Sam emerged from her bedroom after a few minutes, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. The bag was slung over her shoulder. John kept his hand under the back of his jacket, in contact with the weapon as he opened the door and led the way out of the building.

They hailed a cab and piled into the backseat. Lights passed in and out, over Sam's face as they traveled.

"Where are you taking her?" Finch asked.

John rubbed his face. "Usual place."

"Okay, I'll make the reservation."

Sam's head turned when he spoke. She listened to his reply. "How did you and your friend know what would happen?"

"We have a reliable source."

"You knew ahead of time." Sam thought out loud. "You were following me?"

John looked at her, but didn't reply.

"Nice," Sam said. "Real nice," Sam rolled her eyes. "All that time in the coffee shop, that was just – "

"The coffee shop is a coincidence, Sam," John said firmly. "I only tailed you tonight."

"You were at the restaurant?"

"Yes." John wanted to keep from lying to her as best he could, but her questions were getting more and more prying. This wasn't usually how it went down with other people he was rescuing.

Before Sam could respond to that realization her phone rang. It was muffled, inside the duffel bag that sat at their feet. She opened it up and rummaged around until she found the phone. It was Eva again. John slyly checked the phone in his pocket. He was still connected with hers.

"Hey, I got your message," Eva sounded disappointed.

"Hey, Eva," Sam looked sidelong at John. "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now – "

"What, you didn't ditch Anton?"

"No, not Anton. I'm just not – "

"Girl! Who is it?" Eva's excited shout was loud enough that John had to avoid reacting to the piercing in his ear.

"It's nobody. I'm not with anyone."

"Liar! You know you could never lie to me! Come on, who is it?"

"Seriously, there's no one!" Sam insisted desperately.

"Stop lying to me, Sam. I'm finding out sooner or later. Tell me who you're with!"

Sam glanced at John once more and winced. "Fine! You know the guy who sometimes comes into the shop - ?"

"Sam. It's not Hot Fudge Man, is it? Tell me it's not Hot Fudge Man?"

Sam covered her eyes as the blush started from her neck and worked its way up into her hairline. "Yes, it is."

Eva's shrieks of rejoicing nearly blew out the tiny speaker in John's earpiece. So that's who they were talking about. John averted his eyes to the window on his side of the cab, and casually covered his smile with his hand. He couldn't and perhaps didn't want to imagine how 'hot fudge' had come into his description, but somehow it had. In Eva's mind it had at any rate.

"Eva," Sam said. "Eva…" she repeated. "EVA!"

Eva stopped her rejoicing and listened.

"I probably won't get into work tomorrow."

Eva laughed some more. "I believe you."

"I'm serious, Eva. Will you give Shane some excuse for me?"

"Sure. I'll keep the words five letters or less so he'll be more likely to understand."

"Okay, Eva, I have to go – "

"Oh, yes honey. You definitely have to go. You have got to go with that man and – "

Sam ended the call.

"Eva's married and she's bored. I think she likes to live vicariously through me sometimes." Sam threw the phone back into the bag. "But she's the one who sets me up with pretentious, moronic dweebs for blind dates!"

"He didn't seem like your type," John muttered.

"I don't even know what that is." Sam stopped in her thought and looked hard at John. "You didn't hear that conversation did you?"

"With Anton… not Tony?" John couldn't help himself before it was too late.

Sam laughed. "Thank you," she said. "I definitely needed that."

The hotel was four star at the very least. Sam tugged on John's arm.

"I can't afford this, John. There's no way in – "

"It's on me," John said, and led her the rest of the way to the front desk.

The room itself got a bigger reaction. John stepped through the doorway in front of Sam, checking the rooms. Sam let out a loud curse that made him come running back into the main room.

"Sorry," Sam said. "I'm fine, but this is real crystal!" She held up a glass and examined it further. "Now I know you work privately. No one working for the government could afford something like this."

Sam sat on the bed, crossing her legs upon the mattress.

"Are you hungry? I noticed you didn't eat at the restaurant," John said, sitting in a chair across from her.

"Is this what you do? Do you sort of rescue people?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

"Basically, yes," John answered.

"And someone pays you to do this?"

"Ye-es," John hesitated for a moment, but answered truthfully still.

"You must have an interesting resume," she muttered as though to herself.

"Sam, I have to ask you about your brother, Scott," John said reluctantly.

"He came to see me at the coffee shop earlier this week. I don't know how he found me. He said he'd found a good job in the city, but needed money to get things 'settled' first."

"Settled?"

"That's the word he used. I didn't ask."

Sam began fidgeting and then stood up, wandering around the room as she spoke. "Mom and Dad are well off, but Scottie got into too much trouble too many times. Dad basically kicked him out."

"And you?"

"I talk to Mom once a week. It kind of tortures Dad, but I wanted to make it out on my own after I finished college. I try not to ask him for money," she chuckled. "And I'm still scraping by ten years later. Go me." Sam raised her arms, mocking a cheerleader as she spoke.

John shifted in his seat a little, the gun poked at his back. "Do you know anything about Scott's job?"

"Just that it's here, in the city somewhere. Scottie's my little brother, and I should try to help him. But he's screwed me over too many times too." Sam wandered over to the window and examined the curtains as she looked out to the twinkling city lights.

"Sounds like Scottie got involved with Elias somehow," Finch said into John's ear when Sam stopped talking.

"But why would he need the money?"

"Ten thousand dollars isn't an amount that would concern Elias, especially when he's in prison."

"We know that's temporary, Finch." John growled.

"Yes, but Scottie would be more of a, forgive the word, an underling in Elias' regime. I can't imagine that he would be set with an important task of any kind."

"I agree." John looked to the woman at the window. She'd put her hair up again, looking more like the kind barista who greeted him some mornings. "Sam. Have you heard of a person called Elias?"

Sam considered for a moment. "Isn't he a person in the Bible?"

"Correct, but no," Finch said in John's ear.

"Yeah, but he's not who we're looking for. Elias is the head of most of the muscle in this city."

"He's a mob boss?"

"More like the mob boss," John corrected. "I think Scott might be involved with him somehow."

Sam swore under her breath.

"We believe that he's put both of you in danger. And I need to find out why," John got to his feet. "Order whatever you want. It's already paid for, okay? They don't know where you are, so you'll be safe here. Just don't leave the room." He headed toward the door, but stopped when she didn't answer.

Sam was back on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. She was crying softly. Tears fell into her lap, and she didn't move to wipe them from her eyes. John turned back to her, grabbed a box of tissues off of the desk and handed them to her as he sat down next to her.

Sam wiped her face, but continued crying. She hardly made any noise, which was always a mystery to John – how women manage to cry so much and hardly make a sound.

"You have to go, John. Go ahead. I'll be fine," she croaked, and took a breath, which made her hiccup.

"You will be fine. I won't let anything happen to you," he said sincerely.

She looked up at him, blotchy and wet faced. "You know what the weirdest part is?"

"What?"

"I believe you."

John smiled a little and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Don't worry. I'll come to check on you in the morning."

Late that night, Sam received a call on her cell from a New York number that she didn't recognize.

John and Finch stood together in the makeshift office and listened as she answered:

"Hello?" she sounded tired. The call must have woken her.

"Sam?" A young man's voice answered.

"Scottie? How did you find my number?"

"That's not important. Can you get me the money?"

"What is it for?"

"Good girl," John muttered.

"That's not your business," he sounded nervous now.

"It is so my business if you ask me to get it for you!" Sam snapped at him. "Scott, you have to listen to me. Some men came after me, and I'm pretty sure it was because of you. You have to stop whatever you're doing."

"I can't – " the line sounded muffled for a moment. Outside noises were coming distorted through the speaker. "You know the code on Dad's safe, right Sam?"

Sam didn't answer.

"No, never mind. Um… Can I come see you?"

"Why?"

"I just want to talk to you. I'll tell you everything that's going on, okay?"

Sam let out a breath slowly. "Okay."

John pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

"Where are you?"

"Um. I'm uh – I'm staying at the Marriott," she said. John shook his head and put the phone back in his pocket. "Just you, okay? No one else, right?"

"Right. Which one? What's the room number?"

Sam gave him the address and the room number, agreeing to meet with Scott later the next morning.

"She still can't let him go completely," John said, running a hand through his hair.

"That is probably one of the hardest things to do, Mr. Reese, letting go of family," Finch said quietly.