Fatal Deception (24 page)

“This.” Gathering up her long skirt, she straddled him, pushed the scrap of useless underwear aside and took him into her still-pulsating channel. “Oh God, that’s good,” she whispered.

Under her skirt, his hands found her buttocks and squeezed. “There’s nothing better.”

“Are you sure the driver can’t see anything back here?”

“Maybe you should’ve asked me that before you had your wicked way with me.”

She stopped moving and stared down at him. “He can’t see, can he?”

“No,” Nick said, laughing at her. “At least I hope not.”

“At this point, I don’t even care. A dozen photographers could pop out of the ashtray, and I wouldn’t stop.”

“Awfully brazen talk for a potential first lady of the United States.”

That stopped her again. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Anchoring her hips, he surged into her and succeeded in making her forget everything but the feel of him hard and hot inside her. “I need breasts.”

Sam squiggled and squirmed and tried to forget what he’d said about her being first lady long enough to come again. Somehow she managed to free her breasts from the dress.

With his hands still gripping her bottom, he said, “Feed them to me.”

She cupped her full breasts and brought them to his mouth.

He made her whimper with the pull and tug of his lips, the sweep of his tongue and the suction he knew she loved.

“I wish you could see how hot you look right now, holding your breasts with your skirts all bunched up around your waist. Very sexy.”

“You forgot my swollen face.”

“Every inch of you is sexy to me.” He made his point by letting his fingers wander deep between her buttocks, setting off a fiery finish that left them both panting and sweating.

“I haven’t done it in a car since high school,” she said when she recovered the ability to speak. “I’ve been missing out.”

“I thought you’d be too tired and sore tonight to take full advantage of the car.”

“Haven’t you learned to never underestimate me?”

“Apparently, I’m still learning.”

Sam braved the pain to press a light kiss to his lips. “I missed the kissing. That’s usually one of my favorite parts.”

“Mine too. I hope you heal quickly so we can make out like teenagers the way we usually do.”

As the throbbing wound made its presence known, she let her head drop to his shoulder. “Can we pick up the pain pills on the way home?”

“Sure, baby.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Whatever you need.”

That was the last thing Sam remembered until he was shaking her awake near their Capitol Hill neighborhood so they could disentangle and fix their clothes before they arrived at home.

“I’ll go pick up your prescription.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t.” He kissed her forehead and then her lips, gently, mindful of her injury. “I want you to go draw a hot bath and fill it with lots of bubbles and soak for a good long time. When I get back, I’ll tuck you in.”

“You’re on. Hurry back.”

He saw her inside, cleaned up in the half bath downstairs, retrieved his car keys and kissed her once more before he jogged down the ramp he’d installed for her father.

Sam was halfway upstairs when the doorbell rang. Wondering why he didn’t use his key, she went back down and threw open the door. “What did you forget?” The words died on her lips when she saw the two police officers standing on her front stairs. She recognized one of them, but not the other. Her first thought was of Nick, but he hadn’t been gone long enough to encounter trouble.

The older of the two, the one she recognized, seemed surprised to find her in formal attire. “We’re sorry to bother you at home, Lieutenant. I’m Officer Wilkins. This is my partner Officer Ramirez.”

“What’s up?” Sam feared this crazy day was about to get worse. She told herself that if something were wrong with a member of her family, someone would’ve called her.

“We were contacted by the emergency room at the Washington Hospital Center. You’re listed as the next of kin for a Peter Gibson.”

Sam tightened her grip on the doorknob. “What about him?”

“He was brought in tonight unresponsive. Several empty bottles of sleeping pills were found in his apartment along with a note addressed to you as his next of kin.” The officer held out a folded piece of paper to her.

Sam looked at it but made no move to take it from him. “I’m not his next of kin. We’ve been divorced for years.”

“He had your name in his wallet and in his medical records, so we assumed...”

“I’m sorry, but you assumed wrong. His mother lives in Wilmington, Delaware. You could call her.”

“You don’t happen to have her number, do you?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. Her first name is Irma, though.”

“That’s helpful, thank you. Um, do you want the note?”

Sam glanced down at it and then up at the earnest young officer. “No.” Nothing Peter Gibson had to say was of interest to Sam.

“Sorry again to bother you, ma’am. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Officer Wilkins?”

“Ma’am?”

“Is he expected to live?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know that.”

Sam nodded and was about to close the door when Nick pulled up to the curb, back from the nearby pharmacy. She waited at the door for him.

With his eyes on the patrol car as it drove off, he came up the ramp. “What’s going on?”

“Peter,” Sam said, suddenly chilled even though the night air was thick with humidity.

Nick shepherded her inside. “What about him?”

“He apparently tried to kill himself and left a note for me. I was listed as his next of kin, so they came to find me. I refused to take the note, though. I don’t care what it says.”

Nick’s expression conveyed his displeasure that her ex-husband had once again upset her. “I wouldn’t put it past him to pull something like this to get your attention.”

“I wouldn’t, either. Passive aggression is his forte.”

Nick put his hands on her shoulders and dipped his knees to meet her gaze. “This has nothing to do with you, Sam. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go there? To the hospital?”

Surprised he would ask that, she said, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. He was right—Peter’s problems were no longer hers. There was nothing she could do for him. And if he’d done this to get her attention, showing up at the hospital would play right into his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of shocking.”

His arms slid around her, drawing her in close. “I know, babe. But it’s not your fault. I’m glad you didn’t read the note, because he’s probably blaming you for everything that’s gone wrong with his life, and none of it is your fault. He made his own bed.” Nick held her for a long time before he let her go and nudged her toward the stairs. “Enough for one day. Go on up. I’ll shut off the lights and be right behind you.”

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile that made her face hurt.

“Any time.”

Sam took the bag from the pharmacy and trudged up the stairs, fortified by Nick’s assurances. It wasn’t her fault. Whatever Peter did had nothing to do with her anymore. It was because of him, after all, that she and Nick had lost six years they should’ve spent together when Peter, her platonic roommate at the time, failed to deliver Nick’s messages after the night they met.

That and the miserable four years she’s spent married to Peter would’ve been enough to make her hate him. But he’d given her plenty of cause since then, including trying to bomb her car and Nick’s and then later walking away from criminal charges after her officers entered his apartment without a warrant. Not to mention threatening her on the sidewalk outside her home the night before she married Nick.

Shuddering at the memory, Sam took one of the horse-sized pain pills, ran the bath and sent Freddie a text to let him know she was all set for a ride in the morning. She needed to deal with the odd vibe coming from Hill and put an end to it once and for all before it caused trouble with Nick. She was stepping out of her dress when Nick joined her in the bathroom.

“Damn, that’s such an incredible visual,” he said, as he took in the sight of her in the corset.

Watching him tug his bow tie free, she was reminded of how very different her second marriage was from her first. She turned off the water. “I don’t need a bath.” She walked over to him, pulled his shirt free of his pants and flattened her palms against his belly. “I need you. Only you.”

“You have me, my love. I’m all yours.”

Sam took his hand and led him to bed.

* * *

Much later, Nick held her in his arms as their bodies cooled after a frantic coupling left him astounded, as always, by the power of his love for her—and hers for him.

“Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“What were you doing with her?”

Confused, he said, “Who?”

“That awful woman Patrice.”

Laughing, he kissed Sam’s forehead. “Is she awful? I hadn’t noticed.”

She raised her head off his chest to look him in the eye. “Seriously?”

“I noticed.” He ran his fingers through his hair, which was damp with perspiration after the strenuous lovemaking. “After I met you and you didn’t call me back, I was kind of a mess for a while. She was...there. You know?”

“Hell, yes, I know. How do you think I ended up with Peter?”

“I can’t tell you how often I think about what might’ve been different for both of us if I’d gone after you, rather than accepting your silence as a verdict.”

“I wish the same thing. I couldn’t believe you didn’t call after that night. I simply couldn’t believe it. I should’ve called you. That I didn’t is my single greatest regret in life.”

“No sense having regrets, babe. Maybe we would’ve made an awful mess of it back then and not had what we have now.”

“We wouldn’t have made a mess of it. We were always meant to be together. I believe that.”

“So do I.” Her skin was warm and smooth under his hand as he caressed her back. “I knew it the first second I ever saw you. Ah, I thought. There she is.”

Sam propped her chin on her hand so she could see his face. “Did you really?”

Looking at her with his heart in his eyes, he nodded. “I recognized you in the crowd of people on that deck. I recognized you as mine.”

She turned her head, rested her cheek on his chest and was quiet for a long time. “What did you mean before about me being first lady?”

“I wondered if you’d remember that.”

“Kinda hard to forget that one.”

“Halliwell talked to me tonight about doing the keynote at the convention. He said the party is need of an heir apparent because Gooding isn’t interested in running again.” The current vice president had run twice before and was now in his mid-seventies.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I’m blown away. A year ago, I was John’s chief of staff, and now he’s dead, I’m running for his seat and the DNC is talking about me running for president in a few short years. It’s beyond comprehension.”

“Do you want that? To be president?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” he said laughing at the lunacy of it. “I can’t believe my name is being used in the same sentence as the word president.”

“You could do it. I know you could. I bet you’d win.”

Continuing to play with her hair, he brought a hank of it to his nose to inhale the scent that would remind him always of her. “You’re very good for my ego, babe.”

“What did you tell Halliwell?”

“I said I’d do the keynote, but I want to wait until after November to talk about anything else. I need to win this election before we start contemplating my future.”

“You’re going to win.”

The nervous tenor of her tone wasn’t lost on him. “I’ve already won, Samantha.” He tightened his hold on her. “I have everything any man could ever want. We’ll decide together what the future holds, whatever that may be. If it’s not something we both want, end of conversation.”

“You can’t walk away from an opportunity like this because it might not be something I want you to do.”

“Sure I can. One of these days, I hope to succeed in convincing you that you are what really matters to me. Everything else is secondary.”

“You’re crazy.”

“About you. Now go to sleep. You’re so far beyond exhausted it’s not even funny.” He continued to comb his fingers through her hair and caress her back until he was almost certain she was asleep.

“Nick?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Almost.”

“What, baby?”

“I forgot to tell you I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She released a long, deep breath, and this time he was certain she’d fallen asleep.

Chapter Fifteen

Running on caffeine and adrenaline and fear and shame, Jeannie McBride threw herself into work to take her mind off what had happened earlier. Every time she thought about Sam saying she was disappointed, her heart broke all over again. That was the last thing in the world she ever wanted to hear from her beloved lieutenant.

Though she’d asked Will to come over to work on the report in the morning, Jeannie had finished it two hours ago. She’d detailed every step they’d taken in their new investigation of the Fitzgerald case and had included a list of people who should’ve been interviewed the first time around and hadn’t been for reasons known only to Skip Holland.

In the morning, she planned to wait for Will to arrive and then venture to the Annapolis home of Dr. Norman Morganthau, the retired medical examiner she’d called about the Fitzgerald case. Jeannie had sensed back in April that the older man had wanted to tell her something about Skip Holland but had held back in deference to his old friend. Maybe if they went to see him in person, he’d be more forthcoming.

She needed to do something to avoid sitting around for the next week rehashing what’d happened. Since Michael was long asleep and she’d done everything she could for the night on the Fitzgerald case, she turned next to one of the leads she’d wanted to look into further with the Kavanaugh case.

It had occurred to her that there might be some connections between the two names used to fake Victoria Kavanaugh’s identity. Jeannie took to the Internet to read everything she could find about Denise Desposito and William Eldridge.