by Marie Force
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Lilia,” Nick said. “Above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Happy to help, sir.”
“I’ll take you out and introduce you,” Farnsworth said.
“We’ll watch from the conference room,” Sam said. “Good luck and don’t make eye contact. They’ll smell fresh blood and take full advantage.”
“Lovely,” Lilia said with a bright smile that told Sam she was more than up for the challenge.
After Lilia left with the chief, Norris and Malone, Sam, Nick and Harry went into the conference room with Gonzo and Freddie.
“What’s her deal?” Harry asked Sam in a quiet tone meant for her ears only.
“Who? Lilia?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know her that well personally, but she’s been a fantastic support to me as I figure out how to do this second-lady thing. She’s very well connected and tuned into the rules of official Washington. So far she’s kept me from making any huge gaffes.”
“And for that she should be put up for some sort of presidential award.”
“Very funny.” She nudged him with an elbow. “So why the interest?”
“No reason. Just wondering.”
“No reason at all?”
“Knock it off, Sam,” he said with a good-natured smile.
“What’s she doing now?” Nick asked.
“I suspect she’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“Ohhh, you and Lilia? I could see that.”
“Right?” Sam said.
“Don’t you two have bigger things to be concerned about than my love life?” Harry asked.
“Yeah,” Nick said, “we do, so let us focus on your love life for a little while, will you?”
“Certainly,” Harry said like the good sport he always was. “Have at it.”
Sam squeezed his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. The good doctor, who’d long been one of Nick’s closest friends, had earned the same rank in her life over the last year and a half by always being there when she needed him. She’d like nothing more than to see him happily in love with a wonderful woman worthy of the fabulousness that was Harry.
“After this crap dies down, we need to do something about our friend Nick’s sleep situation,” Sam said.
“I agree,” Harry replied. “I’m on it. Don’t worry.”
“I do worry, and he hides the full extent from me.”
“I’m in the room, as you would say,” her husband said drolly.
Gonzo and Freddie joined them, and Gonzo turned on the TV.
Sam focused her attention on the screen as the network went to a live feed from MPD Headquarters.
Looking cool, competent and professional, Lilia stepped up to the podium after a brief introduction from the chief.
“As Chief Farnsworth mentioned, I serve as the White House chief of staff to Second Lady Samantha Cappuano, known around here as Lieutenant Sam Holland. Vice President and Mrs. Cappuano would like to express their sympathy to the family of Peter Gibson, Mrs. Cappuano’s first husband. It is no secret that Mrs. Cappuano and Mr. Gibson’s divorce and subsequent dealings have been contentious. Despite that, Lieutenant Holland is interested in one thing and one thing only right now, the same thing she wants for all the District’s homicide victims. And that is justice. We ask you to respect her privacy and that of the vice president at this difficult time. Thank you.”
“She did great,” Sam said.
Nick and Harry nodded in agreement.
“Now watch,” Gonzo said. “It’s about to get sporty.”
The second Lilia stepped back from the microphone, the questions started flying.
“Will Lieutenant Holland be working the Gibson case?”
“Is there any connection between Gibson’s murder and the threat levied against the Cappuano family?”
“Has the Secret Service allowed the family out of hiding or only the vice president and second lady?”
“What do we know about Gibson and his associates?”
Malone stepped up to the podium and raised his hands to quiet the rush of questions. When he had their attention, he said, “We’re in the earliest stages of our investigation. Lieutenant Holland and the Homicide squad have the lead and will be working this case the same way they work every other case.”
“Is it a conflict of interest for her to investigate her ex-husband’s murder?” Darren Tabor from the Washington Star asked.
“She’s been divorced from him for more than five years. We believe her involvement will help us close the case faster than we would without her, and that’s our primary goal and hers. Justice for Mr. Gibson.”
“After he allegedly tried to blow up her car, I would think she’d be celebrating his demise,” Tabor continued.
“You’d be wrong about that. Lieutenant Holland has devoted her career to hunting down killers. She doesn’t condone violence of any kind, and this is no exception. She’s determined to figure out what happened to Mr. Gibson and bring his killer to justice the same way she does for every other homicide victim in this city.”
“Has the Secret Service said any more about the threat that was levied against the Cappuanos?” one of the TV reporters asked.
“Not to us, no.”
“Are you concerned about Lieutenant Holland’s safety in light of the threat?”
“The safety of all our officers is always paramount. She’s no different in that regard.”
“She isn’t?” another reporter asked. “Really?”
“As you all know by now, Lieutenant Holland is determined to continue her career as it was before her husband became the vice president. Questions like these make it more difficult for her to do that.”
“It’s a fair question, Captain,” Darren said. “Her family has been threatened. The threat was significant enough for the Secret Service to take their immediate and extended family off the grid for a period of days. And now she’s going to be working an investigation with the threat unresolved, at least as far as we know. You can really stand before us and say she’s no different in these circumstances?”
“She’s a highly trained and decorated police officer who knows how to look out for herself. We have left the choice of how to proceed up to her, and she has chosen to return to work. We ask that you leave her alone to do her job. That’s all I have for now. We’ll update you again when we have more.”
“What do you think the odds are that they’ll do as he asked and leave me alone?” Sam asked.
“Slim to none,” Nick replied. “I don’t like the idea of them chasing you down looking for the scoop.”
“Malone just told them there isn’t going to be a scoop,” Gonzo said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be with her. We’ve got her back.”
“Her is in the room,” Sam said, with a smile for Nick. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Gonzo replied with a cheeky grin that reminded Sam of who he’d been before his partner was murdered. She took comfort in the fact that he was busting her balls.
“What’s our plan?” Freddie asked.
“First thing is to talk to his coworkers and neighbors to find out who he’d been hanging out with recently.”
“Ready when you are,” Freddie said.
“Me too,” Gonzo added. “I say the three of us do this together.”
“Strength in numbers?” Sam asked.
“Something like that,” Gonzo said.
“Give me a minute to figure out a few other things, and then we’ll hit it,” Sam said.
“You got it,” Gonzo said. He and Cruz left the room.
“I think that’s my cue too.” Harry kissed Sam’s cheek. “Be careful out
there.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Thanks for the soup and the support.”
“Anytime.” Harry stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Sam alone with her husband, who’d been unusually quiet.
“Whatever it is you want to say, let’s get on with it,” she said, spoiling for a fight, if that’s what it took to be able to do her job.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking sexy and thoughtful and perhaps a bit pissed off. What did it say about her that she wished she could walk over to him and have her wicked way with him, even if he was pissed?
“Roll with me for a second here,” he said after a long, charged silence in which Sam was left to wonder what he was thinking.
“All right...”
“What if Peter was tortured and killed so you’d do exactly what you’re planning to do?”
“Work the case?”
“Yep.” He dropped his arms to his sides and pushed off the wall, then crossed the room to stand in front of her, taking her in with that potent hazel-eyed gaze she loved so much. “What if they used him to lure you out of hiding? If someone is trying to get at me, by now they certainly know that the best way to ruin me is to harm you.”
“Nick, honey, I hear what you’re saying, but—”
“But you don’t think it’s possible that someone who’s been studying us and how we operate would know that if they struck at someone you used to care about, even if he was a demented douche bag, you’d do exactly what you’re about to do? Is it so ridiculous to think you’re possibly being set up, Samantha?”
“No,” she said, sighing. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s actually a damned good theory.”
He brightened visibly at her acknowledgment. “So you’ll let Gonzo and Freddie take the lead and work the case behind the scenes?”
Sam flattened her hands on his chest. “No, babe, I’m not going to take a backseat. I hear what you’re saying, and I agree it’s a plausible theory. I’ll be very careful, and I’ll have my two best colleagues watching my back. We’ll be fine. I promise.”
He stepped back from her. “Don’t you dare make promises you can’t possibly keep if a terrorist is gunning for you. Look at what they did to Peter. What do you think they’ll do to you if they get ahold of you?”
“They’re not going to get me, Nick. I won’t let them. Thanks to your astute assessment, I’m now on guard against that scenario. I promise you I’ll take every precaution to make sure nothing happens to me.” She closed the small distance between them and slid her arms around his waist. “I have way too much to live for to ever be cavalier about my safety. Please trust me on that.”
“I trust you, Samantha. You know I do. It’s not about you. It’s about people who’d go so far as to threaten to dismember the children in our lives. Remember who you’re dealing with here.”
“I won’t forget. How could I? Let me work this case and figure out who killed Peter. If it’s connected to the threat, I promise to immediately bring in Avery and the Secret Service and anyone else who needs to be told so we can nail the bastards who threatened us. I won’t be doing this by myself, Nick. That I can also promise you.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“But that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”
“You and what you think matter to me more than anything.”
They engaged in a visual standoff that lasted long enough to provoke discomfort before he sagged and released a deep sigh. “Please be careful.”
“I always am.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her into a much more passionate kiss than she’d intended. “I love you too, more than life itself. If something happens to you because of me... Please, Samantha, don’t let that happen.”
“I won’t.” Though she had a ton of work to do, she held on to him for a few more minutes, sensing he needed the reassurance. “What’re you going to do now?”
“I’m going to the White House to figure out what the fuck is going on with this investigation.”
“What about Scotty and the rest of the family?”
“We’ll have to make some decisions about letting them out of the bunker if there’s no movement in the investigation.”
“Call me if you need me.”
“I will.” He kissed her forehead and then her lips again. “I’m sorry I brought this down on us.”
“You didn’t. I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”
“I gotta go before I give in to my baser urges to drag you out of here and take you back to the bunker.”
“Normally I quite like your baser urges, but I’m glad you’re resisting that one.” She kissed him once more. “Go on. Everything is fine here. Call me if you hear anything that might be helpful.”
“I will. You do the same.”
“You got it.”
He still had his arms around her when someone knocked on the door. Nick released her but kept one arm around her.
“Come in,” Sam said.
Brant, the lead agent on Nick’s detail, stepped into the room. “We have a development in the threat investigation.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
BRANT WENT TO the computer station in the corner and clicked on the keys, bringing up an image on the screen of a well-fed white guy with gray hair and hard-looking eyes. “LeRoy Nevins,” he said, “a known white supremacist from Oklahoma City, has had a beef with the way you became vice president.”
Brant flipped through a series of op-ed pieces that Nevins had written for The Oklahoman, several of which had been picked up by national newspapers. The headlines proclaimed the American people had been “hoodwinked” by the selection of Cappuano as vice president so the Democrats could set him up as the de facto nominee in four years.
“I don’t get it,” Sam said. “If the guy is a white supremacist, wouldn’t he be happy to see a white guy like Nick on the rise?”
“Not necessarily,” Brant said. “In addition to his advocacy for the white man, he’s also extremely conservative in his politics and a religious supporter of the Second Amendment.”
“And I’m a flaming liberal who’s been vocal in my support of reasonable gun control,” Nick said.
“Right,” Brant said. “He’s been on our radar for a while now.”
“What does that mean, specifically, when the Secret Service has someone ‘on their radar’?” Sam asked.
“It means we keep an eye on people who make inflammatory statements about the people we protect,” Brant said. “This most recent interview is what turned our attention to him on the threat.” He brought up a video clip of Nevins being interviewed by a local news channel in which he spewed his special brand of hate for the entitled elite that run this country, especially “that new vice president who was inflicted upon us with no due process. A guy who spent one whole year in the Senate before being elevated to vice president is a heartbeat away from the Oval Office, and not one single American voted to put him there. How is that even possible?”
The commentator reminded him of the president’s constitutional right to appoint a successor should the sitting vice president be unable to complete his or her term.
“And that’s what’s gotta change,” Nevins said. “We need to amend the Constitution to make it so the people get to vote on these things. Think about it—if the governor dies, there’s a special election. But the vice president, the number two guy, can be chosen by one other person? There’s no way that ought to be happening. No way.”
“Well, he did have to be confirmed by Congress,” the commentator said.
“Buncha fools they are too. These people need to
be taught some humility and reminded of who they serve—the people. That’s our house they’re sitting in, and it should be up to us to decide who gets to live and work there.”
“There’s that word again,” Sam said. “Humility.” She wrapped her hands around Nick’s arm, unnerved by the reminder that people who’d never met him hated him simply because of the office he held. Of course she’d known they were out there, but to hear it spelled out so bluntly made her feel queasy all over again.
“That’s what triggered our decision to bring him in and have a talk with him,” Brant said. “He’s in custody and agents from the Secret Service and FBI will be meeting with him today.”
“He’ll deny he had anything to do with it,” Sam said.
“Probably,” Brant conceded, “but we’re going to do our best to get him to tell us the truth.”
“What does this mean for us and the family still in the bunker?” Nick asked.
“Hopefully, we’ll have more information for you soon, but we hope to bring them home by the end of the day,” Brant said, glancing at Nick. “In addition, we’ve beefed up your detail, and we’ll add to Scotty’s, as well, when we bring him home. And until we’re absolutely certain we’ve got our guy, we’re going to be providing security for the other members of your immediate family with a special focus on the children.”
“Thanks for everything you’re doing,” Nick said.
“Of course,” Brant said. “Keeping you safe is our top priority.”
“Thank you, Brant,” Sam said.
“You’re welcome.” He paused before he added, “I know we’ve had this conversation before, Mrs. Cappuano, but I really recommend that you have a detail until we’re certain we’ve contained this threat.”
“I appreciate the recommendation, but I’ll be providing my own security through my team here. I’ll be accompanied by other armed officers everywhere I go. There’s no need to be redundant.”
“Redundant,” Nick muttered with a grunt that would’ve been laughter if the subject matter hadn’t been so grave. “Brant is suggesting added precaution, not redundancy.”
“It’s not necessary,” Sam said, digging in. The last fucking thing she needed was to be escorted around by federal agents. She may as well hang up her badge if that was going to be her reality.