Chapter Fifteen
Nick collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, his skin slick with sweat, and she was immediately concerned that he’d overexerted himself.
“Stop,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“How do you know what I was thinking?”
“Because I know how your brain works.”
“I guess you’re superhuman after all,” she said, caressing his back in small circles. “Look how fast you bounced back from being so sick.”
“I’m resilient.” To make his point, he flexed his hips, letting her know he was ready to go again.
“No way, mister. One and done tonight.” She pushed on his hips trying to dislodge him, but he was unmovable.
“Don’t hurt yourself, babe,” he said with a low chuckle.
“I mean it, Nick. We’re not doing it again.”
“Okay.” He ran his fingers through her hair as Sam floated on a cloud of contentment.
She loved the weight of his body on top of her as their bodies pulsed with aftershocks.
“I have to tell you something you’re not going to like,” he said, ending her contentment with one sentence.
“What?”
“Nelson wants me to go to Iran to help broker the new arms deal.”
Despite the heat of his body and the heat they had generated together, she went cold all over at the thought of him so far from her in a place that wasn’t exactly known for its love of Americans.
“Why you?” she asked.
“I think he’s punishing me for my new higher profile.”
“I told you those six million Twitter followers would come back to haunt you.”
He smiled down at her. “Exactly.”
“But won’t sending you to Iran raise your profile?”
“Maybe, but I think he wants me out of his hair for a couple of weeks, and he certainly doesn’t want to go.”
“A couple of weeks?”
“Apparently, that’s the best-case scenario.”
“Can you refuse to go?”
“I suppose I can do whatever I want.”
“Then don’t go. Stay here and continue to do what you’re doing to raise the profile on issues that matter right here. Gun control and immigration reform and middle class families—”
He stopped her with a kiss. “All important things, no doubt, but what good is any of it if we aren’t focused on national security first and foremost?”
“Why does it have to be you? Doesn’t he have a secretary of state to deal with stuff like that?”
“He’d be there, too.”
“So why can’t you go and shake some hands and leave the heavy lifting to him?”
“I suppose I could do that.” He kissed her again. “I didn’t tell you this to upset you. But I didn’t want you to hear about it from Darren or another member of the press corps or Lilia.”
“Does that mean you’re going?”
“It means I’m considering it while wishing I’d never left the Senate. Things were much less complicated there—for all of us.”
Sam shook her head. “If you’d stayed in the Senate, you’d be wondering what-if about being the VP. You made the right move at the right time.”
“You can say that even with our home over run with Secret Service and hardly any privacy and women paid to watch me who you can’t stand?”
“Woman. Singular. As in one woman I can’t stand. And you can wipe that smug grin off your face before I slug you.”
“What smug grin?”
She traced the outline of his mouth with her finger. “That one.” Glancing up, she saw his eyes heat with desire the way they did no matter how she touched him. “I have to tell you something you’re not going to like.”
“What’s that?”
“Malone wants me to come back to work the Hamilton case and serve out the remainder of my suspension after.”
Nick withdrew from her and turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Sam raised herself up on an elbow so she could see his face. “Are you mad?”
“No, of course I’m not mad. I know how much you want to be smack in the middle of something like this.”
“But?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Clearly you’ve got something on your mind or you wouldn’t be all the way over there, so don’t say it’s nothing.”
Taking hold of her hand, he brought it to his lips. “I’m being selfish. I see an opportunity to have some alone time with you, and I want it. That’s all.”
“We’re alone right now.”
“It’s never enough.”
“We have ten days in Bora Bora coming up at the end of the month. That’ll be here before we know it.
” She dropped her head to his chest, and he snuggled her in next to him.
“Believe it or not, I don’t relish the idea of working this case.
It’s sure to be a shitshow of epic proportions.
But we’re shorthanded without Arnold and with Gonzo out for who knows how long.
My squad needs me to walk them through this. ”
“Malone could do it.”
“He could, but he’s been on desk duty a long time.
He’s rusty around the edges. He’d tell you that himself.
” She ran a finger over Nick’s well-defined pectorals and then down to explore his abs, loving the way his muscles quivered under her touch.
“The department has taken a lot of hard hits lately. We have to seriously nail this one so the chief can hold onto his job. We’ve got Arnie Patterson in prison claiming he was framed by the MPD.
Bill Springer blames the chief for the death of his son, who was a cold-blooded murderer, but you can’t tell him that.
The story of Stahl taking me hostage and our long-time animosity has been all over the national news in recent months, and now the shit with me and Ramsey.
It’s been a lot of bad press, some of it involving me, and this is our chance for retribution. ”
“There’s been good press, too. Like you crowd surfing during the inaugural parade and nabbing Arnold’s killer.”
“That was one high moment in a sea of lows.”
“It’s not up to you to single-handedly change the story.”
“I know that, and I’m not insinuating I could single-handedly change the story, but the fact is, the story hasn’t been great lately, and Hamilton’s murder is a big opportunity for us to do what we do best. I’d still be working right now if I hadn’t been suspended.
” In fact, she needed to check in with McBride and Tyrone to see what they had so far.
She reached for her phone on the bedside table and fired off a text to Jeannie asking for an update.
Nothing new to report yet. Lindsey has transported the body to the morgue. Waiting for Hill to notify the wife and the FBI deputy director so we can issue a statement. Working with the Public Affairs people on that and wishing you were here.
I may be able to come back. More to come tomorrow.
Fingers crossed.
Keep me posted.
Will do.
It was good to know her team missed her and wished she could be there to guide them through the early stages of the investigation.
Sam returned the phone to the table and relaxed into Nick’s embrace. The outside world was always tugging at them, but for now they could pretend, at least for a few more hours, that they were alone in paradise.
Still reeling from the sight of Troy Hamilton’s dead body, Avery drove through the darkness on Interstate 66 on the way to Chantilly, while wishing he was home with Shelby watching a movie or one of her mindless cooking shows.
Anything would be better than trying to process the loss of a man he’d admired and respected under such bizarre circumstances.
“I need to call the deputy director,” Hill said. “I don’t feel right waiting to tell him. He won’t understand why I did that, especially when he hears I found the body.”
“You’ve handled everything by the book,” Farnsworth said from his post in the front seat.
“Agreed,” Malone said.
“I still need to tell him.”
“Go ahead and make the call,” Farnsworth said, “but ask him to keep a lid on it until we can notify the wife.”
Dustin Jacoby’s number was in Avery’s list of contacts, so he used the voice assist feature on his phone to make the call. He’d worked directly for Jacoby at one time and considered him a friend. After four rings, Jacoby’s voicemail picked up.
“Dustin, it’s Avery Hill. Give me a call as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent.” If he didn’t hear from the deputy director within the hour, he’d go through official channels to track him down.
The GPS led them to Mrs. Hamilton’s mother’s house in Chantilly, twenty-five miles outside of the city in the western part of Fairfax County.
The two-story brick colonial was located on a street made up of similar houses.
Outside the house in question, a porch light was on over the front door and there were still lights on inside, which was a relief.
If they had to deliver devastating news, at least they wouldn’t have to wake her up to do it.
The three men approached the door, and Hill rang the bell.
He retrieved his badge from his coat pocket, and showed it to Courtney Hamilton when she came to the door. She was a petite blond who was known for her love of tennis, martinis and philanthropic activities in the DC area.
“Special Agent Hill, Mrs. Hamilton. This is Chief Farnsworth and Captain Malone from the Metro DC police department. I wondered if we might have a few minutes of your time?”
“Of course.” Eying them warily, she stepped aside to admit them. “What’s this about? I talked to Josh earlier, and he’s fine. I don’t know why you were looking for him or what Troy was thinking issuing that statement. Josh isn’t on any medication that I know of.”
She’s nervous, Avery deduced, the run-on sentences and jerky movements were out of character for the woman Avery had met a number of times at bureau events and get-togethers at the director’s home where Avery had found her to be smooth, elegant, gracious hostess.
The perfect wife for a high-ranking government official.
They took seats in the living room, and Courtney lowered the volume on the television.
“Mrs. Hamilton,” Avery said, hating his job passionately in that moment, “I’m afraid we have some difficult news.”
“Not Josh! I just talked to him!”
“It’s not Josh.” Avery forced himself to continue, to say the words, to put it out there and let her begin to deal with the unimaginable loss. “It’s your husband.”
“What about him?”