Fatal Invasion (The Fatal Series) Page 12

  “Go, Tommy.” Tears ran unchecked down her face. She tightened her hold on Alex and rested her cheek on his son’s head, closing her eyes and shutting him out.

  Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to contain them. Had she just broken up with him and put him on notice that he was also going to lose his son? Had that really just happened? His brain was still fuzzy from the pain pill he’d taken earlier, but the pill couldn’t dull the roar of agony that surged through him when he pondered life without Christina and Alex.

  “No,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving you, either of you. I’ll be in the waiting room.” He stumbled from the room, down the hallway, dodging hospital staff, who gave him a wide berth. Maybe he did look like a bum. Rubbing his face, he was surprised to find the starting of a full beard. When had he last shaved? He had no idea.

  In the waiting room, he took a seat next to a mother holding a baby.

  She got up and moved to the other side of the room.

  What the fuck? Had it really come to that? Since when was he frightening to strangers? He ran his hand over the lump the pill packet made in the inside pocket of his jacket, desperately wanting another but afraid to dull his senses when his world was crumbling around him.

  Christina was leaving him.

  She was leaving him and taking Alex.

  She wanted him out of their home. He was losing her—and his son. Gripped by sheer panic, he could barely breathe. Pain ripped through him, sharper, fiercer, more intense than anything he’d experienced yet. He broke into a cold sweat as he tried to breathe through it. He had no idea how long he was there, fading in and out of consciousness.

  “Sir.”

  Gonzo heard the female voice and felt the hand on his shoulder, shaking him, but the pain had him in its grip. He couldn’t move or speak or breathe.

  Someone called for help, and a rush of activity followed, people in his face, touching him, moving him. Then he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling rushing by as they took him somewhere. He didn’t even care where they were taking him. What did it matter? He was already in hell.

  An oxygen mask was put over his face, a needle jammed into his arm and his shirt pulled open. He felt like he was above the action, watching them work on him. Maybe it would be best if whatever was happening killed him. Christina would take good care of Alex. They’d survive at work without him. His parents and sisters would be sad, but they’d get over it. He’d get to see Arnold again and tell him how sorry he was for making him take the lead, for letting him walk into an ambush. It would be nice to be able to tell him he was sorry. He’d never gotten the chance. Arnold had been dead before Gonzo had realized he’d been shot.

  He heard people talking around him, heard the urgency in their voices and couldn’t work up the interest to ask what was happening.

  What did it matter?

  What did any of it matter?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SAM WAS BEYOND EXHAUSTED, but she went into Nick’s home office and logged into the MPD system to check her email. Hopefully, Freddie had sent over Gonzo’s accident report as requested.

  While she waited, she rearranged Nick’s anally aligned piles of folders so he’d know she’d been there. Then she called Dispatch and asked to be connected to the Patrol commander.

  “Patrol,” a male voice said brusquely.

  “This is Lieutenant Holland checking on the request for assistance in locating Sergeant Gonzales. Any sign of him?”

  “He was found an hour ago, passed out in Volta Park.”

  “What?” Sam said out loud before she could think through the implications of exposing a tear in the fabric of her squad. How in the hell had he ended up there?

  “He said he has the flu and apologized for the trouble.”

  That was possible, Sam thought after she thanked the Patrol commander and ended the call. Maybe he has whatever Alex has. That was a better explanation than some of the other possibilities that were running through her mind. She punched out a text to Christina:

  How’s Alex? Patrol said they located Gonzo. Hopefully he is there now.

  Alex is better. On antibiotic. Spending the night in the ER. Tommy was here, but I asked him to leave.

  Fuck, Sam thought. The last thing he needed was to have his relationship blow up in his face when he was still so fragile. But she couldn’t blame Christina for being fed up. It had been a rough year for all of them, but no one more than Gonzo—and Christina by extension.

  She scrolled through her email, ignoring everything except the message from Freddie with the accident report attached. Checking her phone, she noted that the call from Dispatch about the fire came in at five-forty. Gonzo would’ve been called one or two minutes later. She figured he would’ve left the house at six. Six-ten at the latest. His car accident occurred at eight twenty. So where had he been for the more than two hours between when he left his house and when the accident occurred?

  And where did he go after they parted company earlier tonight? In the morning, she would need answers to these and other questions. At times like this, the burden of command weighed heavily on her. Something was clearly wrong with her sergeant, but she walked a fine line between protecting her friend and doing what was best for the squad and the department.

  “Sam?”

  She turned to find Nick in the doorway. He wore only pajama pants, and her gaze moved naturally to the chest she never tired of looking at.

  “Are you coming to bed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can’t help yourself, can you?” he said, laughing as he gestured to the file folders scattered across the desktop.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, you don’t,” he said, amused.

  “Are you going to sneak in here after I’m asleep and fix them?” she asked as she exited the department portal and turned off the light.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  In the hallway, the agent on duty nodded to them. Sam didn’t recognize him, so he must be new. “Good night, Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano.”

  “Night, Max,” Nick said.

  “Is he new?” Sam asked when they were in their room with the door closed.

  “He’s filling in for Melinda, who’s sick.”

  “She’s probably heartsick because she can’t get her hands on the sexy vice president.” Sam hated the way the agent she referred to as “Secret Service Barbie” looked at her husband.

  “Sam,” he said, his voice dripping with disapproval. “That’s beneath you.”

  “No, it really isn’t.”

  Smiling, he put his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

  Her heart ached when she looked up at him. “It’s not looking good for me to go to Europe.”

  His smile faltered. “Why not?”

  “Something’s up with Gonzo, and I can’t leave him in charge right now. He’s spiraling again, and it seems worse this time, if that’s possible. Cruz is going on his honeymoon, Green is too new to leave in charge, and Jeannie wouldn’t want to deal with it. We’ve got a new case that involves the Feds, and now the kids. I’m not sure what’s going to happen there, but when I saw them in that big hospital bed, I had to do something. I probably shouldn’t have, but—”

  He kissed her, leaving his lips on hers until she’d settled somewhat. “It’s not a good time to be away. I get it.”

  Sam’s eyes burned with tears that infuriated her. She hated when her emotions got the better of her, and they were more raw than usual after the day she’d put in.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t bear the thought of being without you for three weeks. I seriously can’t handle it.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “Me either. Maybe I can move some things
around so I don’t have to be gone for three weeks. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”

  “Really?” Sam asked, her heart soaring with hope.

  “Yes, really,” he said, smiling as he kissed her. “I don’t want to be away from you any more than you want me gone. I was really hoping we could have this time together, but if that’s not in the cards right now, so be it.”

  Sam laid her head on her favorite chest and released a deep sigh. “When are you going to tell me you’re sick of me, my job, the chaos, the drama?”

  “Never.”

  “You say that now.”

  “I mean it forever. I knew exactly who and what I was marrying. Don’t be waiting for me to start hassling you about the things that make you who you are. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I feel extraordinarily thankful to have you.”

  “Right back atcha, babe.”

  “I feel an extraordinary need to express my gratitude in ways that will make you very, very happy.”

  He snorted out a laugh that made her smile. “You know I’m always available for your expressions of gratitude.”

  She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Hold that thought. I need a shower.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “I wish you would.”

  They went into the master bathroom, and Sam turned on the shower before she began unbuttoning her top.

  “Allow me,” he said, taking over for her, slowly releasing each button, and then sliding the top over her shoulders and down her arms. He kissed from her neck to her collarbone to the plump tops of breasts contained by a bra that suddenly felt too tight.

  Sam squirmed, wanting more but knowing better than to rush him. Whenever she rushed him, he slowed things down to remind her that faster wasn’t always better. “Could I call a time-out to go make sure the kids are all asleep before we continue?”

  “Make it snappy.” He rubbed his erection against her belly. “You have my full attention.”

  “I’ll be quick. Start without me.”

  “It’s no fun without you.”

  Smiling at him over her shoulder, she shed the rest of her clothes and donned a robe, tying it at her waist as she left her bedroom and opened the door to Scotty’s room, peering inside to confirm that all three kids were asleep. Aubrey and Alden slept with their arms wrapped around each other. Next to them, Scotty slept on his side, facing them, there if they needed him.

  Sam was always proud of him, but never more so than tonight. He’d make an amazing big brother, a thought that made her emotional all over again. Would he ever get that chance? Sam left the door propped open and went back to her room, ignoring Max, who pretended to ignore her too.

  She closed her bedroom door and locked it—for now. She would unlock it after the shower with Nick. Walking into the bathroom, she came to a stop at the sight of him—wet, muscular, sexy, erect. Her mouth watered as she untied her robe and shrugged it off, letting it fall into a heap on the floor. She stepped into the shower and wrapped her arms around Nick from behind, pressing her body to his.

  There, she thought with a sigh. Home. She pressed her lips to his back, while sliding a hand down to grasp his cock.

  “Samantha.”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Um, you are?”

  His low chuckle echoed off the shower walls, becoming a groan when she stroked him. He turned and before she had a second to anticipate his next move, he had her pressed against the shower wall, his mouth devouring hers as he worked his cock into her.

  Gasping, Sam broke the kiss and took a series of deep breaths. He filled her so completely that it almost hurt to accommodate him.

  “This,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear sending tingles down her spine, “is the best part of the day.”

  “Uh-huh, and you expect me to live without you and this for three whole weeks? I don’t think I can do it.”

  Grasping her ass, he pushed even deeper into her, hitting the spot that only he had ever reached, making her internal muscles quiver and contract.

  She looped her arms around his neck, one hand sinking into his silky dark hair.

  “Sam.” His fingers dug into her ass cheeks as he picked up the pace, hammering into her until she came with a sharp cry that she immediately suppressed so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Ugh,” he said. “I want to be with you somewhere that you can scream your head off if you want to.”

  “I want to,” she said, breathing hard. “Every time, I want to.”

  He flexed his hips to show her what her confession did to him.

  Sam groaned. “No more. I have to sleep.”

  “Okay,” he said, continuing to move in slow, easy strokes that made her purr.

  “Damn you,” she said when she felt the telltale signs of desire begin anew.

  “Sleep is for old people.”

  She choked on a laugh. “I’m going to look ninety tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep.”

  “Even when you’re ninety, you won’t look it.” He withdrew from her, put her down and waited until she was steady to reach for the body wash. Running his soapy hands over her, he said, “I can’t wait to see you as a feisty ninety-year-old. That ought to be quite a spectacle.”

  Sam poked his belly. “Will we still be having sex in the shower when we’re ninety?”

  “We’ll be having sex everywhere until we stop breathing.”

  The water started to run cold, so they moved quickly to finish rinsing off. Sam shivered as she stepped into the towel Nick held for her.

  “How mad is Brant?” she asked.

  “He’s pretty pissed.”

  “We don’t make it easy for him to do his job.”

  “We still have to live our lives while trapped in the gilded cage.”

  “Did I do the right thing bringing the kids home?”

  “It felt like the right thing to you, and I’ve learned to trust that gut of yours.”

  “I didn’t even think about it. I just acted.”

  “The way a mother would, no?”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess so.”

  “You’re a mom now, Sam. You did what any mom would do when you saw kids in need—you stepped up. I’m really proud of you for doing that.”

  “Even if it complicated things for you?”

  “Eh,” he said with a shrug. “What’s a few more complications?”

  “A major headache.”

  “For Brant, not me,” he said, grinning as he followed her into bed. “Come here and warm me up.”

  Sam snuggled up to him.

  “Close your eyes and get some rest, babe.”

  “Will you sleep?” she asked, always concerned about his insomnia.

  “I hope so. I’m tired.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too. More than anything.”

  That was all she needed to hear to relax—for now anyway. She still had the specter of three weeks without him hanging heavily over her, but she could fret about that tomorrow. Tonight, he was here, and he loved her. That was enough for now.

  * * *

  HOT TEARS CASCADED down Christina’s cheeks for an hour after Tommy walked away. She’d done it. She’d actually said the words.

  We are done.

  It is over.

  This, our family, is finished.

  Only a couple of years ago, she’d been working as John O’Connor’s deputy chief of staff, under the misguided illusion that she stood a chance of being the one to save John from himself.

  But John had been murdered before she’d ever gotten the chance to tell him how she felt about him. She’d thought she’d been heartbroken then. That had nothing on this. Losing Tommy, a little at a time over the last nine month
s, had been excruciating. Watching him become someone she barely recognized had been almost worse than losing John to murder, and that was saying something.

  She’d still been reeling when she met Tommy shortly after John’s murder. Tommy had attended the New Year’s Eve party Sam and Nick had thrown to celebrate her promotion to lieutenant and his swearing in to take John’s place in the Senate. So much had happened since that night.

  They’d fallen madly in love, found out he had a son, he’d gotten shot in the neck and was nearly killed. There’d been a lot of strain on their new relationship, but each challenge had only brought them closer together and made them stronger as a couple. They’d been making plans to get married, to try for that new baby and move to a bigger apartment. Then Arnold was killed, and everything stopped.

  Their plans and hopes and dreams gave way to grief so deep and so pervasive it’d wiped out everything that stood in its path. For the first time, Tommy had turned away from her rather than toward her. She couldn’t compete with his grief. She couldn’t help him—and God knows she’d tried. She’d tried everything she could think of to help him, to find him some relief, to ease his tortured mind. But nothing had worked, and now here they were at the end of their road.

  Insanity was defined as continuing to do the same thing over and over and expecting different results. She couldn’t keep doing this. She brushed away more tears, her chest aching and her eyes raw.

  One of the nurses who’d been nice to her earlier came in, saw her crying and offered a box of tissues.

  Christina gratefully took a couple and used them to mop up the flood on her face.

  “Can I get you anything?” the nurse asked.

  Christina shook her head.

  The nurse glanced over her shoulder, and then came closer, keeping her voice down when she said, “I’m not supposed to say anything, but the man you were talking to before?”

  “What about him?”

  “He had some sort of episode in the waiting room. I don’t know anything else, but they’re admitting him.”

  “Can you find out what’s wrong with him?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already said too much.”

  “Th-thank you.” Long after the nurse left the room, Christina thought about what she should do with this new information. She pondered the possibility of calling one of Tommy’s sisters or his parents to come help, but dismissed that, knowing that was the last thing he’d want her to do. She called Sam.