Fatal Deception Page 19

  “Come on, Harry,” Sam said. “They can’t talk baseball without you.”

  “What does he know?” Nick asked. “He’s widely regarded as a fair-weather sailor. He’s not a hard-core fan like us.” Nick gestured to Scotty to include him in the “us.”

  “I’m willing to wager the Nats will be in the World Series this season,” Harry said confidently.

  Nick glanced at Scotty. “What do you think? Should we take that bet?”

  “Definitely,” Scotty said. “We’ll win. Everyone’s saying the Nats will crash and burn by August.”

  “You heard the young man,” Nick said, reaching his hand out to Harry. “You’ve got yourself a bet.”

  Harry shook his hand. “You’re on.”

  Sam smiled at her husband and reached for his free hand under the table.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for the smoothie. That was incredibly sweet of you.”

  “No problem, babe. I knew you had to be hungry.”

  “I was.” She reached up to smooth a lock of his hair. “This was actually more fun than I expected it to be.”

  “That’s because you’re surrounded by friends.” He glanced at the foursome across the table who were talking politics. “I told you it was a good thing that your people got involved with my people.”

  Sam rolled her eyes at him. As he well knew, she found the cross-pollination of their people to be equal parts baffling and irritating.

  “Sam,” Scotty said. “What do you think? Will the Nats make it to the World Series?”

  Sam pretended to give that some considerable thought. “Not only will they make it to the World Series,” she said. “I predict they’ll face off against the Red Sox.”

  Scotty’s eyes went wide with amazement. “That’d be totally righteous! Can we can get tickets if that happens, Nick?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Nick said. “If that happens, I’ll get tickets to all the games in Washington. How’s that?”

  “Holy cow. Wait ’til I tell the kids at home about this!”

  Sam squeezed Nick’s hand, knowing he felt the same way she did about wanting Scotty to think of their home as his home. He fit right in with them, holding his own at the table full of adults as the talk turned from baseball to politics to Scotty’s upcoming stay at their house.

  “I told Nick to bring you down to the farm to ride,” Graham said. He stood behind his wife with his hands on Laine’s shoulders.

  “That’d be so cool,” Scotty said. “I love it there. Can we make ice cream again, Mrs. O’Connor?”

  “I told you to call me Laine,” she said with mock sternness that made Scotty smile.

  He glanced at Mrs. Littlefield. “Mrs. L says it’s bad manners to call adults by their first names.”

  “Except when they give you permission,” Mrs. Littlefield chimed in.

  “See?” Laine clapped her hands victoriously. “That’s what I tried to tell you.”

  “We’ve already had this argument,” he said to Mrs. Littlefield, making the other adults at the table laugh.

  “You’ve raised a very polite young man,” Graham said to Mrs. Littlefield.

  “Indeed,” Nick added. “We hear about the gospel according to Mrs. Littlefield quite often.”

  “Like the time he said I could go to the baseball camp without even asking how much it cost,” Scotty said, clucking and shaking his head with disapproval.

  “I heard about that one for a few days,” Nick said. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Mrs. Littlefield says it’s not responsible to agree to buy something before you know how much it costs.’”

  The older woman blushed and laughed at the same time. “I’m glad to hear some of my words of wisdom have stuck.” She gazed at the handsome boy wistfully, as if she knew what was coming even if he hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

  Sam caught Mrs. Littlefield’s gaze and sent her a reassuring smile. As far as she and Nick were concerned, the woman who’d served as Scotty’s surrogate mother for the last six years would always be welcome with them, if they were lucky enough to bring Scotty home for good someday. So much was riding on the next three weeks.

  A short while later, Mrs. Littlefield told Scotty it was time to head back to Richmond. The boy offered a bit of protest before Nick reminded him that they’d be down to pick him up for the three-week stay on Sunday.

  “I’m counting the days,” Scotty said as he hugged Nick and then Sam.

  “So are we,” she said.

  “We’re going to call it a night too,” Nick said to Graham and Laine. “Sam is beat, and we both have to work tomorrow.”

  “Thanks so much for being here, Sam,” Graham said, gently kissing the uninjured side of her face. “I know you probably had better things to do tonight.”

  Glancing up at Nick, she said, “There was nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  Nick shook hands with Graham. “Thanks again.”

  “Our pleasure. Keep making us proud.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Nick hugged and kissed Laine and said his good-byes to the staffers in attendance. “See you all bright and early.”

  Christina replied with a good-natured groan.

  “My boss gave me the day off tomorrow,” Gonzo joked.

  “Dream on,” Sam said. “Briefing at zero seven hundred.”

  “That’s inhuman,” Gonzo said, making Lindsey and Terry laugh.

  Sam and Nick walked Scotty and Mrs. Littlefield to her car and saw them off while the valets retrieved their hired car. The minute they were settled in the backseat, Sam kicked off her heels and crawled into her husband’s outstretched arms. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket, so Sam went to work on the diamond studs that served as buttons.

  “Um, excuse me, what’re you doing?”

  “I need skin.” She pushed his shirt open and rested her cheek against his beautiful chest.

  His hand slid from her ankle to her knee to her inner thigh.

  “And what are you doing?”

  “Same as you—seeking skin.”

  Sam sighed with contentment. “I’m so happy I get to go home with you tonight.”

  “Just tonight?”

  “Every night, but particularly tonight. Every woman in that room wanted you for herself, and none of them can have you, because you’re all mine.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I love that, you know? No matter what shitty crap happens during the day—and a lot of shitty crap happened today—when it’s over, I get to go home to you. It’s the best thing in...well...ever.”

  He tightened the arm he had around her and nuzzled her hair. “It is the best thing ever. You’re the best thing ever.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed in his endlessly appealing scent, the scent of home.

  “And here I thought I was in the biggest trouble ever.”

  “Oh, you are, Nicky.” Sam thought her imitation of Patrice’s breathy voice was spot-on, if she said so herself. “And making a big deal out of me in front of all those people. You’re in so much trouble.”

  “I love your brand of trouble.” His fingers moved in a seductive pattern over her thigh, moving higher with each stroke but never quite reaching the place that ached for him.

  “Nick,” she gasped. “Quit teasing me!”

  “Shhh. Relax, baby.”

  As he well knew, she melted like butter whenever he spoke to her in that sexy, gravely tone he usually reserved for their bedroom. Relax? Right... How was she supposed to relax when he was making her crazy with the slide of his fingers over her sensitive flesh?

  Excruciating minutes passed in a sensual haze before he finally pressed his fingertips against the silky satin of her thong.

  Sam squirmed on his lap, trying to give him better access.

  He let out a grunt and then a groan when her bottom came into contact with his erection. “Careful, babe. I’m quite fond of my boy parts.”

  “So am I. You have the b
est boy parts in the whole world.”

  He chuckled softly against her ear, sending a torrent of sensations spiraling through her, awaking every one of her girl parts. “No one gives a compliment quite like my wife.”

  “Nick.” She pushed her hips against his hand, hoping to encourage him to pay closer attention to what he was doing.

  “What?”

  Placing her hand over his, she directed him to exactly where she wanted him. “Yes. There. Right there.”

  He kept his fingers on the outside of her underwear, sliding back and forth over the place that pulsed and throbbed for him. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes!” She was so focused on the heat building between her legs that she didn’t notice his other hand move to the front of her dress until his talented fingers were inside the bodice and tweaking her nipple. The combination had her gasping and panting and exploding. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and the intense pain of her wound took nothing away from the equally intense release.

  He brought her down slowly, keeping pressure on her clit and nipple until the aftershocks subsided.

  “Mmm,” he said against her neck. “Do you see now why I hired the car?”

  Still breathing hard, Sam shifted off his lap and went to work on his pants. “Not only are you a sexy devil, you’re smart—and you plan ahead. How lucky am I to have such a husband?”

  While she freed him from his pants, he twirled a lock of long hair around his finger. The instant he burst free, she wrapped her hand around his thick cock and stroked him until the tip gleamed with moisture.

  His head fell back against the seat, and his eyes went heavy with desire. “What’re you up to, Samantha?”

  “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.