by Marie Force
Sam slid on the thong that matched the corset. When she turned to go back to the bedroom, she found her husband blocking the doorway.
His eyes blazed a path down the front of her as he took in the getup.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said, holding out a hand to stop him from coming in. “We so don’t have time for that look.”
Nick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I need one quick feel to tide me over until later, when I’ll spend a lot more time examining every delicious detail.”
Sam released a nervous laugh and pressed her hand to his chest to keep him from getting too close. “It won’t be my fault if you make me late.”
“So noted,” he said, taking her hand from his chest and pulling her in. He put his arms around her and ran his hands from her shoulders to her waist and below to cup her buttocks. When he drew her tight against him, his arousal pulsed between them. His lips found her neck, and Sam tipped her head to give him better access. “How am I supposed to function tonight knowing what’s under your dress?”
Sam bit her lip to keep from crying out when he hit the spot on her neck that made her crazy. She slid her hands into his tuxedo jacket and took a good long feel of her favorite chest and rock-hard belly. “Why did you come back upstairs?”
“Forgot my phone in the bedroom.”
A knock on the door startled them.
“Are you fooling around in there?” Tracy asked. “If you mess up my makeup job, Nick, I’ll shoot you.”
“Go away,” Nick growled.
“The car will be here in fifteen minutes,” Tracy reminded him.
“She’ll be ready.”
“Nick...” Sam laughed and shuddered as his industrious hands set her nerve endings on fire. “Come on. We really don’t have time for this.”
“I hate that there’s always something demanding our time.”
She placed her hands on his smooth face and compelled him to look at her. “It makes the anticipation that much sweeter.” On tiptoes, she pressed her lips lightly to his, gasping when even that slight contact sent pain radiating through her injured face. “You’ll have hours to anticipate what happens when we get home and you have me all to yourself.” She let her hand drop below his belt to squeeze his erection.
He groaned. “You’re not helping anything.” Grabbing her hand, he brought it up to his lips. “Besides, you’re injured. I shouldn’t be pawing at you like a crazed beast.”
“I love the way you want me so much,” she assured him. “Don’t ever stop.”
“No worries there, babe.” He stepped back from her and made a visible effort to gather himself. “The longer we’re together, the more I want you. It’s like a fever.”
She did her best to smile at him. “I can get your phone for you.”
“Probably a good idea. I can’t show my face in the hornet’s nest with such a visible ‘problem.’”
The doorbell chimed through the house, making Nick groan. “Who the hell is that now?”
“Could it be the car service?”
“Probably. Jeez, you’ve got my whole brain scrambled.”
“I told you not to touch me. This is what you get.” Sam laughed at his tortured expression and scooted out the door ahead of him.
Shelby and Tracy were gabbing up a storm when Sam stepped into the bedroom.
“Ah,” Tracy said, jumping up from her perch on the bed. “Finally! Is the grope session over?”
“For now,” Sam said, blushing despite her iron will not to. She never had been able to dodge her older sister’s penetrating stare. She hoped the makeup would cover her blush.
“I suppose I’d better get used to this kind of thing,” Shelby said.
Sam detected a hint of wistfulness in her tone.
“They’re all over each other every chance they get,” Tracy said.
“Hello,” Sam said as she stepped into the dress Tracy held for her. “I’m in the room.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Shelby giggled at their sisterly banter.
After Tracy zipped Sam into the dress, she turned her to face the full-length mirror.
“You look gorgeous, Sam,” Shelby said. “Pink is definitely your color.”
“It’s not pink.” Sam had to admit that she looked pretty damned good, despite the puffiness on her face.
“One thing is for certain, they’ll notice the dress and your killer bod before they see your face,” Tracy said.
“That’s comforting,” Sam said. She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth—carefully—and comb her hair one last time. Since they so rarely got to spend an evening together during campaign season, Sam had left her hair down the way her husband liked it best. Emerging from the bathroom, she gave her sister a quick hug. “Thanks a million, Trace. As always, you came through for me big-time.”
“My pleasure, hon. You’re stunning. Go knock ’em dead.”
In deference to the special occasion, Sam slid her sparkling engagement ring on over the wedding band she wore all the time and fastened the diamond key necklace Nick had given her as a wedding gift.
She grabbed Nick’s phone off his dresser and led the other women downstairs, stopping short when she found Agent Hill standing in her living room. He and Nick were eyeing one another like wary dogs about to tear each other’s throats out.
And then Nick noticed her, and his full focus was on her.
Later, when she was alone and had time to process it, she would pick over the moment of unguarded awe Hill sent her way when he first laid eyes on her in the slinky dress. Luckily, his usual flat mask was back in place before anyone else noticed. But Sam had noticed, and the observation left her reeling as she tried to figure out what it meant.
Chapter Twelve
Nick walked over, put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” In a low tone that only he could hear, she said, “Don’t you dare lift your leg and pee on me.”
He drew back from her and looked down at her, puzzlement marking his face. “Huh?”
Sam decided she’d deal with him in the car. “What’s up, Hill?”
“I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I’ve come from the Kavanaugh’s house, and since I was close by, I wanted to let you know we’ve had a rather significant break in the kidnapping case.”
Sam was instantly on alert and right back in cop mode. “Speak. Quickly.”
“Crime scene detectives found records of a GPS locating device Victoria had implanted in the baby the day after her birth.”
“Are you serious?” Sam asked. “Who does that?”
“Perhaps a mother who’s concerned about the very scenario that later unfolded.”
“Did Derek know about it?”
Hill shook his head. “The IT division has traced the signal to a house in Bellevue,” he said, referring to a rough neighborhood in the city’s southeastern corner.
“I’ll let Cruz know,” Sam said. “He can oversee our team.”
“Already done. He’s notified SWAT, and we’re mobilizing in fifteen minutes.”
Sam stood perfectly still as she fought the overwhelming desire to be part of the team that would hopefully recover Maeve Kavanaugh. The weight of her husband’s hand on her shoulder reminded her that she had somewhere else to be tonight. “Good. Keep me posted.”
Hill seemed almost surprised that she didn’t want to be part of the mission.
Sam watched his eyes shift to her right and realized he’d noticed Shelby and Tracy. “My sister, Tracy, and our, um, new assistant, Shelby Faircloth. Agent Avery Hill.”
Hill nodded to the women. “Ladies.” To Sam, he said, “You have an assistant, huh?” The touch of amusement in his honey drawl irritated her.
Sam wished her usual scowl was available. “Don’t you have a raid to get to?”
“On my way. I’ll let you know how it goes.” To Nick, he nodded and said, “Senator.”
> Nick said nothing as Hill let himself out. Then Nick turned to his wife. “So he had to come to our house to tell you that? Is your phone not working?”
She handed him his phone. “It was down here in my purse, and I’m glad he came to tell me they might’ve found Maeve. Aren’t you glad too?”
His expression was positively thunderous. “Of course I am.”
Wow, Sam thought. When she thought he couldn’t get any sexier, jealous Nick proved otherwise.
“Oh. My. God.” Shelby fanned herself with her hand. “Who the hell was that?”
“I told you,” Sam said, annoyed. “Agent Hill.”
“What kind of agent?” Shelby asked, looking a bit flushed and doe-eyed.
“FBI.”
“That accent,” Tracy said. “Listening to him talk was almost as good as sex.”
“I know!” Shelby said. “I was thinking sex-on-a-stick, baby. I call dibs”
Tracy dissolved into laughter. “Sadly, I’m already married. He’s all yours.”
“I’m so going to like working here,” Shelby said. “All the guys I get to meet in my current line of work are already spoken for. Will we be seeing more of the very yummy Agent Hill?”
“God, I hope not,” Nick said.
“Is he single?” Shelby asked.
“Hell if I know,” Sam said. “If you’re done drooling over my colleague, we’ve got a fundraiser to get to.”
“The car will be here in five minutes,” Nick said.
“Tell me again why we aren’t we driving ourselves?” Sam asked.
Nick slipped an arm around her bare shoulders and drew her in close to him. “I don’t get much time alone with my wife. Why would I spend two hours driving there and back when I could use that time with her so much more...productively?”
“Y’all are too damned cute,” Shelby said.
“He is cute,” Sam said with a pointed look for her new assistant. “I am most definitely not cute. Got me?”
“Absolutely.” Shelby made a poor attempt to hide her smile. “Gotcha, boss.”
* * *
“Are you going to tell me why you were crying before?” Nick asked the minute they were settled in the backseat of the black sedan. A privacy screen sealed them off from the driver as they headed south toward Leesburg.
Sam reached for his hand. “I talked to Celia about the birth-control shot wearing off and the big decision.”
He seemed to stop breathing. “And?”
“She pointed out that if we don’t try at least once more, I’ll always wonder what might’ve been.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“She’s right. I would always wonder. For so long, I didn’t think it was possible, and now...”
“Now that you know it’s possible, it’s all you can think about.”
“Yes.” She forced herself to look directly into his eyes. “I want to try again. One more time. If it doesn’t work, we’ll adopt or hire a surrogate or do whatever people do when they can’t have kids of their own.”
“You’re sure?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
“If you were to get pregnant, how would you handle work and everything?”
“That’s something I’ve thought a lot about. There’s no way I could roll up into a ball for ten months and do nothing. I’d want to keep my routine as regular as possible for as long as I could.”
“And then you’d roll up into a ball?”
Smiling, she nodded. “I wouldn’t take any foolish chances, but I can’t roll myself in bubble wrap, either.”
“Trust me, if that was possible, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He raised his arm, inviting her closer.
Sam rested the uninjured side of her face on his chest, using her hair to protect his suit from her makeup.
“We’re really going to do this?”
She nodded.
“And you’re really going to be all right if it doesn’t go our way?”
“Will you be there to put the pieces back together?”
“Always.”
“Then I’ll be all right.”
“I love you so much, Sam. You have no idea how much.”
“If it’s anywhere near as much as I love you, it’s an awful lot.”
He squeezed her shoulder and ran his lips over her forehead. “I have a good feeling about this.”
“I’m glad.” She closed her eyes tight against the rush of emotion, mindful of the mascara Tracy had applied. “Other than the last five minutes, this has been such a shitty day.”
“Does your face hurt bad?”
“It’s bearable, but that’s the least of my problems.” She told him about what’d happened with McBride and Tyrone as well as the unsatisfying confrontation with her father.
“Jeez,” Nick said. “As if getting pistol whipped in the face wasn’t enough for one day.”
That made Sam laugh and then moan when the wound protested the movement. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“What do you think your dad is keeping from you?”
Sam was still trying to get her head around the awful certainty that he was hiding something that would blow his life—and maybe hers, too—to smithereens if it was ever revealed. “I think he was having an affair, and somehow it’s tied to the Fitzgerald case.”
“Really? I so don’t see him as the cheating type.”
“Well, to be fair, you’ve only known him as a quadriplegic.”
“Still, I know him, and I don’t see it.”
“Tracy has alluded to something big going on between my parents around the same time as the Fitzgerald case, but even she doesn’t know what exactly. Apparently, that was the first time my mother moved out. I don’t remember it, though.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten.”
“And you don’t remember your mother moving out?”
“She was always going off somewhere with her girlfriends or her sisters, so I wouldn’t have thought anything of her being gone. She eventually came back.”
“I hate to say this...”
“I’m already thinking it,” Sam said.
“If your father won’t talk about it, maybe she will.”
The thought of calling her mother after so many years of silence filled Sam with anxiety.
Nick rubbed a soothing hand up and down her arm. “You don’t have to do anything about it until you feel ready.”
“I’m afraid my father will never speak to me again if I pursue this, but how can I not now that I know there were leads that weren’t fully investigated?”
“As the lieutenant in charge of the homicide division, you have an obligation to do your job. Wouldn’t he do the same in your position?”
“Probably, but it’s hard to remember it’s my job when my dad is telling me to leave it alone.”
“He’s put you in an untenable position.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Not that you ever would, but you can’t say anything about this to anyone. I had no choice but to suspend McBride and Tyrone, but if I have my way, no one will ever know why. Of course Stahl is already sniffing around.”
“Don’t worry, babe. I won’t say a word.”
“I wish I’d hear something from Freddie about the raid.”
“You will. As soon as they have something to tell you, you’ll hear.”
* * *
Freddie knew the goal was the safe recovery of Maeve Kavanaugh, and every cell in his body was focused on the baby. That didn’t mean, however, he wasn’t rankled to be taking orders from the Fed who’d put himself in charge of this operation in Sam’s absence.
Ramsey and his partner were stuck in traffic in Maryland, where they’d gone to check out a couple of leads that’d been called in after the Amber Alert was issued.
While they waited for the SWAT team to move into place, Freddie held his position, awaiting Hill’s order to go in. Sweating like a pig from the combination of the Kevlar vest he wore over
his clothes and the oppressive heat, he had his weapon drawn and kept his gaze fixed on the small, shingled house. From the outside, it appeared the place had seen better days, which meant it fit right in with the other houses in the tired neighborhood.
With SWAT in position, Hill ran through a roll call, checking to make sure everyone was in position. When he was finished, Freddie waited to hear the word in his earpiece.
“Go,” Hill said, signaling SWAT to take control of the house. Using a battering ram, they took down the front door as if it were made of paper. A woman’s shrill shriek greeted them.
“Secure,” the SWAT team commander reported less than thirty seconds later.
“Cruz, Arnold,” Hill said. “Go.”
Freddie ran for the open door with Detective Arnold right behind him, providing cover. Inside, they found an older black woman crying hysterically. Her hands were up in deference to the two-dozen semiautomatic weapons trained on her.
The house appeared clean and well kept on the surface. Sitting in a high chair in the kitchen that adjoined the living room, Maeve Kavanaugh watched the goings on warily, as if she didn’t know what to make of all the commotion.
“Hi, Maeve,” Freddie said gently, trying not to scare the poor kid any more than necessary. “My name is Freddie, and your daddy sent me to get you.” A quick assessment showed the child to be clean and apparently well cared for. There were no outward signs of trauma, which didn’t mean the kid hadn’t been traumatized.
“Dada.”
“Yes, Dada sent me.” As Arnold arrested the hysterical woman and recited her rights, Freddie fumbled with the tray, trying to figure out how to get it off the chair.
One of the SWAT officers took mercy on him and reached beneath the tray to release it.
“Thanks,” Freddie said. “No kids.”
“No kidding,” the officer said with a grin. The relief in the room was palpable now that they’d found Maeve unharmed.
When Freddie lifted the blond-haired toddler from the chair, she stiffened and let out a shriek of protest. Her tiny body went rigid in his arms. She was probably tired of being handled by strangers.
“Mama! Mama!” Maeve began to cry in earnest as Freddie carried her out of the house to the paramedics, who whisked her away.
“I’ll ride with her,” Freddie said to Hill as the agent met him outside. “Have you notified Mr. Kavanaugh?”