Roberto’s teasing words sent a twinge of discomfort through Sam. She had to stop holding Nick at arm’s length and find a way to reconnect with him before the wedding. Now that she had taken the chance of pregnancy off the table, maybe it wouldn’t be so damned hard to look into his amazing eyes and not see the pain he tried to keep hidden from her.

Losing their baby had hit him hard too. He had grown up without a family of his own. More than anything, Sam had wanted to fill that void for him with a house full of kids. But now… She just couldn’t go there anymore. Not even for him.

“Hey, yo,” Roberto said. “Where’d you zone out to?”

“Sorry.”

“Didn’t mean to bum you out.”

“You didn’t. Thanks for the info.” She lifted her fist to him. “It was good to see you.”

Rather than fist bump her, he curled his hand around hers in a gesture that touched her. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.”

He released her hand. “Have a nice wedding, Sam. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.”

“I’m getting there.”

“Keep up the good work. Make me proud.” Following Freddie out of the apartment, Sam ignored the glare she received from Angel. Outside, she took deep breaths of the unseasonably cool air.

“He seems good,” Freddie said. He’d worked behind the scenes to support Sam while she was undercover and knew better than anyone what she’d been through during that difficult assignment.

“Better than the last time I saw him. That’s for sure.” Seeing Roberto took Sam right back to the horrible days that followed the crack house shooting. She’d snuck into the hospital under the cover of darkness to check on the young man who’d become one of her only friends among the Johnson crowd.

At first Roberto had been furious to learn her true identity, but when Sam offered to find him a way out of his life of crime, he’d come around and let her help him. Knowing he was just a kid who’d been sucked into something way bigger than he’d ever bargained for, Sam stepped up for him with the U.S. attorney. As a result, they’d declined to prosecute him as one of Marquis Johnson’s group of drug runners.

Sam figured the permanent loss of his legs was punishment enough for the petty crimes Roberto had committed to earn favor with Marquis.

“You did a good thing for him, Sam,” Freddie said when they were in the car. “He’s gotten his life back on track.”

“So it seems.” Who, she wondered, was going to help get hers back on track?

“What’s next?” Freddie asked.

“Let’s go see Faith Miller. I want to know why that rape charge got quashed.”

“So do I.”