebrow. "Well they don't usually do deep cover on people with parking tickets, unless you've got a lot of 'em… then it's a joint meter maid, ETF thing. Why?" he asks, scrunching up his forehead. Then, way more casual than he feels, "You wanna come with me?"

He expects her to scoff and maybe roll her eyes a bit. Instead, serious as ever, she answers, "Just thought maybe you could use the back up." Shrugging, her lips begin to slide into a smirk, "I heard last time you were in deep cover you got chased down and tackled by a girl." At the end she makes this face like they're back in high school (he's in high school, she's probably… well, hopefully she's started kindergarten) and she's just doled out an unrecoverable diss, daring him to respond to that.

There's another car coming so he eyes her as she makes her way to other side of the road, tries to fight a grin. "Overeager rookie," he claims, easy even though he's pretty sure she's flirting with him. "Didn't want to make her look bad on her first day."

Andy just laughs, and that's how it starts.

"I'd come with you," she says later, arms folded against the cold and leaning back against the cruiser, trying to look confident and nonchalant. "I could do it."

Sam looks down at her, wants to ask if she's serious because – well, it's possible he wasn't entirely joking. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, I mean," she glances at him and then away, back down the road, "You'd be there."

You'd be there. He wonders for a second if she knows how much he likes to hear that; if she pulls it out whenever she wants something from him or if she actually means it. He's staring at her, mouth gaped open in a way he can't really help, and when she looks back up at him she smiles kind of shyly and shrugs – so, maybe she really did mean it. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Sam coughs into his hand to clear the lump in his throat. A plan is forming in his head, Jamie Brennan was a family man, but he can't… he doesn't really want to go there until he knows –"McNally…"

"Course," she says, blowing her bangs off her face and huffing, "Boyd hates me. He'd never allow it."

"He doesn't hate you." Sam has no idea why he automatically defaults to reassurance. Boyd does hate her though, for sure. It's not going to be easy.

Andy snorts like she doesn't believe him. "Yeah, okay." She tucks her hands tighter up under her arms and watches for the next car, totally oblivious to the whirlwind of emotion she's sent him into, as per usual.

The thing is – he's not even sure he wants her to go with him. It's a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything they've done before and Brennan never discriminated based on his victim's gender. He's not sure he wants the responsibility of that - not sure he wants her having anything to do with a guy like Brennan.

Of course, she'd probably punch him in the stomach (he'd be lucky if it was a punch in the stomach – he saw her knee a perp the other day; guy'd gone down like a rock) if she knew he might not let her come along because it could be dangerous. Danger was like catnip to McNally - she couldn't get enough of it, ran right into burning buildings and storage lockers without a second thought.

He stares at her again, completely surprised and yet somehow… completely not, that stubborn streak she's got in her that he loves and hates in equal measure. "Andy," he says after a minute, quiet so she'll look at him, lean in closer to hear him better over the wind, "Would you really want to go?"

She considers it for a moment, lips pursed and eyes narrowed like she's trying to decide between hot chocolate and one of those caramel drinks she likes so much. In the end she nods, "It'd be nice to get away. Do something different for a while."

Sam sucks in a breath and steps back. "Getting away from something isn't a good reason to go under," he tells her, ready to drop the whole idea – wipe his hands and go on with what he was doing.

Andy quirks an eyebrow and tips her chin down. "Really?" she says slowly, ducking her head conspiratorially. "So, um… why're you going again?"

"I think you're going about this the wrong way," he tells Boyd later that night, sitting in the SUV outside of his house. He's thought about it all day; vague ideas and plans that suddenly became much more concrete when Boyd showed up on his doorstep. Things are happening faster than he was told they would - about three weeks faster - and he's only got one chance to pitch his idea.

"Oh yeah?" Boyd's fiddling around with a cellphone, entirely uninterested.

"Look, for all we know, Brennan's left the life and even if he's back, he's probably trying to stay under the radar." Sam presses his lips together and shakes his head. "Running heroin through his warehouse is just gonna piss him the hell off."

It's a common enough scheme, Sam's run it a couple of times before – bad guy finds a buddy with a similar background, thinks he can trust him and starts opening up – but he's got a hunch it's not gonna work with someone like Jamie Brennan.

Boyd tilts his head from side to side, reluctantly reconsiders. He's a higher rank, detective, but Sam gets the impression that the guy will listen to him when he talks. "What're you thinking?"

Sam lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in and proposes, "We work the family angle, give Brennan someone he can relate to that way. Young couple with a past that they're getting away from, trying to make a better life for themselves. She can work in the warehouse, too. Maybe in the office."

Boyd's shaking his head before Sam even finishes, "We don't have anyone ready to go. And you are not young, hate to tell ya."

Sam ignores that last bit. "I know someone," he says confidently, trying to push the images of what a drill can do to a person's skull out of his mind. "She's ready."

Boyd snorts, "If it's McNally you can forget it right…"

"It is McNally," Sam interrupts him, suddenly feeling defensive. He can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, which he doesn't really get, but he's stopped being surprised by his body's reaction to that girl a long time ago.

"Uh uh, no way," Boyd's arguing, head swinging, "Absolutely not. That rookie has screwed up one too many…"

"That rookie," Sam says, talking over him and emphasizing rookie with an edge of challenge, "Is my partner and I'm telling you… she's ready. She can do this. Remember the Landry's?" Boyd's eyes cut over to meet his and Sam shrugs, points out – "She saved both our asses."

"Yeah, after landing them in hot water in the first place." Boyd's tone has changed – gotten meaner, harsher, almost like he's snarling; it's the same one he uses whenever he talks to McNally.

"You and I both know she didn't do anything wrong," Sam says, leaning back against his door and settling his arm along the windowsill. He's anxious – tremors running through his body like they do anytime he gets ready to go under but different this time, somehow. Sharper, maybe. He tries on a blank expression, like the idea of McNally joining him doesn't affect him one way or the other, and hopes Boyd buys it.

"This is a hell of a lot bigger than the Landry's," Boyd claims, "And that was one night. This could take months. She's never been under before…"

"Everyone's gotta have a first time," Sam tells him easily, holding his hands out, palms towards the roof of the truck. "And I'll be with her."

Boyd chews his lip, still shaking his head and looking around the truck, anywhere but at Sam. "No way, buddy, not gonna happen. Brennan is a professional, okay, he's not some junkie dealer down on Dundas that she can flash her tits at and get what she wants, okay? This guy is big time and there is no way I'm letting some rookie cop, a year on the force… "

"Almost two years, actually."

"Two years," Boyd corrects himself, puts on a show of rolling his eyes. "Doesn't matter, there's no way I'm letting her blow this thing up because you have a hard-on for her. Do you even remember what happened last time you were in deep cover?"

"No," Sam deadpans. "What happened?"

Boyd just looks at him, thoroughly unamused and actually a little bit angry, like he's personally offended that Sam's trying to make this happen. It was a rhetorical question, but Boyd answers it anyway to make his point - "She blew the entire operation for you… eight months man," he says, like maybe Sam's forgotten, "Eight months."

"It was her first day," Sam argues. He's settled it with himself, honestly doesn't blame her anymore. "And I was running away from her."

"Well, that's not gonna happen this time, I've got too many guys that have worked too hard and too long to let her just come in and…

"First of all, this is a completely different situation than that was," Sam says, starting to get a little irritated that Boyd's not being an easier sell. "We'd be on the same side so no one's going to be arresting the other person. And second - look, I have trained her, okay? She may not have much experience but she has the most of any rookie we've got right now. She knows what to do and how to handle herself."

"Maybe you think she does because you've got special-issue McNally blinders on, but Brennan's gonna see through her in two seconds flat, and when he does…" he trails off ominously and then pitches his voice low and quiet, like he's actually trying to get Sam to buy that he's worried about McNally, "Do you know what he'll do to her if he makes her?"

Sam nods. He knows, he does know, the thought of it actually makes him sick to his stomach but he's not just blowing smoke up Boyd's ass; he actually thinks McNally can handle it, wants to see her try. Wants to be there with her when she does. "Yeah, I know."

"And you're willing to risk that… not only what he'll do to her but what he's gonna do to you, because once he makes her your time will be up buddy, you'll be finished," Boyd warns, words sharp. "You're willing to risk all of that because you can't be away from this girl?

"That's not…" Sam breaks off and shakes his head. "That's not it."

Well, that's not totally it.

Boyd stares at him, incredulous. "You're an idiot," he spits. "There's no god damned way I'm letting this happen, so forget it." He makes a noise in the back of his throat like he's disgusted and shakes his head one last time.

"Well," Sam tries one more time, goes for broke, "Look, if you want me in on this thing – "

That gets his attention. Boyd flings his whole body around in the seat, stares at him in disbelief for a moment. "Tell me that's a joke," he demands.

Sam holds his ground. "The family route is the way to go and with a guy like Brennan, having a partner to work him with is just smart." Boyd starts to protest but Sam pushes on, "It's built in backup, even with the cameras and the wires, you guys aren't gonna be there fast enough if something goes bust." He pauses, shrugs like he's resigned, and then admits, "I need her for this thing."

Boyd checks and sees that Sam's serious, unwavering – he's doesn't say anything for half a second and then he turns back around and slams his fists against the steering wheel a couple of times, swearing loudly and repeatedly. Sam just raises an eyebrow, waits for him to work it out. Finally (finally, Sam was actually starting to worry about the damage he might cause) he calms down and after one last punch, rests his head against the wheel and takes a deep breath. "My contact can only get you one job."

"I'll get her a job," Sam hears himself say before he even thinks about what might be involved in that. "No problem."

Boyd lifts his head, looks hard at Sam for a long moment, jaw clenching and unclenching. "If you're doing this because you're sleeping with this girl – "

"Uh," Sam's eyebrows go up in a challenge, "I'm not sleeping with her." Never did he think he'd be happy that that was the truth.

Boyd doesn't miss a beat, "Because you want to sleep with her, this is not your opportunity to get her in some love shack courtesy of the city when there is an actual case that needs to be worked and a man that I would very much like to see go to prison."

Sam thinks about shooting a glare over at Boyd and then thinks better of it. He stretches his legs out, nice and casual. "That's not what this is," he says, running a hand through his hair, scrubbing a bit at the back of his neck. Then, gruff like it annoys the absolute shit out of him, because it does really… sometimes it really does, he continues, "Look, McNally's got this gift for getting people to talk. She'll keep going until you start talking just to shut her up. It's irritating as hell out on patrol but put her in an interview room and your perp'll be sobbing out his life story in no time. She's," he waves his hand in the air, "I don't know, she's sympathetic. People respond to her. Brennan," he states, pointed, "Will respond to her." He waits a beat and then adds for good measure, "Trust me."

When he looks back over, Boyd's chewing on the inside of his cheek like he's actually considering the idea. "Fine," he finally grumbles, giving in but sounding like he'd rather go swimming in a pool of molten hot lava, maybe take center stage in front of a firing squad, than agree to what he's about to agree to – "Fine. Call her. She better be ready tonight though, we're not holding this thing for her."

Sam fights a grin as he dials the familiar number, does it quickly before Boyd can change his mind.

"Hello?" Andy answers – thankfully, she's not one to ignore unfamiliar numbers. Sam usually ignores phone calls, familiar or not.

"McNally," he says, propping his elbow up and looking out the window. "Hey, it's me."

He's not sure why he just expects her to know who me is but she must because she asks, "Sam?"

"Yeah, listen," he glances over at Boyd, who gives him a let's get this over with look, "How fast can you get to my place?"

Andy let's out this laugh that he doesn't really understand – full and pleased and a hint of teasing, "I'm, like, thirty seconds away," she tells him, "The taxi just turned down your road."

He sees the cab at the end of the street, coming towards them. Before he can stop himself he asks, "Why?"

"Didn't you…" she pauses for a moment and when she starts talking again he can hear the hesitation in her voice, "I mean, didn't you get my message?"

"No, I don't have my phone on me," he tells her, pushing the passenger door open.

"All your lights are off," Andy remarks. "Are you even home?"

"No, look, I'm outside, I'll meet at you the cab." Sam climbs out, holds a finger up to Boyd and mouths "One minute" to appease the glare he receives, and then rounds the back of the SUV so he can cross the street and meet her as she gets out of the cab. He presses the button to end the call and holds the door open as she pays the driver. "What're you doing here?"

"I just, uh…" when she finally steps out of the cab and faces him, her eyes are wide and uncertain. She steps towards him, hands going up to his chest and leaning in like she's about to… and Sam just stands there because he really has no idea what she's doing or what she's doing there, at his house, and the night's already thrown a couple curve balls his way and his reaction time is a little slowed. It doesn't matter though because all of a sudden she's noticing the phone in his hand and her eyes are narrowing suspiciously and she steps back before she touches him, demanding, "Whose phone is that?"

Sam takes a deep breath and nods towards the SUV. "Boyd's here," he says. "The UC got moved up."

Andy glances over at the truck and then back at him. "Moved up?" she repeats, almost squeaking it out. "What… what do you mean? I mean, when do you go?"

It sounds like she already knows the answer, but he tells her anyway, "Tonight."

"Tonight? What about three weeks?" She asks, voice rising. "You were supposed to have three weeks before you left! Isn't that what you said earlier?" her hands fly to her head, like she's have trouble taking it all in. "God, just… tonight? Really?"

It's… well, it's not the reaction that he was expecting from her. He half expects her to grin, punch his arm maybe and wish him luck ("Try not to get tackled by a girl this time" – he can practically hear her say that) but not… definitely not to get upset about it.

Seriously though, what the hell is she doing at his house in the middle of the night?

It's really not the time to get an answer to that particular question though, so he tries to shove it to the back of his mind. Maybe later that night, he tells himself, when they're safely tucked away inside the cover apartment, he can bring it up again.

He realizes Boyd can see the whole conversation taking place and because he honestly has no idea what's going on with McNally – the last thing he wants is for her to do something that might make Boyd go back on his decision – he takes hold of her arm and waits for a car to pass before leading her across the street. She doesn't protest, which is unusual, just lets him push her into what he hopes is a blind spot behind the SUV. "Tonight," he says, letting go of her so he can brace his hands on either side of her head, fingertips on the cold glass of the windows. "Really."

"Sam…" she whispers, small and quiet, and her eyes are red and she's blinking furiously like maybe she's… Sam can't quite tell if maybe it's the cold or not, the wind is bitter and cutting right through his jacket so conceivably that could be it, but she definitely looks like she's trying not to cry. "We… you were supposed to have three weeks."

Her voice is so small and she won't meet his eye, keeps looking over his shoulder. "Come with me," he says, not letting it be a question.

Her eyes snap to his. "What?" she asks, losing the t at the end as the breath rushes out of her like she's been hit in the chest. She collects herself, he can actually see her do it – the way she visibly pulls herself together with a small shake of her head, and then tries to continue, "What? No, no, Sam, I can't…"

Sam lets out a heavy sigh and reminds her, "This afternoon you were ready to go."

Andy huffs, crosses her arms in front of her chest. "This afternoon was hypothetical."

"So?" he asks, coaxing. He's not going to bully her into it, he's really not, it's just… he's pretty sure she's gonna say yes if he can manage not to screw up the pitch.

"I can't go with you," she insists, shaking her head.

He notices that it's a can't not a won't, so maybe if he can just figure out – "Why not?"

"Because…" she sputters, glancing around. "Well, first of all, Boyd would never let me. That guy hates me - "

"Already talked to him and got him to agree to it," Sam tells her. "Wouldn't have called you otherwise."

"Well," she says, just throwing out excuses, "I've never done deep cover before."

"First time for everything," he volleys back. "You've done undercover, it's not that different, just… longer."

"Well, I just, this isn't – " she starts to stutter again, not making any sense.

"What?"

Apparently there's something super interesting about his shoes because that's where her gaze has landed. "But… just… I can't… Sam…"

She's just kind of spazzing around, saying words but not stringing them together to make any kind of coherent sentence. "McNally," Sam says, low and quiet – the voice he uses to steady her out in the field when she gets overwhelmed (he used it earlier that day, "McNally, you've been trained, you know what to do" – it seems like a lifetime ago).

She finally looks up at him and there's fear but also a little bit of trust in her eyes and he lets himself believe for a second that she's actually gonna go for it. "This is a big deal," she says, which – yeah, it is and he would very much like for her to be there for it - "This isn't like…" she pauses, eyes darting around as she searches for an example but in the heat of the moment she can't find one, "I mean, what if I mess it up? I've done that before, I screwed up eight months…"

Sam cuts her off. "You won't mess it up," he assures her, putting his palms flat against the windows which moves him forward a couple of inches. He can feel her cold fingers curling at his waist under his jacket but she doesn't try to push him away, just kind of holds him there, like maybe she needs the closeness more than the actual words. Sam tries not to read into it. "Look, McNally, this isn't life or death…"

Her eyes snap to his like he might have touched on something important. "It could be life or death," she insists, halfway to hysterical, "If something goes wrong it could very well be life or death."

"How is that different than any other day?" Sam asks.

She cocks her head to the side, acknowledging his point, but then comes back with, "Yeah, but this is like – I mean, you're pretty much putting your life in my hands. You said it yourself this is dangerous and if I screw up it's your…"

Grabbing her shoulders, he forces her to look at him – she's starting to overthink it, he can tell, and that's really the last thing he needs to happen, "I wouldn't have gone to Boyd if I didn't think you were ready. And I trust that you can do this Andy, okay?" He repeats himself, enunciating every syllable, "I trust you."

Andy's quiet for a moment, staring right at him, dark eyes wide and boring into his. Finally she blinks and states, "I don't even know anything about the case."

He wants to grin, knowing she's slowly giving in, but he doesn't. "I'll get you caught up," he promises, dropping his hands from her shoulders and bracketing them on either side of her again.

Her face is still tight and her express is challenging. "Well, what am I supposed to tell Traci?"

Sam shrugs. "That you're going away for a little while, I don't care." He really didn't. "Police business, she's smart, she'll figure it out."

"It's not that easy, Sam, I live with her and she's my best friend," she says, gesturing wildly with her hands which have left his hips, piercing cold night air taking their place, "I can't just like… disappear into the middle of the night and not tell her where I'm going."

He takes a deep breath and looks her in the eye. "Yes, you can," he tells her, firmly but as gently as he can manage. He'd gone through it before, the first couple of times he'd gone under, worrying more about the people he was leaving behind than he worried about himself. "I know it's not easy, but she will understand." He takes a chance and throws in, "Your dad will too."

"Yeah, okay," she says quietly, lost in her headspace as she thinks it over, realizes he's right. "And Frank?"

"We'll leave him a voicemail," he says, calm as ever.

She bites her lip, considering. "Do you…" she finally asks softly, almost hesitantly, "I mean, do you even want me to go?"

Sam snorts in exasperation before he can help himself. "Why would we be having this conversation if I didn't want you to go with me?"

It's possible it was the wrong thing to say – even in the darkness he can see her cheeks flush with color and she pulls her jacket tighter around her, defensive. "Sam, just…I mean, are you sure?"

He's only spent the last twenty minutes of his life trying to convince everyone it was a good idea; probably put his reputation, if not his undercover career, on the line by talking her up to Boyd, but… "Yes, Andy," he tells her gently, "I'm sure I want you to go." She's starting to smile, just a little, so he lets himself grin. "Whadda ya say, McNally?" he asks, bordering on smug because he's almost certain of what her answer's going to be – he's seen that light enter her eyes before. "Wanna go chase some bad guys with me?"

Her lips slowly slide into a grin and he can sense the moment it happens, that moment of decision – the stubborn set of her jaw and the way her muscles tighten with excitement. There's suddenly a buzz between them and he chalks it up to the adrenaline. "Yeah," she says, pulling on that stupidly brave face of hers, "Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

Sam realizes that she hasn't even asked him anything about what they'd actually be doing, how the whole thing would work or what their roles would be, and he guess that she must just… trust him. That thought alone makes him weirdly happy. He wants to do something – hug her, maybe, pick her up and spin her around – it's just ridiculous, actually, the things he wants to do and the thoughts that are going through his head. Instead he stubs his toe against the ground and warns with a tilt of his head, "Might be scary."

Her grin widens, confident and sure, "That's what makes it fun."

The tension that's built in his chest breaks apart and it's only the fact that Boyd is sitting about eight feet in front of them that keeps him from kissing her right then, from finishing what they started earlier that night by the ambulance. She looks like she wants him to, what with the way that her chin is tipped up and her fingers are tucked into the waistband of his jeans, cold against his skin and holding him in place.

In place is very, very close to her. So close that he can feel the heat bouncing off of her but not close enough that he's actually touching her and he would very much like to do something about that but – "Boyd's in the car," Sam says, categorically unable to wipe the grin off his face.

Andy nods and her thumbs brush tiny arcs across his stomach. "Okay," she replies – and it doesn't help the situation that she makes absolutely no effort whatsoever to move.

Sam clears his throat and tries to force himself to take a step back. It doesn't work. "He's waiting for us."

"We should probably join him then," Andy concludes in a mock serious tone. The light from the streetlamp plays over the teasing curve of her lips.

"Right," Sam says, this time actually succeeding in stepping back. He tries to get it together, reminds himself of the very real and very dangerous job she's just agreed to work with him. "Look, Andy," he says, taking her arm as they walk back to the passenger's side of the SUV. "There's still time to back out of this if you don't like what you hear…."

"Sam - " she waits for him to look at her and when he does he sees that the teasing grin has been replaced by a look of total professionalism. "I'm in."

"Okay," he replies slowly. There's a weird moment that takes place right before he opens the door for her, an unspoken sense of we're partners and we're in this together and maybe something else he can't quite put his finger on –

"I'm sitting up front," she tells him, ignoring the opened door and moving around him. She throws the door open and greets the man sitting in the driver's seat with a sharp, "Detective Boyd."

Sam can hear the equally sharp response, "Officer McNally." So - mutual disdain, that's always a good way to start things out. Sam lets out a sigh and then climbs into the back seat, scooting over to the middle and readying himself to mediate whatever conversation is about to take place – keep them in their own corners as they work through some of the details.

Once he gets settled Boyd catches his eye in the rearview mirror and raises a brow, questioning. Sam just shrugs and nods towards Andy, "She's in."

Boyd flicks a glance between the two of them, obviously still debating with himself over his decision, and then warns, "You guys better not make me regret this."

Sam rolls his eyes and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He's still a little concerned that Andy's gonna let Boyd get to her, gonna let him scare her off, so before that can happen - "Just give her the files."

After another moment of hesitation, Boyd pushes a handful of files at Andy. "I don't have any papers for you yet," he tells her, "Since your addition is astoundingly last minute."

"That's fine," Andy answers easily, flipping open one of the black folders. Sam watches her as she takes in the reports on some of his victims. Her eyes widen initially, almost too quickly for anyone who wasn't waiting for it to notice, but she quickly covers and adopts a blank stare as she flips through the pages.

"Jamie Brennan," Boyd explains. "Sam knows all about him but I'll hit the important stuff - bad guy, enforcer… has a power tools fetish, dismembers bodies with pliers, gets off on torturing people for days on end before he finally kills them."

Andy nods slowly, taking it in. From what Sam can tell, Boyd's attempt to rattle her failed. "These cases are all…" she checks a couple of the dates, "Five, six years old, some older than that."

"He got out of the life for a while," Sam tells her. "Got married, had a daughter, went straight. Not even a parking ticket to his name in four years."

"So…" she looks between the men and then back at Sam, confused. "Why work him now?"

"Wife and daughter are no more." Boyd says, handing her the accident report.

Andy opens it warily and then lets out a quiet, "Shit…" when she sees the torched car. "His family was in this?"

"Yeah," Boyd confirms. "Two months ago."

"Why wasn't the accident report completed?" Andy asks, thumbing the pages.

Boyd snorts and then, in his most condescending tone, says, "It was. You're looking at it."

"No, this can't be it." Andy shakes her head, holds the folder up to show Sam. "You'd never have let me get away with this," she insists, pointing to a blank spot on the report. "There's not a single witness statement, no reconstruction report… "

"Well, it's what we've got," Boyd snaps, filching the file from her fingers. "It's not important."

Sam had noticed that the report was less than complete, but – not that he would tell Andy – he agreed with Boyd. It wasn't a vital part of the case and wasn't worth worrying about.

Andy looks taken aback but lets the issue drop. "Fine, so… what's the plan?"

"Sam thinks it's a good idea to work the family angle," Boyd tells her, making it clear that it wasn't his idea to include her in on the job. "I've got a contact who can get Sammy in to work in Brennan's warehouse – Sam thinks he can get you a job there, too."

"So we're a married couple?" Andy asks, looking back at Sam. She's doing a good job playing like she doesn't care one way or the other – just looking for confirmation that she's on the right track. He nods.

"Married, down on your luck, looking to start over in the big city," Boyd tells her. "JD's got a history but he's shaped himself up for…" he waves a hand around, waiting on a name.

"Candace," Andy answers immediately.

"Candace," Boyd repeats, making a face. "Anyway, you endear yourselves to Brennan, he can see himself in you guys, starts to open up, etcetera etcetera, you know the deal. You've got exactly one week to get a job…"

Sam head snaps up and he interrupts Boyd, "Two weeks."

Boyd purses his lips in irritation and huffs a breath through his nose, but then compromises, "Ten days. If not, Candace goes to visit some sick relative back in Appleton, Wisconsin and you," he points at Andy, "Are back at the barn riding the desk until he's done. Got it?"

He's glaring at Andy, probably trying for intimidating, but she meets his gaze and holds it steady as she calmly replies, "Got it."

Sam can't help but feel a little proud.

"Alright," Boyd says, turning over the ignition. "You two can sort out your story, just make sure you hit the highlights."

"We can do that," Andy assures him confidently, pulling her seatbelt across her chest.

Boyd checks out his window and then pulls out onto the street. "Where am I going?"

"What do you mean?" Andy asks.

"To get your stuff," Boyd sneers, repeating, "Where am I going to get your stuff?"

"Oh…" Andy rattles off Traci's address and then leans back in her seat. They ride in silence for a couple of minutes before Andy discreetly turns her head back to look at Sam. When he raises an eyebrow she drops the bored expression she's been wearing since they climbed into the car and gives him a small, secret smile, eyes twinkling mischievously, before winking at him. I'm in.