Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian)

by Karen Robards

  “What happened that night?”

  The sick weight of it settled over her and turned a stomach so recently satisfied by food. She’d had a hard time choking down anything for weeks after the incident. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. I have to testify at the probable cause hearing next week.”

  Under the table, he took her hand, linked his fingers through hers and resisted her efforts to break free. “Stop,” he said softly. “Just stop, will you?”

  “Someone might see,” she hissed.

  “No one’s looking at us, and the tablecloth hides a world of sin. There’s nothing quite like a good table-cloth.”

  Sam gently extricated her hand and folded her arms while pretending not to notice the wounded look that crossed his face. “I’ll bet you’ve done your share of public sinning.”

  “I’ll never tell,” he said, his lips quirking with amusement. “Is it so difficult for you?”

  “What?”

  “Sharing the burden.”

  “It’s impossible,” she confessed. “My inadequacy in that regard has caused me some major problems in my life.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “The marriage kind for one.” She wished for something else to drink since her mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. Glancing at Nick, she found him watching her with the patience of a man who had nothing but time. She reached for his half-empty glass of beer and took a long drink.

  “Why’d you get divorced?”

  Sam mulled it over, wondering if she should have this conversation with a man she was wildly attracted to but who was off limits to her. After a long pause, she decided what the hell? Why not? “My ex-husband claimed I didn’t need him.”

  “And did you?”

  “No,” she snorted. “He turned out to be a total loser.”

  “Since he failed to deliver a couple of critically important messages, I’d have to agree with you there.”

  “I made such a big mistake with him,” she sighed.

  “I didn’t see him for what he really was until it was too late. I didn’t listen to people who tried to warn me.”

  Nick straightened out of the slouch he’d slipped into. “Was he…I mean…He didn’t hit you, did he?”

  “No, but it almost would’ve been easier if he had. At least I could’ve fought back against that. His thing was passive aggression. He wanted total control over me. I let it go on for far longer than I should have because I didn’t want to admit I’d been so incredibly wrong. Damned foolish Irish pride.”

  Despite her resistance, Nick moved closer. “I want to wrap my arms around you right now,” he said gruffly against her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps darting through her. “I hate the idea of someone making you feel inadequate.”

  “I let him,” Sam said, the pillars of her resistance toppling like Dominoes. She wanted Nick’s arms around her, wanted to lean her head on that strong, capable shoulder. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she wanted the comfort he offered. No, she needed it. What should have been terrifying was actually rather exhilarating. “Can we go?”

  “Sure.” He put some bills on the table, got up and offered her his hand.

  “We’ve left the safety of the tablecloth,” she reminded him as she stepped around his outstretched arm on her way to the door.

  Grinning, he followed her out.

  Heads bent against the blustery cold, they walked a block to where they’d parked her department vehicle. An odd chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran up her spine as she unlocked the door on the dark street. Glancing around, she expected to find someone watching her, but saw no one. Just her overactive imagination, she thought, as she reached over to unlock the passenger door for Nick.

  He slid in next to her. “Before we go to John’s place, I need to get my car.”

  “Okay.” Sam started the car to get the heat going, but sat with her hands propped on the wheel.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She gripped the wheel. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more right now, Nick.” Glancing over, she found him watching her intently. “It’s not because I don’t want to.”

  He reached over to caress her face. “I know that.”

  His touch sent a burst of longing sizzling through her, but she tamped it down. “Can you be patient with me?”

  “I spent years wishing for another chance with you, Sam. I’m not about to bail just because it isn’t going to be easy.”

  She released a deep sigh of relief. “Good.”

  “But after this case is closed…”

  “I’ll be right there with you.”

  “What we had six years ago is still there,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

  “So it seems.”

  “Whatever it is, I’ve never had it with anyone else.”

  “I haven’t either. I was so sad when you didn’t call. I couldn’t believe I’d been so wrong about you.”

  “Ugh. That makes me furious. When I think about what we might’ve had, all these years…”

  “Let me close this case,” she said, her voice hoarse and tense. “The minute I close this case…”

  Nick seemed to be resisting the urge to haul her into his arms. “Samantha?”

  Surprisingly, the dreaded name didn’t sound so bad coming from him. “Hmm?”

  “We steamed up the windows.”

  “And we didn’t even do anything!”

  “Yet,” he said, his voice full of promise.

  Finding him harder to resist with every passing second, she shifted the car into Drive and forced herself to focus on the road.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SAM LEFT NICK at the congressional parking lot, and timed her drive across the city to the Watergate. At that hour of the night, traffic was light but an accident on Independence Avenue screwed up her timing. She’d have to try again tomorrow night to determine whether Christina Billings would’ve had enough time to drive across the city, commit murder, and drive back with a stop to pick up Chinese food in twenty-eight minutes.

  Reaching for her cell phone, she called to check on the search of Billings’s car.

  “I was just going to call you,” Detective Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales said. “We got a hit for blood on the front seat.”

  “I knew it!” Sam cried. “I’ll bet she wrapped up her coat and left it on the seat. The blood soaked through!”

  “Wait,” Gonzo said. “Before you get too excited, she said she cut her hand scraping ice off her car two weeks ago and had to get three stitches. She has a raw-looking pink scar on her right hand and produced the form from the E.R. with wound care instructions. We’re checking the blood anyway, but I’ll bet a month’s pay it’s going to be hers. She willingly gave us a sample.”

  “Son of a bitch. We can’t catch a single break in this one.”

  “We’ve narrowed down Billings’s list of the senator’s recent girlfriends from six to two. The other four could prove they weren’t in the city that night.”

  Sam added visits to the two remaining Barbies to her ever-growing to-do list for the morning. “Do me a favor and set up some plain-clothes coverage for the senator’s wake. Make sure you coordinate with Virginia State Police and Richmond.”

  “Sure thing. Do you want observation and video or just observation?”

  “Let’s tape it. Make sure the officers you send have the photos of the senator’s family and girlfriends, so they’ll know who to watch for.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Thanks for the good work, Gonzo.”

  “You got it. Try to get some sleep tonight, Sam.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  As she sat in the tangle of cars held up by the wreck, Sam banged her fist on the wheel in frustration that came from multiple sources. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nick and how understanding he’d been when she put their fledgling relationship on hold. How often did she allow herself to lean on someone? Never. However, she couldn’t lean on someone
who was a material witness in the homicide case she was investigating. As much as she wanted to, she just couldn’t.

  She edged the car forward and finally cleared the accident. When she arrived at the Watergate, Nick was waiting for her in his black BMW.

  “What took so long?” he asked as he stepped out of the car.

  “Accident on Independence.”

  “You should’ve taken Constitution.”

  “Well, I know that now. Nice ride,” she said, admiring the gleaming Beamer. “The taxpayers take good care of you.”

  “I have few vices,” he said with a grin as he slid an arm around her. “Cars are one of them.”

  She scooted out from under his arm before they entered the lobby. “No PDA,” she growled. Flashing her shield to the officer at the security desk, she gestured to the bank of elevators. “We’re taking another look at the senator’s apartment.”

  The officer nodded and waved them through.

  They rode to the sixth floor where the door to John’s apartment was blocked by yellow crime scene tape. Sam plugged in the code to the police lock and pushed open the door. Lifting the yellow tape, she encouraged Nick to go in ahead of her.

  She heard his deep inhale and watched his broad shoulders stoop as the memories came flooding back to him. Placing her hand on his arm, she stopped him. “You don’t have to be here. I can get the clothes for you.”

  “No,” he said softly. “I can do it.”

  “Take a minute. I’m going to wander.”

  Sam walked through the luxurious apartment where a light sheen of fingerprint dust remained. Picking up knickknacks, opening drawers and checking behind the television, she looked for anything that might have been missed the first time through. She had no doubt the place had been put together by a decorator—probably when the senior Senator O’Connor lived there. It was odd, really, how little of John O’Connor could be found in the apartment.

  In the senator’s bedroom, the bed linens had been stripped and sent off for DNA analysis. A single hair could have blown the case wide open, but all the fingerprints, fibers and DNA were John’s. Since the apartment had not yet been cleaned, blood stained the wall behind the bed as well as the beige carpeting, and coagulated on the bedside table. The blow to the jugular would’ve been messy. Blood would have burst like a geyser from the wound, soaking the killer.

  Sam stood at the foot of the bed and let her mind wander. Had he fallen asleep sitting up? Or had he sat up in surprise when the killer appeared? Obviously, he’d been naked in bed. Had he thought he was going to have sex with the woman who appeared in his bedroom? Is that how she gained easy access to his privates? Sam was absolutely convinced it was someone he knew well, which is why he hadn’t had much of a reaction to finding her in his apartment.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Sergeant?” Nick asked from behind her.

  “He was asleep,” Sam said, her eyes fixed on the headboard where the gaping hole in the beige silk upholstery was a glaring reminder of what had happened there almost forty-eight hours ago. “Dozing. The TV was probably on.”

  “It wasn’t on when I got here.”

  “She could’ve shut it off. Whoever it was, she was someone he wasn’t surprised to see.”

  “She?”

  “They were lovers.” Sam spoke in a monotone as the scene played itself out in her imagination.

  “Did he let her in?”

  Sam shook her head. “She was waiting for him and took him by surprise. She had the knife behind her back. Maybe she was naked, too, which is why there’s no one on the security tapes leaving with blood on their clothes. He thought he was going to get lucky, and that’s how she managed to get a hold of his penis. By the time he became aware of the knife, she had already severed it. The pain would’ve been monstrous. He probably lost consciousness. If he came to before she killed him, he would have asked why. Maybe she told him, maybe she let him wonder.”

  “Would she have been strong enough to get a knife through his neck with one shot?”

  “Good question. And you’re right—it would’ve taken a tremendous blow to go all the way through his neck and lodge in the headboard. She would’ve been enraged by something he did or failed to do. Rage and adrenaline breeds strength. It could’ve been a promise he made and didn’t deliver on or maybe she caught him with another woman. People have killed over less. When she was done, she took a shower to get rid of the blood that would’ve been all over her. Then she cleaned the bathroom and scrubbed it so well there wasn’t so much as a hair on the floor. The water in the tub had dried by the time he was found, so we can only speculate that she showered. But none of the towels had been used. If she used one, she took it with her. Before she left, she might’ve taken a long last look at him. She was filled with regret that he couldn’t be what she needed him to be, but at the same time she was angry with him for making her do this.”

  “You’re good, Sam,” Nick said, his tone reverent.

  As if she had been in a trance, Sam looked up at him. “What?”

  “The way you describe it…If I were a juror, I’d convict.”

  “All I have to do now is prove it and figure out who did it.”

  “You will.” He moved to the closet, opened the doors and contemplated the row of dark suits, dress shirts in white, various shades of blue and some with pinstripes. There were easily a hundred ties to choose from.

  Peeking into dresser drawers, Sam asked, “Did he ever wear anything besides suits? Where’re the jeans? The sweats?”

  “He didn’t keep a lot of that stuff here.”

  “Where else would it be?”

  “At his place in Leesburg.”

  “He has a second home?”

  Nick nodded. “A cabin near his parents’ property. We both use it as a retreat from the insanity of Washington.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything about it the other day?”

  “To be honest, it never occurred to me. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly then. I’m still not. Between what happened to John and seeing you again…”

  “Take me there.”

  “Now?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s almost midnight. You’ve been at it for eighteen hours. I can take you tomorrow.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “I won’t have time tomorrow. If you drive, I’ll nap in the car—if you can stay awake that is.”

  “I’m fine. I do my best work from midnight to three a. m.”

  His comment was rife with double meaning that Sam refused to acknowledge. Her face, however, heated with embarrassment as she helped him decide on a dark navy suit, pale blue silk dress shirt and a tie decorated with small American flags. They unearthed a garment bag, and Sam zipped it over the suit.

  “Underwear?” she asked.

  “He didn’t wear it in life.”

  “How in the hell do you know that?”

  Nick laughed. “We were at a luncheon with the Daughters of the American Revolution a year or so ago, and everyone was starting to leave when one of the blue hairs came to tell me the senator needed me at the head table. I went into the room, and he was sitting all by himself.”

  “How come?”

  “Apparently, he’d managed to split his pants and was in need of an exit strategy.”

  Sam laughed at the picture he painted. “Let me guess—he was in commando mode?”

  “You got it. So I found him an overcoat—not an easy feat in July, I might add—and got him out of there with his pride intact.”

  “Where did that fall in your job description?”

  “Under ‘other duties as assigned,’” he said with a sad smile that tugged at her heart.

  “All right then. No underwear. Shoes?”

  “Would you want to spend eternity with your feet encased in wingtips? The tie will be bad enough. I’m sure I’ll hear plenty about that when we meet up again in the afterlife.” He reached for her hand and linked their fingers. “Thank you for helpi
ng me with this.”

  Flustered, she extracted her hand and jammed it in her pocket. “It’s no problem.”

  “Is choosing clothes for the deceased part of your job description?”

  “This is definitely a first.”

  On their way out of John’s bedroom, Nick looked at her in a way that reminded Sam of what he wanted from her. A burst of yearning took her by surprise. Sam wasn’t a woman who yearned, especially for a man. She was focused, efficient, dedicated to her work and her family, hard-nosed when she needed to be, and independent—fiercely and completely independent. So it should have been unsettling to want a man as much as she wanted Nick.

  Truth be told, she had fantasized about him for years after the night they spent together. She had followed Senator O’Connor’s career and watched hours of congressional coverage in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the senator’s trusted aide. But only rarely had she seen Nick. He apparently kept a much lower profile than his illustrious boss.

  In the parking lot, he held the passenger door of his car for her.

  She slid into the buttery soft leather seat and sighed with contentment. When he turned the car on, she quickly discovered the seats were heated and felt like she’d gone straight to heaven. “This car suits you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Uh huh. It’s classy but not showy.”

  “Is that a compliment, Samantha?”

  She shrugged.

  He reached for her hand as they headed out of the city. When she tried to resist, he held on tighter. “No one but us, babe.”

  “There’s no tablecloth to hide under.”

  He flashed that irresistible grin and laced his fingers through hers. “Give me just this much, will you?”

  Since he’d asked so nicely and it really wasn’t much, she didn’t argue with him even if the simple feel of his hand wrapped around hers set her heart to galloping and put her hormones on full alert. Guilt was mixed in there, too. She had no business spending this much time with him or wanting him so fiercely. But since it was dark and she was tired and no one was looking, rather than push him away, she tightened her grip on his hand.