Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series Read online

  “What’re you thinking about?” she asked him.

  He realized that he’d punched out on her, which he never did when she was naked beneath him. “How good you feel.” More than anything, Nick hated having to hide his worries from Sam, who’d been so supportive and understanding as the Secret Service invaded their lives and their home.

  “You know how you can make me really happy right now?” she asked with the coy smile he adored.

  “How?”

  She took him in hand, stroked him until he was harder than he’d been before she made him come, and guided him home.

  As he slid into her, his mind cleared of anything that didn’t involve her. Encased in her tight heat, he had no choice but to give her his full attention. As long as he had this, as long as he had her, he’d be okay. That was all he knew for sure. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him, and his heart overflowed with love for her. She gave him everything, even things she didn’t know he needed.

  “Samantha.” His lips found hers in a hungry, devouring kiss. He was still kissing her when he felt her tighten around him, a sign that she was close. She who’d had trouble achieving climax in past relationships came every time with him, which was another thing to love about what they had together. He gave it to her hard and fast, which always triggered her release. This time was no different.

  He kissed her again, to smother the sound of her cries, and went with her, surging into her until they were both depleted and breathing hard. “Love you,” he whispered.

  “Love you too. Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you, baby.” Though he expected the New Year to be lousy on many fronts, he’d do everything he could to make sure it was a happy year for her and Scotty. Their happiness and safety were the only things that truly mattered to him.

  * * *

  A ringing phone woke them early the next morning. Sam groaned when she realized it was hers. She checked the caller ID and saw it was Dispatch. “Motherfucker.”

  “Good morning to you too, love,” Nick said as he yawned.

  “It’s work.”

  “Shit.”

  She sat up in bed and let the covers fall to her waist. “Holland.”

  “Lieutenant, we’ve got a homicide on Constitution Ave near West Potomac Park. The victim is located inside a parked vehicle.”

  “I’m on my way. Call Cruz.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Shit, fuck, damn, hell,” Sam said as she got out of bed and headed for the shower. So much for a holiday weekend off duty.

  Nick laughed at her string of swears. “Sorry, babe.”

  “Don’t the fucking murderers know it’s my weekend off?”

  “They’re very inconsiderate that way.”

  Over her shoulder, she said, “Shower. Now.” She loved the way his eyes widened with surprise at her command. The sound of his footsteps behind her made her heart beat faster with anticipation. She stepped into the shower and turned up the heat, filling the stall with steam as she quickly washed her hair.

  He came in behind her, his arm encircling her waist. “Allow me,” he said, taking the bottle of conditioner from her and working it through her long hair.

  Sam pushed her rear against his erection, which earned her a sharp slap on the ass that made her cry out with surprise and shocking desire. She’d never forget the first time he’d done that or how much she’d liked it.

  He did it again, on the other side this time, before bending her at the waist and taking her hard and fast from behind. It was over almost before it began, but every inch of her body tingled with aftershocks as he washed between her legs and sent her on her way with yet another well-placed spank. “Be careful out there, babe.”

  “Always am.”

  “Let me know what’s going on when you can.”

  “Will do. Thanks for the morning wake-up call.”

  “Anytime.”

  Sam kissed him and left him to finish his shower. She put on a robe to walk across the hall to get dressed, trying to ignore the agent who was positioned outside Scotty’s room as he made an equal effort to ignore her. How long would it take before she became accustomed to having people crawling all over her house?

  She threw on jeans, a heavy sweater and the fleece-lined snow boots that Nick had given her for Christmas. Her wet hair would make her cold on the crime scene, so she put on a knit hat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. She went downstairs, grabbed an apple and a bottle of water before bolting past the agent at the door and stomping down the ramp, checking the time on her phone as she went.

  Twelve minutes from phone call to car with shower sex. Not bad.

  As she drove, she ate the apple and yawned her head off, jonesing for the diet cola she’d been forced to give up when her stomach revolted against the acid in the soda. While she wouldn’t have traded a minute of the evening she’d spent wrapped up in her gorgeous husband, she wished now that she’d spent a tiny bit more of it actually sleeping.

  She parked illegally on Constitution Avenue and stepped under the yellow crime scene tape that a patrolman held up for her. “What’ve we got?” she asked Officer Beckett, who stood next to the car.

  “Female vic, approximately thirty years old. Waiting for Dispatch to get me the details on the car.”

  “Have you touched anything?”

  “I gloved up to open the car door and check for a pulse. I also checked the glove box for a registration, but it wasn’t in there. That’s as far as I went on my own.”

  “Good job.”

  She pulled latex gloves from her coat pocket and snapped them on before leaning into the car for a closer look. The woman had long brown hair and pale skin. Sam noted bruising around her neck and throat, indication that she’d been manually strangled. She reached across the front seat for the purse that sat on the passenger seat and went through it looking for a wallet, which was at the bottom.

  Sam pulled it out and stood upright, relying on the first light of day to get a read of the name and address on the Maryland license. Lori Phillips. A bolt of shock traveled through Sam, drawing a gasp from her tightly clenched lips as she took a second look at the woman and recognized her as the mother of Gonzo’s son—the same woman he’d faced off against in court, the same one he’d said he wanted to strangle.

  “Fuck,” Sam whispered.

  “What’s got you swearing before the sun is even up?” her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz, asked as he joined her.

  Sam turned to him, not surprised to see him bed-headed and rumpled as he always was when he responded to calls late at night or first thing in the morning. “It’s Lori Phillips.”

  Freddie’s mouth opened and then closed. “As in Gonzo’s Lori Phillips?” he asked in nearly a whisper.

  “One and the same.”

  “Shit.”

  “Thus the swearing.” Sam didn’t tell him—and wouldn’t tell anyone—what Gonzo had said to her the night before. But she’d be having a conversation with her detective sergeant the second she could break free from the crime scene.

  Freddie zipped his coat all the way to the top. A whipping wind made it that much colder than it already was. “How do we play this?”

  “I don’t know. I just got here myself. I need a minute to think.” Sam took Lori’s phone out of her purse and handed it to Freddie. “How do we see what’s on this?”

  Freddie took it from her and pushed some buttons. “It’s password protected. We’ll need to get it to Archie for a dump.” He glanced at something over her shoulder. “Here comes the ME.” Then he looked down at her, concern etched into his handsome face. “You don’t think—”

  “No! I don’t think that. And neither do you.”

  “Right. Of course I don’t think that.” After a long pause, he said, “But everyone else will
.”

  “Shit, fuck, damn, hell,” she muttered, staring down at Lori and thinking of the shitstorm that would erupt when the media caught wind of the fact that she’d been murdered. In any homicide investigation, Sam’s first thoughts were always for her victim and getting justice for both the victim and the victim’s family. In this case, however, she couldn’t help but think of her close friend and how this particular homicide would turn his life upside down.

  “What you said.” As a rule, Freddie left the swearing to her, but even he was known to break loose in the most extreme situations, and this certainly counted as extreme. “What’s the plan?”

  “Work the scene and keep a lid on our vic’s identity until I can get my head around this. Don’t tell anyone her name. See about getting video surveillance footage from around here. Surely we have cameras in the area. And the minute you can, get that phone to Archie at HQ.” Sam dropped Lori’s wallet into her coat pocket. “Beckett!”

  The patrolman came over to them. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You hear back from Dispatch on the car?”

  “Just now.” He handed her a slip of paper on which he’d written, George Phillips with an address in Bowie, Maryland.

  “Thanks. I’m putting a gag order on every detail of this investigation. Got me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. No one will hear anything from me.”

  “Good. Where’s Crime Scene?” she asked of the detectives who would go through the vehicle with a fine-tooth comb.

  “On their way.”

  “Thanks, Beckett.” After she and Freddie did a visual search of the car and found nothing obvious to aid in the investigation, Sam waved for Lindsey McNamara, the District’s chief medical examiner, to come forward. “All yours, Doc.”

  “Do we know who she is?”

  “We do.”

  Lindsey secured her long red hair into a ponytail. “And?”

  “For right now she’s a thirty-one-year-old Jane Doe. Got me?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll brief you as soon as I can.” To Freddie, she said, “Keep an eye on things, get Patrol to begin a canvas of the area and keep me posted on anything that transpires. As soon as you can, get the phone to HQ.”

  “Got it. Where are you going?”

  “To Gonzo’s.”

  “Sam. You gotta know, he would never...”

  “We’d both like to think that, Freddie, but honestly, you never know what someone will do when they feel desperate and pushed to the brink.”

  Freddie blanched. “You said you weren’t thinking that.”

  “I gotta go. Keep the scene under control.”

  “I will.”

  As Sam took off toward her car, she ducked under the yellow tape and felt sick to her stomach. No, she didn’t actually think her close friend and colleague was capable of murder. However, Gonzo had been under a tremendous amount of stress as he recovered from the gunshot wound and also dealt with the media circus over his connection to the judge.

  And now Lori was dead, and everyone would be looking to him. The first thing they did in any homicide investigation was investigate motive. And who had the greatest motivation to get Lori out of the picture?

  Detective Sergeant Thomas Gonzales.

  Chapter Four

  Riddled with anxiety, Sam drove across the city to the apartment Gonzo shared with Christina and Alex. She’d give just about anything not to have to do what she was about to do. His words from the night before echoed through her mind, making her wonder if someone she thought she knew as well as anyone was capable—

  “No,” she said out loud. “Don’t even think it. He’s not capable.” But she couldn’t get past the awful stress Gonzo had been under since he’d been shot shortly after being given full custody of Alex. Sam couldn’t forget the way Lori had appeared at the hospital while they waited to hear if Gonzo would survive and demanded they turn over Alex to her while he was incapacitated.

  Sam had wanted to kill the woman herself that day. She could only imagine how Gonzo had felt when he learned that Lori’s lawyers had dug into his life and uncovered the connection between him and Judge Morton. One of them should’ve disclosed it, but neither had and now...

  “Now she’s dead, and the media will go crazy pointing the finger at him.” She pounded her hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her phone rang, interrupting her plan to do more swearing. “Holland.”

  “Please hold for Chief Farnsworth.” The phone clicked and he came on the line. “Holland?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sorry to bother you on a holiday.”

  “I’ve already been bothered by Dispatch.”

  “What’ve you got?”

  Sam swallowed hard. She should tell him. She absolutely should tell him. But she couldn’t—not before she had a chance to talk to Gonzo. “Female vic strangled. Found in a car on Constitution by West Potomac Park. Early stages.”

  “Keep me posted,” he said with less interest than he’d normally give a homicide. Nothing about what was going on with him right now was normal.

  “I will.”

  “I’m calling a commander’s meeting at noon. I’d like you there.”

  “Of course.”

  “Again, I apologize for interrupting the holiday. It’s just... Well, I need...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you at noon?”

  Sam hated the uncertainty she heard in his usually assertive voice. More than that, she hated the pang of fear that struck in the vicinity of her heart when she realized he sounded scared. Her uncle Joe—her chief—never sounded scared. “I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you. See you then.”

  Sam stowed the phone in her coat pocket as she pulled up to the curb outside Gonzo’s building. She thought of the last time she’d been here, for a Christmas get-together Christina had put together to bolster Gonzo’s flagging spirits.

  His recovery was taking longer than he would’ve liked, and he’d been chafing to get back to work. The time with his squad and other friends had done him good, and she’d left the party feeling hopeful that he’d be back where he belonged before too much longer.

  Now this.

  Sam got out of the car and trudged up the two flights of stairs to Gonzo’s apartment where she knocked on the door. Since he often mentioned Alex’s early wake-ups, she was confident they’d be up.

  He came to the door with the baby in his arms. The smiling dark-haired boy was a mirror image of his father, right down to the dimple in his adorable little chin. “Hey,” Gonzo said, clearly surprised to find her on his doorstep. “What’re you doing out so early on a holiday?”

  “Can I come in for a sec?”

  His brows narrowed with questions he didn’t ask. “Sure.” He stepped aside to let her in and put Alex down. The baby toddled off to the corner of the living room where his toys were kept. “What’s up, Sam?”

  Sam forced herself to look at him, to make eye contact. “Is Christina here?”

  “She’s in the shower.”

  Sam’s stomach ached the way it used to when she’d been strung out on diet cola. She rubbed a hand over it, trying to figure out how she should play this as she tried not to notice the still raw-looking wound on his neck. “So, um, after we talked last night, did you go anywhere?”

  “No. I was here all night. I did what you said and tried to stay focused on Chris and our anniversary. We had a good night, all things considered. Why?”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  He tipped his head quizzically. “Lie to you? No, I wouldn’t lie to you. Why would you ask me such a thing?”

  Sam sighed. “Lori was found murdered this morning in a parked car downtown. She’d been manually strangled.”

  All the color seeme
d to leach from his face as he processed what she’d said. “And you thought, because of what I said last night...”

  “No, I didn’t really think that. I didn’t want to think it.”

  “Sam, come on! This is me. You can’t possibly think that I’d actually harm her. Sure, I wanted her to go away and leave us alone, but not like this. Never like this.” He glanced over to where his little boy was playing with trucks. “She’s his mother, Sam,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Even if I said I wanted to. You have to believe me.”

  “I do. I believe you, and I believe in you. But you have to know, this is going to blow up big-time, and all eyes will be on you until we figure out what happened.”

  He ran both hands through his hair as the impact of what she’d said seemed to settle in on him. “This is a fucking nightmare. This whole thing, from the second she first called to tell me... Except for him. He’s the blessing in all of it, but what if he thinks, someday... That I could’ve...”

  “Gonzo.” Sam rested her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Take a breath.”

  He did as she directed and then glanced at her, seeming devastated. “She’s really dead? You saw her with your own eyes?”

  “I did and she is.”

  “Who else knows it’s her?”

  “Right now only Cruz, but I won’t be able to sit on this for long. Farnsworth already knows we’ve caught a new case. He’s going to have questions.”

  “Goddamn. I don’t even know what to do. What should I do?”

  “Hey, Sam.” Christina came into the room wearing yoga pants and a tank top. Her shoulder-length blond hair was still damp from the shower. “You’re out early.”

  “Baby.” Gonzo held out his hand to her, and she grasped it, letting him draw her into his embrace.

  “What wrong, Tommy? You’re scaring me.”