“Nope.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, keeping her where she was. “What’ve you got against the floor?”
If he wanted to play this game, Sam was more than happy to give him a run for his money. “You’re not on it with me anymore. And we need to be quiet. I don’t want to wake Glory.”
“Oh, I can be good and quiet. Don’t worry, darling.” Growling, Jack stripped off his jeans and boxers then rifled through his kit on the counter, searching for a condom, Sam supposed.
Seconds later, Jack returned to her side on the floor. Sam couldn’t keep her hands off him. Touching, stroking. When he went to put on the condom, she stopped him. “No, let me do it.”
While he worshipped her breasts, she stroked his length, circling her thumb over the head, before diving lower and cradling his balls. Bending, he teased her nipples with teeth and tongue, and Sam bit back a groan. She yanked Jack down for another kiss with one hand, the other tracing up his torso, her nails scratching his skin. She put the condom on him.
“I want to taste you first.”
The warm wetness of Jack’s mouth kissed down her neck and chest, lower, lower, until he settled between her thighs. At the first trace of his tongue over her slick folds, Sam bucked hard, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets that weren’t there, encountering only cold, hard marble beyond the rug. She finally held on to the lip of the tub with one hand and Jack’s hair with the other, as she anchored herself against the building waves.
She bit her lip harder to contain the groans of pleasure building inside her as Jack blissfully tormented her to within an inch of climax. He teased and stroked her until she couldn’t take anymore and toppled over the edge into orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure cascaded through her while Jack gently eased her back to reality. Finally, she smoothed her fingers through his hair and begged him to stop. “Please. I need you inside me…”
Jack settled atop her, his skin hot against hers, just the way she craved—Sam wanted to be owned, completely. He held the tip of his erection at her wet entrance, teasing her with what was to come.
Sam licked her lips. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love you, Jack.”
“I love you too, darling. More and more every day.” He kissed her sweetly, then rocked against her again, driving her need for him higher. “You want it slow and sweet or fast and hard?”
As nice as slow and sweet sounded, she needed him too badly. “Give it to me, baby. Fast and hard.”
Jack obliged, fully driving himself into her in one long thrust. Then he held still, allowing her to adjust to the size of him, kissing her gently, his forehead resting against hers. Their bodies settled into the intimate embrace, fitting seamlessly together again. He moved within her, setting up a steady rhythm that had them both near the edge of bliss again soon.
Sam grasped Jack’s hip, keeping him close, building friction as he drove inside her. As their movements quickened, Jack reached a hand between them to stroke her slick folds.
Surrounded by everything she’d ever wanted and needed—Jack, his love, her daughter sleeping safe and sound in the room down the hall—it was only seconds before Sam reached her release again. Jack wasn’t far behind, kissing her long and slow and deep, his cries filling her mouth as he too climaxed hard. Tightening her fingers on Jack’s side, Sam held him close as they lay on the floor, panting together. Sam had never felt anything so right in all her life.
A small eternity later, Jack rolled off her. Sam turned on her side to watch him as he moved around the bathroom, cleaning up, pulling on his boxers. It was quite a nice view. One she’d like to have for the rest of her life.
“Bed now.” Jack bent and scooped her up in his arms. “I think we’ve had enough of the bathroom floor for one evening.”
“Now who’s the hater,” Sam teased in mock protest, but he silenced her with another searing kiss.
They fell into bed together, a mass of tired, sated limbs. Sam cuddled into his side, throwing an arm around his chest and a leg over his thigh.
Jack’s warm breath tickled her neck. “One more day, then we can put all this nonsense behind us and start a real life together.” He punctuated his words with a kiss on the top of Sam’s head. “If that’s what you want.”
She couldn’t believe he was willing to give up everything to go into the program with her. But if he was willing, she wasn’t going to argue. Not when it was everything she wanted. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That’s exactly what I want. I love you, Jack.”
“I love you too, Sam.” He relaxed beneath her, his breaths evening out in sleep. She struggled to do the same, her body on board with slumber but her mind racing ahead to her testimony tomorrow. It was a huge day, a scary day, considering she’d have to face her father again after all this time. But with Jack by her side, she felt stronger. For a future with Jack, she’d do whatever was necessary.
Twenty-Nine
The day of her testimony was the sixth day of Stefan Engel’s trial. Media had been banned from the courtroom, so they clustered outside the US District Courthouse on the sidewalk, cameras rolling and reporters all jostling for position. The building itself was a shiny black monolith, all glass and coated steel. Sam gripped Jack’s hand tighter as they walked the gauntlet of the entrance, her face lowered and her pulse racing. Zeke and his team surrounded them, keeping the nosy onlookers away.
Inside, it was the standard government issue décor—marble, flags, lots of plaques on the walls of former judges who’d served in the jurisdiction. Sam didn’t really take any of it in, just kept walking toward the courtroom where her father’s trial was being held. She’d left Glory back at the hotel with one of the female agents from Zeke’s team and plenty of armed guards posted outside the hotel room door to ward off any trouble.
They walked through a set of large, heavy wooden doors and into a bland looking courtroom. Past rows of benches filled with gawkers for the proceedings. Through the tiny wooden gate at the front. Down the middle of two long conference tables set to face each other, one for the defense, one for the prosecution.
The judge entered, and a hush fell over the room as they all stood. Once seated again, the bailiff opened another door on the opposite side of the room and in walked her father, dressed in one of the slick designer suits he loved, the cuffs of his jacket discreetly hiding the restraints on his wrists. His hair was a bit grayer than the last time Sam had seen him, but the malevolent look in his dark eyes was the same. His gaze lingered on her only long enough to register she was there. His expression of disgust let her know in no uncertain terms that, no matter the outcome of her testimony today, she was dead to him. The realization had little effect on her. Given his heinous actions and behavior, he’d been dead in her heart a long time ago. The officers sat him down in a seat directly across from her. He glared at her, as if trying to incinerate her where she sat.
Her father’s attorney, a slick as sin weaselly-looking man, was the perfect guy to defend a mobster. She assumed he was the best money could buy. Her father would settle for nothing less.
She hazarded a glance out at the gallery and found Zeke and his team standing guard at the back of the courtroom. Jack had taken a seat in the front row, his gaze steady and warm on her, giving her the courage she needed to get this done.
Finally, the jury was brought in and took their seats in the box against the wall.
The judge banged his gavel on the desk, bringing the court to order. A combination of nerves and numbness made the whole scene surreal to Sam. As if in a dream, she heard her name called and the bailiff walked her up to the witness stand. She was sworn in, then took her seat. Up here, with all eyes on her, her skin felt too tight and her clothes rubbed her in all the wrong places. Heat prickled her cheeks and if she hadn’t had Jack there in the front row, with his calm smile and love in his eyes, she would’ve bolted for the exit. In her hands, she clutched Glory’s little pink piglet for strength.
The district attorney, Brent D
umas, a kindly looking older man with intelligent gray eyes, stepped forward to begin the questions.
“Can you please state your name for the court?” Mr. Dumas said.
“Samantha Engel.”
“And what is your relationship to the defendant?”
“I’m his daughter.” She didn’t look at her father then, though the weight of his stare still burned through her. “His only daughter.”
“Right.” Mr. Dumas adjusted his glasses. “Do you recall what you were doing the night the hit was ordered on the congressman?”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe that evening for me please?”
“I was at my father’s estate in Kenilworth. We’d just had dinner and I’d gone into the library to find a book I needed for my research.”
“Was anyone else present at this dinner?”
“Yes. My two brothers, Leo and Lucas.”
“I see.” Mr. Dumas checked the yellow pad in his hand. “It says here that you’re one of six siblings, but only three of you were present that night?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Sam swallowed hard against the grief clogging her throat. So much death, so much destruction, so much senseless waste. All in the name of her father’s violence and greed. “Only four of us are still living. Myself, the twins, and one other brother, Nick. He’s been estranged from the family for years.”
“How did all your other siblings die, Miss Engel?”
“In service to my father.” She looked at him then, met his dark gaze direct, tried to put all her hurt and anger and fury into that long stare. “My other brothers were killed as a result of mob violence.”
A tiny gasp rustled through the jury and Sam felt a flicker of satisfaction. At first, she’d been embarrassed about the sad state of her family’s affairs, but getting it all out in the open was somehow freeing now. She wanted the world to know what an awful man her father was, wanted to put it all behind her so she could move on and start a new life, a new family, with Jack.
“Right.” Mr. Dumas nodded. “Back to that December night. You stated you were in the library and you overheard your father order the hit on the congressman. Is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“Was this conversation of a personal nature or business?”
“Business.” She exhaled slowly. If you could call murder a business.
“Did your father often conduct business out of his home?”
“Of course. It’s the only place he could be assured of absolute privacy.”
“And why would he need privacy, Miss Engel?”
“Because his business is illegal.”
Her father shifted slightly in his seat, shooting visual daggers at her. Instead of allowing herself to be intimidated, she sought out Jack’s calm gray gaze. He gave her a small nod and a wink.
“And did you hear him specifically order the murder of Congressman Nash, Miss Engel?” Mr. Dumas asked.
“Yes.”
Her father looked livid.
“And Miss Engel,” Mr. Dumas said. “You are aware that Congressman Nash was assassinated a week later?”
“I am. I was out of the country at the time, doing work toward my PhD in Marine Biology in Costa Rica. When I heard the news, I immediately knew my father had been involved. I called the US District Attorney’s office to tell them what I knew and agreed to testify. In a matter of days, my life changed forever. My father found out about my deal and sent men after me, but I was taken into protective custody and put into witness protection until I could come here today to testify.”
She looked at Jack again. Such simple, straightforward statements for such a momentous time in her life. If it hadn’t been for Costa Rice, she never would’ve met Jack, never would’ve conceived Glory, never would’ve had the promise of such a beautiful love, a beautiful life, a beautiful future. She loved him more than she could say. The urge to get up and run into his arms was nearly overwhelming, but she forced herself to stay put.
“And you’re certain of the role your father played?”
“Yes.” She squared her shoulders and met her father’s gaze again. If she was going to take him down, then she wanted to be brave about it. “I heard him give the order. Kill Nash. He had to take the congressman out, otherwise the man was going to expose my father for what he was—nothing but a gangster. A thief and a killer and a common criminal.”
“Objection!” Her father’s attorney looked ready to throttle her.
“Overruled!” The judge narrowed his gaze on the man, then turned to Sam with a kindly smile. “Please continue, Miss Engel.”
“Thank you.” Renewed purpose and strength filled her. Congressman Nash and his family deserved justice. She didn’t know them personally, but her father needed to pay for his sins. “I’m here today, at great risk to myself and my infant daughter, to make sure that a dangerous man like my father can’t hurt anyone else.” She glanced over at Stefan Engel again. Her father gave her a flat stare to confirm his disinterest in both Sam and her baby. Good. That meant she didn’t have to feel any guilt about this. Good riddance to bad trash, as her mother used to say. “My father, Stefan Engel, deserves the maximum sentence for his crimes. Life without parole.”
The rest of her testimony passed by in a blur of questions from Mr. Dumas and objections from her father’s attorney. On cross-examination, the defense tried to knock holes in her story, say she didn’t hear what she thought she heard that night, or that she was making things up for reasons of her own, but Sam’s statement never wavered.
Finally, it was over and she was allowed to step down off the witness stand. On shaky legs, she walked over to where Jack was waiting to escort her from the room. Zeke and his team followed. Hopefully, she’d said enough, done enough, to get her father convicted and get him off the streets and out of her life forever.
Jack took her hand as they walked down the marbled hall of the courthouse, heading toward the lounge where they’d wait and watch the rest of the proceedings on closed-circuit TV. Zeke got her settled in and Jack brought her water while she called the hotel to check on Glory. The agent watching her said she was fine, which put Sam’s mind to rest. This was the first time she’d left her daughter with a sitter since her birth. It was a big day all around. She hoped her sacrifice now would be worth it.
Minutes turned into hours and they ordered lunch to be delivered to the lounge. Jack had long since removed his suit jacket and tie, as had the other male agents in the room. He sat sprawled in the chair at the conference table, his long legs stretched out and his foot resting against hers in a show of support and solidarity. Every so often, he’d find an excuse to brush up against her or whisper in her ear or otherwise provide her a hint of comfort during the stress of all this.
The trial was actually pretty engrossing too. Once she’d given her testimony, several police officers, including the secret service who’d been assigned to Congressman Nash at the time of his death, testified. Then, finally, the rogue agent Zeke and his team had captured the night before took the stand.
Mr. Dumas questioned him as well, and what he told the court was a revelation. At least it was to Sam. She’d assumed her father had paid those agents to take her out before her testimony, but according to this guy, it was another member of her father’s association who had arranged the whole thing. He’d tried to rally a huge group for the attack, assuming that everyone would want to “prove” themselves by knocking out the boss’s daughter, the traitor, and taking over the business. But the plan had backfired and most of the guys had defected before the actual attack, leaving only the four who were in custody now.
After that bombshell, the court recessed for a lunch break, and Sam sat back, pushing aside her half-eaten sandwich, trying to wrap her head around everything they’d just seen and heard.
“Everything okay, darling?” Jack asked, taking her hand.
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a lot, you know?”
Zeke, who was sitting across the
table from them, grinned. “Well, I’d say this is probably the best outcome you could’ve wished for.”
“How so?” Sam asked.
“Between your killer testimony and the fact the major players in your dad’s syndicate are now in custody, that means you won’t need me or my department’s protection anymore.” Zeke took a sip of his soda. “Unless you want it.”
Sam blinked at him several times, then glanced at Jack. “You really think things will break our way?”
“I do.” Zeke crumped up his empty sandwich wrapper then tossed it into the trash bin near the wall. “I’ve seen a lot of these trials in my day and this one seems pretty cut and dried to me. They’ve got overwhelming evidence against your father already. He’s been on the Justice Department’s radar for years and they’ve been biding their time, waiting for a smoking gun to really nail him to the wall. Your agreement to testify gave them the ammunition they needed to put him away for eternity. He’s lucky Illinois abolished the death sentence.”
Jack snorted. “Too bad. I’m usually anti-death, but in this case...”
“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Zeke said, chuckling. “Prison has a way of handling these situations. Stefan Engel has made enough enemies in his life that it won’t be a pleasant experience for him. Trust me.”
Sam would’ve felt sorry for her father, if he hadn’t been such a heinous human being.
“Even if the impossible happens and your father is released someday,” Zeke concluded, “his power structure has toppled. His best men are facing charges of their own. There’s no one left to target you—at least, not anyone with the power to be a serious threat. You know how I told you that we’d try to get your father to make a deal? This is much better than that—now he has nothing to bargain with.”
She took a deep breath, then exhaled slow, the burden of all those months of running, of hiding, of fearing for her life each day, lifting from her shoulders at last. She felt freer, lighter, nearly buoyant as she smiled at Jack. “Guess we’ve got some planning to do then, huh?”
The Protective SEAL Page 17