Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  “Please don’t do that. And it won’t help anything if you run away. You’ll have to come back eventually and face the music.” She leaned into Nick’s embrace. “Just remember that everyone felt you were the better parent. If they reopen the case, another judge isn’t going to necessarily see it differently.”

  “I can’t believe I might have to go through that hell all over again. I wish she’d just go away. She doesn’t even want him.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say to that. From everything she’d heard, Lori Phillips had gone to tremendous lengths to clean up her life in an effort to get custody of her son. But that wasn’t what Gonzo needed to hear right now. “I know this has to be really stressful, but there’s nothing you can do on a holiday weekend. Try to relax until you know more. And don’t do anything stupid that’ll make your case more complicated—or mess up your recovery. We need you back at work.”

  “I know. I just feel like... God, Sam, I’m losing it over here.”

  “Do you need me to come over there and keep you from doing something stupid?”

  “No, Chris is here, and she’s doing what she can. The thought of losing Alex... I can’t lose him. I’d never survive it.”

  “Do you promise you’ll stay calm and let the process work the way it’s supposed to?”

  After an uncomfortably long silence, Gonzo said, “Yeah.”

  “Gonzo, seriously. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Think about your hard-won career and the family that needs you. Stay calm.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Chris told me to call you. She said I’d feel better after I talked to you, and I do.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your evening. I know you guys had plans.”

  “No worries. You know you can always call me. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you, and happy anniversary too. It’ll be a happy New Year for all of us. I know it will.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Um, when have you ever known me not to be right?”

  Her husband and friend groaned in stereo.

  “On that note, I’ll let you go.”

  “Take care.” Sam closed the phone and blew out a deep breath. “He’s freaking out.”

  “I heard,” Nick said.

  “And blaming himself.”

  “I wonder how Lori found out about his connection to Morton.”

  “Her lawyers must’ve done some digging around.”

  “You know I’m always on Gonzo’s side,” Nick said tentatively. “He’s become my friend as much as he’s yours.”

  “But?”

  “He fucked up by not disclosing his past relationship with Morton. I’d be surprised if the whole case isn’t tossed. The bar will probably have something to say about Morton not disclosing it either.”

  “Damn. What a mess. Poor Gonzo. He thought he was home free with permanent custody of Alex, and now this.”

  Nick consulted the silver TAG Heuer watch she’d given him for Christmas, much to his surprise. “May I be selfish for a minute here?”

  “But of course.”

  “Before we start another crazy year, I need a few minutes alone with my wife on the roof.”

  “Your wife is always happy to give you a few minutes.”

  He got up and helped her out of her chair and into the coat that magically appeared, brought by a member of the attentive restaurant staff. With the coat in place, he gathered her long hair and let it slide through his fingers in a move reminiscent of when they first reconnected after John O’Connor’s murder. He’d been combing his fingers through her hair as often as he could ever since.

  Hand in hand, they followed two of his agents up the stairs to the roof while two others followed behind them. Their city stretched out before them, from the Capitol to the Washington Monument to Lincoln to the right and Jefferson to the left. In the middle sat the White House, where Nick now had an office in the West Wing that he would report to for the first time the day after tomorrow. When they’d stood here a year ago, they never could’ve imagined that particular development transpiring the way it had.

  “We’ve got you set up over here, sir.” Brant gestured to a protected corner of the roof that left only two sides open. A small sofa had been placed on the roof along with a blanket.

  “Thanks, Brant.” With his hand on her back, Nick guided Sam to the appointed spot.

  “Much more cozy than last year,” Sam said.

  “And far less private.” The agents had faded into the darkness, but they—and others—were watching closely. They’d been told to tell no one of their plans for New Year’s Eve. If no one knew where they were, the chances of any sort of incident were minimized.

  Sam snuggled up to him. “We’ll make the most of it.”

  He put his arms around her and tossed the blanket over them. “I remember how cold you were last year even though you pretended otherwise.”

  “How could I be cold when you were holding me and making me hot for you the way I always am?”

  “Mmm,” he said in a low growl that sent shivers dancing down her spine. “I love that you’re always hot for me. This, right here...” He hugged her in closer to him. “The best thing in my life, hands down.”

  “And the boy.”

  “And the boy,” he said. “Thank you for the most amazing year of my life. A year ago tonight, if I’d employed my wildest imagination, I never could’ve conjured up the year we’ve spent together. Just when I think I love you as much as a man can possibly love a woman, I find out there’s more.”

  Sam sighed with pleasure and delight at the magic she found in his arms. “I keep waiting for it to get real, you know?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The blush has to wear off the rose eventually, doesn’t it?”

  Chuckling, he said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen to us, babe. It keeps getting better all the time. Especially lately. Living in the bubble like we are, the time we spend by ourselves out of the spotlight is even more important than it used to be.”

  “My New Year’s resolution is to spend as much time completely alone with my husband as I possibly can.”

  “Your husband wholeheartedly approves of that resolution.”

  “What’s yours?”

  “To continue to love my wife and son with everything I have to give them.” He sealed his resolution with a kiss that ended when the first of the fireworks erupted over the city, casting the landmarks in vivid blues and reds.

  Sam appreciated the way he used his muscular frame to shield them from the watchful eyes of his detail. She caressed his face, dragging her index finger over his lower lip that was still damp from their kisses. “Same time and place next year?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Chapter Three

  They arrived home to Shelby asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Avery’s arms. The agent was awake, watching the New Year’s festivities in Times Square on TV. Nick hated having that guy in his house, but Hill’s attentions were now focused on Shelby rather than Sam. At least he hoped so.

  Every so often he caught him looking at Sam with something way outside the bounds of friendship, and at those times, Nick wondered if he’d really moved on or if he was merely using their wonderful personal assistant to stay close to Sam. If Nick ever discovered that to be true, he’d have the agent transferred to an outpost in Siberia so fast his head would spin.

  He’d like to think he was above using his position for his own agenda, but in the case of the FBI agent who had a “thing” for his wife, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him removed from her orbit if it came to that. So he kept a close eye on the guy who seemed to be around their ho
use more and more often lately. With all the women in the District he could be dating, why their personal assistant?

  Not that Shelby wasn’t fabulous—she was. Any guy would be lucky to date her. But Nick found the situation curious at best, fishy at worse. So while Sam talked to Hill, Nick went through the motions of hanging their coats in the front hall closet. He hoped Hill would get the hint and go home so Nick could take his wife to bed.

  What if he said that? “Hill, could you please leave? I need to make mad, passionate love to my wife, and you’re screwing things up just by being here.” Nick smiled to himself as he imagined the look of utter scorn he’d receive from Sam if he said it, but damn, he wanted to. Rather than get himself in trouble when he was planning to get very lucky, he went into the kitchen to fix himself a nightcap from the bottle of bourbon Graham O’Connor had given him on the one-year anniversary of John’s death.

  Rather than wallow in their ongoing grief, they’d chosen to toast their son and best friend with drinks and cigars that had left Nick feeling rather sick at the end of the evening. But they’d gotten Graham and his wife, Laine, through the day, and that was all that mattered. One year. How was it possible that John had already been gone a year? He’d never believe the changes to all their lives since then, most particularly Nick, who’d gone from John’s chief of staff to the Senate to vice president of the United States in one short dizzying year. He’d also gone from single to married to fatherhood in the same year.

  The best part, by far, had been reconnecting with Sam in the wake of John’s murder. That something so amazing and life-changing could’ve come from the worst day of his life was nothing short of a miracle. She was a miracle. His miracle.

  She came into the kitchen looking gorgeous in the clingy, sexy black dress, her cheeks still red from the cold, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hiding out?”

  “Nothing of the sort.” He held up his glass. “Having a nightcap. Join me?”

  “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  “Feeling risky tonight, are you?” Bourbon wasn’t usually her drink of choice, but he poured her a couple of fingers nonetheless. “Is he gone?”

  “They both are, so you can come out of hiding. I’m proud of you, though, for leaving me alone with him.” She patted his face indulgently. “My little boy might be growing up.”

  Amused, he took a sip of his drink. “Does thinking about how quickly I could have him transferred to Siberia count as growing up?”

  “Nick...”

  “What? I didn’t say I was doing it. I simply said I’d thought about it.”

  She shook her head and grinned at him. “Want to know what I was thinking about?”

  “Always.”

  “You’ll have to come upstairs to find out.” Taking her drink with her, she left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

  Curious and aroused and amused, he went after her, watching the gentle sway of her exceptional ass on the way up. That she put a little extra swing in her step for his benefit wasn’t lost on him. His detail had disappeared into what used to be his study and now served as command central. The loss of the office space was a small price to pay for being allowed to remain in their home. He had no idea what the agents did all night while he slept, and he honestly didn’t care.

  Before the new job, Nick had craved the time alone with Sam at the end of every long day. Now he absolutely lived for it. From the moment their bedroom door closed behind them, they were completely alone until seven the next morning, at which time he was required to check in with the detail—five days a week. On weekends, they gave him until nine. In private, he and Sam referred to it as his “prison schedule.”

  In the hallway outside Scotty’s room, Darcy, one of the agents assigned to his son’s detail, stood when she saw them approach.

  “Good evening, Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano, and Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you, Darcy.” He gestured to Scotty’s door. “May we?”

  “Of course.”

  By now, Scotty’s detail was accustomed to the fact that they never went to bed without checking one last time on their sleeping son. After being away from him, even for a few hours, they needed to lay eyes on him.

  Nick followed Sam into the room that was tricked out in Red Sox and superhero decorations and smelled like the Hatchet cologne he’d recently begun wearing much to their dismay. Sam had tried to tell him that no girl—ever—would be attracted to a guy who smelled like that stuff. She’d bought him some Lacoste cologne for Christmas, and they were hoping he’d take to it—soon.

  Sam leaned over the bed, brushed dark hair from Scotty’s forehead and kissed him. Nick followed suit, running his fingers through the hair that was so much like his he might’ve been the boy’s biological father. But he wasn’t. Some other guy had fathered him, and they were making the required effort to find him so they could finalize the adoption. Nick might actually sleep at night once that was done.

  He shared a smile with Sam, then followed her from the room.

  “Good night,” they said to Darcy.

  “Good night. Sleep well.”

  In their room, Nick closed the door and locked it. None of the agents would dare step foot in there unless the house were on fire or the country under attack, but Nick always locked the door anyway, needing the assurance that for these few hours anyway, they’d be completely alone. If Scotty needed them, he would knock on the door.

  He stripped off his tie and shirt, tossing them over a chair in his haste to be free of the dress clothes he spent far too much time in these days. Watching Sam’s contorted effort to reach the zipper of her dress had him crossing the room to assist.

  “Oh, please,” he said. “Allow me.” Moving her hair to the side, he punctuated his words with kisses to the back of her neck that had her sighing and leaning against him. “I can’t get to the zipper with you snuggled up against me.” He slid his arms around her.

  “I needed this first.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  “It was entirely my pleasure, as is any time I get to spend with you.” He peppered her neck with kisses, making her moan when he latched on to her earlobe. “Let me get that zipper for you. I want to see what’s under this number.”

  “There wasn’t room for much, so don’t get too excited.”

  He pressed his erection into the cleft between her buttocks. “Too late.” Her girlish giggle, the one she saved only for him, was music to his ears. He released her only enough to access the zipper. With it unfastened, she shimmied out of the dress, sending his arousal into the red zone as he watched her hips slide from side to side. “Could I get that on video sometime?”

  “In your dreams.”

  “That was so hot, babe.”

  “What was? All I did was take off my dress.”

  He took hold of her hand and pressed it against his erection. “And look what happened when you did.”

  “Mmm, that feels pretty serious. We should do something about that.” She turned to him, her breasts barely contained by a sheer strapless bra. His gaze wandered down to the scrap of thong that covered her.

  He licked lips that had gone dry with lust. “And you said I shouldn’t get too excited. Look at you.”

  She pulled his T-shirt up and over his head and then went to work on his belt and pants. “I’d so much rather look at you.” When he sprang free of his boxers, she took him in hand and then dropped to her knees before him.

  Oh, Christ. “Sam, I don’t know if I can take that tonight.”

  “Since when are you good for only once? It’s a holiday. We’ve got all night, and we even get to sleep in.” As she spoke, she let her lips vibrate against his shaft as she stroked him. The combination was overwhelming, and she’d barely touched him. Then s
he opened her mouth and drew him in, sucking and licking her way down his length.

  “God, Samantha.” When his legs began to tremble, she cupped his balls, sliding her fingers back and forth until he could no longer control the need to pump his hips.

  She took most of him, letting him slide into her throat and then swallowing, which finished him right off.

  Fisting her hair, he let go of all his thoughts and cares and worries, giving everything he had to her in wave after wave of pleasure. She brought him down slowly, gently licking and touching him until he nearly had to beg for mercy. She kissed her way up to his belly and then to his chest, tonguing his nipples and then his lips.

  “Come with me.” She grabbed the comforter and two pillows off the bed and brought them to the floor in front of the gas fireplace, which she lit with the press of a button. “Remember last year?”

  “I remember.” He joined her on the floor, wrapping his arms around her as she arranged the comforter over them. “The first night we spent in this house.” Behind her back, he unhooked her bra and moved it out of the way, loving the feel of her breasts against his chest. Then he pushed the thong down her legs, and slid his leg between hers.

  “In case I never told you,” she said, “I really love this house. I love that it’s right near my dad’s. I love that you live here and that Scotty lives here now and that we got to stay here after your promotion.”

  Laughing, he said, “Is that what we’re calling the mess I’ve made of our lives?”

  “Uh-huh. I love that I got a whole room for a closet, and you know how much I love our loft.”

  “The loft is a personal favorite of mine too.” As he kissed her, he moved so he was on top, poised between her legs while gazing down at her. “But having you here with me is the best part. You and Scotty. You guys are all I need to be happy.”

  Based on the fact that he hadn’t heard a word from his new boss or the new boss’s staff since the day he was sworn in, Nick had a sneaking suspicion that Nelson had used him to boost sagging approval ratings. The president had been reelected by one of the narrowest margins in history, and the Democrats had lost control of the House. The president’s second term promised to be contentious and polarizing, so a popular vice president wouldn’t hurt anything.