by Marie Force
“I’ll get this to the lab and put a rush on it,” Hill said. “But it’s apt to be a few weeks this time of year.”
“I understand. Thanks again.”
“Sure thing. Give your dad my best wishes.”
“I will.”
As he walked away, Sam put her faith in him—and the FBI crime lab—to hopefully get them the answers they’d waited three long years for.
“What now?” Nick asked as he put his arm around Sam.
“Now, we wait.”
* * * * *
A Fatal Series Short Story
Mr. Vice President
The alarm went off at six, but Sam pretended she couldn’t hear it. She burrowed deeper under the covers, wishing for a magic wand that would transport her and Nick and Scotty to a deserted island where the three of them could have uninterrupted time together. Her husband’s lips on her shoulder were a reminder that she had no such magic wand, and their plan for this day had nothing to do with deserted islands or time alone together. Today, he belonged to more than three hundred million other people.
The thought of that made her want to cry. And then his hands were cupping her breasts, letting her know that for now anyway, he was hers and hers alone. Sam turned over to face him.
His arms banded around her as his lips went to town on her neck, making her shiver with desire. The slide of his tongue, the scrape of his whiskers and the urgent press of his erection against her belly made her forget everything other than the exquisite pleasure she found in his arms.
Over the last four chaotic weeks, they’d clung to each other as a storm raged around them. President Nelson had received tremendous pushback from the Republicans for his choice of a vice president who was “too young and too inexperienced” to step in should the president die or become incapacitated.
The media had gone into full feeding-frenzy mode as they examined the issue from all possible angles while dredging up every detail of Nick’s life—and Sam’s. She’d learned of women from his past whom she’d never heard of before, and had her first disastrous marriage paraded before the world while she tried to carry on with her work and help to care for her dad as he recovered from surgery, all the while pretending the storm wasn’t happening.
In short, it had been a nightmare, compounded by the ongoing wait for results from the lab analyzing the bullet that had been removed from her dad’s spine, which seemed to be taking forever.
Sam hadn’t breathed a word to Nick about how awful the storm had been for her. She didn’t have to. He was fully aware and terribly contrite. More than once he’d contemplated removing himself from consideration so they could get back the lives that had already been hectic and complicated before they became more so. But she’d refused to allow him to give up without seeing the fight through to the finish, whatever that finish turned out to be.
And then late last night the word had come from the White House: They had the votes. Nick had informed her that under the twenty-fifth amendment, a majority of the House and Senate had to vote in favor of the measure. The Senate had never been in question. Nick had endeared himself to colleagues on both sides of the aisle during his year in office, and seventy-five of the Senate’s one hundred members had pledged their support of his nomination.
The House had been another matter altogether, controlled as it was by Republicans who refused to give the Democratic president an easy victory. It had been nothing short of a dogfight, managed by the White House and the president himself, who’d been resolute in his effort to win confirmation for his candidate.
Nick had tried to stay out of the fray as much as he could, but with cameras thrust in his face every five minutes and his phone ringing off the hook around the clock, it was all he could do to keep his head down and his mouth shut until the political machinations worked themselves out.
It had all come down to today. The nine o’clock vote would be the lame-duck Congress’s final act before they broke for the holidays. Nick would be sworn in right after to cover the month until Inauguration Day, when he’d be sworn in again. They’d stayed up late making calls to ensure everyone who mattered to him would be in the chamber for his history-making moment when he would officially become the nation’s second-youngest vice president.
Nick moved so he was on top of her, looking down at her with those eyes she loved so much. “I’m so sorry for putting you through this. If I’d had any idea, I never would’ve—”
Sam pulled him into a kiss that she hoped would clear his mind of every thought except for how much she loved him. She angled her hips and took him in without giving way on the kiss.
“Samantha... You have to let me apologize.”
“I’d much rather you made love to me.”
“I can do both,” he said, as he pressed deeper into her. “You’ve told me before I’m an excellent multi-tasker.”
That he could make her laugh as he made her burn was proof that he was indeed a master multi-tasker.
He kissed her softly as he moved in her and above her. “I love you even more than I did a month ago, if that’s possible, and I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”
“Mmm.” Carried away by his sweet words as much as the aching tension that grew and multiplied with every thrust, Sam dug her fingers into his back, holding on as he began to move faster. “Love you too. So much. You have no idea.”
“Yes,” he whispered, his breath on her neck giving her goose bumps. “Yes, I do. I’ve felt it every day for a year.”
In the ultimate irony, he’d be sworn in on the one-year anniversary of the day John O’Connor was murdered—the same day they’d reconnected. But Sam couldn’t focus on anything but the incredible heat of her husband’s body on top of hers, the rough abrasion of her nipples against his chest, the bite of his whiskers on her skin, the rush of love and desire that had her crying out when she reached the peak suddenly and almost without warning.
“Christ,” he said as he went with her, pushing into her and then falling into her embrace.
Sam buried her fingers in his hair and held him tight to her chest, wanting him all to herself for one more minute. Just one more...
“We were loud,” he said after a long moment of silence.
“He’s still asleep.”
“Or so you hope.”
“Or so I hope. He’s going to be scarred for life living with us.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll see what true love is, and he’ll know what to look for in his own life.”
“You’ve still got a way with words, Senator.” She took a bite of his shoulder because it was right there and it looked good to her. “What’ll I call you now?”
He startled from the bite, which reminded her he was still lodged inside her, as if she could ever forget. “Um, how about Nick?”
“I was thinking Mr. Vice President or maybe just sir.”
He raised his head off her chest and met her gaze, lifting a rakish brow. “Sir? Now that sounds intriguing.”
Laughing, she said, “You’d better get off me and let me start the beauty program, unless you want a hag holding the Bible for you today. And P.S., if I’m going to have to do this Bible-holding business twice a year, I ought to get paid a special stipend.”
“I just made a deposit.”
Snorting with laughter, she pushed at his shoulders until he relented, withdrew from her and let her up. With a glance over her shoulder, she noticed he was still as hard as he’d been before they made love. “You ought t
o do something about that before you get tagged as the randy VP or something equally unsavory.”
He looked at her with intent and purpose as he came after her. In the shower he enticed her into helping him solve the “problem.”
* * *
They got Scotty up and pointed him in the direction of his “work” clothes, which was what he called the navy blazer, khaki pants, dress shirts, ties and boat shoes they’d bought him to wear when he accompanied Nick on the stump during his reelection campaign.
Sam had bought a new red suit for the occasion, and she’d made sure this time that her substantial cleavage was well covered, unlike the day Nick was sworn in to finish out the last year of John O’Connor’s term and she’d worried about flashing the chief justice with her sexier-than-intended outfit.
Today she was all about being conservative. She wrapped her hair up in an elegant twist, which she secured with several small clips. Next, she fastened the diamond key necklace Nick had given her as a wedding gift. Checking the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door, she decided she wouldn’t embarrass him on national television.
He came into the room fully dressed except for the suit coat he’d left on the foot of the bed when he went down to get coffee for both of them. “Wowza,” he said when he took in her outfit. “Hot, hot, hot.”
“Not too hot, right?”
He put the mugs on the bedside table and went to her. “No such thing, but if I had my wish, the hair would be down.”
“Really? It’ll look awful on TV.”
“No,” he said, releasing the clips she’d strategically placed, “it won’t.” Her hair fell down around her shoulders and he nodded with approval. “Perfect.”
“I’ll let you get away with that, but only because it’s your big day and you get anything you want.”
Once again he raised that rakish brow. “Anything?”
“You’ve already gotten that—twice—and made us late in the process.”
“We’re not late. We’re right on schedule, and anything presents a wide variety of options for our private celebration later.”
“Don’t you ever get enough?”
“Never.” He laid his lips on hers and dug his fingers into her hips, tugging her closer as he kissed her.
“Oh my God, you guys,” Scotty said as he came to the doorway and covered his eyes. “There’s a child in the house.”
They broke apart, laughing at the disgust they heard in their newly minted teenager’s tone. He’d turned thirteen four days before Nick turned thirty-seven, and their combined birthday celebration had given them something to focus on while the media storm swirled around them.
“That ‘child’ is a teenager now, and he needs to grow up and knock on the door,” Nick said.
“The door was open. There ought to be rules!”
“Speaking of rules, did you brush your teeth?” Sam asked him.
“I’m going to do it because I forgot to, but don’t start that again. I’ll be right back.”
“How does he forget to brush his teeth?” Sam asked. “That’s so gross.”
“He’s thirteen. He can’t help it. Gross is in his DNA.”
“Is it a circus outside?” she asked with trepidation as she pictured a street lined with satellite trucks and cameras trying to catch a glimpse of them leaving for the capitol.
“The Secret Service is handling it.”
“My dad would like to see us before we go. How do we do that?”
“I figured you’d want to stop by there, so I’ve got a plan. Are you ready?”
Sam downed the last of the coffee he’d brought her. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
Nick relied on the help of several of the Secret Service agents who’d been assigned to his detail to exit their townhouse through the back door and head to Skip’s via the alley they shared behind the houses. He ushered Sam and Scotty in ahead of him.
Celia, who was reading the paper at the table, looked up with surprise when they came in. “Oh, don’t you all look so nice! I want a picture!”
Though they were short on time, they removed their coats and posed for Celia. “I’m so excited. I can’t believe this is happening in our family.”
“Neither can we,” Sam said dryly, making the others laugh. “Is Dad awake?”
“He is. He’s watching the news, so go on in.”
They’d managed to bring Skip home after his surgery with the help of round-the-clock nurses who were assisting Celia as he recovered.
“What’s this I see?” Skip asked as they went into his bedroom in what had once been the dining room. “Could it be our nation’s second family? You’re all they’re talking about this morning, Nick. Or should I say, Mr. Vice President?”
“Nick is fine.”
The right side of Skip’s face lifted into a big smile.
Sam couldn’t deny that the surgery had left him diminished. He seemed smaller and grayer and older in the aftermath. She told herself he’d rebound the way he had before, after the initial injury, but she also wondered how much trauma one body could take before it ran out of gas altogether. Worst of all, he was in pain. Nerves that had been dormant for three long years while compressed by the bullet were coming alive again. Not enough to allow him to move the way he once had. No, just enough to cause him relentless pain in his extremities.
Doctors told them the pain should be temporary, but they really weren’t sure as his case was somewhat unprecedented. Despite the pain, Sam saw some of his old sparkle as he took in his son-in-law, who would soon be sworn in as vice president.
“We’re so proud of you, Nick,” Skip said. “I sure hope you know how much I’d love to be there.”
“I do know,” Nick said as he squeezed Skip’s right hand out of habit. “Of course I know.” Nick stepped aside so Sam could lean over the bed and kiss her dad.
“Take lots of pictures for me,” Skip said to Scotty.
“I will. I’ll come show them to you when we get home.”
“I’ll be waiting—and watching.”
“We’d better get going,” Nick said. “The vote is at nine. I think they sort of expect me to be there.”
“Thanks for stopping by on the way out. Means a lot to me.”
“We’ll see you later, Skippy,” Sam said as she left him with a smile. “Thank you for that,” she said to Nick after they said goodbye to Celia and headed for the front door to meet the Secret Service.
“That was for me as much as it was for you,” Nick said. “I love him too.”
While they waited for the agents to get the black SUV in position, Sam curled her hands around Nick’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder. This was a big day—a very, very big day. But at the end of that very big day, she’d get to sleep in his arms. She could endure whatever else came her way as long as she had that reward to look forward to.
* * *
In the end, the vote went as expected—seventy-five to twenty-five in the Senate and two-twenty to two-fifteen in the House, which was actually one vote more than they’d expected from the lower chamber. Nick would’ve preferred a more resounding mandate, but he was realistic enough to know that wasn’t going to happen in the hotly charged political environment in which they worked. The simple majority was enough, and they had that.
It took an hour after the vote for the Speaker of the House of Representatives to convene a joint session of Congress for the validation of the v
otes and the swearing in ceremony.
“Congratulations,” President Nelson said as they waited for the signal to take the stage.
Nick shook the president’s hand. “Thank you, sir, for your faith in me and for going to bat on my behalf these last few weeks. I appreciate it.”
“What’s a little political warfare between friends?” Nelson said with a lighthearted smile that belied the ground war he’d waged to get the vice president he wanted. “I hope you know the reason the GOP leadership fought this as hard as they did is because they know their job four years from now just got a lot more complicated. You shouldn’t take it personally.”
“I understand. Even though I’ve only held office for a year, I’ve been in this business a long time, so I know it’s not personal. Well, most of the time it isn’t. I heard from a friend who works for Stenhouse that the RNC went into full meltdown mode when they heard you’d chosen me.”
“I bet they did,” Nelson said with a laugh. “And that’s why we fought so hard to make it happen. They’re petrified of you. You’re that rare politician who comes to the game with a clean slate. No baggage of any kind, and believe me, they looked for it in the last four weeks. You scare the living hell out of them, and that’s why we love you so much.”
When Speaker of the House Richard Claiborne convened the joint session, Nick, Sam and Scotty joined the president on the stage below the speaker’s seat. Claiborne went through the motions of announcing the vote taken under the auspices of the twenty-fifth amendment to the Constitution. He noted that under the law of the Commonwealth of Virginia, Nick had offered his resignation from the Senate to Governor Zorn.
“The chair requests that the chief justice of the United States administer the oath of office to the vice president,” Claiborne concluded.
With Sam and Scotty holding the O’Connor family Bible and President Nelson standing next to Nick, Chief Justice Byron Riley said, “Raise your right hand, Mr. Cappuano, place your left hand on the Bible and repeat after me. I, Nicholas Cappuano, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.”
