by Marie Force
“I know. Ang is going to set it up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s time.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
“Do you want to go home? I can take over from here.”
“I figured you’d want to be with Nick at the hospital. I had Mike bring me a bag so I could stay with Scotty.”
“I’m not sure where I belong right now. I’ve never felt so divided.”
“Welcome to motherhood,” Tracy said, smiling. “Scotty is fine with me, and you want to be with Nick, so go. We’ve got it covered here.”
“You must’ve had plans for this weekend.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be shifted around.”
“Thank you. You and Angela are the best. Always there when I need you.”
“Right back at you. I’ll never be able to pay you back for everything you did for Brooke last year.”
“I was just doing my job.”
“You did way more than your job, and we both know it.”
“All that matters is that she’s doing great and finishing up her senior year and going to college.”
“UVA of all places,” Tracy said. “I’m so proud of her.”
“We all are. I’m going to grab a quick shower and change before I head back to the hospital. But first, let’s get my big boy up to bed.”
They woke Scotty, who brightened at the sight of Sam. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s cranky about being in the hospital.”
“That’s good. That means he’s fine.”
“I’m going to tuck you in and head back to be with him. Tracy will spend the night, okay?”
“Sure, you should be with him.”
“I should be with both of you.”
“Until we clone you, that’s not possible.”
“Dear God,” Tracy said, shuddering dramatically, “do not clone her. One of her is more than enough.”
“No kidding,” Scotty said.
“Hey, I’m in the room,” Sam said, while hiding her pleasure at her son’s teasing. She much preferred that to the tears of the night before.
He was still weak and droopy, so they helped him into pajamas and got him tucked into bed.
“I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”
“Will Dad get to come home tomorrow?”
“I fear for Harry’s safety if he doesn’t spring him.”
“I hope he gets to come home.”
Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Me too. Get some sleep and don’t worry about anything. He’s fine.”
His eyes closed. “It’s hard.”
“What is?”
“When you care more about someone else than you do about yourself. It’s hard when something happens to them.”
Sam had to swallow the huge lump in her throat before she could reply. “Yes, it is.” She kissed him again and left him to sleep. After a quick shower and a change into yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she was on her way back to GW to spend the night with Nick.
She sent Angela home to Spencer, who had gotten both kids into bed and raised the white flag on the day. He’d sent a hilarious selfie with a six-pack of beer sitting next to him on the sofa.
“He’s getting so lucky tonight,” Angela said after sharing his comical texts with Sam.
“He got lucky the day you said yes to him.”
“Remember that night when I went to meet him? The night you met Nick for the first time?”
“I remember that night like it was yesterday.”
“Funny how that was such an important night for both of us. I think all the time about how Spence might’ve gotten away while I was busy mourning my relationship with Johnny the douche bag. And you having to put up with all that crap with Peter to get to what you have now with Nick...”
“I don’t like to even think about him.”
“He’s been quiet lately.”
“Ever since his ‘suicide’ attempt you mean?” Sam made air quotes around the word suicide.
“He must’ve been so disappointed when you didn’t come running.”
“Whatever. Those days are long over.”
“Better be,” Nick said.
“He is such an eavesdropper,” Angela said, laughing.
Sam gave her a hug and sent her on her way. “You really are a terrible eavesdropper,” Sam said to Nick when they were alone.
“Come here.”
“I’m here.”
“All the way.” Without opening his eyes, he held out his arms to her, and she crawled into bed with him.
“There. Much better.”
“You do seem much better.”
“I’m outta here in the morning. I don’t care what Harry says.”
“You’ll do what you’re told, which is what you always say to me when I’m in this place.”
“Hate when my own words come back to haunt me. How’s Scotty?”
“Feeling much better and worried about you. He said it’s hard when you care about someone else more than you care about yourself.”
“Did he now.” Nick sighed. “Wow.”
“I knew that would get to you.”
“Right here.” He rubbed his chest. “Now, how about you fill me in on what happened yesterday? It was only yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, it was. Feels like a lifetime ago, though.” She told him about the results of the IAB hearing, Josh Hamilton and what he’d uncovered on the Internet.
“So he just happened to see an age-progression photo that was of him? What’re the odds of that?”
“Astronomical.”
“Imagine seeing one of those photos, and it’s you. Jesus.”
“You haven’t even heard the real kicker yet. Guess who his father is?”
“Who?”
“Troy Hamilton.”
“As in the FBI director Troy Hamilton?”
“One and the same.”
“Holy shit. Sam, seriously... Are you kidding me right now?”
“Would I do that?”
“What’s your plan?”
“To keep him alive while we wait for DNA proof that he’s Taylor Rollings.”
“So you think he is?”
“I think he could be. The resemblance to the photo is uncanny. It’s like someone drew a picture of him and posted it. His thirtieth birthday is next week, so the timing works. And according to Freddie, who I’ve got babysitting him, his father has been calling every fifteen minutes, which is more than he’s called his son in the last five years.”
“So Hamilton knows about the photo—and he knows that Josh knows.”
“Yeah, that’s the theory. How well do you know Hamilton?”
“Not very well. From what I’ve seen at hearings on the Hill and in a few meetings at the White House, he’s a cool customer with an ego the size of Texas.”
“It’s well earned. He’s a legend in law enforcement circles.”
“And in his own mind.”
“So you don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him well enough not to like him, but something about him is off-putting. Can’t put my finger on it.”
“You think he’d be capable of kidnapping someone’s child and taking him home to raise as his own?”
“Hell if I know. I can’t imagine how anyone would be capable of such a thing. Those poor people. They’ve been through hell for thirty years. It sure would be something if you could give them some peace.”
“If Josh turns out to be Taylor, I fear that peace will be the least of what I’m giving them, and the frustrating part is that there’s not a damned thing we can do from an investigative perspective until the DNA comes back.”
&
nbsp; “You could look into where Hamilton and his wife were the day Taylor went missing.”
“How can I do that without bringing down the wrath of Hamilton on me and the department?”
“Carefully.”
Sam could hear how tired he was in the way he said that one word. “You need to sleep now. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
He didn’t protest, which was unlike him, especially since he had such a complicated relationship with sleep. His insomnia had been awful since he became vice president, which was one of many challenges they’d faced after he accepted the president’s offer to replace the ailing Joe Gooding.
“Thanks for waking up earlier,” she whispered.
His hand moved in small circles on her back. “Sorry I scared you.”
“You really did. Sorry for all the times I’ve scared you.”
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too. So much.” If anything ever happened to him... No, she couldn’t think about that or she’d go mad. There were two agents stationed right outside the door to ensure that nothing happened to him. But they hadn’t been able to prevent severe dehydration. Her stomach ached from the fear of the many things that could happen to someone she loved that no one could prevent.
“Stop,” he whispered. “I can feel you spinning. Everything is fine. I promise.”
Sam took a deep breath, closed her eyes and carried his assurances to sleep with her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NICK WAS RELEASED from the hospital the next afternoon. With the hospital surrounded by photographers hoping for a glimpse of the ailing vice president, the Secret Service arranged for him to be released through a loading dock.
“I’ve been officially reduced to cargo,” he said when they were settled in the back of one of the big black SUVs.
Sam took hold of his hand. “Precious cargo.” Though he looked a thousand times better than he had yesterday, he was moving slowly and his face was still paler than Sam had ever seen it.
They were whisked through the streets of the city with the kind of efficiency only the Secret Service could provide in the notoriously clogged District. On the way up the ramp to their house, Nick waved to the photographers that had gathered outside the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street.
“I predict that photo will be on the front page of every paper in the country tomorrow,” Sam said.
“Maybe they’ll stop frothing at the mouth now that they know I’m going to live.”
“Too soon for jokes.” Her cell phone rang, and after a brief glance at the caller ID, she ignored the call from Darren Tabor. He was on her shit list after publishing the article about her suspension.
Melinda, the agent on duty, opened the door for them. “Welcome home, Mr. Vice President. Good to see you looking well.”
“Thanks, Melinda.”
Sam wanted to tell Secret Service Barbie to get her filthy eyes off her husband, but she held back that urge. One of these days...
Scotty came rushing toward them, hurtling himself into Nick’s outstretched arms, which cleared Sam’s mind of every thought that wasn’t focused on her family.
“So glad you’re home,” Scotty said.
“Good to be here.” Nick smiled at her over Scotty’s head as he hugged their son for much longer than usual since Scotty had become a teenager and began recoiling from most forms of parental affection. “You’re feeling better?”
“A lot better today. How about you?”
“Same. Still not perfect, but better.”
“This would be a good day to binge watch Star Wars,” Scotty said.
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Nick replied.
They went upstairs to the master bedroom, and Sam got them settled in bed with remote controls and tall glasses of ice water. She’d been taught a big lesson about the perils of dehydration and was pushing the water hard.
“Move over and let me in,” she said to Scotty.
“You hate Star Wars.”
“True, but I love you, and I need some snuggles.”
He curled up his lip at the word snuggle, but he moved closer to Nick to let her in.
She had just gotten settled when her phone rang again. Prepared to tell Darren to fuck off and leave her alone, she flipped open the phone.
“Sam, we’ve got a problem,” Freddie said. “You need to get over here.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Josh is going off the rails. He’s terrified his father is going to have him killed.”
“What? He said that?”
“He’s been ranting about it all morning. I tried to talk him down because I know you’re dealing with Nick and the flu and everything, but he’s losing it. Nothing I say gets through to him.”
The last freaking thing she felt like doing was leaving the nice warm bed and her two favorite people, but she couldn’t let Freddie twist in the wind alone with Josh. “Where are you?”
“Crystal Gateway. He’s paranoid about me calling you. He’s convinced Hamilton is probably having you followed.”
“How would Hamilton even know I’m involved?”
“Josh says he knows everything.” After a brief pause, Freddie added, “In case there’s any truth to it, shut your phone off before you leave so he can’t find you.”
“So you’re buying into the conspiracy theories?”
Lowering his voice, Freddie said, “There’s something about how fearful he is that’s resonating with me. I’m getting a gut check.”
Sam had taught him to trust his gut, so the comment had her moving a little quicker to put on the shoes she’d only recently kicked off. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks.”
While Scotty’s gaze remained glued to the action on the TV, Nick was watching her. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Josh is melting down. Gotta do some damage control. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Be careful.”
She went around the bed to kiss him, which had Scotty making retching noises.
Nick smiled and curled his hand around her neck to keep her there for a moment longer. Into her ear, he whispered, “Watch out for Troy Hamilton. Be extra careful.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Mindful of Freddie’s warning, she powered down her phone and put it in her pocket. Though she was suspended, she still unlocked her bedside table to retrieve the weapon she never left home without, except when running after the ambulance carrying her husband. She stuck her badge into her back pocket just in case she needed it, not that she expected to.
“Scotty, you’re in charge,” Sam said. “Make sure he does nothing but rest.”
“Got it,” he said, eyes still glued to the TV.
Though they were both a lot better than they’d been, she still hated to leave them, even for a couple of hours. And when she stepped outside the bedroom to see Melinda positioned in the hallway, she hated leaving them even more.
“They’re not to be disturbed for any reason,” Sam said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam wanted to snap back at her, to tell her not to call her ma’am, but that would be pointless. As the second lady, she was ma’am to the Secret Service whether she wanted to be or not. There were battles that could be fought and won, but that wasn’t one of them. Besides, she had enough on her plate at the moment without taking on Nick’s detail.
Was it petty to let the woman bug her? Of course it was. Melinda was only doing her job, but why had her young, sexy husband warranted a young, sexy female agent on his detail? Sam wondered if there was someone she could complain to and get Melinda reassigned. But she’d never do that, especially as a law enforcement officer herself. It was ha
rd enough working in the old boys’ club without making life difficult for a female colleague.
So she would keep her mouth shut and put up with Melinda’s presence in her home and her eyes on Nick, but she didn’t have to like it.
Traffic was light on Sunday afternoon, and she made good time on her way to Arlington, keeping half an eye on the rearview mirror looking for a tail that didn’t materialize. If Hamilton was having her followed, he wasn’t being obvious about it. There was no way anyone could get near her car outside the house with the Secret Service all over the place, and the car had been home since she brought Josh there the other day. For once, having the place crawling with Secret Service was coming in handy.
Well, that time they stopped Stahl from killing her on her own doorstep had been rather convenient too.
She kept an eye in the mirror as she took the 14th Street Bridge out of the city into Northern Virginia and headed for the Crystal City exit. That the Crystal Gateway Marriott was right next door to the Crystal City Marriott perplexed her as it always did. Who’d had the big idea to give two hotels practically the same name? Freddie had said Gateway, hadn’t he?
She pulled up to the main door and flashed her badge to the valet on duty. “I won’t be long.”
His eyes bugged when he recognized her.
Sam was long gone before he stopped gawking. Inside, she used a house phone to ask the operator to connect her with Freddie Cruz’s room. He answered on the first ring.
“Yeah.”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“Room 718.”
“On my way.”
“Were you tailed?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Okay.”
Sam took the elevator to the seventh floor and followed the hallway signs to the room. She knocked once, and Freddie opened the door. With one look she could see he was harried and annoyed.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said in a low growl. “He’s driving me nuts.”
Josh was pacing the small room, energy coming off his body in waves that were nearly visible. With his face a scary shade of red, he looked like he was about to blow from the pressure building inside him.
“Josh,” Sam said, since he hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival.