by Marie Force
“Freakazoid.”
“Speaking of anal...”
“Do not speak of anal. We have to go to work.”
“I want to speak of it.”
“No! There’re Secret Service agents at the bottom of the stairs and a boy sleeping in his room who’d be scarred for life if he overheard that. Now be quiet and behave like the second most important man in the free world, will you please?”
“I don’t like having to behave.”
She gave him a gentle shove toward the stairs. “Move it. I need to hit the shower and make myself presentable.”
“We’re going to talk about the A word later. I have needs,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye.
Needs that had been met in the past by someone else, not that he’d ever come right out and said that. He’d shrugged when she asked him if he’d done that before, and it had nagged at her ever since that he’d done it with someone else and not her.
He escorted her downstairs, past the agent outside Scotty’s door and into their bedroom, closing the door behind him. “Why did you just go silent on me?”
“Perhaps it was because you were attempting to have an inappropriate conversation that could be overheard by all the wrong people?”
“How is that conversation inappropriate? You went quiet. I want to know why.”
She turned to face him. “Because! It drives me crazy that you’ve done that with someone else and not me. But I don’t even know if I want to. I just know that I don’t want you to have anything with someone else that you haven’t had with me.”
He stared at her, an incredulous expression on his handsome face. “Samantha, for the love of God, I have never had anything with anyone else that could ever be compared to what I have with you.”
“You had that.”
“So what? Do you think I spend one second of my life thinking about people who never mattered to me a fraction as much as you do?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Look at me, babe.”
It was easier to have this conversation with her back to him, but she did as he asked.
He looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t think about anyone but you. I think about you so much there’s no room for thoughts of anyone else.”
“But still, you want that.”
“I want that with you, because I think you’d love it, not because I’ve done it before and dream about the good old days.”
“I hate that you’ve done stuff with other people that you haven’t done with me.”
“Samantha! Baby, listen to me, I’ve never had anything like this before. Not even close.”
“You said you have needs.”
“I was joking because I love the way you get all red-faced when we talk about any kind of kinky sex.” With his hands on her hips, he tugged her into his embrace. “I can’t bear the thought of something like this bothering you so much.”
“It doesn’t bother me a lot,” Sam said, beginning to feel foolish for making an issue of it. “Just a little.”
“Please don’t let it bother you at all. If we get there, we get there. If we don’t, we don’t. You can’t possibly think that I find anything lacking in our sex life. For God’s sake, Sam, we’re like bunnies. There can’t be a more sexually satisfied husband in all of America than I am.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle at the emphatic way he said that.
With his hands on her face he gazed at her with those incredible hazel eyes that saw right through her. “You have nothing, and I do mean nothing to be insecure about where I’m concerned. I’m your slave, babe.”
Sam slipped her arms inside his suit coat and clung to him.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Please tell me you know that.”
“I do. Of course I do, and it’s silly of me to be worried about ancient history.”
“Yes, it is silly. How could you think I’m not entirely thrilled with every single thing about our life together? Well, except for the parts where you get shot at or pistol-whipped or run off the road. I could live without that shit.”
She smiled up at him. “So could I.”
Looking down at her, he said, “I don’t like knowing you have these insecurities. What’ll we do about that?”
“They’re not insecurities so much as a desire to experience everything there is to experience with you.”
“That we can do, as long as it’s not tied to some misbegotten notion that you have to live up to some expectations that I don’t have.”
“Okay.”
He held her for another minute. “Are we good?”
“We’re great. We’re incredible.”
“Yes, we are. We’re incredible exactly the way we are, and don’t you ever forget it.”
“I won’t.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Now go run the country while I get ready for TV.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I love you so much, Samantha. I wish I had the words to tell you how much.”
“You just did a pretty good job. And PS, I love you just as much.”
He kissed her again and then let her go. “Be careful out there today.”
“Always am. Got far too much to live for to screw up, so don’t worry.”
“That’s like telling me not to breathe.”
“Be gone with you. I have to beautify.”
His phone chimed with a text that he glanced at. “Crap, it’s from Shelby. She’s sick and not able to work today.”
“No word about why she was at the ER?”
“No, that’s all she said.”
“Well, damn, that changes the day.”
“Not really. The agents can get Scotty to and from school, and they’ll be here with him when he gets home.”
“So now we’re relying on them to babysit?”
“He hardly needs babysitting. He’s thirteen.”
“Still, how warm and fuzzy to come home to his Secret Service detail.”
“Tell you what, I’ll suggest he go to Skip and Celia’s after school, and I’ll give her a heads-up that he’ll be coming if it’s okay with them.”
“That’ll work. I’ll check in with them too. I just hope Shelby’s okay. I’ll try to get a chance to call her.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get him up, and I’ll see you later at the reception if you can make it.”
Sam would never admit that she’d forgotten all about the reception. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks, you too.” He stole one more kiss on the way out the door.
Sam headed for the shower, her mind swirling after their conversation. It never failed to amaze her how different her second marriage was from her first. She and Peter hadn’t talked about the things she and Nick covered so effortlessly. Everything was on the table with Nick, and she loved that about their marriage.
She hurried through a shower, took the time to blow-dry and straighten her hair and chose a black suit with a cranberry silk blouse under it for TV. She shoved jeans, a sweater and her trusty hiking boots into a backpack to change into later. From the bedside table, she withdrew her service weapon, which she tucked into the waistband of her skirt, as well as her badge, cuffs and notebook, which she put in the backpack.
When she got downstairs, Scotty was finishing a bowl of cereal while watching Sports Center on Nick’s iPad.
“Wow, you look nice,” he said. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“Going on TV this morning with Chief Farnsworth.”
“Oh, hey, that’s cool. How come?”
“There’s been a lot of crap flying around since the Springer investigation, and we’re going to tell our side of it. Or try to anyway.”
“That’s a good idea.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “It was my idea.”
“It’s a good one.”
“Unless of course it blows up in our faces.”
“Don’t let that happen.”
If only it were that simple. She downed a piece of peanut butter toast, then went back upstairs to brush her teeth and check her appearance one last time. In deference to her TV appearance, she slipped on her engagement ring and the diamond key necklace. She released a deep breath. Being on TV always made her incredibly nervous, but she was glad to do anything that might help take some of the heat off the chief.
Sam went downstairs where Scotty was putting the lunch Nick had made for him into his backpack.
“Nick told you Shelby is out today, so you’ll be coming home with the agents and going to Skip’s if it’s okay with them?”
“Yeah, he said he’ll text me after he talks to them.”
“Sounds like a plan then.”
“Is Shelby okay?”
“I think so. She didn’t say what was wrong, but I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you if you text her later.”
“I’ll do that. Are we going to Nick’s reception at the White House? He ironed my work clothes for me.”
As Sam wondered what the heck time her husband had gotten up—or if his insomnia had kept him up all night—she hugged her son. “I hope to be able to go. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
“Have a good day, buddy. I love you.”
“Love you too.” He paused before he said, “Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night I told Nick that at some point, when it feels right, I’d like to call him Dad. Would it be okay if I did the same with you?”
The request hit her like a ton of bricks to the chest. “You wanna call me Dad?” she asked, making light of it so she wouldn’t bawl her head off.
“Sam,” he said impatiently. “You know what I mean.”
She went to him, because how could she not? “Yes, I know what you mean, and nothing would make me happier in the entire world than for you to call me Dad. I mean Mom.”
Scotty laughed. “You’re such a dork.”
“You’re a bigger dork.”
“Doubtful.”
“We’ll continue this conversation later, my friend. I’ve got TV people waiting for me.”
“I’ve got algebra waiting for me. I’d rather be you.”
“I’d rather be me too.”
Debra, one of Scotty’s agents, came into the kitchen. “Ready to roll?”
“Ready,” he said. “See ya, Sam.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter Sixteen
After battling traffic, she arrived at the CBC studios on Connecticut Avenue, stressing out about how close she was calling it. In full uniform, the chief greeted her in the reception area.
“Was I supposed to wear the uniform?” she asked.
“No, you look great. I just thought it would be appropriate for me to wear it today.”
“And you wear it well. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
“I appreciate you doing this. I know it’s not something you’d do for just anyone.”
“If I have to put up with all the interest, I may as well take advantage of it when it suits my purposes.”
“Was Nick okay with it?”
“He was all for it. He agrees with me. He informed me last night that I’m famous now, and I may as well make the most of it.”
“Famous,” the chief said with a snicker. “You were infamous before he was ever vice president.”
“I know, right?”
He shook his head at her snappy comeback. “Any word on the Phillips investigation this morning?”
“Just that she was with two guys before she died, one of them Mr. Hughes from Baltimore. Lindsey is trying to identify the second profile, if he’s in the system. We’re going to dig in to the church she belonged to today, among other leads.”
“And Sergeant Gonzales?”
“Safely out of town at his parents’ place in Harper’s Ferry for the time being, where he’s about to spontaneously combust.”
“Let’s take the opportunity today to mention he’s not a suspect.”
“We’re on the same page there.”
The producer came out to get them and led them through winding corridors filled with cages and wires and all sorts of other junk that Sam wanted to stop to take a closer look at. They were deposited into a waiting room where coffee and donuts were available to guests.
“I’ll be back to get you in a few minutes,” the producer said.
“Thank you,” the chief said. To Sam, he said, “Coffee? Donut?”
“You go ahead. I’m all set.” She was too nervous to risk more coffee making her stomach ache during the interview. A TV mounted in the corner showed the on-air anchors delivering the morning’s headlines, including an update about the mother of Detective Sergeant Gonzales’s son being found dead days after she went public with the conflict of interest in their custody case. Of course there was no mention of how seriously injured he’d recently been in the line of duty.
“It’s infuriating,” the chief said quietly.
“For him too. All those years of decorated service disregarded like they mean nothing.”
“Say that today. As often as you can.”
“It won’t look like I’m defending my friend?”
“So what if it does? It’s true.”
“You’re feisty today,” she said, smiling at him.
“I’m pissed off with the way my department is being portrayed in the media lately.”
“Do the Public Affairs people know they’re sending out a pissed-off chief today?”
He winked at her. “We’ll let that be our little secret.”
Laughing, she said, “Until you take it to the airwaves.”
Farnsworth shrugged. “What can they do? Smear me in the news? Check. Already done.”
“Have you heard from the mayor?”
“She’s called a couple of times. I might’ve forgotten to call her back.”
Sam snorted. “See why I love you so much? You’re awesome.”
“I could say the same about you, Lieutenant. No one has made me look better during my tenure as chief than the firebrand who runs my Homicide Division and also happens to be my niece.”
Though she was touched through and through by the compliment, she nudged him with her elbow. “Stop being so schmoopy. Next they’ll be saying we’re having an affair the way Stahl used to.”
“Stahl said that?”
“All the time. How else could I possibly get the chief to do whatever I wanted him to?”
“I hate that bastard. I’m so glad he’s gone for good.”
“Is he?” Sam asked.
“He can’t come back from assaulting you outside your own home. There’s no way he gets out of that with the Secret Service agents prepared to testify to witnessing it.”
“Speaking of witnessing things, Sanborn’s trial starts this week.”
“How’s McBride handling that?”
“She’s handling it. Sort of.”
“I hate that she has to relive that nightmare in open court.”
“So do I, but it was way too much to hope for that Sanborn would take a plea deal and spare her having to testify. I worry that it’s going to set her back to day one.”
“Do whatever you need to as her commander to get her through it.”
“I will, thank you.” Her phone dinged with a text from Captain Malone. Peter Gibson rented another apartment near the old one and was in Florida for the holiday. Cross him off t
he list. He’d included Peter’s new address for Sam’s information.
She breathed a sigh of relief to know that whatever was going on, it had nothing to do with her ex-husband. Thanks, she wrote back to the captain. Now about Stahl.
Still looking for him.
Farnsworth checked his watch. “What the hell is taking so long? They told us to be here at seven and it’s seven twenty.”
“I’m sure we’ll be on soon. How many do we have after this one?”
“Four.”
“Four?”
He shrugged. “Can I help it that everyone wanted us when they heard you were coming?”
“Shit fuck damn hell.”
“Language, Lieutenant.”
“I’d apologize except I meant every word. Don’t they know I have a murderer to catch?”
“Oh, they know, but according to the Public Affairs people they were, and I quote, ‘Creaming their jeans’ when they heard you were part of the package.”
“That’s just nasty.”
“Don’t kill the messenger.” He was still laughing at his own joke when the producer returned to lead them onto the set, which was like half of a fancy living room. The other side was filled with cameras and wires and people wearing headphones. A young, extremely thin Asian woman fitted them with wireless microphones.
“It’s super cool to meet you, Mrs. Cappuano,” she said after she clipped the mike onto Sam’s lapel.
“Thanks, you too.” She caught the chief’s glance and noted he was trying not to laugh. He was in an awfully jolly mood for a guy who’d been skewered on a daily basis for weeks now. And hey, if her notoriety helped to ease some of his tension, she was happy to be the butt of his jokes.
During a commercial break they were shown to the sofa. Monica Taylor, one of the bottle blondes from the media scrum that covered the police department, shook hands with both of them, welcoming them like they were old friends. “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to have our nation’s second lady joining us this morning.”
“I’m here as Lieutenant Holland,” Sam said, wishing now she’d thought to clip her badge to her jacket before she left the house. “Not as the second lady.”
“Yes, of course.” Monica flashed a blinding white smile that had Sam wondering if she gargled bleach to make that happen.
