Fatal Chaos

“You didn’t,” Angela said. “This is a big deal. No wonder you’ve been so quiet today.”

“You should’ve enjoyed the quiet while you had the chance,” Sam said, smiling at her sister.

“What did you say to Halliwell, Nick?” Freddie asked.

“I told him I haven’t given a single thought to a VP—and I won’t until I have to. He said it might be time to start thinking.”

“From everything Nelson has said and done since his son’s arrest,” Mike said, “I don’t see him going down without a fight.”

“I don’t either,” Nick said. “But he’ll be under tremendous pressure to put the country ahead of himself. Depending on what comes out during the hearings, he may not be able to fight the tide.”

Tracy reached for Sam’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You guys have every good reason to be freaking out.”

Sam held on tight to her sister’s hand. “It’s not like we didn’t know this was possible, but we didn’t expect... Not like this...”

“Why would you expect the sitting president’s son to go so far as to kill your ex-husband for info he could use against you and your vice president husband because the son has political aspirations of his own?” Freddie asked.

Sam smiled at him. “When you put it that way...”

“No one could’ve seen this coming,” Mike said bluntly. “It’s right out of a blockbuster Hollywood thriller, which is why the press is salivating over every detail. I saw one report that the cable news channels are enjoying the highest ratings in history since this story broke.”

“Awesome,” Nick said dryly. “Glad we’re able to help their ratings.”

Leaning on his knees, Mike leaned forward, his expression earnest. “I don’t think either of you has fully grasped just how invested the American people are in seeing justice done for you as much as they want it for the country. People are outraged over what was done to you, the threats made against your family, the murder of Sam’s ex-husband, Nick’s mother’s awful interview, all of it.”

“It’s true,” Tracy said. “Everywhere I go, people ask me how you’re both doing and if you’re okay. Every one of them wants Nelson’s head on a platter, even if he had nothing to do with his son’s scheme.”

Sam glanced at Nick, and he reached for her hand.

“People have been so incredibly kind,” Nick said.

“Not all of them,” Sam said of the vocal detractors who’d sounded the alarm about the possibility of a young, unelected vice president ascending to the presidency should Nelson be forced out of office.

“Most of them,” Nick conceded.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for you guys to be stuck in this state of limbo, waiting to see how it’s going to play out,” Elin said. “It has to be torturous.”

“It hasn’t been too bad,” Nick said, downplaying it for the sake of those who would worry about him if they grasped the full extent of his anxiety. Only Sam knew how little he slept, how much he brooded and the deep toll the stress had taken on him. “Our plan is to keep our heads down and our mouths shut and let Congress do its job. That’s all we can do.”

“Speaking of keeping our heads down...” Sam yawned dramatically and stretched. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m ready for bed.”

“You know me, babe,” Nick said with a salacious grin. “I’m always ready when you are.”

While the others groaned at his predictable comment, they helped to douse the fire and clean up the bottles and other trash from the beach. Back inside the big, contemporary house, they made fast work of cleaning up the kitchen and getting Freddie and Elin settled in the living room.

“Thanks for a great day,” Freddie said to Sam. Elin had gone to change and use the bathroom.

“I’m glad you guys were able to come out.”

“I hope you know if there’s anything I can do for you through all this, I’m right here.”

Sam squeezed her partner’s arm. “I always know that. I plan to keep very busy planning your bachelor party. I have a to-do list a mile long before next weekend’s festivities.”

His amiable expression hardened into a glare. “There’d better not be any strippers on that list.”

Sam cracked up and patted his indecently handsome face. “My poor, delusional Freddie. Strippers are the very least of what’s on my list.”

He moaned as he shook his head. “Asking you to be my best-man woman is going to turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.”

“That’s the goal,” Sam said with a cheeky grin.

Elin rejoined them. “Are you torturing him?” she asked Sam.

“Me? Torture him?”

“Every chance she gets.” Freddie held out his hand to his fiancée. “Come protect me from her.”

Elin went to him and wrapped her arms around him. “My poor baby. I’ll make it all better.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m out,” Sam said, amused by them. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“We’re good,” he said. “Thanks again for having us.”

“Always a pleasure to have the opportunity to torment you, Detective. Sleep tight, and remember there’re children in this house. Keep it clean out here.”

“Good night, Sam.”

She giggled at her own joke as she closed the door to the first-floor master suite.

“What’re you up to, babe?” Nick asked. He was already in bed, book in hand, covers pooled at his waist leaving his gorgeous man chest in full view. He’d left the sliding glass door open to allow the warm sea air into the room.

Sam realized she was staring at him. Sometimes it still amazed her that they’d managed to find each other twice in a lifetime. Even with their lives out of control more often than not, she wouldn’t trade her life with him for a quieter, more predictable existence with any other man.

“Samantha? You okay?”

As she crossed the big room she peeled her maxi dress over her head and tossed it aside, loving the way his gaze heated at the sight of her coming toward him wearing only a skimpy pair of panties.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this lovely show?” he asked as she joined him on the bed, straddling his lap and tossing his book aside. It landed on the floor with a loud thunk. His hands encircled her waist before sliding down to grasp her ass and pull her in closer to him.

“It all began this morning when you started something you couldn’t finish in the water. I’ve been counting down to bedtime ever since.”

“So have I.” His hands roved from her bottom to her back and up to tangle in her hair so he could position her for a deep kiss. “In case I forget to mention it, this beach getaway has been the best idea you’ve ever had. I can’t tell you how badly I needed it.”

“We all needed it. Scotty has had a terrific time with his cousins, and I’m enjoying having a full week with you without work or Dispatch or fundraisers or reporters. I haven’t missed the goddamned reporters up in our faces. The Secret Service gets mad props for keeping them away from us here.”

“They’ll be hungrier than ever when we get back. Are you ready for that?”

Looking down at his handsome face, she shook her head and ran her fingers through the chocolate-brown hair that curled on the ends. “I’m not ready, and I don’t have to be ready for four more blissful days. We’ll cross that Bay Bridge when we get to it. In the meantime...” She bent her head to kiss him with teasing strokes of her tongue that quickly had him straining for more. “We have lots more sex to have before this vacation is over.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the best wife I’ve ever had?”

She snorted with laughter. “I’d better be the only wife you ever have, buster.”

“If you hadn’t shown up at my crime scene that day at the Watergate, I never would’ve married anyone.”

“Your crime scene?” she asked, brow raised.

Nick grinned at her predictable reply. “Somehow the worst day of my life became the best too.”

It’d been a while since he mentioned finding his best friend and boss murdered, but she knew he thought of John O’Connor every day and always spoke of him with fondness and affection.

“What would John say if he could see you now?” Sam asked. “Vice president and people floating the possibility of—”

He kissed the question right off her lips. “Don’t say it. There are so many better things we can do with your mouth than talk about that.”

Smiling, she ran her lips back and forth over his. “Such as?”

“More of this.” He tightened his hold on her hair and kissed her with sweeping strokes of his tongue that had her squirming on top of him, trying to get closer to the rigid length of his cock beneath her.

She broke the kiss, gasping. “I’m down with that.”

“Speaking of going down...”

“I’m down with that too. I’m down with anything you want.”

He raised a swarthy eyebrow, and Sam thought that if the women of America could see their insanely sexy vice president in that moment, they’d lose their collective minds. “Anything?”

“Whatever you want.”

“You’re feeling frisky tonight, my love.”

“I’m on vacation with all my favorite people and currently in bed with my favorite husband. I’m feeling happy tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been worried about how you’re handling everything.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m okay if you’re okay.”

“I will always worry about you, and I could be more okay,” he said, raising his hips suggestively.

“Subtle, Mr. VP. Very subtle.”

“A wise woman once told me I suck at subtlety.”

“Sometimes you’re very good at it.” She began with kisses to his lips and face, laying a path along his jaw and then hovering over his ear. Because they had all night and could sleep in, she took her own sweet time, working her way down his neck and along his collarbone. Nuzzling the soft hair on his chest, Sam breathed in the clean fresh scent of home before nudging his nipple with the tip of her tongue.

He sucked in a sharp deep breath and again fisted handfuls of her long hair.

She continued to go slow, dragging her tongue over each hill and valley of his well-defined abdomen, following the soft trail of hair that led to his cock, which was so hard it nearly reached his belly button. “Someone looks happy to see me.”

“He’s always happy to see you. In fact, you’re his favorite person ever.”

Sam snorted with laughter. Sex with him was always fun—and often funny. He made her so damned happy. The least she could do for him was to try to give him something else to think about other than the dark cloud that hung over them, threatening to burst open at any moment.

Speaking of bursting... She wrapped her hand around the thick base of his cock and stroked him the way he liked it, a little rough and fast.

He groaned deeply and raised his hips to encourage her.

She drew the wide head into her mouth and applied subtle suction as she took him in while continuing to stroke him. The combination always drove him crazy, and this time was no exception.

His fingers tangled in her hair as his hips rose and fell in a rhythmic motion.

Sam took him as deep as she could before drawing back and treating him to some tongue action.

“Fuck,” he whispered on a long hiss of air. “Babe...”

Using her free hand, she gave his balls a gentle squeeze as she sucked him in again. That finished him off, as she’d known it would. She stayed with him until he sagged into the mattress, demolished—just the way she wanted him.

“Jesus,” he said when he could speak again. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Hardly.” Sam stretched out next to him and pulled a lightweight blanket over them. “I need you too much to kill you. And besides, that’d be too much paperwork when I’m on vacation.” Sam hated paperwork.

“Whatever I did to deserve that, remind me to do it again tomorrow.”

She laughed. “I just wanted you to think about something other than the thing we can’t stop thinking about.”

“Mission accomplished. You completely fried my hard drive, and now all I can think about is sex. More sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

“Oh crap. What’ve I done? How can you want more sex than you already have?”

“Apparently, my desire for you is limitless.”

“That’s more than fine with me.” Sam yawned and snuggled in closer to him.

“I know you really don’t want me to say this, but I’m still sorry I brought all this additional insanity into our lives when we certainly had enough to begin with.”

“I really don’t want you to say that. You have no reason to apologize to me or Scotty or anyone. You were asked to serve your country. No one can fault you for what’s happened since then.”

“Still... I hate that it’s been so stressful for you and Scotty, even if neither of you says much about it.”

Sam raised herself up on one elbow. “It’s only stressful for us because we can see what it’s doing to you.” She caressed his face, noting the dark circles and lines of exhaustion that were new in the last few months. His insomnia was always merciless but never more so than since he’d become vice president.

“What do you say we agree to take this situation one minute at a time and not get too far ahead of ourselves with what might happen?” she asked.

“I think that’s the only way we can do it.”

“So, no more speculation or talk of vice presidents or conversations with the DNC or anything other than contending with whatever is happening in that very minute?”

“I’ll put out the word that I don’t want to talk about it until or unless I absolutely have to.”

“Excellent.” She dropped her head to his chest and put her arm across his midsection.

“You should know, however, that it’s going to take a lot of distractions to keep my mind from wandering.”

Even though he couldn’t see her face, she rolled her eyes. “Your subtlety still sucks.”

“You just said I was getting better at it.” He moved quickly, taking her by surprise when he came down on top of her, perfectly positioned for further distraction.

“Nice move,” Sam said, gazing up at the gorgeous hazel eyes that always looked at her with love and affection and desire and a million other emotions that couldn’t be easily summarized in mere words.

“You liked that?”

She nodded, loving that he seemed so pleased with himself. “I like all your moves.”

“How about this one?” With one determined tug, he ripped the silk panties from her body and entered her in a single thrust that buried him to the hilt.

“That was a good one too,” she said when she had caught her breath.

He nuzzled her neck as he began to move. “Hold on to me, babe, and don’t let go. No matter what.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, wanting him as close as she could get him. “I’ll never let go.”

CHAPTER THREE

THEY RETURNED TO the city on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend with a morose thirteen-year-old in full mourning for the end of summer vacation. “It’s so unfair,” Scotty said, “that vacation goes by so fast and the school year crawls.”

“I used to feel the same way,” Sam said. “The end of vacation was like torture.”

“It is torture!” Scotty agreed. “No more sleeping late or watching TV until midnight or going to the beach or baseball camp or anything fun for months.”

“I feel you, buddy,” Sam said.

“Samantha,” Nick said in the stern tone he saved for special occasions, “this might be a good opportunity to remind our son of the value of education and how important it is that he give eighth grade his full effort so he can use this year to prepare for high school.”

Sam and Scotty exchanged glances. “Nah,” they said together, cracking up and high-fiving.

“You two think you’re so funny,” Nick said.

“We are funny,” Scotty said, “and you’re no help whatsoever in this situation. Do you think I want to hear about high school when I have a whole year of eighth grade algebra to suffer through first?”

“He does make a good point,” Sam said, earning a glare from her husband. “One minute at a time, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick said, recognizing defeat when it stared him in the face.

The Secret Service motorcade arrived at the Ninth Street checkpoint, where they were stopped for much longer than usual.

“What’s the delay, Brant?” Nick asked.

“Huge media swarm.”

And just that quickly they were reminded of what they were coming home to. It took the Secret Service ten minutes to clear a path for the motorcade to proceed onto Ninth Street. As they alighted from the car, shouts for comment about the upcoming hearings, the president’s son, whether Nick was preparing to be president and other things they couldn’t make out filled the air around them.

“Welcome home,” Nick said grimly as he eyed the massive gathering outside the gate. “The neighbors must be thrilled to have us back.”

Escorted by agents in front of and behind them, they went up the ramp outside their double townhouse to the front door manned by a new agent on Scotty’s detail.

“Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano, Scotty... Welcome home. Hope you had a nice vacation.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Nick said. “It was a great vacation.”

“That ended far too soon,” Scotty added. “One more day and then back to the grind.”

“What’s this I hear?” Skip Holland asked as he manipulated his electric wheelchair through the big living room to greet them. Sam’s dad and his wife, Celia, had come out to the beach for a day but had chosen not to stay for the whole time. Sam suspected that he hadn’t wanted to disrupt their good time with his medical needs, but he’d never say so. “Is someone unhappy to be heading back to school?”

“Unhappy is putting it mildly,” Sam said.

“School is a necessary evil,” Skip said bluntly.

“I’m surrounded by educational rebels,” Nick said, throwing up his hands.

Scotty laughed. “I definitely landed in the right family.”

His statement hit Sam square in the heart. She loved hearing him say things like that, especially when they had reason to wonder if he would someday resent the limitations he would experience as he grew older surrounded by Secret Service agents watching his every move. For now, he was as happy and well-adjusted as could be—except when the first day of school loomed.

Sam bent to kiss her dad’s forehead, one of the few places he still had sensation after being shot on the job three and a half years ago. “How you doing, Skippy?”

“Hanging in, baby girl. How was the rest of the vacation?”

“Fantastic, delightful and amazing,” Sam said. “I can’t wait to go back next year.”

“A whole year.” Scotty moaned as he flopped on the couch. “I’ll never make it.”

“Go get unpacked, Drama Queen,” Sam said to her son.

“Do I hafta?”

“Yes, you hafta. And take a shower too.”

“And so it begins,” Scotty said to Skip, dismay radiating from him.

Skip laughed at his theatrics. “Part of being a man is doing things you don’t want to do because it’s the right thing. Just ask your dad. He knows all about it.”

“He knows all too well,” Sam said.

“Now you guys are making me feel bad for whining,” Scotty said. “Compared to Dad, I ain’t got no problems. And don’t tell me ain’t ain’t a word. It was used for effect.”

Sam cracked up along with her husband and father. What had they ever done for entertainment before Scotty came into their lives? She went to her son and hugged him. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to make the reentry as painless as possible, beginning with a bowl of ice cream as big as your head after you unpack and shower. Deal?”

He flashed that irrepressible grin that reminded her so much of Nick’s. Even though they didn’t share DNA, father and son were alike in many ways—except in their attitudes toward education. In that way, he was entirely Sam’s son. “Deal.” Dragging his suitcase behind him, he scampered up the stairs, the suitcase banging on every step as he went.

“That kid,” Nick said, shaking his head.

“Is the best,” Skip added. “I get such a kick out of him.”

“Don’t we all?” Sam said. “He has us firmly wrapped around all ten of his fingers, but we can’t let him know that or we’ll lose complete control of the asylum.”

“I know a little something about being wrapped around a certain someone’s little finger,” Skip said with a meaningful smile for Sam. “And if you don’t want him to turn out like you, proceed with caution.”

“Hey!” Sam laughed at the impish expression on the one side of her father’s face that hadn’t been left frozen by the stroke he’d suffered after being shot.

Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID, groaning loudly when she saw the number for Dispatch. “Not yet! I’m still on vacation until midnight!”

“You don’t have to take the call,” Nick reminded her.

“If they’re calling me before I’m officially back, whatever it is must be bad.” She flipped open her phone. “Holland.”

“Lieutenant, I was asked to inform you of a fatal drive-by shooting of a teenager in Southeast.” The dispatcher rattled off an address in the Penn Branch neighborhood, southeast of the Anacostia River. “Are you able to report to the scene?”

Sam’s stomach ached at the thought of a child roughly the same age as her own son being gunned down in her city. “I’ll be there.” She closed the phone and told her dad and Nick what’d happened.

“Ah crap,” Skip said. “The kids are the worst.”

“Sorry to hear it, babe,” Nick said, putting his arm around her and kissing her temple.

She looked up at him. “I have to go, even though I’m not officially back on duty yet. Hope you understand.”

“Of course I do. Just be careful out there.”

“I always am.” She kissed him, and then kissed her dad’s forehead again. “I’m going to change my clothes.” A crime scene was no place for another of the maxi dresses she’d bought for the beach.

“Let me know about the case when you get a chance,” Skip said.

“You know I will.” Sam dashed upstairs to the closet that Nick had made for her in the smallest bedroom and changed out of the dress and into jeans, a T-shirt and running shoes. She grabbed an MPD sweatshirt since HQ was like a meat locker this time of year with the AC set to frost.

Crossing the hall to her bedroom, she went to the locked drawer in her bedside table to retrieve her service weapon, badge and the notebook that she jammed into a back pocket of her jeans as she ran for the stairs. Adrenaline pumped through her as it always did when a new case required her focus.

In the living room, Nick waited to see her off.

“Did Dad leave?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll talk to you later.”

“And you’ll see to the bowl of ice cream as big as his head for the boy when he gets out of the shower?”

“I will,” he said with a smile.

“Tell him I’m sorry I had to leave.”

“I’ll do that too.” He kissed her. “Thanks for a great vacation. You have no idea how badly I needed it.”

“I think I have a small idea. Whatever happens in the next few weeks, we’ll handle it the way we always do. Try not to worry.”

“That’s like telling me not to breathe, but I can do it for you.” He kissed her again. “The whole world wants a piece of us right now, so be extra vigilant. Don’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

As a modern, independent woman, she ought to hate when he showed his alpha side, but she didn’t hate it. She loved that he was so protective of her. “I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Liam opened the front door for her and nodded to her as she headed for the ramp and the tricked-out black BMW Nick had outfitted for any possible on-the-job emergency she might encounter. The windows and side panels were bulletproof, the technology so sophisticated she’d never understand how it all worked and she had provisions for three days off the grid if it ever came to that.

As she drove the short distance from her Capitol Hill home to the crime scene, she called Freddie.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you. Did you hear some hoodlums in Southeast threw a welcome party for me?”