Fatal Consequences Page 10

  “Coupla minutes, babe. Just give me a coupla minutes right here.”

  Since he had so much trouble sleeping, she tightened her hold on him and gave him what he needed.

  Sam woke up as Nick carried her upstairs. “What time is it?”

  “Three-thirty.”

  “Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She glanced up at him. “Did you sleep?”

  “Like a rock.”

  “Will you be able to go back to sleep?”

  In the bedroom, he set her down and turned on the bedside lamp. “Hope so.” When she started to take off her sweater, he stopped her. “Let me.”

  Sam forced herself to stand still while he removed her clothes and pressed strategic kisses to each bit of skin as he uncovered it. “My turn?” she asked when he was finished.

  “Sure,” he said, reaching for her. “Since you’re the only one with access to my zipper, have at it.”

  She swatted his hands away and quickly divested him of the remnants of the tuxedo. “I shouldn’t have said that before. It’s not something I worry about. It was just the case and this situation with Henry…”

  With his fingers on her chin, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “It’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about. I promise you that.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I know.”

  “Come here,” he said, leading her into bed.

  Sam moved into his embrace.

  “Mmm, perfect,” he said when he had her arranged on top of him. His fingers kneaded the tension from her shoulders and back.

  “You need to sleep,” she reminded him as she sank into the massage.

  “I am sleeping.”

  “One part of you is most definitely not sleeping.”

  “As long as he’s awake…” He raised his hips and cupped her ass.

  “He’s always awake.”

  “Only when you’re naked in bed with me. Or if you’re in the same room. Or in the shower. Or in the car. Or—”

  Laughing, she silenced him with a kiss. “Since I want you to sleep, I’d better deal with him.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” he said with a grave expression that made her laugh again.

  Pushing herself up, she straddled him and slid her damp heat over his length.

  Nick groaned and clutched her hips, encouraging her to take him in.

  Sam continued to tease him, enjoying the fierce look on his face as she denied him what he wanted.

  Suddenly, he turned them over and entered her in one deep thrust.

  Sam cried out and arched into him as he withdrew and then slid into her again.

  He gazed down at her and brushed his lips over hers.

  “Nick…”

  “What, babe?” He flexed his hips, and Sam exploded. Holding her tight against him, Nick went with her.

  “God,” she whispered. “Where’d that come from?”

  He laughed and kissed her once more before he rolled off her, bringing her with him. “I love you, Samantha.”

  She reached over him to turn off the light. “Love you too.”

  “When are you going to officially move in with me?”

  “I sleep here every night. Isn’t that official enough?”

  “Not as long as your stuff still lives down the street.”

  “You’re sure you’re ready for all that comes with me?”

  “I’m very sure.”

  “Remember that when your anal-retentive freakazoidal self is tripping over my crap and you’re swearing at me.”

  “I’ll never swear at you.”

  She could feel him relaxing into sleep. “You say that now…have I mentioned the other fifty pairs of shoes I have in storage?”

  “Doesn’t scare me.”

  Kissing his chest, she smiled. He had no idea. No idea at all.

  Sam strolled up the ramp to her father’s house, three doors down Ninth Street from Nick’s place. Standing on the front stoop, she debated for a minute before she knocked on the door.

  Celia opened the door, and her smile became perplexed when she saw Sam standing there. “Why are you knocking?” she asked as she waved her stepdaughter inside.

  “You crazy kids are still on your honeymoon. I didn’t want to intrude.”

  Celia’s heart-shaped face turned bright red. “Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t ever knock on that door again. You hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sam appreciated the warm welcome from her new stepmother. She’d suspected little would change between them now that Skip’s longtime nurse had become his wife. Sam had been shocked to learn a few months ago that Celia and her dad had been secretly dating at the time of his shooting. Celia had immediately volunteered to oversee his home care and had quickly become indispensible to the family she was now a part of. “How’s the groom?”

  “Doing well. He was a little tired yesterday but seems better today. We’re planning to have a quiet day. How are you?”

  “Caught a murder during the wedding. Sorry we had to leave early.”

  “When duty calls, you have to go. We know that.”

  “Duty has been calling a little too often lately.” She swallowed hard, hoping she could pull this off. “It was a, ah, nice wedding.”

  “Aww, thanks, honey. That’s sweet of you to say.” Celia’s green eyes turned mischievous. “So tell me, was the senator involved with the cleaning lady?”

  Sam followed Celia into the kitchen. “I can neither confirm nor deny…”

  “I knew it! His poor wife at home in Arizona with all those kids.”

  “Don’t breathe a word of that,” Sam said. “We’ve yet to confirm the affair to the media.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Celia said.

  “Got yourself another hot one, Lieutenant,” retired Metro Deputy Chief Skip Holland said. His wheelchair was positioned at the kitchen table where Celia had set him up to peruse the Washington Post. His brown and silver hair was still damp from an earlier washing, and his sharp blue eyes were focused on his youngest daughter.

  Sam kissed his cheek, sat at the table and accepted the cup of coffee Celia handed her, even though she’d much prefer the diet cola her body still craved in the morning. Dr. Harry had recently broken the news to her that the carbonation in the soda was eating a hole in her stomach. The guy was a killjoy. “It’s hot and getting hotter,” Sam said of the case.

  She told him about Regina being pregnant with Lightfeather’s baby as well as the discovery of Maria Espanosa’s dead body and the fear that a killer was targeting young immigrant women in the city. “They don’t have anything in common, that we can find, other than their place of employment.”

  “You’ll want to talk to some of their other coworkers,” Skip said. “Maybe there was something else that tied them to each other.”

  “That’s on the docket for today.” She fiddled with her mug for a moment before she glanced over at him again. “I heard yesterday that it’s possible Peter could get sprung.”

  Her father and Celia gasped.

  “You can’t be serious,” Celia said.

  Sam told them what she knew, even though she hated to upset them. It was all part of her new effort to be more forthright with the people she loved. “Nick’s going to talk to Forrester,” she said, referring to the U.S. Attorney. “But I told him not to stick his neck too far out. He needs to be thinking about his campaign.”

  “He needs to be making phone calls,” Skip said emphatically. “Maybe he can do something to stop this insanity.”

  “Since when do you believe in taking advantage of friends in high places?” Sam asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Since the monster who tried to murder my little girl might get sprung from jail.”

  “Let’s try not to think about it until we have to,” Sam said, touched by his fiercely spoken words. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

 
Celia patted her shoulder. “Probably easier said than done, honey.”

  “I’m sure Farnsworth and Malone are doing all they can from their end,” Skip said.

  “They are.” Anxious to end the discussion about one of her least favorite subjects, Sam stood up and bent to kiss her dad’s forehead. “I gotta hit it.”

  “Let me know if I can help.”

  “I’ll probably be back later to run through it with you. Don’t know enough yet.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Sam smiled. “Counting on that.” She glanced around at the homey kitchen and was swamped with relief at knowing her gravely injured father had someone who genuinely loved him overseeing his care. It freed Sam to dare to have a life of her own. For the first time in the two years since he was shot by an unknown assailant during a routine traffic stop gone bad, Sam was able to stop worrying constantly about him. “So Nick’s making noise about me officially moving down the street.”

  “Probably time,” Skip said.

  “I guess so. Especially since we’ve set a wedding date.” Sam still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this.

  “Is that so?” Celia said, clapping her hands together with glee. “When?”

  “Um, March 26.”

  “This year?” Skip and Celia said in stereo.

  “It’s all his idea. He’s convinced it’s no big deal.”

  “Oh my goodness!” Celia said. “We have to get going right away!”

  “Nick said something about hiring someone to deal with all the details.” Sam hoped her bold-faced lie wouldn’t be obvious to them. As much as Sam loved her new stepmother, no way was Celia getting her hands on this wedding. No way. “We’ll probably go that route.” No doubt he knew someone who could make it all go away for them. She wondered why they hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Well, I’m off. See you later.”

  “Let us know how we can help with the wedding,” Celia called after her.

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Sam said, scooting out the front door and taking her guilty conscience with her.

  Chapter 11

  Sam scanned the faces of the detectives gathered in the conference room to go over the facts of the de Castro and Espanosa cases. Some of them looked like they had Monday morning-itis, especially Cruz, who was yawning his head off, and Gonzales, who seemed totally preoccupied. She hated that she was going to have to tell three of her loyal detectives about the situation with Peter Gibson, but she couldn’t let them hear about it through a grapevine that was no doubt already buzzing with the news.

  After she ran through what they knew so far on the current cases, Sam handed out assignments and sent the others on their way. “Detectives Cruz, Gonzales and Arnold,” she said. “A minute of your time, please?”

  They stopped and waited until the others left the room.

  “Shut the door,” Sam said.

  They exchanged nervous glances.

  “What’s up, L.T.?” Cruz asked.

  “Yesterday I received word that Peter Gibson’s attorney has requested a hearing to determine whether the evidence collected at Gibson’s apartment was fruit of the poisonous tree because you went in without a warrant.”

  As she expected, they erupted in protest.

  Sam held up her hands to stop them. “I know exactly how it went down, and I would’ve done it the same way. We had every reason to believe he was involved.”

  “Except at that time we only had suspicion,” Gonzo said. “Not solid proof.”

  “Yes.” Sam was not at all surprised that he was the first to figure out what Gibson’s attorney was using to force the hearing. “I want to be clear on this—no matter what happens, I don’t blame you, and I don’t want you to blame yourselves. We were all operating on adrenaline and high emotion that day. I appreciate how fast you all worked to find him and bring him in.”

  “It sounds like we worked too fast,” Cruz mumbled, clearly undone by the news.

  “Maybe so, but let’s wait to see what the judge has to say before we jump to any conclusions. In the meantime, we have two vics who need our full attention right now, so let’s keep our focus where it needs to be.”

  With muttered agreements, they headed for the door, shoulders stooped and heads down. Sam hated to see them like that. “Detective Gonzales, one more minute, please?”

  After Cruz and Arnold stepped out, Sam took another long look at Gonzo’s face, concerned by the unusual pallor. “Are you feeling better today?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about yesterday. Something came up that I had to deal with.”

  “And everything’s all right now?”

  He hesitated. “It will be. I hope.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Once again he hesitated, and she realized he was tormented over something. “Gonzo, what is it? What’s going on?” She really, really hoped he wasn’t going to say that things weren’t going well with Christina. Sam truly did not want to hear the details of their romance. She already had her hands full enough with Cruz’s romantic troubles.

  Gonzo looked so tortured that Sam experienced a pang of fear. “Sit.” She gestured to a chair and took the one next to him. “Talk.”

  He dropped into the chair and released a deep sigh. “It seems that I have a son.”

  She stared at him. “Whoa.”

  “That’s what I said too.” He filled her in on what he knew as well as the steps he was taking to confirm paternity and file for custody. “I hope it’s okay that Christina set me up with Nick’s lawyer friend Andy. He specializes in family law. I know I should have called you first.”

  “Of course it’s okay,” Sam said. “That’s exactly what you should’ve done. What do we know about the mother and her boyfriend?”

  “Nothing about him, except he looks like a biker dude. Tattoos everywhere. Leather, the works. Doesn’t make him a criminal, but I caught a bad vibe from him.”

  “If I’m you, my first order of business is to get a last name on him and run them both to see if they have priors.”

  “Except I’m not supposed to use department resources for personal matters.”

  “Of course your superior officer never made this suggestion and you never told her you planned to use department resources for personal matters.”

  “Of course.” A hint of a smile graced his face. “I won’t let this affect my work. Don’t worry.”

  “Never crossed my mind that you would. Let me know what I can do to help.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate you keeping this between us for now. Until I know for sure he’s mine…”

  “I understand.”

  He got up, seeming somewhat relieved to have shared his burden. “Thanks, L.T.”

  “Any time.”

  “This thing with Gibson…if he gets sprung, it’s on me. I should’ve known better—”

  “Don’t,” Sam said. She had expected nothing less from him as the most senior detective on the scene that night at Gibson’s apartment. “Don’t take this on. There were three of you there, and I knew what you were going there to do. Even my dad and Malone were aware of it. Any of us could’ve stopped you just as easily as you could have stopped it. We can’t rewrite history. We can only go forward from here.”

  “How are you staying so calm about this?”

  “Compartmentalization. You oughta try it.”

  “I suppose that’s as good a plan as any. I still can’t believe everything that’s happened this weekend.”

  “Hang in there, and let me know what I can do to help you.”

  “Thanks.”

  On the way to reinterview JoAnn Smithson, Sam called Nick. “So color me crazy,” she said when he answered. “But I had what might be my most brilliant idea ever this morning.”

  He snickered. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

  “You won’t be laughing when you hear my idea. You’ll be basking in my brilliance.”

  In the passenger seat, Freddie made barfing noises.

  Sam shot him
a glare.

  “I’m breathless with anticipation,” Nick said.

  “Good. I like you that way. What do you say we hire someone to make all this wedding crap go away?”

  “Hire someone? To plan our wedding?”

  “Yes, exactly. They can figure out the where, the what, the how. We’ll do the who and the clothes and the personal stuff.”

  “I don’t know, Sam. How do we turn something that important and personal over to a total stranger?”

  “How about we turn over the most important day of our lives to a trained professional who can tell us exactly what to do so we can just show up and get married without all the stress and aggravation of trying to plan it ourselves?”

  “When you put it that way…do you know any of these people who magically make weddings happen?”

  “No, but I’m sure you do.”

  “I can assure you that I don’t. You’ll recall that this is my first rodeo.”

  “Oh, come on. With that network of yours, someone knows someone who knows someone. Put the word out, and you’ll have a dozen people clamoring for the job by the end of the day.”

  “You aren’t seriously suggesting I make use of our newfound notoriety, are you?”

  “Maybe I am. For once it might actually benefit us.”

  “All right. If you’re sure you want to go that route, I’ll look into it.”

  “Good. Thank you. I promise this will keep us from losing our minds over the next six weeks.”

  “Speaking of losing our minds, I just got off the phone with Forrester.”

  At the reference to the U.S. Attorney, Sam’s good mood dissipated. “And?”

  “After he chastised me for abusing my office, he let me know that he wasn’t inclined to do the police any favors.”

  “Isn’t he a Republican?”

  “Gee, how’d you guess?”

  “Well, thanks for trying.”

  “I’ve got a few other irons in the fire.”

  “Seriously, Nick, don’t set yourself up for trouble over this. He’s not worth it.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Samantha.”

  “I am worried about you doing something on my behalf that causes you political trouble. We don’t need that on top of everything else.”