Fatal Affair

by Marie Force

  “Have you had it checked?”

  “A couple of times,” she squeaked out.

  “Babe, God, you’re in serious pain! What can I do?”

  “Gotta breathe,” she said as the pain clawed its way through her, making her feel sick and clammy. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He fitted himself around her, held her close and whispered soft words of comfort that eased her mind.

  She closed her eyes, focused on the sound of his voice and drifted. The pain retreated, but the episode—worse than most—left her drained and embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

  “I told you not to apologize. You have to do something about that. You might have an ulcer or something. I can get you in with my friend. He’s awesome.”

  “It seems to crop up whenever I’m nervous about something, which I’m finding is fairly often.”

  “You’re nervous about what you have to say to me?”

  She tilted her head and found his pretty hazel eyes studying her intently. “I guess I am.”

  He sat up, propped the pillows behind him and snuggled her into his chest. “Then let’s get it over with.”

  “Cops don’t snuggle.”

  “Make an exception.”

  “I think I’ve already made quite a few,” she said dryly.

  “Make another one.”

  Before the pain could come back to remind her she was powerless against it, she took the plunge. “I have to ask you something. It’s probably going to upset you, and I hate that, but I have to ask.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is there any chance John was gay? Or maybe bi?” She felt the tension creep into his body, and then just as quickly it was gone.

  He laughed. He actually laughed. “No. Not only no, but no fucking way.”

  “How can you know that for sure? Some men hide it from their friends, their families…”

  “I would’ve known, Sam. Believe me. I would’ve known.”

  “You didn’t know he had a son.”

  And just that quickly he was tense again. “You don’t know that, either.”

  “I’m all but certain of it. The picture?”

  “What about it?”

  “His parents lied. His cousin Thomas, the son of Robert O’Connor? He’s thirty-six, dark hair, dark eyes.” She sat up straighter and shifted so she could see his face. “Surely you must have heard him talk about a cousin who was the same age as him?”

  Nick mulled that over. “I can’t say I ever did. Maybe they weren’t close. I don’t think Graham and his brother are.”

  “Either way, the kid in the picture isn’t his cousin. His mother lied to me today, and his father didn’t refute it. The monthly payments—stretching twenty years—the weekly phone calls, catching his parents in a big, fat lie, the startling resemblance to the senator… It doesn’t take a detective to add it all up, Nick.”

  “But why…wait.” He went perfectly still. “One weekend a month.”

  Baffled, she said, “Excuse me?”

  “He required one weekend a month with no commitments. Usually the third weekend. Never would say what he did with the time. In fact, he was always kind of weird about it, now that I think about it.”

  “And you just thought to mention this now? What the hell, Nick?”

  “I’m sorry. It was just so much a part of our routine that I didn’t think anything of it until right now.”

  “I bet if I do some digging, I’ll find him booked on a regular flight to Chicago.”

  All the air seemed to leave Nick in one long exhale. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why would he keep something like this hidden from me? From everyone?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going out there tomorrow to find out.”

  “You are?”

  “I’m on an eleven o’clock flight.”

  “Does she know you’re coming?”

  Sam shook her head. “Element of surprise. I don’t want to give her time to put away the pictures or send the kid out of town.”

  “And you think this has something to do with his murder?”

  “I can’t say for sure until I’ve spoken to the mother, but for some reason they’ve kept him hidden away for twenty years. I want to know why.”

  “Politics, no doubt.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “A teenaged son with a baby would’ve been a political liability to the senator. I should know. As the offspring of teenaged parents, I can attest to the embarrassment factor in a family with zero public presence.”

  Sam ached from the pain she heard in his voice.

  “Graham O’Connor would’ve wanted this put away in a closet,” he concluded.

  “His own grandchild?”

  “I don’t think it would’ve mattered. The O’Connor name wasn’t always the powerhouse it is now. He had a few contentious campaigns around the mid-point of his career. If the timing coincided, this could’ve ruined him. He would’ve acted accordingly.”

  “At the expense of his own family?”

  “Power does strange things to people, Sam. It can be addicting. Once you get a taste of it, it’s hard to give it up. I’ve always found Graham to be a kind and loving—albeit exacting—father, but he’s as human as the next guy. He would’ve been susceptible to the seduction of power.” Nick paused, as if he was pondering something else.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m wondering how, considering you’re certain he had a son, you also think he might’ve been gay.”

  “Just a vibe we’ve picked up on the investigation. Nothing concrete. I’ve told you my gut says it was a woman he’d wronged, but then Freddie goes and ruins that by pointing out that it could’ve just as easily been a love affair gone wrong with a guy.”

  Nick shook his head. “I can’t imagine it. There was never anything, anything in almost twenty years of close friendship that would make me doubt his orientation. Nothing, Sam. He was a skirt-chasing hound.”

  “So I’ve discovered. But he wouldn’t be the first guy to use that as a front to hide his real life.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You’re upset. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just…you think you know someone, really know them, only to find out they had all these secrets. He had a son. A child. And in twenty years, he never mentions that to his closest friend? It’s disappointing at the very least.”

  It was also a betrayal, she imagined. That the family he’d considered his own—his only—had kept something of this magnitude from him.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “Did they think I’d tell anyone?”

  “You shouldn’t take this personally, Nick. It won’t do you any good.”

  “How else should I take it?”

  Looping an arm around him, she bent to press her lips to his chest and felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. “I’m sorry this is hurting you. I hate that.”

  He enfolded her in his arms. “It goes down easier coming from you.” Tilting her chin, he fused his mouth to hers.

  “I should go,” she said when they resurfaced.

  “Stay with me. Sleep with me. I need you, Samantha.” He dropped soft, wet kisses on her face and neck. “I need you.”

  “You’re playing dirty.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  Something other than pain settled in her gut, something warm and sweet. This was a whole new kind of powerlessness, and it felt good. Really good. She let her hand slide over the defined chest, the ripped abdomen and below. Finding him hard and ready, her lips followed the path her hand had taken. His gasps of pleasure, his total surrender, told her she had succeeded in taking his mind off the pain and grief, which made everything that was wrong about this feel right.

  They began the next day the same way they finished the one before.

  As her body hummed with rippling aftershocks, she pressed her lips to his shoulder. “This is getting out of hand.”

  “We’ve got six years of lost ti
me to make up for.”

  His lips moving against her neck made her tremble. “I need to go soon,” she said. “I have to shower and change and get to the airport.”

  “I’m taking the staff to Richmond today to see John,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’d rather be going with you.”

  “I wish you could.” She reached up to caress his face and found the stubble on his jaw to be crazy sexy. Replacing her hand with her lips, she said, “I forgot to tell you my news.”

  “What news?”

  “I made lieutenant.”

  His face lit up with pleasure. “That’s awesome, Sam! Congratulations.”

  “It won’t be official for a week or so.” For a moment, she thought about telling him how it happened but decided against it. “And my dad is marrying one of his nurses.”

  “Wow. Do you like her?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “She lives in Florida with some guy she hooked up with when I was in high school. They ran off together the day after I graduated. Nearly killed my dad. He had no idea.”

  “Ouch. That sucks. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I guess I should be grateful that she stuck around long enough to get me through school, but it wasn’t like she was there for me or anything.”

  “I saw my mother three times when I was in high school.”

  Sam cursed herself for being insensitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to complain.”

  He shrugged. “It was what it was.”

  “At least you had your grandmother.”

  “And she was a real treat,” he said with a bitter chuckle.

  Intrigued, she shifted so she could see him. “She wasn’t good to you?”

  “She did what she could, but she always made it clear that I was a burden to her, that I was keeping her from traveling and enjoying her retirement.” He paused, focused on her fingers. “When I was about ten, I heard her talking to my dad—her son. She said she’d done enough, and it was time for him to step up and take over, that he was an adult now and there was no reason he couldn’t take care of his own child. He said he would, and I got all excited, thinking I was going to get to go with him.”

  Her stomach twisted with anxiety for the ten-year-old boy. “What happened?”

  “I didn’t see him again for a year.”

  “Nick…I’m sorry.”

  “He sent money—enough for me to play hockey, which I loved. I poured all my energy into that and school. Ended up with an academic scholarship to Harvard and played hockey there, too. That was my escape.”

  Listening to him, she wanted to give him everything he’d been denied as a child and wished she had it to give.

  “Anyway,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “someday hopefully I’ll have my own family and it won’t matter anymore.”

  And that, she thought, is my cue to go. She sat up and reached for her clothes at the foot of the bed.

  “It’s only seven. You’ve got time yet.” His hand slid from her shoulder to land on her hip. “I could make you some breakfast.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to go home, take a shower, get changed, check in at HQ,” she said as she jammed her arms into her shirt and dragged it over her head. Air and space, she thought, and we’re not talking about the museum. That’s what I need. Some air, some space, some perspective. Distance.

  Twirling her bra on his index finger, his full, sexy mouth twisted into a grin. “Forget something?”

  She snatched it away from him and jammed it into her pants pocket.

  Laughing, he reclined on the big pile of pillows.

  She felt the heat of his eyes on her as she ducked into the bathroom. Re-emerging a few minutes later, she found him out of bed and wearing just the sweats he’d had on the night before. The pants rode low on narrow hips, and that chest of his… It should’ve been gracing the covers of erotic romance novels rather than spending its days hidden behind starched dress shirts and silk ties. Tragic. Truly a waste of good—no, great—man chest.

  “You’re staring.”

  “And you’re hot. Seriously. Hot.”

  “Well, um, thanks. I guess.”

  His befuddlement amused and delighted her until she remembered that she’d been plotting her escape. Suddenly, morning-after awkwardness set in, leaving her tongue-tied and uncertain as she tugged on her sweater. “Good luck with your staff. Today. In Richmond.”

  “Thank you.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips. “Will you tell me what happens in Chicago?”

  “If I can, I will. That’s the best I can do.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” Releasing her hand, he caressed her cheek. “When will I see you?”

  Before she knew it the words were tumbling from her face as if her mouth was on autopilot. “There’s this thing tomorrow. Family dinner at my dad’s. If you want to come.” All but stuttering now, she added, “I’d understand if you didn’t want to because there’re so many of us—”

  He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “What time?”

  “Dinner’s at three.” Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “But if you want to come earlier, we could take a walk. Check out the market. If you want.”

  “I want.” He slid his arms around her waist and brought her in snug against him. “I really want.”

  She should’ve been prepared by then for the way her legs turned to jelly when he kissed her in that particular proprietary way, but the sweep of his tongue, the pressure of his hands on her ass holding her tight against his instant arousal…no way in hell she could prepare for that.

  “So,” he asked, peppering her face and lips with kisses, “does this mean we’re together? I mean, you’re asking me to do stuff.” His teasing grin did nothing to offset the serious look in his eyes.

  With her hands on his chest, she managed to extricate herself. At the bedroom door, she paused and turned back to him. “I’ve crossed every line there is to cross here, Nick.”

  “I know that,” he said, his expression pained.

  “If the job requires it, I won’t hesitate to cross back.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Satisfied that he understood, she left him with a nod and a small smile.

  He followed her downstairs. “Sam?”

  She swung open the inside door. “Hmm?”

  Framing her face with his hands, he said, “Fly safely.”

  She winced.

  “What?”

  “I hate to fly. Hate it with a passion. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

  Grinning, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Just close your eyes and try not to think about it.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Okay, I’m going now.”

  “Okay, I’m letting you.” Except he didn’t. He hung on for a moment longer. “Be safe. This thing with that Johnson woman… Be careful.” He kissed her. “Please.”

  “I always am.”

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  His lips landed on hers for another mind-altering kiss. “You’re pretty damned hot yourself.”

  Sam gave herself one last minute to sink into the kiss.

  With what appeared to be great reluctance, he finally released her.

  Chapter 21

  Nick stayed at the door to watch her walk to her car. Damn, if the woman didn’t make his mouth water with that curvy body and long-legged gait. The whole package was a huge turn-on. He acknowledged they were walking a fine line that was causing her great ethical conflict, but Nick could only be grateful for the second chance they’d been given. And despite her reluctance to acknowledge that this was an actual relationship, he had no intention of messing it up this time.

  Long after she should have driven away, she sat at the curb. He wondered if she was on the phone. Tipping his head so he could better see her face, he noticed it was tight with frustration. He cracked the door, heard the unmis
takable click of a dead car battery and waved at her to come back in.

  Furious, she got out, slammed the car door and started back up the stone pathway to his door. She was halfway there when the car exploded.

  The blast was so strong it shattered the storm door and propelled him backward onto the floor. His head smacked hard on the tile, but he fought through the fog to remain conscious so he could get to her.

  Barefooted, shirtless and panic-stricken, he crawled through the glass calling for her. The quiet neighborhood had descended into bedlam. He heard people screaming and could smell the acrid smoke coming from the burning car. “Sam! Sam!”

  Blood flowed from a cut on his forehead. He swiped at it and started down the stairs, ignoring the pain of jagged glass under his feet. “Samantha!” Frantically, he scanned the small front yard, the street, the neighbors’ yards.

  A moan from the bushes behind him caught his attention. “Sam!” He rushed to the huddled form in his garden and had the presence of mind to realize that the miniature evergreens he had planted the summer before had most likely saved her life. “Sam! Sam, look at me.” With the scream of sirens in the distance, he gently turned her head. Other than a knot on her forehead and a shocked glow to her eyes, he didn’t see any obvious injuries.

  “Bleeding,” she whispered. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m fine.” He picked branches from her hair, brushed dirt from her cheek. “Do you hurt? Anywhere?” Releasing a long deep breath, he swayed with lightheadedness. “Babe. Jesus.” Sitting with her in the garden, he did battle with the blood pouring from his forehead. He held her tight against him and whispered soothing words as she trembled in his arms.

  “Need to call. HQ. Report it.”

  “I’m sure someone called 911. Just stay still until we get you checked out.”

  “My ears are ringing.”

  “Mine, too. You didn’t hurt anything else?”

  “Chest hurts.” She trembled. “God, Nick. Oh my God.” Clutching her stomach, she rocked in his arms.

  He tightened his hold on her. “Shh, babe.” The blood coming from the cut on his forehead seemed to finally be slowing. “Breathe. Deep breaths.”

  An Arlington police officer approached them. “Are you folks all right?”