State of Affairs

by Marie Force

  As they waited for someone to answer the door, it occurred to her that living in the White House might be scarier than living in a house with an obnoxious doorbell. She made a fist, banged on the door and heard the distinctive sound of a weapon engaging.

  Freddie heard it too.

  They both reached for their weapons.

  “Who’s there?” a man asked.

  They held up their badges to the peephole. “Metro PD.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To speak to you about Eduardo Carter.”

  “He doesn’t live here.”

  “Are you his family?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Sir, would you please open the door? We’re not here to cause you any trouble.”

  “If you’re here about that punk, you’re causing me trouble.”

  “Please put down your weapon and open the door.”

  “Not until you do.”

  Sam nodded to Freddie, and they both lowered their weapons.

  A series of locks disengaged, and a Black man in his mid to late forties opened the door. He stood in the doorway, making it clear they weren’t welcome in his home. “What’s he done now?”

  “Are you his father?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Sam glanced at Freddie before forcing herself to say the words. “I’m sorry to say your son was found dead on Rhode Island Avenue a short time ago.”

  The man’s expression never changed. “Is that all?”

  “Can you tell us anything about his associates or activities?”

  He huffed out a laugh. “No, I can’t, because I threw him out of here after he beat up his mother when she wouldn’t give him money for drugs. This after we each worked three jobs to pay for his four trips to rehab. We haven’t had any contact with him in more than a year.”

  “Is your wife at home?”

  “She’s asleep, and I’m not waking her up to talk about him.”

  “I’m sorry to have to ask if you know where he was living.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “How about any known associates?”

  “No clue. He moved on from the kids he grew up with. They dropped him when he became a criminal to support his drug habit.”

  Sam realized they weren’t going to get anything useful from him. She handed him her card. “If you think of anything we should know, please call me. My cell number is on there.”

  “Aren’t you the new first lady?”

  “I am.”

  “And you’re still a cop?”

  “That’s right.”

  She could feel the disapproval coming from him, but didn’t care enough to ask him what the problem was. As they returned to the car, Sam hated having to turn her back on him and his gun. Her anxiety spiked into the red zone.

  “What now?” Freddie asked.

  “In the morning, I’ll call my parole officer friend Brendan Sullivan to see what I can find out about Carter and where he was living.” Sullivan had been her ex-husband Peter’s PO and had been helpful to her in the past. “We’ll pick it up at zero eight hundred. I can give it half a day before I have a thing… at the White House.” Speaking of anxiety.

  Freddie’s lips quivered.

  “If you laugh, I’ll stab you with the rustiest steak knife I can find.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  Sam gave him her foulest look. “Get in the car, and I’ll drop your asses at the Metro.”

  “Don’t lump my ass in with his,” Gonzo said. “I’m not the one laughing.”

  It was so good to have him back with them after months of rehab. Hearing what Eduardo Carter’s family had been through with an addict son made her doubly grateful that Gonzo had kicked his addiction to painkillers.

  “What’d he say about Carter?” Gonzo asked when they were in the car.

  “They were estranged since he beat up his mother when she wouldn’t give him drug money.”

  “Aw, geez,” he said with a sigh. “I feel so sorry for people who lose their kids to drugs. I met a lot of those kids in rehab. My biggest fear as a father is that Alex will get into that shit.”

  “You won’t let that happen.” Sam glanced in the rearview mirror so she could see him. “You know what to look for and will be vigilant.”

  “I guess so.”

  Sam dropped them off at L’Enfant Plaza. “See you in the morning.”

  “See you then.”

  She watched as the two men took off jogging toward the Metro that would deliver them back to their cars and then merged into light traffic to drive the short distance to Capitol Hill, wondering what level of shit storm awaited her at home. At the checkpoint, she was dumbstruck by the massive security presence that was easily five times what they’d had when Nick was vice president. Agents dressed in riot gear and carrying machine guns worked the perimeter of the checkpoint, where she was normally waved through. Not this time, which meant Nick was home.

  Sam stopped the car and lowered the window.

  “Oh, Mrs. Cappuano.” Sam didn’t recognize the female agent who had a machine gun strapped across her chest. “My apologies. Please go ahead.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sam drove through and parked in her assigned spot, taking note of the agents on both sides of Ninth Street and the line of black SUVs parked in the middle of the street. The Beast was parked in the middle of the line of vehicles. The neighbors probably couldn’t wait for them to move to the White House so they could have their street back.

  She was about to get out of her car when an agent materialized to open the door for her. Biting her tongue against the impulse to tell them she could open her own damned door, she started to nod to the agent and then realized he was Vernon.

  “Oh, hey,” she said.

  “Ma’am.”

  Did she know him well enough to deduce he was pissed after he said a single word to her? “How are you?”

  “The person I’m assigned to slipped her detail and took off unprotected, but otherwise, everything is just great.”

  Yep, definitely pissed. “Sorry. I got called into work.”

  “So I heard. Are you working tomorrow?”

  “I am. I caught a homicide tonight and have to be at HQ at eight.”

  “We’ll be ready to accompany you.” Vernon escorted Sam up the ramp to the front door that was monitored by Nate, one of her favorite agents.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Cappuano,” Nate said.

  “Hi, Nate. Thanks for letting me into the doghouse.”

  Nate smiled, but he didn’t reply.

  She took off her coat and hung it in the closet so Nick would have one less reason to be angry with her. If she’d lived by herself, she would’ve flung it over the sofa. Why hang it up when she was going to need it again in the morning?

  Brant came out of the room the Secret Service used as an office and nodded to her. “Ma’am.”

  “I have a question.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  She’d told him not to call her that, but hadn’t gotten anywhere with the handsome, earnest agent. “Is my Secret Service name still Fuzz?”

  “No, ma’am. You’re FLOTUS now, and the president is POTUS.”

  “Well, there’s one thing to celebrate about our change in status.” She hesitated before she said, “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is everyone pissed with me, or does it just seem that way?”

  “I think ‘concerned’ is a better word.”

  “I’m sorry I concerned you all. I heard we’re meeting Tuesday to figure this stuff out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Have a good night, Brant.”

  “You do the same, ma’am.”

  Sam went upstairs and looked in on Scotty, who was asleep with the lights and TV still on. She shut them off and tugged the comforter over him before taking advantage of the opportunity to run her fingers through his soft dark hair. Their little boy was becoming
a young man too quickly. She bent to kiss his forehead and then went across the hall to check on the twins, who were curled up together as usual.

  As she kissed them both, she experienced the kind of wild love she’d only ever felt for Nick and Scotty. She didn’t care who said otherwise. These kids were hers—hers and Nick’s and Scotty’s. Let anyone say otherwise. They knew the truth. Outside their room, she nodded to Darcy, an agent who’d been with them for a while.

  She went into her closet, closed the door and took a deep breath as she changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt. When she was as ready as she’d ever be to deal with Nick’s wrath, she crossed the hall and went into their bedroom.

  Nick was sitting up in bed, shirtless, a massive document on his lap.

  Sam closed the door and stopped for a good look at her handsome, sexy husband.

  “Whatcha staring at?” he asked without glancing up from what he was doing.

  “The sexiest president I’ve ever seen.”

  “Personally, I think Millard Fillmore was way sexier.”

  Sam snorted out a laugh as the anxiety she’d been carrying for hours drained out of her in a single instant. That kind of anxiety belonged in her first marriage. Not this one. This one was as close to perfect as she’d ever hoped to achieve in this lifetime, and with one comment, he’d let her know that while he might be upset with what she’d done, he still loved her. That was one thing she could always count on, no matter what. “Fillmore had nothing on Cappuano with two p’s.”

  After locking her weapon and cuffs into her bedside table, she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. Then she smoothed on the vanilla-and-lavender lotion he loved so much. Even though she was relieved to realize they weren’t going to fight, she was under no illusions that she’d get away with what she’d done tonight. They were going to talk about it, and she was going to have to make some concessions. Just how many remained to be seen.

  Sam went back to the bedroom and got into bed. “I heard the secretary is on the way home.”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked over at him. “How’d that go?”

  “I’m not really sure,” he said, filling her in on how the incident had concluded.

  “Holy shit. What do you think happened?”

  “I wish I knew. Ruskin says it was a setup, but we have intelligence that suggests he might’ve gone along with it. We’ll know more when we can debrief him and the detail that traveled with him. Either way, it’s a huge relief that they’re safe and coming home. At least we won’t be going to war on my third day in office. I’d call that a win.”

  Sam laughed at the sheer lunacy of that understatement. “Thank God it didn’t come to that.”

  “You said it.”

  “What’s that you’ve got there?” she asked of the book on his lap.

  “Briefings about other nightmares that await me.”

  “In other words, some light bedtime reading?”

  “Exactly.”

  And it was the last thing he needed. “Why don’t you put it down for now so you’ll have a prayer of sleeping tonight?”

  “Not sure I’ll sleep again until I’m out of office, but I’ve certainly had enough of this day.” He closed the book and dropped it to the floor. It landed with a loud crash that made them both laugh.

  “That’s a whole lot of nightmare right there,” Sam said.

  “Sure is.”

  Sam held her arms out to him. “Come here.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  He snuggled up to her, placing his head on her chest and putting his arm around her.

  Sam ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his back.

  “In case I forget to tell you, this is the best minute of my entire day.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Where’d you go tonight?”

  “Gigi’s ex held her mother, sister and nephews hostage in Fairfax. He wanted to talk to me, so I went. I was able to talk him out, thankfully.”

  “Jeez, what was he thinking?”

  “No idea, but hopefully, he’ll get some help. From what Dani said, he seems to have suffered some sort of breakdown and has been acting differently for a while now. He really hurt Gigi, so I’m just glad he’s safely out of her life. For now, anyway. And get this… Cameron Green has been glued to Gigi’s side all day.”

  “That’s interesting. I thought he had a girlfriend.”

  “Apparently, he does. No one’s really sure what’s going on there.” She continued to play with his hair. “Are we going to talk about how you’re mad with me?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’m afraid.”

  Ugh, Sam thought. That’s worse. “I’m sorry I did that to you, but when I heard Gigi’s family was in danger and there was something I could do, I had to go. And I couldn’t wait around for the Secret Service to figure out a plan. Every second was important.”

  He raised his head so he could look at her with those potent hazel eyes. “I want you to know I truly understand how important it was that you got there as fast as you possibly could to save the lives of Gigi’s family members. And I seriously respect that you’re capable of handling something like that. I’m in awe of what you do every day and how much it matters to people.”

  “You were already going to get lucky tonight,” she said, dramatically fanning her face. “But now you might get birthday- or anniversary-level lucky.”

  His laughter lit up his entire face as he moved to kiss her. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Here’s our problem, though. You’re extremely vulnerable in the field without added security.”

  “But—”

  He kissed her again. “No buts. You are vulnerable, Samantha. We didn’t plan this, but here we are, and we have to figure it out. I know it’s not what you signed on for, but it’s our reality. And my reality is that I can’t do this job if I have to worry about one of this country’s many enemies deciding to make a point by kidnapping or murdering my wife. You’re vulnerable simply because of the office I hold. You were when I was VP, but it’s ten million times more so now.”

  Sighing, she said, “I know.”

  “I want you to think about how you’d feel if the shoe were on the other foot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you held a job that by its very nature endangered my life, what would you want for me?”

  “I’d want you to have an army around you.”

  “Exactly. And here’s my bottom line… If you can’t handle having at least a small army around you, I can’t do this job. I won’t do this job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d give up the job if it came to that, but the one thing I won’t do is hold the office if I can’t be absolutely certain you’re safe.”

  “I get it. I really do, and I want you to be the best president we’ve ever had because I truly believe you will be. But we have to figure out something that makes it so I can leave on a moment’s notice like I had to do tonight. I’ll agree with having a detail as long as they can be nimble and are only there for worst-case scenario. They’re not to intervene in police matters even if they see me about to get hurt. I need to be able to do my job without worrying about them getting in the way.”

  “If I pledge to work with the Secret Service to make that happen, will you promise me you’ll never again leave this house without a detail?”

  This was a moment of truth. If she made that promise, she’d have to keep it. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I promise.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Thank you.” He kissed her, lingering for a second before he broke the kiss and moved to kiss her neck. “I know it’s so much to ask.”

  Sam tipped her head to give him better access. “It’s really not. You’ve got enough to worry about. I don’t need to be making it worse for you.”

  “I’ll still worry about you, even if you’re surrounded by an army.”
>
  She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of home, the scent of her love.

  “I have a present for you,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s not a sparkly present.” He reached for his bedside table, and when he opened his hand, a black object sat on his palm.

  “What is that?”

  “Your very own secure BlackBerry so you can call or text me anytime you want without either of us having to worry about security breaches.”

  “So, um, I have to carry that with me?”

  “Only if you want to be able to talk to me when we’re apart. It’s fully charged and programmed, so you only have to push two buttons to call me.”

  “What two buttons?”

  “Six nine.”

  Sam cracked up laughing. “Did you pick those numbers?”

  “So what if I did? We’ve gotta laugh in the midst of all this nonsense, right?”

  “That’s not very presidential of you.”

  “I knew it would make you laugh and take some of the sting out of having to carry a second phone.”

  “I don’t have to use it for other stuff, do I?”

  “Nope. As long as you’re not talking to or about me on your other phone, you’re allowed to still use it. I actually went to bat for you on that. They wanted you to be all BlackBerry, all the time, and I told them that wouldn’t be possible unless they have a flip version that you can slap closed.”

  “You get me.”

  “I love you.” He moved the hand containing the BlackBerry toward her until she had no choice but to take it from him. “When that phone rings, it’s me. Will you take my calls?”

  “Always.”

  “Likewise, love. Unless I absolutely can’t.”

  “Same.”

  “I plugged in the charger next to the other one on your bedside table.”

  “Aren’t you Mr. Efficient?”

  “That’s Mr. President to you, ma’am.”

  Sam laughed as she put the BlackBerry on the table. Everything in her resisted carrying a second phone, but if it meant she’d have a bat line straight to him, she’d do it. “I knew you’d make me call you that.”