by Unknown
Travis whirled, his face tight and edgy. He clenched his big fists at his sides. Frustrated. A bit angry. “Damn it, Sam, don’t do this to me. You don’t want me.”
She held out her hands in supplication. “That’s not true.”
He looked suspicious, his eyes narrowed. His chest huffed liked an old freight train trying to pull a long hill. “You want to marry me? Be my wife? Give me children?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Fuck this,” he snapped.
“Don’t,” she pleaded, panicking as he turned the door knob. “Don’t leave me. Please…don’t go.”
“Shit.” He breathed harder and slowly turned the lock. Travis took a moment to close the blinds on the window, flip off the lights, and in two short strides, he stood before her. He slid his hands up her arms, and gripped her shoulders. “Son of a bitch, I know we’re going to regret this.”
“I won’t. I won’t ever,” she declared. Her lips trembled, begging for his hot possession.
Travis dipped his head and took her mouth, hot, hard, hungry. Groaning, he backed her against the wall and worked her tight skirt up to her waist. She heard the sound of rending material, felt the brush of cool air on her naked thighs. He tossed her balled bikini panties on her desk.
The soft hiss of his zipper invaded the space around her, a faint whisper of sound. She felt the dampness of his freed cock surge against her bare leg. Somehow he managed to lift her and she thought how strong he was, how perfect for her he was.
Sam locked her legs around his tight hips. Her heart hummed, beating like a powerful engine, ready, steady, and damn near on the verge of exploding. God she wanted this, needed this. And, she thought, she’d need this, need him for the rest of her life.
Hurry, her mind silently demanded. Inside me. Be inside me. Love me.
Then he closed one meaty hand around his swollen shaft and guided it to her aching, inviting portal, pushing inside her, filling her, slowly filling her until she felt full and complete. She tossed her head, accepting every inch, settling around his hard cock like a sweet dusky evening settled into night.
Sam thrust her fingers through his thick hair, framed his face, kissed his mouth over and over, and rode his shaft, rode it hard, fast, until her body tightened, tightened, and surged into a powerful climax. His hard breaths penetrated the quiet around her just like his cock penetrated her damp channel. She clung to him, the pulsing wetness of his release bathing her womb.
For a moment, he rested his head against her breasts, his breaths short and choppy. Slowly he withdrew. His fierce blue eyes hard and unkind, he allowed her body to slide down the long length of his. He hated this, she thought, hated that she’d forced his surrender, begged for it.
Distance settled in the ocean depths. Anger sparked. No, he wasn’t happy about what had just happened between them. His cheeks looked red as apples. His chest heaved. Quiet rage settled on his handsome face. Though she didn’t regret what happened, it was plain he did.
He zipped his slacks and turned away.
“Travis?”
“Yeah?” He paused and looked over his shoulder.
“You’re still leaving?”
“Yeah.” His icy words hit her cold and flat.
“But…I–I thought this would change things, that you’d—”
“Do you still refuse to be my wife?”
“Yes.”
“Then it didn’t change things. Call me when you wanna be fucked again,” he said, bitterness solid in his voice. “I’ll scratch your itch…just like always.”
He unlocked the door and slipped away, leaving her behind like a discarded shoe.
Sam stood there, her skirt still bunched around her hips, his seed sticky along her inner thighs. Dazed, she worked the soft wool material down her waist to her knees. She gathered up the evidence of her destroyed panties off her desk and made her way to the bathroom across the hall.
There she wet a paper towel and scrubbed away the smeared cherry red lipstick, added a new layer to her lips with shaky hands, then freshened up. Looking at her reflection, she wondered who the wide-eyed stranger was staring back at her. She blinked, but it didn’t stop the tears from sliding down her face or remove the evidence that she’d been kissed. Her lips tingled, slightly swollen, and still hungry for the taste of his.
He’d left her. Even after what they’d just shared, he left her anyway. He’d given her exactly what she wanted, so why the hell did she feel cheap and used?
It was all she wanted from him. Wasn’t it? Sex? Just sex? Him at her beck and call when she needed him? Desired his touch? Her decision. Her lower lip trembled. Damn. Sex without commitment sucked! It somehow made her feel dirty and she wondered why, because sleeping with him before hadn’t left her feeling unclean or unimportant to him. It had been sweet and real. But this, this wasn’t real. It was cold. Dirty.
Nausea bubbled into her stomach, roiling around like a whirlpool. She hurried over to the commode and lost the bit of breakfast she’d managed to choke down that morning before leaving the house. Losing Travis made her sick, she surmised, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t marry him. She couldn’t. No matter how much she loved or wanted him, the thought of being his wife made her sicker than the fact she was losing him.
Sam took a moment to finger comb her tangled hair. It was over between them. That much had been plain in the quiet anger on his face. He’d said he would satisfy her needs, but she knew he’d never touch her intimately again.
Anyway, she couldn’t face having empty, meaningless sex with him again either. Her stomach reacted violently to that decision. She beat a hasty retreat to the commode for the second time and lost the rest of her breakfast. Good Lord, something was wrong. She was never ill like this. The only time she’d ever been sick like this was when she was pregnant with—
“Oh, God. No. I can’t be.”I had my period just four days ago.
Yeah, but it’d been different. Light and she’d only spotted for a day when she normally went four heavy days. Why hadn’t she thought—considered that she was…
Her face stared back at her from the long mirror and though she was pale, a smile split her lips and her dark eyes lit up. “A baby,” she said in wonder. “Travis’ baby…again.”
If nothing else, she was consistent. Looked like he’d get that baby he wanted after all. And hell yes she’d marry him. If it meant his happiness, then yes, she’d marry him for she suddenly realized his happiness was hers too.
Excited, Sam wondered if she pinched her arm she’d wake up to discover she’d been dreaming.
How far along was she? Not very, but then she’d had morning sickness with Hayley when she’d been a mere three weeks.
Was that right?
She was about two weeks give or take a few days?
Damn, she couldn’t remember when she and Travis first had sex. It had to have happened then for her to feel this sick already. Awed, she laid a hand across her stomach. An unexpected treasure. She’d take it, wrap her heart around it, and nourish it with love. Travis would remain in her life now. Not just Hayley’s, but hers too. He had no choice. He’d want to be as much a part of this baby’s life as he did their daughter’s. She refused to cheat him of this opportunity. She’d never do that to him again.
Above all else, he wanted more babies. She hadn’t expected to be pregnant, but okay. Some things were meant to be.
Grinning, Sam hurried to the office, closed the door, and leaned back against it. She felt her lips curve with pleasure. She couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in days, happiness surrounded her. She was pregnant. How could she be so damn thrilled?
Her stomach churned again. Maybe some hot tea would help settle it. Crossing to her desk, she punched the button, “Angie, would you make me a cup of hot tea?”
“A nice cup of hot tea coming right up,” the secretary chirped. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
And just like that,
the fog rolled away. Sam blinked. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She remembered what had been driving her mad, what had niggled at her ever since Neil Turner’s death. What she hadn’t been able to recall since the day they’d discovered his body on Flayme’s kitchen floor.
Sam plastered her hands on top of the walnut finished desk and lowered her head. Slowly, she pressed the button. “Uh, no, tea’s fine,” she replied feeling faint.“Shit.” She pressed the button a second time, but for Travis this time. She cleared her throat and drew a long breath. “Would you come to my office, please?”
“Sam, is it necessary for us to keep hurting each other? I’m not a masochist.”
“Stop packing. I need you in here. Now!” Sam frowned and flipped the off switch on his soft sigh. She whirled when Angie knocked and opened the door.
“Here’s your tea.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks. Just set it here on my desk.”
The secretary set the cup down and stepped back. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” Sam shook her head finding it hard to grasp what she believed about this woman.
“Well then, I’ll just get back to work.” She turned to go.
“Angie?” Sam got up and walked around to the front of the wide desk.
“Yes?”
“When we had the meeting a few days ago, you said you saw Neil getting coffee. Is that correct?”
Angie smiled. “Why yes, I saw him, even chatted with him a few minutes.”
“How did you do that when he’d already been dead several hours?”
For a moment, the older woman looked blank, then she shrugged. “You must be mistaken.”
“No mistake. I’m the one who discovered his body in Flayme’s kitchen. I know he was dead and how long he was dead. So tell me, how did you see him, talk to him? ”
“I–I don’t know.” Nervous, Angie slid her right hand into the deep pocket of her skirt. “I can’t explain it. Maybe I got the days mixed up. It’s easy to do with so many comings and goings going on. I need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse me?”
“I don’t think so, Angie. You were very specific as to what day you saw Neil, even mentioned it at the meeting. Stay. You have some questions to answer.”
“Hmm. I was afraid you’d say that you nosy bitch!” Withdrawing her hand, she leveled a small gun on Sam.
Sam jerked, then tightened her lips. Her first reaction was to tackle the woman, but staring down the dark hole of the mini-sized Derringer gave her chills. She slid a protective hand across her belly. There was a little girl and a new baby on the way who didn’t deserve to grow up without their mother. No heroics. “How did you get that past security?” she snapped frustrated. She’d wanted to pin Angie down with her charges against the older woman, but she hadn’t stop to consider the secretary might have a gun.
“The how doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that I did you need to worry about.”
The woman’s tone sounded lethal. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
It was enough to give Sam pause. Angie had been a fixture around the offices for years. The woman looked as harmless as a kitten.
Holding onto her temper by sheer willpower, Sam glowered at the woman. “What? Are you a sleeper agent? A damn spy?”
Angie shrugged. “Nothing so dramatic, Sam. You don’t mind if I call you Sam, do you? I feel like we’re old friends.”
“Yeah, I do mind. We aren’t friends. Anyone points a gun at me…yeah, you’re the enemy all right.”
Angie smiled, but the look in her eyes remained deadly. “I’ve been here right under all your noses for ages and you…” She laughed. “You had no clue.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Who? The list is long, several in-power people, but mainly Senator Ross.”
“Senator Ross?” Sam couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.
Angie waved the gun. “Do not take me for a fool and don’t make the mistake of coming any closer. I will kill you.”
Sam leaned against the desk. “You said you work for powerful people. Did the president have the first lady assassinated?”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
“Why not? Do you owe the president loyalty? Did he pay you to murder his wife?”
Angie laughed. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you could tidy everything up with that accusation? No, the president did not have the first lady assassinated. He’d never risk losing the Oval Office.”
“Then who?” Sam asked puzzled.
“The question you have to ask yourself is who stood to gain by her death?”
“No one.”
“Then who stood to lose millions if Molly and the Spanish Ambassador married?”
Sam blinked. “His wife.”
“Ah, at last the lights come on.”
Sam frowned and slowly nodded. “We can’t touch her. She’ll get by with murder.”
“Yes, she will. It was all planned out beautifully.”
“Her idea?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely. She wasn’t about to stand by and let Molly walk away with all that money.”
“She has diplomatic immunity.”
“She does,” Angie agree. “She’s already left the country with her husband’s body, a grieving widow, who’ll never set foot back on American soil again.”
Sam couldn’t shake the numbness invading her body. She’d been so blind, to a lot of things.
“And Duel? You’re the one who told the assassin about Duel’s cabin? Why’d you do it?”
Angie’s lips quirked. “Why?” She shrugged. “For the money, of course. It’s always about the money. Isn’t it? And for my son.”
“Your son? Must have been a closely guarded secret.”
Angie shrugged. “He shot the first lady. You’ll never catch him. He’s too clever to get caught by the likes of you.”
Sam edged closer. If she got close enough, maybe she could get the gun away.
“Don’t come any closer. I know what you think, that you can take my gun. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a harmless old lady. It wouldn’t pain me a bit to put a bullet between your eyes.”
Abruptly, Travis shoved open the door to Sam’s office. “What’s the problem, Sam? You can’t keep doing this to—”
Angie yelped when the door slammed into her arm.
“Oh, Angie, I’m so sorry…”
Caught off-guard, she squeezed the trigger. The sharp pop filled the empty space around the three of them.
“What on earth…?”Reacting quickly, Travis snatched the gun out of Angie’s hand and shoved her face against the wall. “What the hell is going on in here?” Not waiting for Angie’s reply, he pulled the cuffs off his belt and placed them on her wrists.
Sam glanced down, staring in disbelief at the crimson bud blooming midway across her left side. Her breath caught and she thought it froze there in her lungs like a block of ice. Shouldn’t she feel pain? Instead, her body felt as dead and cold as a crypt.
“What are you doing? You can’t do this to me,” Angie yelled.
“You fired a gun in a government building. Until we get this mess sorted out, I think it’s safest if your hands aren’t free. What happened, Sam?” For the first time, he took a moment to dart a glance her way. “Sam?”
Sam opened her mouth to speak, but all she managed was a soft little exhalation of air, then, “I–I…”
“Sam?” Travis hurried across the room. “Oh, Jesus! You’ve been shot!”
Sam tried to focus on him, but he blurred in and out of her vision.
“Travis,” she whispered. The man she loved. She had something important to tell him but her thoughts were scattered. The room tilted. An odd buzzing filled her ears. Blinking, she fought against the blackness overwhelming her. Her legs folded and she slumped forward.
* * * *
Travis caught Sam and lowered her to the floor. “Son of a bitch! You shot her?” he turned toward Angie, furious. “Why?”
Angie smirked. “Let’s just say she got too nosy.”
“Travis! We heard a shot.” One of the agents, Bill Brighten, Travis thought his name was, raced into Sam’s office. “What’s going on?”
He looked up, stricken. “I don’t know. Sam’s been shot. Call 911, then hold this woman in a room until I have time to question her.”
“Angie?” Bill glanced toward the secretary. “But—”
“Get her out of here,” Travis snapped. Gently, he brushed a soft curl away from Sam’s face. “Sweetheart, talk to me. The ambulance is on its way. Do you hear me? Hang in there.”
“Take…care…of…Hayley.”
“Oh, God, don’t talk like that. Don’t you damn well talk like that. You’ll be right here to watch our daughter grow into a woman.”
“Hurts...” she said and shivered. “So…cold.”
“I know, baby. Just stay with me. Sam? Stay with me, damn it!”
Travis tore off his suit coat, ripped off his shirt and slipped his T-shirt over his head. Quickly he folded it and pressed it against her wound. Still the blood drained from her body, soaking the T-shirt. What damage had the bullet done? How much?
“I’m going to turn you, see if there’s an exit wound.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
Travis gently rolled her to her side and felt his heart sink. “Somebody, give me another T-shirt, quick, damn it.”
One of the agents pressed a shirt in his hands. Travis held it against the gaping wound.
“Bad…huh?”
Gingerly, he turned Sam to face him. “You’ll be okay. I hear the sirens. You’ll be okay.”
“No…I–I want you to know…I love…you. Going…to marry…you…be your…wife.”
“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. I love you, too. I just…I just…” his voice broke and he drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You don’t have to marry me, Sam. I’m staying in your life. You and Hayley are my family.”
A faint smile flickered on her pale lips. “Baby…we’re having…a–a…baby.”
“No, sweetheart, you aren’t pregnant. You told me—”
“Was…wrong. Pregnant.”
Travis crushed her in his arms. “You are? Oh, God.” He touched her stomach, a light stroke that sent a bittersweet thrill to his heart. “I love you.”
