by Marie Force
* * *
As much as she’d loved the sparring match with her husband, she was now frightfully late with no time to eat. Her stomach growled with emptiness, so she decided to grab something on the way to HQ for the six-thirty meeting, which was in sixteen minutes.
From a lockbox in the bedside table drawer, she retrieved her weapon, cuffs and badge. She slid the weapon into a hip holster, clipped the badge on the waistband of her jeans and jammed the cuffs into one back pocket and her ever-present notebook into the other. Grabbing her phone off the charger, she pushed that into one of her front pockets.
Nick emerged from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his narrow hips. He was finger combing his wet hair, which made the muscles on his chest flex rather appealingly.
As usual, Sam was struck dumb by the sight of him.
“You’re staring,” he said as he withdrew a suit from his closet. “And you’re late, so get moving.”
“You’re very bossy this morning.”
“You require a tremendous amount of supervision.”
“Still not getting mad.” She went up on tiptoes to press a lingering kiss on him. Patting his freshly shaven face, she said, “Nice try, though, Senator. Do me a favor, will you? If you have time this morning, shoot me an e-mail with everything you remember about Victoria from the day you met her. Tell me about their wedding and anything else that might give me some insight into her.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“I can’t find any reference to her online before she worked for Calahan Rice. That’s weird, isn’t it?”
Shrugging, he said, “Maybe she was low profile before then.”
“I understand low profile. It’s no profile I don’t get. Everyone who’s been alive in the last two decades has a past. If there’s a paper trail of any kind, normally you can find it online. College degrees, licenses, that kind of stuff. There’s nothing at all for her.”
“And when did you make this discovery?”
Shit, she thought, wishing once again for the clueless husband who didn’t see right through her. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Why waste the time?”
His frown spoke volumes. “You’ll be wiped out today after only a couple of hours of sleep.”
“I’ll be fine, perky and ready to play the politician’s perfect spouse later.”
He smiled down at her. “That’ll be the day. Be careful out there today, babe.”
“I always am. Will you be with Derek at all today?”
“As much as I can. I’ve got two committee hearings and a town hall meeting with constituents that we’re doing via Skype this afternoon, so I can’t get out of that.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Harry’s taking the day off to be with him.”
“Try to have a good one.”
“You too. Find that baby.”
“I’m hoping third shift got us a thread to pull. I’ll let you know what I hear. See ya, babe.” Sam went downstairs and was bolting down the ramp that led to the sidewalk a minute later. She drove much faster than she should have through Capitol Hill, which was still quiet at that early hour. Pulling up to a convenience store on D Street, she double-parked outside and ran in to grab a bagel.
She was standing at the back case, deciding between apple and cranberry juice while yearning for diet cola, when the reflection off the glass drew her attention to the front of the store, where a man wearing a heavy coat waved a gun around.
Fuck. As she dropped the bagel on the floor and crouched behind one of the shelves, it occurred to her that she was going to be late for her meeting. With her heart beating fast and hard, she dashed off a text to Freddie and Gonzo, requesting backup.
A woman lying on the floor gestured for Sam to be quiet.
Sam twisted her body so the other woman could see her badge and gun.
The woman’s eyes lit up with relief.
With a finger to her lips, Sam urged the woman to remain calm and quiet as Sam crawled past her and an older man who was also lying in the bread aisle. Minutes that felt like hours passed as the clerk loaded money into a plastic shopping bag. His hands, Sam noted, were trembling.
The perp danced from one foot to the other, clearly high on something.
A young woman came skipping through the door, unaware she was walking into a potential nightmare.
Sam wanted to yell at her to get down, but when the perp swung his gun in her direction, she let out a scream and dove onto the floor. Smart girl. Whimpers and sniffs from the next aisle told Sam there were other civilians hiding there. At least five, Sam concluded as she watched the gunman return his attention to the panic-stricken man behind the counter.
“Hurry up!”
Sam made eye contact with the cashier, flashing her badge and gun, and encouraging him with the briefest of nods to stay calm.
Sensing something was happening behind him, the gunman twisted around to survey the rest of the store.
Sam ducked behind a display and held her breath. As long as he thought unarmed civilians surrounded him, they were probably relatively safe. If he caught wind of a cop in their midst, this could go bad fast.
After realizing he had help, the clerk seemed to calm down. His hands weren’t shaking quite as violently, and his movements were slow and precise as he emptied the register.
Knowing her presence had calmed the man, Sam hoped she didn’t let him down.
“What about the safe?” the gunman asked.
“I don’t have access.” He glanced again at Sam, which caused the gunman to turn again.
Seeing nothing amiss and everyone on the floor where they were supposed to be, he returned his attention to the clerk.
Now or never, Sam decided, springing to her feet and rushing the gunman from behind. She was a foot from him when he sensed her coming. He swung his arm back, and the gun caught her square in the face. Even though the blow knocked her senseless, she knew if she hesitated, she’d be the first to die.
“Stay down,” she yelled to the other people in the store. Grabbing his arm, she twisted and wrenched it until he had no choice but to release the gun. As it clattered to the floor, she tugged his arms behind his back and had him facedown and cuffed within ten seconds.
“Holy shit,” the clerk uttered. “That was fucking amazing.”
The rest of the people in the store surged to their feet and rushed her.
“She’s bleeding,” one of them said.
“We need a clean cloth and some ice,” another cried.
By the time Freddie and Gonzo arrived with the cavalry, Sam was being tended to by seven of her new best friends.
“Don’t let us interrupt the party,” Freddie said drolly, even though Sam could tell he was relieved to see her alive and well and the gunman neutralized. Reaching for the radio on his hip, he called for transport for the perp and a bus for her.
“I don’t need EMS,” Sam protested, even though she was starting to have trouble seeing out of her right eye due to the swelling. To the citizens who’d come to her aid, she said, “I’m fine, everyone. Thanks.”
Freddie leaned in and took a closer look. “Um, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Lieutenant, but your cheek is laid wide open. You do need EMS.”
“Oh, come on! I’ve got a homicide investigation to contend with. I can’t spend half a day in the ER.”
Her usually amenable partner shrugged. “You can’t walk around with your face sliced in half either. You’re scary enough as it is.”
“It can’t be that bad.” To the clerk, she said, “Is there a mirror around here?”
He pointed to the back of the store. “In the restroom.”
With Freddie in tow, Sam stepped over her abandoned bagel on the way to the restroom. She flipped on the light, took one look in the mirror and nearly fainted. “Oh shit,” she whispered, remembering the fundraiser that evening and the dress she was wearing to help out one of Nick’s constituents. She probably ought to give the de
signer the chance to back out of the arrangement.
“Told ya,” Freddie said as he snagged a bag of powdered donuts off the shelf. As he ventured to the front of the store to pay for his favorite food group, Sam withdrew her cellphone from her pocket to call Nick.
They had a deal that he heard any unusual or upsetting happenings on the job directly from her as soon as it was possible for her to call. That deal resulted in frequent phone calls to her husband during crazy workdays.
“Didn’t I just see you?” he asked when he answered.
As always, the sound of his voice calmed her. “So, okay, something happened, but I’m fine.” She hated, absolutely hated, having to tell him things she knew would upset him. But she hated more the wounded look on his face when he realized she’d kept something major from him.
“Define ‘something’ and ‘fine.’” Normally, his stern tone would make her laugh, but this wasn’t the time for laughter.
As she took a moment to choose her words, she returned to the front of the store where patrol was hauling the gunman off the floor and escorting him out the door. “I stopped to get a bagel at a place on D Street and interrupted a robbery in progress. I neutralized the gunman, and all is well.”
“Define ‘neutralized the gunman.’”
Sam gritted her teeth, knowing she owed him the full truth. “I jumped him from behind, and it would’ve been a perfect takedown if he hadn’t smacked me in the face with the gun.”
He gasped. “Jesus Christ, Sam. So you’re hurt.”
“Only a cut. They’re taking me to the ER to get some stitches.” She held up a finger to stop the paramedics from approaching her until she took care of her husband. “No biggie—and you do not have to come there. You’ve got a busy day with hearings and town hall meetings, and your friend needs you. I prohibit you from coming to the ER, do you hear me?”
After a long moment of silence, he said, “You can’t tell me what to do. You know that, don’t you?”
“I can in this case.”
“Since you’re being your usual mouthy self, I’ll take your word for it that you’re fine. However, I make no promises about coming to see for myself.”
“I’ll tell the doctors you’re prohibited.”
“Which will land our nonexistent marital troubles in the papers. Is that what you want?”
She couldn’t deny he had a point.
“Only my wife could stop for a bagel and take a gun to the face. When I think about what a close call the gun to the face probably was... And you wonder why I’m always worried about you.”
“Don’t think about it, and don’t worry. Everything is fine. I promise.”
Since the paramedic in charge was getting pissed waiting for her and the rag they’d given her to mop up the blood had soaked through, she waved them over. “I gotta go. See you tonight.”
“Samantha...”
Her heart never failed to skip a beat when he said her name in that particular way. “Yeah?”
“I love you. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Back atcha, Senator. See you later.”
Chapter Six
Before they’d let her leave the scene, Sam received another round of profuse thanks and grateful hugs from the people who’d been in the store during the attempted robbery. The clerk was particularly appreciative and promised Sam free bagels for life.
The paramedics escorted her to the ambulance, where they applied medication to the wound that felt like they’d poured battery acid on her face. The pain was so ridiculous, she nearly passed out, and it was all she could do not to ruin her badass reputation by crying like a baby.
“Sorry,” the lead paramedic said.
He’d probably enjoyed inflicting maximum pain to pay her back for making him wait.
Sam focused on breathing through the pain as they transported her to the George Washington University Hospital emergency department, where she’d been somewhat of a regular in the last year. At the hospital, she was whisked into a room and was grateful to see a doctor she recognized. Anderson, if she remembered correctly. Since she had only one working eye at the moment, she couldn’t make out the name embroidered into his white coat.
“You again?” he asked with a grin.
“What can I say? The service is so great here, I can’t stay away.”
After the paramedics transferred her from the gurney to the hospital bed and left, the doctor got up close and personal with her face, poking and prodding until Sam wanted to beg for mercy. By the time he was done, she was shaking and nauseated.
“That’ll require a plastic surgeon,” he declared.
“Oh, come on! Why can’t you sew it up and get me out of here? I’ve got a murder and kidnapping to contend with.”
“Believe me,” he said with a laugh, “you don’t want me sewing that. A celebrity like you needs to be worried about a big ugly scar on her face.”
“Those are fighting words,” she growled. “For your information, I’m not a celebrity. I’m a cop, and I need to get to work.”
“You may be a cop, but you’re also a celebrity, and I ain’t doing it.”
“They teach you that grammar in medical school?”
“They teach you that charm at the academy?”
Despite the pain it caused her, Sam glowered at him, but he didn’t blink. She hated when that happened. Her glower was rather potent, if she said so herself.
“I’ll page plastics and be back to let you know how long you’ll be our guest.”
“Doc.” She swallowed hard. “Will this require shots? In the face?”
“Couple of them, but they’ll numb you up first. Don’t worry.”
Right, don’t worry, she thought as her entire body went cold with fear. The only thing that freaked Sam out more than needles was flying. No, needles were worse. Definitely worse. And needles to the face had to be the absolute worst. She’d rather take on ten gunmen single-handed than have a shot in the face.
Freddie came in with Captain Malone trailing behind him.
“I had your frequent-flyer card punched,” the captain said. “So don’t worry about that. You’re one incident shy of a free ER visit.”
“Very funny. I’ve got a dead body in the morgue and a missing baby, and I have to sit here and cool my heels until McSteamy can sew me up.”
“Who?” Freddie asked.
“Plastic surgeon.”
“The guy’s name is McSteamy?” Malone asked, perplexed.
“Don’t you watch Grey’s Anatomy?” It was the one show Sam never missed. Didn’t everyone know who McSteamy was? “You watch it, don’t you?” she asked her partner.
“Sorry, far too busy for such foolishness,” Freddie said.
“Right,” Sam said. “I know what you’re busy doing.” She pushed a finger into her closed fist and waggled her brows at him, which made her face sting with the fury of a thousand fire ants.
With a mortified glance at the captain, Freddie slapped at her hands. “Shut up, Sam.”
Naturally, his mortification made her laugh. Mission accomplished.
“Children,” Malone said. “Keep your hands to yourselves.”
Dr. Anderson returned to the cubicle. “It’s going to be an hour,” he said grimly. “Maybe two.”
“Oh my God! I can’t sit here for two hours when I’ve got a murdering kidnapper on the loose!”
“I’m afraid that’s the best I can do,” Anderson replied.
“There’s no one else in this entire hospital who can give me some stitches and send me on my way?”
“Trust me when I tell you that you want the right guy for this job. When he’s done, you’ll barely have a scar. I’ll be back. Sit tight.”
“Sitting tight is not her strong suit,” Malone muttered to the doctor’s retreating back.
“I heard that,” Sam said.
Her mentor, who was tall and brawny with wise gray eyes and close-cropped silver hair, sent her a smug grin.
“I can’t sit
here and do nothing.” To Freddie, she said, “If I can’t get to HQ, I’ll bring HQ to me. Get everyone over here right away. Tell Jeannie to bring a dry-erase board. And if they can get out of there without alerting Hill as to where they’re going, that’d be good. Hurry.”
As Freddie scampered off, Malone shook his head. “You’re too much, Holland.”
“I’ve got shit to do and a deadline today.”
“What deadline?”
“Fundraiser for Nick’s campaign tonight. It’s a big deal. He reserved me weeks in advance.”
Malone hooted with laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“Wait’ll he gets a look at your face. Can I be there for that? Please can I?”
Sam attempted her trademark scowl, but that made the cut hurt like a son of a bitch, so she resorted to the old standby and gave him the finger.
“Don’t let Stahl see you disrespecting a superior officer that way,” Malone said of Sam’s nemesis. “He’ll convene an IAB hearing.”
“Let him. It was worth it.”
A nurse came into the cubical, carrying implements of torture.
“What’s that?” Sam asked, immediately on alert and anxious.
“I’m starting an IV so we can get some fluids into you.”
“My mouth is working fine.”
“That’s the truth,” Malone said.
Ignoring him, Sam said, “Get me a bottle of water. I’ll drink it right down.” Anything to avoid another needle.
The nurse held up the bag. “This is more than water. It’s electrolytes that you need because of the blood loss.”
“Get me a sports drink. I don’t want that.”
“Doctor’s orders.”
Sam crossed her arms tight across her chest. “No IV.”
The nurse glanced at Malone, who shrugged. “There’s not much point arguing with her when she’s in this—or any—mood.”
“Lovely,” the nurse said on her way out of the room.
Sam nearly swooned with relief when she realized she’d dodged the IV bullet. A familiar whirring noise from the hallway had her sitting up straighter on the bed as her father turned his wheelchair into her cubical. Her stepmother, Celia, was right behind him.
