Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  If it weren’t so fucking sad, she’d laugh her ass off at the sheer lunacy of her life ending at the hands of Leonard Stahl, of all people.

  She was scared. She’d never deny that. The idea of burning to death wasn’t something she relished. But rather than obsess about what was about to happen and how she couldn’t do a thing to stop it, she chose to think about her gorgeous husband, her handsome son, her sisters, her beloved dad, her nieces and nephews, her friends and colleagues at work and the amazing life she’d been privileged to lead. Sam thought about the mother from whom she was estranged and knew a moment of regret. She should’ve fixed things with her. If by some miracle she made it out of here, she’d take care of mending those fences.

  She was loved, admired, respected and feared on the job, which brought her tremendous pleasure. She’d loved every second of her life and her career and especially her marriage to the most amazing man on the planet. Her adorable, wonderful Scotty had made her a mother, and he was everything she could ever hope for in a son. She had no regrets. She would’ve liked a little more time. She would’ve loved the opportunity to be pregnant with Nick’s child, but overall, no regrets.

  Stahl struck a match and flashed an evil grin as the flame ignited.

  While Sam held her breath waiting for him to drop it into the gas he’d spread around the room, he looked at her and smiled maniacally, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. He’d truly lost what was left of his mind if he thought he was going to get out of here alive. And then it occurred to her in a moment of clarity that he planned to go with her. Cops didn’t do well in prison, and one with his snarky personality would be in for a particularly rough time of it.

  Her spirits sank even further, if that was possible. Just do it already, and be done with it. But no, he wanted to drag out his moment of glory, so he blew out that match and reached for another. She could so see him going through the entire box before he dropped the last one into the gas.

  Good, let him dick around for a while. That gave her people time to figure out where she was and how to get her out of there.

  As long as he didn’t accidentally drop one of those matches.

  Sam directed her gaze to where Marissa lay on the floor by the windows. She’d stopped making noise shortly after Stahl had doused her with gas, and Sam wondered if she was dead. Not that she cared about Marissa, who’d played her for a fool and led her into hell. Normally she felt compassion for murder victims. Not this time. She’d made a deal with a sadistic asshole and had gotten exactly what she deserved.

  Stahl continued to work his way through the box of matches.

  Sam wondered how many were left before he was down to the last one, and the moment of truth would be upon them.

  He’d just lit another one when the windows exploded and SWAT officers swarmed into the basement.

  Fucking finally, Sam thought, expelling a sigh of relief that was short-lived when she saw Stahl calmly drop the lit match into the pool of gasoline that surrounded her. Motherfucker. Flames erupted only a few feet from her, the heat searing her face and other areas of exposed skin.

  Two of the SWAT officers, wearing full riot gear, fell onto the flame, dousing it before it went any further. Three others jumped on Stahl, taking him down quickly as he screamed obscenities.

  Sam watched it all happen with a detached sense of relief and disbelief. Was she actually going to survive after all?

  “Is she alive?” a male voice Sam recognized in her heart and soul screamed from outside.

  “I’m alive,” she yelled back, wanting to keep her promise to let him know as soon as she could that she was all right.

  “Thank fucking God.”

  For the first time in hours, Sam had reason to smile. “Don’t touch me,” she said to the SWAT officer who approached her. “Razor wire.”

  “Holy fuck,” he uttered when he took in the sight of her tied to the chair and wrapped in razor wire. Into the radio transmitter he wore on his shoulder, he said, “We need some wire cutters in here. Stat.”

  Smoke hung in the air, mixing with the smell of gasoline.

  “Close call, Lieutenant,” Captain Nickelson said as he took in her predicament.

  “Not the best day I ever had,” Sam replied. “Get me out of here, will you?” She had things to do and people to see.

  “Hang tight. You’re bleeding like crazy and your face is unrecognizable. You’ve got a trip to the hospital in your immediate future.”

  “I want to see my husband.”

  “Not until we get you out of here.”

  “Well, hurry up about it, will you? I’ve got to pee like a racehorse.”

  Into his radio, Nickelson said, “She’s fine. Full of piss and vinegar.” He smiled at her as he said that. “Get EMS in here right away for her and one other vic.”

  Outside, a loud cheer went up that she assumed came from her MPD colleagues. “Aww, they love me.”

  “For some strange reason they do.”

  “I’m touched.” In truth, she was elated and giddy and light-headed with relief—and probably blood loss, but why let that get in the way of a happy ending? She took great pleasure in watching the SWAT officers haul Stahl out of the room, kicking and screaming and squealing like the pig he was. While part of her wished they’d killed him, the other part of her took perverse pleasure in knowing what awaited him in prison. And this time, after he’d committed murder and taken a police officer hostage, there was no way in hell he’d be granted bail.

  Farnsworth, Malone, Gonzo, Cruz and Hill came down the basement stairs. Freddie pulled on a pair of heavy gloves and produced a pair of wire cutters that he used to cut her free from the razor wire while the others stood back and watched, their expressions grim.

  “Where’s Nick?”

  “The Secret Service agent wouldn’t let him come in here. He’s waiting—very impatiently—for you outside,” Malone said.

  “Why do you all look like you’ve lost your best friend?”

  “Because we nearly did,” Freddie replied.

  “I’m fine. It’s over. Nothing to worry about.”

  Hill stood back from the others, hands on his hips, golden eyes trained intently on her.

  Sam looked away from him, uncomfortable as always by the way he looked at her.

  “Um, you should see what you look like,” Gonzo said. “If you could, you wouldn’t be saying you were fine. He tuned you up pretty good, huh?”

  Sam would’ve shrugged, but there was the matter of the razor wire. “He tried, but I didn’t give him one ounce of satisfaction. I didn’t say a single word to him the entire time, but I did spit in his face. That was fun.”

  Farnsworth turned away, his head bent.

  Sam looked at Malone and nodded at him to see to the chief. “Did someone call my dad?”

  “Nick did,” Freddie said. “He was relieved to hear you’re all right and glad he didn’t know you were being held all this time.”

  Gonzo cut the last of the wires that surrounded her and grasped the edges to pull them apart. The wire strands fell into a pile on the floor. Next he went to work on the tight bindings on her hands and legs. When her hands were freed and the blood began to flow again, she gasped from the intense pain. “Fuck, that hurts.”

  EMTs came into the room, carrying equipment and two gurneys.

  “See to her first,” Sam said, nodding to Marissa. “He gut shot her a while ago. I don’t think she’s alive anymore, but I’m not sure.”

  “What happened to the maid?” Hill asked.

  “Marissa shot her when Edna questioned what she was doing taking me hostage.”

  “So Marissa took you hostage?” Gonzo asked.

  “She was in on it with Stahl. From what I could gather, they teamed up to discredit the department.”

  “
Christ,” Malone said. “What a partnership. So why’d he shoot her?”

  “He said she outlived her usefulness. Is Jeannie here?”

  “Yeah, she’s outside,” Freddie said.

  “Tell her to come in here.”

  He made the call on his radio and Detective McBride came rushing in a minute later.

  “Lieutenant, oh my God,” Jeannie said, her eyes wet with unshed tears, “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

  “I need to pee—urgently—and my hands and legs are useless.”

  “Aw jeez,” Gonzo said. “I coulda gone my whole life without knowing that.”

  Thankfully, Jeannie sprang into action, moving to Sam’s side.

  “Wait,” one of the EMTs said. “Don’t move her until we assess her injuries.”

  “I’m fine,” Sam assured her. “Surface stuff. You aren’t going to make me wet myself in front of my brass, are you?”

  The EMT hesitated before gesturing for Jeannie to go ahead.

  Jeannie lifted her right out of the chair and carried her to the bathroom.

  “I had no idea you were so freakishly strong.”

  “I’m running on adrenaline after the last couple of hours.” She put Sam down, waited for her to find her legs and then helped with her pants.

  “This is kinda embarrassing,” Sam said.

  “We’ve been through worse,” Jeannie said with a meaningful look.

  “Yes, we have.”

  “This has been the second worst day of my life.” Jeannie helped her onto the toilet, where Sam took the single most satisfying pee of her life. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

  Her lower body ached from the relief and the pain of holding it for so long. “Had to go the whole freaking time and there was no way I was going to piss myself in front of that asshole. I was all about denying him satisfaction today.”

  “Good for you.” Jeannie hesitated before she said, “He didn’t try to, you know...”

  “Thank God, no.”

  Jeannie blew out a sharp, deep breath. “Thank God is right. Nick is out of his mind.”

  “I can imagine. I need to see him.”

  Jeannie handed her some toilet paper. “Can you do this part yourself?”

  “I hope so.” Though she had very little feeling in her hands, she operated on rote, going through the motions and hoping she’d done a good enough job. What did it matter? She was going to need the world’s biggest shower after this day.

  Jeannie helped her back into her pants, which were shredded from the razor wire. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so. I don’t want the press getting pictures of me like this. What can we do?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  She walked with her arm around Sam back into the family room, where a second team of paramedics waited for her. Marissa had been removed. “Is she dead?”

  “Not quite but close.”

  They got Sam settled on the gurney and began assessing her. At the sight of a large needle heading for her hand, Sam said, “Whoa, what’s that for?”

  “An IV. We need to get some fluid into you.”

  “Get me a bottle of water. No IVs.”

  “Sam,” Malone said in his no-nonsense voice. “Let them take care of you.”

  “No IVs.” She fucking hated needles.

  The paramedic shook his head at her insolence. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

  “Get me out of here. I want to see my husband.”

  “Give us a second to clear the street of media,” Malone said.

  “Hurry up about it.”

  “Is she giving me orders?” Malone asked Gonzo and Cruz, who both seemed relieved to see that her day with Stahl hadn’t done a thing to curb her sauciness.

  “It sounds like that to me, sir.” Freddie said the words in his best suck-up voice even if he seemed like he was about to lose his composure.

  “You guys, look at Stahl for Lori’s murder, Bill Springer’s murder and Elin’s assault.”

  “What?” Freddie said, his face flat with shock. “What did he have to do with that?”

  “He put the guy up to it so you’d go into the jail and do exactly what you did. He was after my inner circle.”

  Freddie took an uncomfortable glance at Malone and Farnsworth.

  “What exactly did you do, Detective Cruz?” Malone asked.

  “I had a conversation with the man who assaulted my girlfriend.”

  “By conversation, do you mean...”

  “I made sure he understood that she’s off-limits to him, and it’s in his best interest to leave her alone.”

  “I see,” Malone said. “I suppose any of us would’ve done the same in your shoes.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m sure you would have if you could see what he did to her,” Freddie said.

  “So this whole thing—Lori’s murder, Springer’s murder, Elin’s assault—it was all done to discredit the department?” Farnsworth asked.

  “Yes,” Sam said, “and he was also the one who told the Springers that we were looking at Billy for the murders of Hugo and the others.”

  “How did he know that?” Gonzo asked. “He’d been relieved of duty before the Springer investigation.”

  “He must’ve had help from within,” Malone concluded. “Someone told him and he told the Springers. That’s how they knew.”

  “Look at Ramsey,” Sam said. “He hates me for some unknown reason and would love to see me go down in flames like I nearly did today.”

  “It’s a good place to start,” Farnsworth said.

  “Can you please get me the fuck out of here?” Sam asked the EMTs.

  “Yeah,” one of them said, “let’s roll.”

  “Is the street clear of all reporters?” Jeannie asked.

  “Let me check.” Freddie ran ahead of the paramedics who planned to take her out through the garage. “Good to go,” he reported a minute later.

  The EMTs rolled her out of the house into the gloriously cold air. After more than an hour of breathing gasoline fumes, she’d never been happier to get a lungful of fresh air.

  Nick and Brant were standing at the end of the driveway. Brant had his hand on Nick’s arm as if he were physically holding her husband back. When Nick saw her coming, he shook off the agent and ran to her.

  Sam held out her arms to him and finally broke down when he wrapped her up in his tight embrace.

  “Tell me you’re all right,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I am now.”

  “God, Sam.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry to put you through this.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “We’d like to get her to the ER,” one of the EMTs said. “Sir.”

  Nick released his tight hold and grasped her hand. “I’m going with her.”

  Brant cleared his throat. “Um, Mr. Vice President—”

  “Right now I’m Mr. Cappuano, and this is my wife. I’m going with her.”

  “You’re going to get me fired,” Brant muttered.

  “You probably ought to get used to it,” Malone said, speaking from experience. “That’s how they roll.”

  “Awesome,” Brant said sarcastically, making the others laugh. “I’ll be right behind you. Don’t step foot out of the ambulance until I’m there.”

  “I suppose I can live with that,” Nick said.

  The paramedics wheeled her to the ambulance and got her settled. Nick followed her into the back of the bone wagon.

  “How bad do I look?”

  “On a scale of bomb to pistol-whipped, you’re more in the pistol-whip end of things.”

>   Relieved that his sense of humor was intact despite what had to have been an awful ordeal for him, she took hold of his left hand and rubbed her thumb over his wedding ring. “You were all I thought about in there—you and Scotty and the last year. I relived every minute.”

  He hung his head and brought her hand to his lips. “He didn’t, you know, try to... I can’t even say it.”

  “No.”

  “Thank God.” He continued to kiss her hand, but now she felt dampness on his face.

  “Come closer. You’re too far away over there.”

  Since she’d refused all needles, the EMT got busy consulting his phone.

  Nick moved over to sit on Sam’s gurney. He propped a hand on either side of her head and leaned in to kiss her.

  “Why do you smell like gas?”

  “Because Stahl dumped it all over the floor and was playing with matches when the SWAT guys busted in on his party.”

  Nick shuddered at the realization of what could’ve happened. “What was he doing out of jail after he attacked you the first time?”

  “He made bail,” Sam said. “I suspect Marissa Springer gave him the money. Between that and his long record of service to the department, his lawyer was able to make a case for bail. He won’t get out again after this. That’s for sure.”

  “If we’re looking at the bright side, one less enemy to contend with.”

  “I have to say, you’re rolling with all of this better than I expected. Dare I say you might be getting used to the insanity that goes along with being married to me?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll never get used to you being in this kind of danger. Never. When I got that call from Christina that you were missing and had possibly been taken hostage, my heart about stopped.”

  “You didn’t tell Scotty, did you?”

  He shook his head, but the grim set to his mouth worried her.

  She traced a finger over his lips. “What’s that about?”

  “We’ll talk later.” He glanced at the EMT. “When we’re alone.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”