by Marie Force
The thought of the crackpots taking an interest in his Samantha was making Nick crazy. That his new job could’ve opened her up to that kind of exposure was something he hadn’t fully considered beforehand—and that made him doubly crazy. That he’d thought they’d somehow go on like before. How could he have been so naïve?
Unsettled by the disturbing thoughts circling through his mind, he got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen, looking for a drink.
Christina was right behind him. “How you doing?”
“Fantastic. Never better.” He poured two fingers of bourbon and held up the bottle.
She shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Want wine or something else?”
“I’m good. I’m worried about you though.”
“And I’m worried about her, as usual.”
“I can’t believe it was someone from her own department who did this to her.”
“He’s had it in for her for a long time. We failed to have the imagination to suspect he’d be capable of something like this, although after he tried to kill her once, we should’ve known he wouldn’t stop at that.”
“You had no way to know that, Nick. Most people, when they’re arrested on a charge of attempted murder, are scared and chastened.”
“Stahl isn’t most people. He’s a fucking lunatic, and she’s known that for a while now.”
“Still, you can’t blame yourself for what someone else did.”
“It eats at me to know I can’t protect her.”
“I feel the same way every time Tommy leaves for work. It’s an awful feeling.”
“You understand it better than most people do.”
“So how’s the new job?”
“It sucks.”
“Really? I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“I didn’t expect Nelson to basically ignore me until something happened to my wife. Now he’s all up in my grill.”
“What do you mean about him ignoring you?”
“He has no intention of using me for anything other than a boost in the polls. Derek says he hasn’t heard anything to that effect, but they wouldn’t tell him. They know we’re friends.”
“If they’re going to ignore you, then it seems to me that perhaps you should set your own agenda, and if they don’t like it, you could say you assumed they wouldn’t care.”
“I like the way you think. You’re sure you want to stay retired?”
“For now, but I’m always available to you. I hope you know that.”
“I do. Thank you, and I like your idea. A lot.”
Brant came into the kitchen. “Pardon the interruption, Mr. Vice President, but Director Pierce is on the phone and would appreciate a word with you.”
“Sorry,” Nick said to Christina.
“No worries.”
“Tell Sam I’ll be right out.”
“Will do.”
After the door swung closed behind her, Brant handed the phone to Nick and then left the room.
“Director Pierce.”
“Mr. Vice President, I hope you’ll excuse the bother when I’m sure you have other things on your mind today.”
“Not a problem. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping we might get together tomorrow or perhaps the next day at the latest to discuss your wife’s situation and how we might be of assistance.”
“Is this coming from you or above you?”
“This is coming straight from the top.”
“Sure, we can talk if you’d like to, but I don’t expect anything to change.”
“Mr. Vice President, with all due respect, everything has changed.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. Sam has a job to do, and she can’t do it with a detail in tow. It’s that simple.”
“It’s hardly that simple. This has become a matter of national security.”
“Why? Because the media is saying it is?”
“I would think, after what happened yesterday, that you’d want to protect her—”
“Don’t talk to me about protecting my wife, Ambrose. You’re so far out of line with that insinuation it’s not even funny.”
“Again, all due respect, sir, but protecting you and your family is my job. I’m trying to do the job the people hired me to do.”
“My wife is not and will not be protected by the Secret Service, so that means she’s not your job. I made that very clear before I accepted this position.”
“Then I’m afraid we have a problem, and you’re going to need to consult with President Nelson. He’s very upset about what happened to her and the attention it has called to her lack of protection.”
“I’ll take it up with him as soon as I’m able to, but the only possible thing that’s going to change is who his vice president is. Thanks for the call, Ambrose. I appreciate your concern.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Nick hit the end button and put Brant’s phone on the counter. He was hardly surprised by the call or the concern from the administration. They had a valid point. He’d never deny that. However, they’d made a deal, and he was going to force them to adhere to it, even if he agreed with them.
He wanted Sam to have protection after what’d happened. He believed she would be at far greater risk than she’d ever been before now that the whole world knew she didn’t have protection. But he could never ask that of her. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t. He’d resign before he’d take away the career that meant so much to her.
Scotty came into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in front of Nick. “Sam is looking for you.”
“I’ll be right there, buddy.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s all good.”
He eyed Nick skeptically. “You said that same thing to me yesterday when it wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I know that, but still.” He bit his lip and glanced at Nick almost shyly, which reminded him of when they first met.
“What do you want to say? Whatever it is, it’s okay to say it.”
“We’re a family now, right?”
“You bet we are.”
“I want to know what’s going on. I’m not a little kid, and I don’t want you to treat me like one. It scared me more to hear about what happened to Sam from the O’Connors than it would have to hear it from you. When they told me, I thought maybe it was because something had happened to you too.”
Nick winced. “You’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry. I know you’re not a little kid, and I didn’t mean to treat you like one. I didn’t know for sure what was going on with Sam when I left the office yesterday, and I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more. But I should’ve told you what I knew, and I will if anything like that ever happens again.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t. That guy is freaking nuts.”
“He sure is.” Nick put his hand on Scotty’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. I don’t mean to make a big thing out of it, but I want to know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.”
“I think she’s tired but she doesn’t want to tell everyone to leave.”
“We can do that for her.”
Scotty smiled at him. “They brought a ton of awesome food, so we need to be nice about it.”
Laughing, he said, “Yes, we do.” Nick followed Scotty into the living room, where most of Sam’s squad and her entire family, less her niece Brooke who was in school in Virginia, were gathered around her. He took a close look at his wife and saw that Scotty was right—she was fading fast. “Hey, guys, I think the patient needs a nap.”
“No, I don’t,” Sam said.
“He thinks he’s the boss of me.”
“Someone needs to be,” Malone quipped.
“Ain’t nobody the boss of her,” Gonzo said to much laughter.
“Bite me, Gonzo.”
“I prefer my bites sweeter,” he said, slipping an arm around Christina, who gave him an elbow to the ribs.
“We should let you get some rest,” Lindsey said. “We’re all so damn relieved you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Lindsey. And thank you all for coming over and for bringing enough food to feed an army.”
“That’s the best part,” Scotty said.
“I made the brownies you love,” Angela told him.
“That’s why you’re my favorite aunt.”
“Hey!” Tracy put him into a playful headlock. “You better take it back, mister!”
Laughing, Scotty said, “You’re tied for first.”
“Look at him,” Terry said. “Already a diplomatic politician.”
“He’s a chip off the old block,” Graham said. “We’ll leave you all to get some rest. Sam, honey, don’t scare us like that again, you hear?”
“I’ll try not to, but something tells me...”
“Don’t finish that thought,” Nick said.
The private smile she sent his way lit up her battered face and made him melt on the inside. She was his kryptonite. There was nothing he wouldn’t do or give up to make her happy. Seeing her alive and well and acting like herself was all he needed to be happy.
“Hey, Jeannie,” Sam said.
Jeannie took Sam’s outstretched hand.
“I’m so sorry to hear about the continuance. Goddamn defense attorneys.”
Jeannie shrugged but the haunted look in her eyes belied the casual gesture. “What’s six more weeks after all this time?”
“An interminable delay,” Sam said. “But don’t worry. We’ll get him, and he’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars where he belongs.”
Jeannie leaned in to hug Sam. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
After the last of their friends left, Sam held out her arms to Scotty, who crawled into her embrace like he’d been doing it all his life. “How’s my best boy?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Much better now that I can hug and kiss on you.”
Scotty made a face but he put up with her need to love him. “I’m glad you’re okay and back to being annoying.”
“Annoying?” She tugged playfully on a tuft of his hair. “Annoying?”
“Tell her, Nick. She’s annoying when she wants to kiss my whole face.”
“I sorta like it when she kisses my whole face.”
“Ewww, gross. I need a shower.” He got up from the sofa. “I’m outta here.”
“Is all your homework done?” Sam asked him.
“Yep. They go easy on us the first week back after vacation.”
“We’ll be up to tuck you in,” Nick said.
“I don’t need to be tucked in,” he said as he did every night.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said. “We need it.”
Nick sat on the edge of the sofa and propped an arm on the back. “How you doing, babe?”
“A little tired, a lot sore, but otherwise, I’m okay. I’m glad he seems okay too.”
“He’s resilient like his mother.” Nick leaned in to kiss her and rubbed his nose against hers. “Ready for a lift upstairs?”
“I can walk.”
“Why would you want to walk when I love to carry you?”
“Because I have plans for your back that don’t include it being thrown out from carrying me?”
“Plans? What are these plans of which you speak?”
She reached out to caress his face and then ran her fingers through his hair.
“What?” he asked, after she’d studied him for a long silent moment.
“I like to look at you and touch you. Because I can.”
“Anytime you want.” He kissed her again. “Let’s get you comfortable upstairs.” Sliding his arms under her, he lifted her and headed for the stairs.
She curled her arms around his neck and dropped her head to his shoulder. “My hero.”
“Hardly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t able to save you. They wouldn’t let me go near the place until it was totally safe. Made me feel like... I don’t even know how to describe how that made me feel. Like my safety was more important than yours.”
“I hate to say it because it’ll make you mad, but your safety is more important than mine and just about anyone’s.” In a whisper, she added, “You’re the vice president.”
“It’s not funny, Sam. It made me feel useless, and I hate that.”
“You’re extremely useful to me and don’t ever forget that.”
“I’m not talking about sex.”
“Who said anything about sex?”
He raised a brow and tried to scowl at her, but failed miserably because he was so damn grateful to be arguing with her. “You think you’re so funny.”
“I know I am. You laugh at most of my jokes and so does Freddie, except for the ones that are at his expense. Which is almost all of them.”
Nick set her down gently on the bed and settled her under the covers.
“Brant was looking for you earlier. What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
“Must’ve been something. He had that intense look he gets when something’s up.”
“Are you checking out my detail now?”
“Hardly. I pay attention, though, and he seemed stressed out.”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“Aha! So it is something.”
“A little something.”
“They want me to have protection, don’t they?”
“Sam.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yeah, they do, and it’s coming from Nelson.”
“What do you have to say about it?”
“I told Ambrose Pierce that if Nelson is going to insist on you having protection, he’s going to need to get himself a new vice president.”
“You really said that? To the Secret Service director?”
“I really said that. And I meant it.”
“Even though you probably want me to have protection more than anyone. You still said that.”
“I did, so what about it?”
“Do you know what I love best about you?”
“Did you suffer a head injury that hasn’t been diagnosed?”
Sam laughed, a deep guffaw that had her gripping her stomach. “No, I did not suffer a head injury. Now answer the question.”
“I suspect what you love best about me is what goes on right here in this bed.”
“Nope.”
“I’m wounded and more than slightly offended.”
“Oh, shut up. You know I dig the sex big-time. But what I love most about you is that you know me. You really, really know me. You get me, and even though you’d love nothing more than to let them push you into pushing me to have protection, because you’d breathe a hell of a lot easier if I had it, you’d never, ever do that to me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Because you know me.”
“I know you.” He kissed her softly, not wanting to cause her any more pain than she was already dealing with. “And I love everything I know about you, even the stuff that makes me crazy and gives me nightmares.”
“Did you really tell them you’d quit if they push the matter?”
“I really did.”
“An
d would you? Really?”
“I really would.” He tucked her hair back behind her ear. “When are you going to figure out that all I truly need are you and Scotty? The rest of it—the job, the White House, the attention... It could all go away in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t miss it in the least. But you... If you went away, I’d never be the same. My life would be completely ruined in ways that could never be fixed. So yeah, if it came to that, I’d quit in a heartbeat.”
She reached for him, and he went willingly into her arms. “I love you so much. I thought I knew how much until it was possible I might never see you again. And then I realized it’s a million, billion, trillion times more than I thought it was.”
“Me too, baby. Quadrillion.”
She thumped him on the back. “Of course you know what comes after trillion!”
Laughing softly, he said, “Only because I’m keeping an eye on the federal deficit.” He held on tight to her, overwhelmed with love for her and gratitude that she was safely back in his arms where she belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam knew she was dreaming. It had happened this way before, after the disaster at the crack house the night Quentin Johnson had died in his father’s arms. The nightmares had been relentless. Now there was a new nightmare. She was back in the Springers’ basement, tied to the chair, at the mercy of a madman who was playing with matches.
The stench of gasoline burned her nose and made her eyes water.
Stahl lit a match and waved it around in front of her face.
Sam watched the flame dance before her eyes, the strong scent of sulfur overpowering the gasoline for a second. Then he looked directly at her and dropped the match into the puddle of gas at her feet. As the flames exploded around her, Sam screamed.
“Baby, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
Sam came awake sweating and crying and gasping for air. “Nick.”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” He held her tight and stroked her back while she sobbed helplessly. “You’re safe.”
How would she ever feel truly safe again? How would she ever trust the instincts that had guided her career up until now but had failed her so spectacularly in this case? Stahl had played her—and the people around her—like a well-tuned fiddle.
