Fatal Consequences

by Marie Force

  She murmured in her sleep, and he kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair.

  “Tommy,” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “I woke up and couldn’t hear him. I got worried.”

  “He’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”

  “Are we?”

  She looked up at him, smiling. “Of course we are.

  “I love you so much, Christina. I spent my whole life trying to avoid this kind of committed relationship. Now that I have it, I can’t imagine why I was so eager to avoid it. And I’m not just saying that because you’re helping me with the baby.”

  “I know.” She caressed his face. “I love you too. I can’t believe how fast everything happened and how content I feel.”

  He curled his hand around her neck and pressed his lips to hers. Sinking into the kiss, Gonzo’s heart beat harder as he understood with a clarity he’d never experienced quite so vividly before that she was it for him—the one he’d been waiting for without even knowing he’d been waiting.

  Shifting on top of her, he reveled in the feel of her soft skin.

  Her hands moved on his back, soothing and arousing. She raised her hips in invitation, and he entered her in one swift stroke. No other woman had ever affected him the way she did. When they were first together, he’d expected to grow tired of her the way he had all the others. But the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. He was beginning to realize he would never get enough. That was certainly unprecedented.

  Resting on his elbows, he brushed the hair back from her face and touched his lips to hers. “So beautiful. Such a lady.”

  “Not always,” she said with a coy grin. Her hands cruised down his back to grip his ass, tearing a groan from deep inside him.

  She triggered something primal in him, something possessive and altogether new as he made fierce love to her.

  Afterward, he rested carefully on top of her, worried as always about how much bigger than her he was. Her fingers sifted through his hair as she ran her foot up and down his leg.

  Gonzo breathed her in, wanting her again, wanting her forever. “Marry me,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he had a second to consider the implications.

  She gasped. “Tommy…”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just blurt that out. I don’t have a ring, and a classy woman like you deserves a romantic proposal…” At the sight of her tears and the sound of her laughter, he stopped. “What?”

  “If you don’t stop talking you’ll ruin the most romantic moment of my life.”

  She staggered him. “Yeah?”

  Nodding, she reached for him and brought him down for a kiss that made his head spin.

  “Let me try this again…Christina Billings, I love you. Will you please marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing through her tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tommy Gonzales.”

  “I’ll get you a ring. As soon as I can.”

  “I don’t need one.” She hugged him tight against her. “I have everything I need right here.”

  Alex chose that moment to let out a lusty wail.

  “And then some,” Christina whispered, smiling as she kissed him.

  Sam and Freddie sat in the car outside the headquarters of the Democratic National Committee on South Capitol Street.

  “How’s this gonna go?” Freddie asked.

  “We’re going in there and arresting Sanborn for Jeannie’s kidnapping and rape. Once we get him to HQ, we’ll hammer him on the rest.”

  “What about Bartholomew?”

  “He’s next.”

  “Isn’t that Sanborn over there?” Freddie pointed to where two men were having a heated discussion.

  “It is! And that’s Daniels with him,” she said, referring to the speaker of the House. “He was third on my list. Gee, wonder what they’re fighting about.”

  “How about we go see?”

  They emerged from the car, and with Sam’s detail following them, made their way toward the two men who never saw them coming until they were nearly upon them.

  Sanborn looked up, saw Sam and blanched. Then he took off running. Daniels bolted in the other direction. “Get him,” she called to Freddie as she took off after Sanborn. “One of you go with him,” she said to her two-officer detail. To the cop who followed her she said, “Stay out of this and leave it to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sanborn ran down South Capitol Street, darting in and around pedestrians. Sam’s legs and lungs burned with exertion, but when she thought about what this monster had done to Jeannie, a new burst of adrenaline brought her within an arm’s length of her prey. Worried about him managing to slip through her fingers, she sprung at him from behind and took him down hard on the pavement. The impact briefly knocked the wind out of both of them. As she struggled to cuff him, he fought her off, and his elbow caught her hard in the abdomen.

  “Let me go, you fucking bitch. You have no idea who you’re screwing with.”

  The shot to her gut had left her seeing stars and fighting for every breath. “I know exactly who I’m screwing with—and your days of raping and murdering women are over.”

  “You’ve got the wrong guy, and I’ll have your job for this.”

  “We’ll let the DNA tell the story.”

  That seemed to shut him up. Choking back a surge of nausea, she pressed her knee to his back and managed to get the cuffs on him. She left him lying facedown on the sidewalk and stood to call for backup. A sharp pain in her belly had her bending in half, hands on knees as she tried to breathe through it the way she used to do before she gave up the soda that had caused crippling stomachaches. This pain, however, felt different…

  “Are you okay, Lieutenant?” her detail officer asked.

  “Fine. Just need a minute.”

  “That was an awesome tackle.”

  “Thanks.” A second, sharper pain ripped through her when she tried to stand up. Son of a bitch…When she tried to stand up straight another pain ripped through her.

  “You don’t look too good, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m okay,” Sam managed to say.

  Within minutes the street was swarming with MPD officers and cars. Sam ordered that Sanborn be taken to HQ and held in an interrogation room until she arrived.

  “I think Lieutenant Holland needs medical attention,” the young detail officer said.

  Sam looked daggers at him. “I do not. I told you I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  Sam stalked off in the direction of where they’d parked, hoping Freddie had managed to grab Daniels. She was aware of the young officer scurrying after her, but all her focus remained on breathing her way through the pains that continued to come fast and furious.

  Of course she recognized the pains for what they were. After all, she’d been through this three times before. This time, though…This time…If she allowed herself to acknowledge what was happening, she’d never be able to finish the job on behalf of Regina, Maria and Jeannie. So she kept breathing, kept walking, kept functioning when inside her heart was shattering.

  Outside the DNC building, Freddie jogged up to her. “Did you get him?”

  “Yep. You?”

  “In custody and on the way to HQ.”

  “Let’s go pick up Bartholomew.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, following her to the car.

  “Fine.”

  “Then why are you pale as a ghost, sweating and breathing funny?”

  “Took an elbow to the gut. Hurt.”

  “Maybe we should hit the ER.”

  She dug out her phone to update Malone. “The only place we’re hitting is the vice president’s office and then HQ to nail these bastards.”

  “With you, boss.”

  Sam and Freddie had to surrender their firearms to get through security at the Eisenhower Executive Office Build
ing, located adjacent to the White House. Being without her weapon always made her twitchy, but when added to the growing discomfort in her abdomen, she was downright anxious.

  They were escorted to the vice president’s suite where they were told that Mr. Bartholomew was in a meeting.

  Sam and Freddie exchanged glances.

  She leaned on the reception desk to bring her face down close to the nervous-looking man. “Go get him,” she said in her lowest, most sinister tone.

  The young man scooted back from his desk and disappeared into the office.

  Another sharp pain stole Sam’s breath.

  “Sam…”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.”

  “Um,” the receptionist said when he returned, “right this way.”

  Sam and Freddie followed him to a large office that was filled with pictures and political memorabilia—yet another shrine to a long, successful career.

  Bartholomew stood as they entered the room. He was tall, heavy and bald. Sam tried to imagine poor Selina Rameriz trying to fight him off. She’d never stood a chance.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Jack Bartholomew?” Freddie asked.

  “Yes.”

  Freddie flashed his badge. “We need you to accompany us to MPD Headquarters for a conversation about Selina Rameriz.”

  “Who?”

  “The call girl you raped and sodomized?” Sam said. “Remember her?”

  Bartholomew blanched. “I did no such thing! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

  Sam had to laugh at how they all said that. “If that’s the case, then you won’t mind coming with us, giving us a sample of your DNA and clearing this whole thing up. Will you?”

  At that, a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

  Sam nodded to her partner.

  Freddie approached the other man and recited the Miranda warning.

  “This is an outrage!” Bartholomew said as he resisted Freddie’s attempts to cuff him.

  “What’s going on in here?” another voice asked from the doorway.

  Sam turned to find the vice president himself watching the proceedings.

  “Mr. Bartholomew is a person of interest in an aggravated sexual assault case,” Sam said.

  Gooding’s mouth fell open for a second before he quickly recovered his composure.

  “Mr. Vice President,” Bartholomew said. “You have to believe me. I swear to God. I didn’t do this.”

  “You shouldn’t swear to God,” Freddie said. “You’ll go to hell.”

  Gooding studied his aide, but his expression remained unreadable. Handsome with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes, Gooding was taller than he appeared on TV.

  “Bill,” Bartholomew said, pleading as Freddie directed him to the door. “Help me. Please.”

  As Freddie took Bartholomew out, Sam hung back. “If I may say so, sir, you don’t seem as shocked as I’d expect you to be after seeing your top aide arrested for aggravated sexual assault.”

  Gooding finally blinked. “Of course I’m shocked. I’ve known Jack Bartholomew for twenty-five years.”

  “And never had any reason to believe he was capable of attacking women?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, but Sam noted that his words lacked the conviction she’d expect from someone who’d just watched a close colleague be arrested. “Is this going to be on the news?”

  “That the vice president’s chief of staff is a person of interest in a rape? That he and other high-level government officials ran and patronized a call girl ring that was Washington’s best-kept secret? I’d guess it’ll probably make the news.”

  At that, Gooding finally looked a bit concerned. “I have things…I need to do.”

  Sam gestured for him to go on ahead. The moment she was alone, she grasped the back of a chair and held on through another sharp pain. As soon as she was able to she left Bartholomew’s office and ducked into the first ladies’ room she found in the vast office building.

  Inside the stall, her hands shook as she unzipped her jeans. “Oh my God,” she whispered at the sight of blood—a lot of blood. “No, no, no…” She pulled herself together enough to purchase a couple of pads from the vending machine on the wall. Her hands shook as she tried to clean herself up and deal with the pads.

  Sweating and nauseous, she closed her eyes and gave herself a moment—just one moment to absorb the shock and pain. Her ringing phone ended the moment. Fumbling with the phone, she flipped it open and then dropped it on the floor. It skidded out of her reach. She managed to button her jeans and leave the stall to retrieve her phone.

  “Yeah?” she said, breathing through the cramps.

  “Sam?” Freddie said. “I’ve been waiting down here for twenty minutes. What the hell is taking so long?”

  Twenty minutes? “Sorry.”

  “Did Gooding hassle you?”

  “What? No.”

  “Then what’s taking so long?”

  “Nothing. I’m coming.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Sam ended the call and scrolled through her contacts, looking for the number Harry had programmed into her phone. She wanted to call Nick. She needed to call Nick. But she had to close the case before she could allow herself to fall apart. If she heard his voice, she’d fall apart.

  “This is Sam Holland,” she said when Harry answered.

  “Hey, Sam. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but I, um…I think I might be miscarrying.”

  “Oh, no. What’s going on?”

  “I took a hard hit to the belly, and the cramps started almost right away. Now I’m bleeding too.”

  “Is it more than a regular period?”

  Swallowing the hard lump of emotion that had formed in her throat, she said, “Yeah.”

  “Can you get yourself to an E.R.? I could meet you.”

  “I’m about two hours from closing a big case. I’m just wondering…” Her eyes burned with tears. “If I went to the E.R. right now, they wouldn’t be able to stop it or anything, would they?”

  “How far apart are the cramps?”

  “Every minute or so.”

  Harry sighed. “That coupled with the bleeding…I doubt it could be stopped. I’m sorry, Sam.”

  “S’okay. Not like I haven’t been down this road before.”

  “I know you might not be able to see it as such right now, but this is actually very good news.”

  “How in the hell is this good news?”

  “It proves you can get pregnant.”

  “That’s not good news if it’s going to end like this every time.”

  “It may not. You took a hard hit. The follicle was probably not fully attached to the uterine wall yet, so it didn’t take much to dislodge it.”

  “This is the shit that happens in my job. I take hard hits. You can’t exactly wrap me in foam for nine months and expect me to do my job.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Listen—”

  “Call me when you get home, and I’ll bring Maggie over to take a look at you.”

  “Is she the girlfriend?”

  “Yep. She’s slipping me a note right now that says until she can see you, if you feel faint or nauseous, the pain becomes sharp and/or constant, or the bleeding becomes profuse get to an E.R. right away. Otherwise, it should be like a bad period with cramps and bleeding. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry this is happening to you again.”

  “So am I. Thanks for the help.”

  “Anytime.”

  She closed the phone and put it in her coat pocket, determined to close this case before she had her fourth miscarriage.

  Chapter 31

  Sam turned the keys over to Freddie.

  “You’re sure you’re okay, boss?”
r />   “Just drive.”

  “I sent Bartholomew with patrol. He’ll be waiting for us in interrogation. I also called Faith Miller and asked her to meet us there.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “What did the vice president say?”

  Sam put her head back against the seat and fought off the array of emotions storming around inside of her. So much to absorb and no time to do it. “He was concerned about the media catching wind of his chief of staff’s arrest.”

  “Always a politician.” Freddie navigated the car through rush hour traffic. “So what’s the plan for when we go at them?”

  “We’ll let them stew for a bit and then tell each one that the others rolled on him.”

  Freddie nodded. “I like it. None of them will want to go down alone.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  After a long moment of silence, he took his eyes off the road to look over at her. “I get that you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, but I can see you’re upset. You have to be thinking about Peter…”

  “Yeah.” Sam watched the blur of lights and buildings. When tears threatened, she quickly closed her eyes and fought them off. Once she started, she might never stop. “Hard to believe he’s out there somewhere.”

  “He won’t be for long.”

  “I hope you’re right.” When they arrived at HQ, she went straight to her office where she downed three of the pain pills she kept in her top drawer for emergencies. This certainly counted. “Let’s get this sewed up,” she said when she rejoined Freddie in the pit. “You’ve got somewhere to be.”

  “I’m here ‘til we’re done. My plans will keep.”

  Captain Malone and Chief Farnsworth joined them.

  “Lieutenant,” the chief said. “You’ve got some high-profile guests taking up space in my interrogation rooms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Farnsworth tipped his head as he studied her. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” To Malone she said, “Did you get DNA samples?”

  “On their way to the lab as we speak.”

  “Good.”

  Assistant U.S. Attorney Faith Miller entered the pit. “What’ve you got?” she asked Sam. The Miller triplets were three of the most stunning women Sam had ever met. They had soft brown hair that each sister wore in a different style, green eyes and figures more often seen on supermodels than lawyers.