by Marie Force
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, knowing Nick was still awake. His breathing was deeper when he was asleep.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t add up. Your office receives a letter with a threat, and the Secret Service goes dragnet on us. How many threats do they receive directed at us and the Nelsons in a given week?”
“A lot. Brant told me they’ve had more threats toward me in six months than they had toward Gooding in three years.”
The thought of lunatics threatening her husband made her queasy. “Why such an uptick?”
“They think it was because I was appointed rather than elected.”
“What was different about this one?”
“I told you what it said.”
“You told me part of it. Now would be a great time to tell me what we’re really doing stuck in this cement prison.”
After a long silence, she heard his deep sigh. Then his hand found hers, and he linked their fingers. “The smudged postmark.”
“What about it?”
“The FBI has seen that particular mark once before in a threat that was traced to a faction of the Islamic State that’s known for brutality against women and children. They think there’s something in the timing of the letter being sent while I was in Iran, and they’ve got counterterrorism people looking into that angle.”
Sam’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to beat wildly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“I didn’t see the point in scaring you further when everyone is with us and perfectly safe.”
Sam pulled her hand free of his. “You didn’t see the point. Remember how pissed you’d get when I kept things from you? You tell me we’re better than that, but I guess that only applies to my work, not yours.” She sat up and reached for the T-shirt she’d left at the foot of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
“I want to talk to Brant about getting me out of here. I can’t help figure this out if I’m stuck down here.”
“You’re not leaving, Samantha.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me. I don’t have Secret Service protection. That was our deal when you took this job, and I expect you to honor our agreement. I don’t technically have to be here.” She pulled on shorts and jammed her feet into flip-flops.
“Please don’t do this.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re putting me in an impossible position. I already feel impotent enough that I can’t do a fucking thing to protect my family, because I’m not allowed to breathe without the Secret Service’s permission.”
“That’s your situation. Not mine.”
“Sam, you’re my wife.”
“Do you honestly think I need you to tell me that? I know who I’m married to, and if someone threatens you and our loved ones, they threaten me too. All I’m asking for is a chance to do something about it rather than being trapped here with my thumb up my ass, hoping someone else will figure out who the fuck sent that letter. Let me go do what I do best.”
“No.”
“Again with the one-word answer.”
“The Secret Service won’t let you out of here unless I specifically authorize you to leave, so don’t try anything.”
She headed for the door to their room. “I hope you’re enjoying your little power trip.”
“Sam, come on...”
“Don’t tell me to come on. In fact, don’t say anything to me until you’re ready to tell me I can leave this hellhole.” She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the room and stormed through the dark corridor to the common area, where she ran into her stepmother, Celia, heading for the kitchen area.
“What’re you doing up?” Sam asked.
“Your dad is restless. I thought some tea might help.”
Sam was immediately on alert for trouble where her dad was concerned. “Is he okay?”
“I think so, but go ahead in and see for yourself. He’s awake.”
Sam returned to the dark hallway and knocked on the closed door to her dad’s room.
He called for her to come in.
Sam went in and closed the door behind her.
“What’re you doing up, baby girl?”
“Same as you. Can’t sleep. I’m going crazy in this place.”
“I wondered when you’d snap.”
“Are people placing bets?” Sam asked as she fell into a chair next to his hospital bed. She had to give the Secret Service props for seeing to everything they’d need in the hellhole.
“Graham suggested a pool, but I knew better than to take that bait.”
“You’re very funny tonight, Skippy.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you all wound up and fully dressed in the middle of the night?”
“I was gonna make a break for it.”
“Is that so? What stopped you?”
“My freaking husband, who apparently has all the power over this situation.”
“You can’t blame him for wanting to keep us safe.”
“I don’t blame him! But how long can they reasonably expect us to stay in this dungeon while they chase their own dicks trying to figure out who’s threatening us?”
Skip chuckled. “You do have a way with words, Sam.”
“You know I’m right. I bet I could get to the bottom of it in twenty-four hours. I’ve got too much crap going on to be stuck here. I’ve got a floater in the river and a freaking wedding to be in next weekend. Or is it this weekend? What the hell day is it, anyway?”
“Take a deep breath, Sam, and think it through from Nick’s perspective. He feels responsible for putting our family in the spotlight and making us vulnerable to threats. It has to be weighing heavily on him.”
“It is,” Sam said with a sigh, “but if he’d only let me out to do my own investigation, we might be able to get everyone out of here that much sooner.”
“How does he have a moment’s peace if you’re out there hunting down a possible terrorist while he’s sealed off in an underground bunker? How would any of us have a moment’s peace?”
“I’m going to lose my mind in here. Which would be worse? Me in danger or me in a mental institution?”
“It’s hard on all of us to be trapped this way. The kids are getting stir-crazy, and Angela is moaning about vitamin D deficiency.”
“There’s a possible tie to an Islamic faction known for brutality against women and children,” Sam said.
“Oh, damn...”
“Nick just told me that part.”
“So that’s what’s got you wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.”
“He’s Mr. Double Standard. God help us all if I keep something from him, but he thinks it’s perfectly fine to keep something like that from me.”
“He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already were.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“I’m always on your side, but I see Nick’s perspective in this one. He has to be regretting taking the job that caused such huge changes in both your lives. I have to admit that I don’t love your newfound notoriety. It makes an already-dangerous job a thousand times more so. Nick certainly knows that too, and it only adds to his already-considerable anxiety where your safety is concerned.”
“I know all that, and I hate that he suffers the way he does over my safety. I got a good idea of what he goes through the other day when I didn’t know why they were bringing me in or where he was or if he was safe. I get it. I really do.”
“What did Avery want earlier?”
“Believe it or not, he wanted to talk about Peter.”
Skip’s brows shot up to his hairline. “As in Peter Gibson?”
“The one
and only.”
“What brought that on?”
“I had this crazy dream where everyone who hates me was after me, and he was there telling me I needed a dose of humility. When I woke up, I remembered that he used to say that to me, and I told Nick. He reported it to Brant, and thus Avery’s visit in which I got to revisit that entire unsavory chapter in my life with him of all people.”
“A tangled web you weave.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, but I’ve stuffed him so deep into the past that I never give him a thought anymore.”
“You honestly think he’d have the stones to threaten the vice president of the United States?”
“Who knows? I never thought he’d try to blow me up.”
“He’s been quiet lately. I’d hoped we’d heard the last of him.”
“Avery said something that’s got me worried it might be him.”
“What’s that?”
“Peter might have a new ax to grind after I didn’t show up when they came to tell me, as his next of kin, that he’d tried to off himself. After all this time, he still had me listed as his next of kin, if you can believe that.”
“I can believe anything where he’s concerned. It must go up his ass sideways that you’re married to the vice president.”
“Why can’t he meet a nice, unhinged girl like him and turn his attentions toward her?”
“I’d imagine it’s because you’re hard to get over. Just ask your husband about that.”
“What’re we asking Sam’s husband?” Celia asked when she returned with Skip’s tea.
“About how hard my daughter is to get over.”
Sam shook her head. “You crack yourself up, don’t you, Skippy?”
“Well, it’s true.”
“I think it’s so sweet that neither of you ever forgot the first night you spent together,” Celia said.
“I’ll never forget the douche bag who kept me from Nick for all those years, and I swear to God, if he’s behind this threat, I’m going to single-handedly nail his ass to the wall this time.” Sam stood to give Celia the chair next to the bed so she could help Skip with the tea. Filled with nervous energy, Sam began to pace the small room. “I have an idea...”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Skip asked.
“I need you to like it because it involves you.”
“How so?”
“What if you were to spike a fever that required immediate medical attention?”
“I can’t just flip a switch and make that happen.”
“They wouldn’t check. They’d take Celia’s word for it, and Nick would never stop me from accompanying you to the hospital. Once we get you there safely, I’ll slip away and figure out who the hell is threatening my family.”
Skip and Celia stared at her.
“What do you think?”
“No way,” Skip said.
“Come on, Dad! It would totally work to get us out of here, and you know I’d get to the bottom of this faster than the FBI ever will.”
“You honestly think I’m going to help you put yourself in danger?”
“I’m not going to be in any danger. They don’t want me. They threatened the kids.”
“If it is Peter, he most definitely wants you, and he’s using the kids to get to you because he knows they’re your Achilles’ heel.”
“He’s too stupid to get to me.”
“He almost blew you up!”
“Now I know what he’s capable of, and my squad can hunt him down and figure out whether he’s behind this. I won’t be doing it by myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried about you getting yourself killed by going rogue against someone the Secret Service felt was a big enough threat to put us all in lockdown.”
“This was a massive overreaction if you ask me.”
“You’ll notice that no one asked you,” Nick said from the doorway.
“Oh, here he is, the one with all the power. What do you need, oh powerful one?”
“What’re you up to, Samantha?”
“Not a damned thing, thanks to the fact that I’m being held prisoner against my will.”
“Come with me,” he said in a stern tone he rarely used with her.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I’m asking you to come with me.”
Sam glanced at her dad, who raised his brows in Nick’s direction, letting her know exactly whose side he was really on. She scowled at him but went to kiss him good-night anyway. “Get that fever in the morning,” she whispered in his ear. “Do it for me.” As she walked toward the door where her husband waited with a hard-to-read expression on his handsome face, she said, “Night, Celia.”
“Night, Sam. Try to get some sleep.”
Nick stepped back to let Sam go by and then followed her to their room.
“Everything all right, Mr. Vice President?” Brant asked from his post at the end of the long dark hallway.
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Thanks, Brant.”
Sam knew he hated this as much as she did, but that didn’t give him the right to make unilateral decisions for her. That would never be okay.
The door closed behind him, and for a long moment he leaned against it watching her as she kicked off the shorts and flip-flops she’d recently donned and got back in bed with no hope of sleeping.
She felt his eyes on her the whole time, even though she kept her back to him. The bed dipped behind her when he got in, but he stayed on his side, rather than curling up to her the way he normally did. Distance between them always made her ache, even when it was for a good reason—or what she thought was a good reason.
“Do you remember me telling you about when I was a kid and my mother would call to ask my grandmother if she could see me?”
Surprised by the question, she said, “Yes.” How could she ever forget his stories of sitting in the window for entire Saturdays waiting for someone who didn’t show up more often than she did? “I remember.”
“Every time she didn’t come, I was sure it was because something had happened to her. I pictured her being hit by a car and stuck in the hospital when she’d much rather be with me. Until I was about eleven or twelve, that was always my first thought. Something must’ve happened, because why else wouldn’t she be there when she said she would be?”
Sam’s heart ached for the little boy who’d been disappointed time and again by the selfish woman who’d given birth to him. Sam turned over and slid across the bed, making herself at home in his arms.
He held her close to him, his lips sliding over her hair and his familiar scent reminding her that as long as he was here beside her, everything would work out. Somehow.
“I wised up eventually and stopped arguing with my grandmother when she’d tell me my mother was nothing but a selfish bitch and I was better off without her.”
Sam wasn’t sure why he was telling her this now, so she waited for him to continue.
“I think that’s why I worry so much about you, because I know that only something like the worst things I imagined then would keep you from coming home to me. So I do everything I can to keep the bad things from happening. Sometimes they happen anyway, but how do I let you go out there knowing there’s someone gunning for our family, especially when there’s nothing I can do to keep you safe?”
“Nick—”
“And if Peter is behind the threat, we already know he’d rather see you dead than happy with me.”
She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of emotion that made her throat feel tight and her chest ache. “Okay.”
“What are you okaying, babe?”
“I’ll stay in this hellhole for as long as necessary to ensure
the threat has been neutralized. I’ll stop railing against the injustice of it all, and I’ll stop blaming you for holding me hostage.”
“You have to know there’s no way I’d put you or the others through this if I didn’t feel it was absolutely necessary.”
“I do know that. But what if the FBI can’t figure out who sent that letter? How long can we be expected to stay here? At some point, we have to resume our lives, even if they never find the perp.”
“We’re taking it day by day for now. If it goes on much longer, we’ll have to make some decision. But for now, I’m giving the FBI the time to investigate without having to worry about whether our family is safe.”
“I’d like to be able to call into work. Surely that can be arranged.”
“I’ll see what I can do in the morning for you and the others who have work issues.”
“Thank you. Will you do one other thing for me?”
“Anything for you.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“The next time something crazy happens, will you please find a way for them to tell me you’re okay? The way I do for you if something happens at my work?”
“I promise that’ll never happen again if I have anything to say about it.”
Sam relaxed into his embrace, as much as she was able to relax under the circumstances.
“Do you still love me after the insanity I added to our already-insane life by taking this stupid job?”
“I still love you. I don’t know how not to love you.”
“Do me a favor, and don’t ever figure that out.”
Sam smiled and kissed his chest. “You got it.”
“You know what I’m thinking right now?”
“I can only imagine.”
He smoothly turned so he was on top of her. “We’re stuck together in this place for God knows how long. No trips, no fund-raising, no murderers to be caught, no meetings to take, nowhere to be except together. Sort of reminds me of Bora Bora.”
“Without the beaches, fresh air, room service, umbrella drinks, gorgeous blue water, sand, sunlight—”