Fatal Threat

by Marie Force

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Drop me on Pennsylvania?”

  “By yourself?”

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. Pull up right over there, and I’ll jump out.”

  “Sam...”

  “Pull over, Freddie.”

  “How will you get back to HQ?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get a cab. Or something.”

  “She can just do what she wants?” Raul asked. “Why doesn’t she have Secret Service following her around?”

  “Good question,” Freddie said drolly.

  Sam left them to their bromance and hopped out of the car while it was still moving.

  “For crying out loud, Sam!”

  “Swear words, Freddie. Try them sometime.” She shut the door before he could reply and took off toward the White House at a jog.

  * * *

  IN THE OVAL OFFICE, Nick waited to speak to President David Nelson, who’d been called away from the office right at their designated meeting time. Figures. Everything was always more important to the president than his vice president. Nick killed time with his phone, responding to tweets and posting a couple of photos from his recent trip to Iran to Instagram, where he had nearly as many followers as he did on Twitter.

  He answered an email from his dad, who was checking in to see if there was anything new in the investigation, and a text from his friend Andy, who’d taken a break from pursuing legal action against Nick’s mother to ask if the vice president had time for a get-together with the “little” people from before he was famous. Accustomed by now to their ribbing, Nick responded to the group text, which also included Harry and Derek Kavanaugh, the president’s deputy chief of staff and a longtime friend of Nick’s. I’ll see if I can pencil something in.

  He’s frightfully busy globetrotting, Harry replied.

  That’s right, Nick said. Running the free world takes a lot of time and energy. It’s probably easier all around if you guys come to me. A week from Saturday? Poker and wings?

  As long as Sam isn’t cooking, Harry said.

  Nick grunted out a laugh. No chance of that.

  Fine, Harry said. I’m in.

  The others concurred, and Nick put the date on his calendar along with an alert to remind him to have someone pick up the beer and food. He hated that he had to have someone else do what he would’ve done himself before he was locked behind the fortress the Secret Service had put up around him.

  Sure, he could ask them to stop at the store, but it was such a freaking production that he preferred to get someone else to do it. With Shelby out on maternity leave, he’d have to see if Sam could do it for him.

  Speaking of Shelby, Nick sent her a text.

  Hoping to hear good news soon. Thinking of you and wishing you well.

  He checked his watch. It was now half an hour past their appointed time, and though Nick didn’t have another meeting until later, he got up to leave the Oval Office. He was almost to the door when Nelson walked in.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Nick.” He extended his hand.

  Nick shook his hand. “No problem, Mr. President.”

  “Call me David. Please.”

  Nick tried not to show his surprise at the sudden warmth coming from a man who’d tried to freeze him out at every turn since he accepted the offer to become his new vice president.

  “Have a seat,” Call-Me-David said.

  They settled in the seating area in the middle of the office.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A stiff drink?”

  Nick smiled and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Great, well, I wanted to chat with you about Iran and everything that’s happened since you got back. First and foremost, where does the investigation stand?”

  “Back to square one since LeRoy Nevins didn’t pan out.”

  “And yet the Secret Service allowed your family out of lockup?”

  “With limitations. My son is no longer allowed to attend his baseball camp, for instance, and each of our extended family members has an agent assigned to them for the time being.”

  “And your wife’s ex-husband was found murdered?”

  “That’s right.” Where in the hell was he going with this?

  “Now I’m hearing your mother is giving ‘revealing’ interviews.”

  “Certainly not with my endorsement. I have no relationship with her. I haven’t spoken to her in more than a year, and before that, five years. She has never been part of my life.”

  “Well, that’s just unfortunate.”

  “Not from my perspective, it isn’t. She’s a train wreck, and I’m better off without her around.”

  “Ahh, I see.”

  You don’t see anything, you pompous ass.

  Nick made a show out of checking his watch. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “I have to be honest with you, Nick. It makes me nervous to have things like murder and tell-all interviews touching my administration.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like it either, but tell me how I was supposed to keep my wife’s ex-husband from being murdered or a mother I have no contact with from giving an interview?”

  “Oh, I’m not blaming you.”

  Of course you aren’t.

  “I’m just saying...it makes for a sticky situation for all of us.” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his suit-coat pocket and opened it. “I’m hearing from my communications folks that your mother will be revealing some information about your paternity, as well a previous marriage of yours that wasn’t disclosed on any of the vetting documents.”

  Nick felt like he’d been electrocuted. No. No way... She wouldn’t. Except she would. Of course she would. She’d do anything to make a cheap buck, even if it’s at my expense. Oh God. Samantha. “I, ah... I need to... I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I have to go.”

  Before the president had a chance to reply, Nick was out the door, running past the president’s startled assistants and several other White House staffers as he rushed to his West Wing office, where Terry met him.

  “Mr. Vice President—”

  “Not now, Terry.”

  “But, sir...”

  Nick burst through his office door to find Sam waiting for him. His heart leaped in response to her the way it always did, but this time he also experienced a twinge of anxiety. “Babe—”

  “Something you want to tell me, Nick?”

  Oh, shit.

  * * *

  THIS WAS THE first time Sam had come to the White House by herself. She’d done it enough times with escorts to know which door to use and was pleased to be waved through like she belonged there even if she still felt like a fraud.

  Fraud or not, she was the nation’s second lady, a title she was slowly becoming accustomed to, if not entirely comfortable with. But that was the least of her concerns at the moment, and watching Nick squirm gave her the worst feeling of dread she’d experienced in quite some time—and that was saying something in light of recent events.

  “I can explain,” he said.

  No wife—ever—wanted to hear those particular words from her husband.

  Sam sat on the nearest upholstered object, which turned out to be a love seat.

  He joined her.

  For the first time she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away, and she didn’t like the conflicted feeling. Her feelings for him were never conflicted.

  “I had a girlfriend in high school,” he said haltingly, his stress apparent in the stiff way he held himself. “Amelia. We were together for more than a year when she was diagnosed with leukemia. She went downhill very fast. She had dreamed abo
ut her wedding all her life, so...”

  “Oh my God. And you never thought to mention this to me?”

  “Wait—hear the rest. We went through the motions, had a ceremony and a little reception afterward, but there was no marriage license or anything legal. She died five days later. I was never actually married to her.”

  Sam blew out a deep breath. “Does your mother know that?”

  “I’m shocked that she knew about any of it. She wasn’t around much at that time. I have no idea how she heard about it. I never told her.”

  “They’re saying she has a bombshell about your paternity too.”

  “No, she doesn’t. I look just like my dad. I always have. The only person she’s going to make a fool of with this interview is herself.” He took hold of her hand and cradled it between both of his. “Tell me you’re not thinking I would’ve kept something like an actual marriage from you.”

  “I’m not thinking that.” She looked over at him, feeling silly and foolish and relieved, all at the same time. “Not now, anyway.”

  “Samantha, come on. I’d never keep something like that from you.”

  “You never told me about Amelia.”

  “That wasn’t intentional. I don’t really talk about her or that time in my life very often. It was devastating, and I buried it deep in the years that followed.”

  “I’m really sorry you went through that, and I’m proud of what you did for her.”

  “Thank you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “You know what really sucks?”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to have to tell people about it to discredit my mother’s so-called bombshell. I don’t believe in capitalizing on stuff like that for political gain.”

  “You’d be defending yourself. That’s different.”

  “Still, it feels crappy to bring her into it.”

  “Did you think you’d be able to keep that a secret?”

  “I honestly didn’t think about it, but I certainly never expected my own mother to be the one to tell people.”

  Sam couldn’t bear the pain she heard in his voice and once again wanted to throttle Nicoletta for her cavalier treatment of her son. She reached for him and drew him into her embrace. “You should release a statement ahead of the interview that the vice president and his wife will be too busy to watch and that his aides were given a heads-up about what would be covered. It could say the vice president has never been married to anyone other than Samantha Holland Cappuano, and here’s a photograph of the vice president’s father at the same age he is now. You wouldn’t have to say another word about either topic. They’d go crazy trying to find a marriage license that doesn’t exist, and the picture of your dad will speak for itself.”

  “And you say you aren’t cut out for politics.”

  “Does that mean you like my plan?”

  “I love your plan.” He raised his head, gazed into her eyes and kissed her. “Almost as much as I love you, the only wife I’ve ever had.”

  “I really love being the only wife you’ve ever had. That way we can say with certainty that I’m the best wife you’ve ever had.”

  His smile lit up his gorgeous eyes. “Yes, you are.” He kissed her again, lingering this time.

  Sam curled her hand around the nape of his neck to keep him close. “Were you worried that I’d hear about this before you could tell me?”

  “Did you see the way I came bursting in here? I left a meeting with Nelson to get to my office so I could call you as fast as I could. I’m sorry you heard it from someone other than me. Who told you, anyway?”

  “Reporters tracked me down on the job.”

  Nick winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” She drew him into another kiss, this time tossing in a little tongue for good measure. “I wouldn’t be kissing you right now if they hadn’t told me.”

  “Mmm, very true.”

  “I came right over here all by myself and even surrendered my weapon at the door.”

  “I’m so glad you did.” He wrapped his arms around her and ran his lips over hers. “Gimme more.”

  Sam fell into the kiss, letting him take the lead, which was how she ended up underneath him on the small sofa while he devoured her mouth with his lips and tongue.

  A knock sounded on the door at the same second his desk phone buzzed.

  Nick groaned and withdrew from the kiss. “Duty calls.”

  “I hate when that happens, especially when it’s your duty calling instead of mine for a change.”

  “Speaking of your duty, how’s it going with the investigation?”

  “Slow. Waiting for a break.”

  He helped her sit up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You doing okay?”

  Sam shrugged. “I guess. I had the chance to set the record straight with Peter’s mother this morning.”

  “How’d that feel?”

  “Not as good as it would’ve last week.”

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I actually do. We’re even more shorthanded now that Will has resigned and Jeannie is out for the rest of the week.”

  “Will resigned? When?”

  Sam ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it. “While we were in the bunker. He hasn’t been the same since Arnold was killed, so I wasn’t entirely surprised.”

  “Wow, that’s too bad. Did you try to talk him out of it?”

  She shook her head. “He hasn’t had his head in the game for a long time now. It’s the right move for him, but I let him know the door’s open if he decides to return at some point.” Shrugging, she said, “Just another day in paradise.”

  “That’s a tough one, babe. I’m sorry. I know you think of the squad as family, so it’s hard when something like this happens.”

  “I told him he’s still family, no matter what.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated it.”

  The desk extension buzzed again.

  “Gotta get that.” He got up and crossed the room to his desk but turned so he could look at her while he took the call. His eyes bugged at the sight of the “work” she’d done to his desk while she waited for him. All his anal-retentively stacked folders had been knocked out of alignment, objects messily rearranged and his photos turned upside down.

  When he glanced at her with an annoyed expression, Sam waggled her brows at him and enjoyed watching annoyance become amusement.

  “Come on in,” he said into the phone before he returned the receiver to the cradle. “You can’t help yourself, can you?” He gestured to what he would consider chaos on his desk.

  “You know I get into trouble whenever I have time to kill.”

  “You’re a menace.”

  “You love me.”

  Before he could agree, Terry came into the office. “Sorry to disturb.”

  “No worries,” Sam said. “I have to get back to work anyway.”

  “Before you go, tell Terry your plan for deflecting my mother.”

  “Oh, um, well...since Nick has never actually been married before, I think you need to say that and issue a photo of his father at the same age he is now with no further comment. You won’t need it.”

  “That’s an excellent plan,” Terry said. “And it’s exactly what we’ll do. Can you ask your dad for a photo?”

  “I’ll call him to give him a heads-up and ask for the photo. In the meantime, where are we with the legal steps to stop them from broadcasting the interview?”

  “Unfortunately, we’re hitting numerous roadblocks. It looks like it’s going to air, even if we can prove ahead of time that she’s spewing lies.”

  “How can someone be allowed to do that?” Sam asked. “It should be illegal.”

  “I agr
ee,” Terry said, “but it’s not, and the White House counsel said your recourse is to file civil suits against the network and your mother.”

  “And won’t the press eat that up,” Nick said, his expression grim. “Vice president sues his own mother.”

  Sam’s cell phone rang, and she took the call from Gonzo. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve been following up with some of the names Irma Gibson gave you, and I think we need to have another chat with Peter’s coworker Lucy Kaul.”

  “What’ve you got?”

  “I talked to her next-door neighbor, who told me she’d seen her a lot lately with a guy who matched Peter’s description. Cruz also wanted me to tell you that Brendan Sullivan called him when he couldn’t reach you. He wasn’t able to get anything more from Rogers. He claims he’s already told us everything he knows about Gibson.”

  “We can close that loop anyway,” Sam said. “You want to pick me up near 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and go have another talk with Lucy?”

  “I can do that,” he said with a chuckle at the address. “Let me know exactly where.”

  “I’ll text you.” Sam slapped her phone closed and returned it to her pocket. She looked up at Nick. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  Sam took the hand he offered. “See you, Terry.”

  “Bye, Sam. Thanks for the strategy help.”

  “I’m happy to spread my expertise around wherever it might be useful.”

  Both men laughed, and Nick squeezed her hand as he led her out of the office.

  “You’re going to be all right?” she asked him when they were alone in the hallway—or as alone as they ever were with Secret Service agents following close behind them.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me, babe.”

  “I know. I guess I just keep hoping that one of these days she might actually act like a mother should. At thirty-seven, I should probably give up on that hope.”

  “I want to beat the shit out of her.”

  Nick laughed. “I think I’d actually like to see that.”

  “Stay tuned. It could still happen.”

  He dropped his hand and put his arm around her.

  Sam slid her arm under his suit coat, wishing she could get to skin rather than pressed linen.