Fatal Chaos

“Is she able to talk to us?”

“She’s hysterical. The paramedics gave her something to calm her down. They were talking about transporting her for observation. You might do better with her in a few hours.”

“I want someone with her at all times until we’re sure this isn’t an orchestrated thing.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll pass that on to the Patrol commander.”

“Any other witnesses?”

“None. The street was empty except for the two of them. A few residents heard the shot and came out to see what was going on. One of them called it in, but he didn’t see the car.”

Sam walked over to lift the tarp for a look at their victim, who’d had the back of his head blown off by the bullet. Then she stood and watched as the paramedics loaded the victim’s wife into the back of an ambulance.

“Find out where they’re taking her,” Sam said to Freddie, who jogged over to talk to the paramedics. “These guys are good, whoever they are,” she said to Gonzo as she took a long look around. “They aren’t your average punks out for a thrill if they can hit someone in the head in the dark from a speeding car.”

“What’re you thinking, LT?”

“We might be looking for a sharpshooter or someone with law enforcement or military training.”

“It’s a thread,” Freddie said when he rejoined them. “We’ll dig into that one right away.”

“Save it for the morning. Let’s get some sleep and start fresh.” To O’Brien, she said, “Knock on every door on the street. Let us know if you find anyone who saw the shooting go down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sam hated when human frailties got in the way of her desire to work around the clock. “I’m out of gas. I’ve got to go home. Let’s pick it up at zero seven hundred at HQ.”

“I’ll take the call if anything else comes in overnight,” Freddie said. “Get some sleep.”

“Thanks.” In a past life, Sam would’ve insisted on being notified. Now she knew she’d be no good to anyone tomorrow if she didn’t get some shut-eye. “I’ll check in with you first thing.”

“You okay to drive?” Freddie asked, looking on with concern.

“Don’t hover, Mom.”

“She’s fine,” he said to Gonzo, who snickered.

“Can you guys get home from here?” she asked.

“Don’t hover, Mom,” Freddie said. “We’re good.”

“I’m out.” Sam’s legs wobbled from exhaustion as she made her way back to her car and headed for home. About halfway there, she acknowledged that she probably shouldn’t be driving. She blasted Bon Jovi and the AC, aiming the vents to direct the cold air on her face. By the time she reached the Ninth Street Secret Service checkpoint, her face was frozen, but she was still awake. Barely.

What the hell? Why was she so freakishly tired after a relaxing vacation that had included tons of sleep? As she pulled into her assigned parking place outside their house, the possible answer to that question had her heart beating faster. Any time she felt different, she wondered if maybe...

“No,” she said out loud. “It’s not that, so don’t even go there. Who can stand the disappointment?” Angry with herself and the direction of her thoughts, she got out of the car and used the last of the gas in her tank to go up the ramp Nick had had built so Skip could visit their home. The memory of that day, of realizing what he’d done for her and why, could still bring tears to her eyes more than a year later.

Jesus. Now she was weepy too? This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

“Good evening, Mrs. Cappuano,” the agent on duty at the door said.

“Good evening, Eric.”

“Is everything all right?” the handsome young agent asked.

“Other than someone shooting innocent people in my city, it’s all good.”

“Heard about that. Tough one. Good luck with it.”

“Thank you.”

The first floor was dark other than a single lamp in the living room. Sam headed directly for the stairs and tiptoed into her bedroom, trying not to disturb Nick in case he was sleeping for once. In the bathroom, she stripped out of her clothes and brushed her teeth. She took a minute to lock up her weapon and badge and set her alarm for six-twenty before sliding into bed, expelling a deep breath as she tried to shake off the disturbing night so she could get some sleep.

“I really hope you’re my wife, or I’m gonna be in big trouble when she gets home.”

Sam smiled and moved closer to him, letting him gather her up in his arms. “Mmm, I’ll take my chances with your wife if this is what I get in return.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I saw a thing about the drive-by shooting on the eleven o’clock news.”

“We had three of them tonight and reason to believe it’s not over yet.”

“I’m sorry, babe. That must’ve made for a tough night.”

“It was awful. One of them had just found out she was pregnant three days ago. They’d been trying for a long time. Her husband was there. He’d been on his way to meet her and came upon the scene.” Sam shuddered, remembering Joe’s awful grief.

“Naturally that hit you hard.”

“They all hit me hard.”

“But that was harder.”

“Yeah.” The tears that’d threatened earlier rolled down her cheeks, and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. Of course, that was wishful thinking. He noticed everything where she was concerned.

“Come here, babe.” He drew her in even closer to him, positioning her head on his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “Hold on to me.”

“Her husband was so crushed. It made me wonder what it would feel like...”

“Don’t go there. I’m surrounded by the best security in the world all the time. Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I never do, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I was so tired when I got home. But now...”

“What? Tell me.”

“I want you to make love to me, and I want it slow and sultry.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “I can do slow and sultry.” Raising himself up on one elbow, he looked down at her in the glow of the nightlight they left on in the bathroom. “I hate to see you upset.”

“I was upset. I’m better now that there’s going to be slow and sultry.”

Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her with tenderness that rendered her defenseless. Not that she needed defenses with him. But after relying on them so thoroughly her entire adult life, it had taken a while for her to drop them when they’d first been together. Now she might as well have never had them, when he looked at her with more love than she’d ever known could exist between a man and a woman.

Sam reached for him and opened her mouth to the persuasive strokes of his tongue, not that she needed persuading either. She often joked that she was far too easy when it came to him, but he had no objections. As she kissed him and lost herself in his sweet tenderness, she tried not to think of Joe or Sridhar’s wife or Jamal’s mother, but that was easier said than done.

Nick broke the kiss and moved down to kiss her neck and throat on his way to her breasts, each of which he worshipped with light strokes of his tongue and gentle tugs of his lips on her nipples.

The sensations spiraling through her body reminded Sam of floating with him in the surf, riding the waves, one right after the other.

His lips left a trail of desire and need as he moved from her breasts to her belly and below.

With every nerve ending in her body on full alert, she might’ve never been tired for the way he made her feel.

Sam fisted handfuls of his soft hair when he raised her legs to his shoulders and took the slow and sultry theme to a whole new level with his tongue and fingers. He had her on the verge of coming within seconds but then backed off, making her groan with frustration.

He laughed. “All in good time, my love.”

“Only because I love you so much I’ll let you live.”

“Awww, that’s so nice of you.” He started over with soft dabs of his tongue and slow strokes of his fingers that quickly took her to the brink once again.

“Nick... Please...”

“What does my baby want?”

“You know!”

“My orders were slow and sultry. I’m just doing what I was told.”

Sam sagged into the mattress when it became apparent that he planned to follow her directions to the letter—not that she was complaining. Much. She forced herself to relax and go with his flow, which always led to her satisfaction even when he took his own sweet time.

Before him, she’d tolerated this act more than enjoyed it, but Nick made it impossible not to fully enjoy it.

He sucked lightly on her clit as he drove his fingers into her, curling them to engage her G-spot, which she hadn’t known she had until he had shown her exactly where it was.

Her hips lifted off the bed, trying to get closer to him, to the orgasm that grew and multiplied with every stroke of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. Then he upped the ante by pressing a wet finger against her ass, and she exploded.

“God, it’s so hot when you let go like that,” he said as he brought her down slowly, keeping up the movement of his fingers and tongue until the last of the aftershocks rocked her. Then he kissed his way up her body, paying homage again to each breast before he invited his cock to the party, giving her only the head at first.

Sam squirmed under him, looking for more.

“Is my impatient girl getting fed up with slow and sultry?”

“Yes! To hell with sultry. I want hard and fast.”

He drove into her in one deep thrust that made her come again. That had never happened before him. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her fast, furious and frantic.

Sam clung to him, taking everything he had to give. She wrapped her legs around his hips and met every deep thrust of his cock with unbridled enthusiasm. Only he could make her forget the horror of the last few hours. Only he could transport her out of the insanity of their lives to a place where nothing else mattered but them and the love that sustained them.

At the beginning, she’d expected the passion between them to wane. She’d wondered if they’d survive if it became any more intense than it was then. But it was so much more now, and she’d come to crave the connection she always found with him.

“Samantha... I wish you knew how much I love you.”

“I do. I know. I love you just as much.”

“They haven’t invented a word big enough to describe it.”

She tightened her hold on him and held on until she felt him falter and then go tense as he came deep inside her, reminding her of what she’d wondered earlier and if it could possibly be true. They’d had so many disappointments. She wasn’t sure she could handle another one.

“What do we think of slow and sultry?” he asked after long minutes of contented silence.

“We love it until we want fast and furious.”

Sam felt his lips curve into a smile against her chest and continued to run her fingers through his hair. She was completely addicted to his thick, beautiful hair.

“You can always have whatever you want from me.”

“I know, and that’s what makes me completely unmanageable.”

His soft laughter went a long way toward fixing what had broken inside her earlier. He raised his head and looked down at her before he kissed her lightly. “I like you just the way you are, even when you’re completely unmanageable.”

“Good thing, because any other husband would want to shoot me most of the time.”

“I don’t want to picture you with any other husbands. You’re stuck with this one.”

“There goes my plan for a quickie Dominican divorce if Nelson is forced to resign.”

He stared at her, seeming stunned that she’d joke about such a thing. “That feels rather premeditated.”

Sam laughed and shook her head. “Just a joke. I swear.”

“Now you’ve got me worried.”

“Nick, come on. What would I ever do without you to keep me sane and sated?”

“I do keep you rather sated,” he said with a smug grin.

She brought his head back to rest on her chest. “You certainly do. I never knew it was possible to be so completely sated until I had you.”

“I don’t want you completely sated. I want you always hungry for more.”

“I believe my wanton behavior in the first year and a half of our marriage is indicative of my endless need for more.”

“You said indicative.”

She snorted with laughter. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“This. All of it. The laughter, the slow, the sultry, the fast, the furious. You were just what I needed.”

“I always want to be just what you need.”

“You’re doing a great job so far.” She patted him on the head. “Keep up the good work.”

“I’ll do my best, Lieutenant.”

She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around him and a big smile on her face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SAM WOKE TO the phone ringing shortly before her alarm would’ve woken her. “Mmm, Holland.” She tried to shake off the cobwebs. Her body would’ve liked five more hours of sleep, but the vacation was over, and it was back to reality.

“Are you awake, Lieutenant?” Malone asked in a booming voice that told her he’d already had several cups of coffee.

Sam hated morning people. “I am now.”

“We had another shooting overnight. I wanted to give you the details before your shift.”

That news had her wide-awake. Nick slept right next to her, on his back, arm thrown over his head. She tore her gaze off his gorgeous face, got out of bed, put on a robe and took the phone across the hall to her closet, closing the door so she could focus on what the captain was telling her without disturbing Nick.

“This one was in Woodley Park.”

Sam gasped at the mention of Freddie and Elin’s neighborhood.

“Twenty-six-year-old Caroline Brinkley was picked off on Woodley Road Northwest at about three-thirty this morning.”

“Any witnesses?”

“None. She was alone, and no one else was on the street at that time.”

“Where was she coming from? Do we know?”

“Detective Cruz is at the scene trying to find out more.”

“I’ll meet him there.”

“And then come back here. We’ve got to get our heads around this before the shooter has a chance to strike again. The press is clamoring for information.”

“I can only imagine. I’ll see you soon.” Sam took a fast shower and got dressed in shorts and a lightweight top, preparing for another long, hot day pounding the pavement. She put her hair up in a messy bun and slathered on sunscreen.

Fifteen minutes after she ended the call with Malone, she had kissed her sleeping husband, retrieved her weapon and cuffs from the bedside drawer and was on her way downstairs. She was surprised to find their assistant, Shelby, in the kitchen with her newborn son, Noah, attached to her in some sort of elaborate harness thingie. She’d rescinded her earlier resignation and returned like nothing had ever happened, which had been a relief to Sam and Nick.

As always, the sight of a baby did funny things to Sam’s insides, and reminded her that she needed to procure a pregnancy test without alerting the world to her suspicions. Difficult task, that.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Sam asked Shelby while taking a second to play with the baby’s foot. He had a light dusting of blond hair and pudgy cheeks. “You’re supposed to be on leave.”

“We were awake and feeling kinda cooped up, so we decided to come see what’s going on over here. You’re up early.”

“I’m going to work.”

“I heard about the shootings and wondered if they’d called you back.”

“Yep, I went back yesterday.”

“It’s so awful that someone is driving around shooting at innocent people. I hope you catch them before anyone else is hurt or killed.”

Sam grabbed a banana from a bowl on the counter. Even during her maternity leave, Shelby made sure their weekly grocery delivery arrived on schedule. “That’s the plan.” After a pause, she said, “So, um, I need a favor, and I don’t want you to say a single word other than ‘okay’ if you’re able to help me, because I can’t talk about it. If I talk about it, I’ll lose my shit, and I can’t lose my shit right now. You know?”

“Umm, I think so,” Shelby said hesitantly. Who could blame her for being hesitant after that lead-in?

“I need a pregnancy test. You got an old one lying around anywhere?”

Shelby’s lips parted and her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t say anything other than, “I have at least ten of them at home. I’ll put a couple in the cabinet under your bathroom sink today. Would that work?”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Sam—”

“Please, Shelby. I can’t.”

Shelby nodded as she blinked rapidly, probably trying not to cry. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, she cried over everything, even dog food commercials, according to her fiancé, FBI Special Agent in Charge Avery Hill. “I understand.”

Sam knew she did and appreciated it. “I gotta go.” She kissed baby Noah’s cheek and squeezed Shelby’s arm. “You guys have a good day.”

“You too. Good luck with the case.”

“Thanks. We’re going to need it.”

On her way out, Sam nodded to Melinda, the agent she called Secret Service Barbie.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cappuano.”

“Good morning.” Sam brushed by her and down the ramp, eager to get to the scene and help Freddie. She felt a tiny bit guilty for being less than friendly to the agent who was only doing her job. Something about her bugged Sam. Probably the fact that such a stunningly gorgeous woman was paid to watch her smoking hot husband. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered to herself as she got in the car and headed for the checkpoint.

The agents waved her through, and she directed the car toward Woodley Park, giving thanks to whoever invented Labor Day and gave the federal workforce the day off. Traffic was all but nonexistent as she drove and brooded over why she couldn’t stand Melinda. That was better than brooding over the remote possibility that she could be pregnant. Again.

If it were true, this would be the sixth time. Five miscarriages later, she’d learned to manage her expectations. The last one, which had been Nick’s baby, had been the worst of all. She wanted nothing more than to give him the family he’d never had. He said that she and Scotty were all the family he needed, but she still held out hope that maybe, just maybe, they might get lucky one more time.

She breathed her way through the emotions this topic always roused in her—sadness, disappointment, despair and inadequacy. That last one particularly rankled, as she was known for being more than adequate at her job yet was unable to carry a baby to term. The thing that came so naturally to women all over the world was seemingly impossible for her.

“You can’t spend the whole day obsessing about this.” Sometimes saying it out loud made it easier to take her own advice. “You’ve got too much to do and a city on edge with someone shooting at innocent people. If you spend all day obsessing about this, you won’t get anything done. That’s not an option today.”

By the time she arrived on Woodley Road Northwest, she had her emotions more or less under control and her focus on the task at hand. There’d be time later to fall apart over the other thing, which probably wasn’t even a thing anyway.

She parked on the pretty, leafy street lined with restaurants and walked the short distance to where Freddie and Gonzo were conferring on the sidewalk next to a bloodstain that had been taped off. Lindsey’s team had already removed the body.

Outside the tapeline, the large group of curious bystanders watching the proceedings began to buzz when they saw Sam approach. People were always so curious about other people’s misfortune. It made her sick.

She ducked under the tapeline. “Morning,” she said to Freddie and Gonzo.

“Morning, LT,” Gonzo said. He looked tired and stressed.

“Did you guys get any sleep?”

“Couple hours,” Freddie said. “They called me on this because I was closest.”

“What do we know about the vic?” Sam asked, her gaze shifting to the bloodstain that told part of the story.

Freddie consulted his notes. “Caroline Brinkley, age twenty-six, a waitress at a K Street lounge, was on her way home from work when she was shot in the back.”

“Where’s home?” Sam asked.

Freddie pointed to a four-story building on the corner. “She lives on the second floor with a roommate named Delilah. We’ve notified her, and she gave us the contact information for Caroline’s family in Minnesota. We asked her to let us make the call. We were waiting for you to see how you wanted us to proceed.”

“Ugh.” Sam realized she’d probably have to handle the call that no cop ever wanted to make. And they said rank had its privileges. Whatever. She took the piece of paper with the parents’ names and phone number written on it from Freddie and stuffed it in her pocket. “Canvass?”

“We’ve been up and down the entire block,” Gonzo said. “No witnesses. Archie is pulling the footage from our cameras in the area.”

“Anything else?”

“Lindsey thinks she didn’t die immediately.”

“Goddamn it,” Sam whispered. “How long was she out here before someone called us?”

“Thirty minutes or more. She was dead by the time the first Patrol officer arrived on the scene.”

Sam blew out a deep breath full of frustration. “I want these guys. I want them bad.”

“Patrol is stopping every black sedan they encounter,” Gonzo said. “So far, they’ve pulled over nine different cars, but no sign of a nine millimeter or any other weapons.”

“Let’s head back to the house and regroup,” Sam said. “I’ll make the call to her parents on the way.”

“You want me to do it?” Freddie asked.

She gave him a wan smile, appreciating that he’d offer to do something no one wanted to do. In fact, she ought to let him do it because he was way better at those sorts of things than she’d ever be. But she couldn’t ask him to do something just because she didn’t want to. Not something like this anyway. “Thanks, but I’ve got it. Finish up here, and meet me at HQ.”

“Right behind you, LT,” Gonzo said.

Biting back the feeling of dread over the call she needed to make to parents who had no idea their world was about to implode, Sam got in the car, dialed the number and pressed Send before she could lose her nerve. As the call connected, she shifted the car into Park and drove to the intersection.

“Hello?” a friendly sounding woman said.

“Mrs. Brinkley?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“This is Lieutenant Sam Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C.”

Mrs. Brinkley inhaled sharply. “Caroline?”

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to tell you—”

The woman’s piercing screams brought tears to Sam’s eyes. God, she hated this.

A man came on the line. “Who is this?” he asked sharply.

Once again, Sam said, “Lieutenant Sam Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C.”

“Oh God, no. Not Caroline.”

In the background, Sam could hear the mother’s heartbroken sobs.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you she was shot and killed early this morning.”

The man’s guttural moan had Sam brushing at tears while trying to stay focused on the road. This sucked so bad, worse than any other part of her awful job. She had no idea how people survived receiving this kind of news.

“Did you... Do you know who did it?”

“We don’t. Not yet. But we’re working on it. Caroline was the fourth in a string of drive-by shootings throughout the District last night and this morning.”

“So, it was random? It wasn’t anyone she knew?”

“We don’t know that for sure yet, but we don’t believe she knew the shooter.”

“Dear God. How can something like this happen? Caroline was a good girl. She worked hard and was back to school. She was trying to make something of herself.”

“I wish I had the answer to that question, but I’m going to do my best to find out who did this and bring them to justice for Caroline and the other victims.”