nina cried power [SPENCER REID]

nine.

He inhales sharply. His lungs burn. Through that entire speech, he'd hardly breathed. 

"Hang on a minute," Prentiss says, blinking slowly and holding up a hand. "She was there -- at the cafe, in Florence?"

"And you didn't say anything?" Morgan asks, incredulous. "Reid!"

"Like I said, I thought I was imagining it," he snaps back. He sighs loudly. "I know I should have said, but she was there one second and gone the next -- easy enough to be a trick of the eye."

Spencer looks at Hotch pleadingly, who remains stoic but allows him a nod of forgiveness. Relief flushes through him; it feels like a twine tightening around his heart has just been loosened.

"I doubt they advised her to come see," he continues. "It was probably curiosity -- she..." He catches himself, thinking of their phone call the previous evening. Thinking of, Does it turn you on just to say it?

She likes him, is what he was going to say. Inexplicably, she likes him -- he could tell from her voice. Well, how the hell do you add that to a profile? How the hell do you tell that to your superiors?

"She wanted to see the FBI agents tracing her, I guess," he says. "We do have that sort of reputation. People get curious." He shakes his head, telling himself mentally to get back on topic. "But her motivations aren't important. What's important, is the fact --"

"That she called you?" Morgan quips.

"No," he retorts sharply, his tongue bitter, "that we have a name. A contact. We can't go for Edelstein, obviously, but we can go for the middle man."

But Hotch is shaking his head. "We're after our unsub, Reid, not our own superiors," he says, trying to keep his voice even. But the room his heating, and so is Spencer's face.

"Even though they're her contractors--"

"Exactly!" His voice is loud, not quite booming but it's enough to make Prentiss flinch. "They're not our unsub, Reid. They're not who we're profiling!"

"Bullshit!" Reid snaps before he can even stop himself. Morgan and Prentiss retreat, share a look, but Spencer plants his feet and stares unwaveringly at Hotch. "Going after just Nina is wrong." Desperation tinges his voice and he takes a pleading step closer. "We have this guy, Hotch. Garcia can get a name of whoever was meant to be supervising us -- CIA, Homeland Security, who cares? -- and we can get him. The evidence is there --"

"It's not our job, Reid--"

"But it's the right thing to do!"

It's not our job. He's tired of hearing that. It had been the same thing the previous evening during the rant about Spencer making the visit with Mr Scott too personal.

Trying to restrain his infamous temper, Hotch swallows. "Reid." It's clearly taking immense effort to keep his voice even, and Spencer -- breathing deeply, face hot with anger -- is thrilled to know he's getting under Hotch's skin. Rightly so. "If we take that guy into custody, what do you suppose we do?"

"Get an address? Evidence against Edelstein?" He looks around him wildly, exasperated at the ridiculous question. "I don't know, Hotch--"

"We wouldn't be able to make an arrest. If we did, by the time we got to any address we're given -- Edelstein will have his lawyers ready for us at the door, briefcases in hand and suits ready for their court dates, and our unsub will be off the map."

"A new passport made," Morgan mutters behind him, "ten thousand in her hands in solid cash..."

Hotch nods at him once. "And it'd all be for nothing."