Chapter Eight #2
Much later, surrounded by her brothers and sisters in blue, as well as her husband, Sam raised a shot of whiskey in tribute to her father and downed the liquor in one gulp that burned all the way through her.
“To Skip!”
That shot was followed by another and another, until Sam caught a comfortable buzz that took the edge off her raw emotions.
Then Archie busted out a heartfelt, soaring rendition of “Danny Boy,” surprising and delighting his colleagues with a beautiful voice that brought tears to Sam’s eyes that she didn’t try to contain.
She didn’t have to in this crowd where she was surrounded by friends who’d loved her father almost as much as she had.
Nick stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders as Gonzo and Cruz flanked her.
Gonzo drank only water.
Sam was well and truly plastered by the time Nick and Freddie helped her into the Secret Service vehicle that waited at the curb to take them home. She pretended she couldn’t hear Nick and Freddie talking about her.
“It’s probably good for her to blow off some steam,” Freddie said.
“Agreed,” Nick replied. “But she’ll regret it in the morning.”
“She said she’s going to work.”
“I want her to take another day.”
That’s not going to happen. Sam tried not to puke in the pristine Secret Service SUV. Comfortable numbness was much preferred to the ache that came with profound loss.
Nick said good night to Freddie and got in next to her, gathering her into his embrace.
She’d tried to tell him he didn’t have to come to O’Leary’s, that it was a cop thing and he could go home if he wanted to, but he’d insisted on sticking with her. Scotty had gone home with Celia and would spend the night there.
“I’m glad you came with me.” Her words were slurred, but she didn’t care.
“So am I.”
“Wanna know why I’m glad you came with me?”
“Can’t wait to hear this.”
“You come with designated drivers.”
“Is that all I’m good for?”
“That’s one of many things you’re good for.” She rested her hand on his leg and started to slide it upward when he stopped her. “Don’t be a stick in the mud.”
He laughed. “Will you remember any of this tomorrow?”
“I’ve never forgotten a second that I spent with you.” She pushed his hand away and continued her quest to get at what she wanted.
“Samantha.”
“Yes?”
“Can you hold that thought until we get home?”
“As long as I’m allowed to indulge that thought when we get home.”
“You can indulge all you want when we’re behind closed doors.”
“Okay.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes and sighed, the stress and strain of the last few days leaving her in a whoosh of air. “Nick…”
“I’m right here.”
“My dad…”
“I know, honey.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
He held her tighter, his lips skimming her forehead. “You’re supposed to keep doing what you do and keep making him proud by being your perfect self.”
Tears burned her eyes, so she closed them. Just for a minute.
Her question broke Nick’s heart. What would she do without Skip? He couldn’t begin to know, but he hoped she would take comfort in being reminded of how proud her father had been of her. Her body went lax against his, and he was relieved that she had fallen asleep.
When they arrived at Ninth Street, Nick lifted Sam into his arms and carried her up the ramp, into the house and straight upstairs where he helped her out of her uniform and tucked her into bed.
He was kind of glad she’d let loose with her colleagues and had gotten a little drunk after the week she’d had.
He went to look in on Aubrey and Alden, sleeping peacefully after spending the evening with Shelby and Avery, who were asleep with Noah in the guest room. Thank God for good friends at times like these.
Keyed up after the long, emotional day, Nick changed into sweats and a T-shirt and went downstairs to have a drink. He’d abstained during the day so Sam could let loose. But now he needed to take the edge off.
Bourbon, he decided, having been weaned on it at Graham O’Connor’s table while at Harvard with Graham’s son, John.
He poured a healthy shot and took it to the sofa, pulled out his phone and checked his messages for the first time all day.
Work stuff could wait for the morning, he decided, not wanting to fuel his insomnia with stress. He read a text from Freddie.
I’m worried about Sam. Has she cried yet?
Not that I’ve seen, Nick replied. I think she was holding it together in public.
She says she’s going back to work tomorrow. Is she ready for that?
I suppose we need to let her decide that.
Yeah, I guess. I’ll be there to keep an eye on her.
That’ll help. It meant so much to her that you came home to be with her.
I wouldn’t have missed it. What a day this was.
I know. It was amazing. He would’ve loved it.
Yes, very much so. Try to get some sleep.
You, too.
Nick already knew she hadn’t cried yet. He’d checked with her sisters as well as Scotty. Now Freddie had echoed his concerns.
Brant came out of the room the Secret Service used as an office, the bag he carried to and from work on his shoulder. “Mr. Vice President. I almost didn’t see you there in the dark.”
“Heading out?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Hey, Brant?”
“Sir?”
“Thank you for all you do. The last few days couldn’t have been easy for you or the others, but you made it easy on us. It’s very much appreciated.”
“Thank you, sir. Everyone on our team was fond of Deputy Chief Holland. We were honored to serve you and your family this week.” He paused, seeming to consider his next words. “But if you ever run away from your detail again, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Understood?”
Nick laughed. “Sorry about that.”
“I understand why you did it, and I might’ve done the same thing myself under the circumstances. However…”
“Say no more. I got it.”
“Is Mrs. Cappuano doing all right?”
“She’s better now that she has a belly full of whiskey. Not sure how she’ll feel in the morning, though.”
“It’s a tough loss for her. It was obvious to everyone how close they were.”
Nick stood to shake the agent’s hand. “Thanks again for everything.”
Brant shook his hand. “It’s an honor to work with and for you.
Tomorrow, we need to talk about the plan for the Armstrong children.
I’ve been in touch with headquarters about providing them with security.
You should be aware that the GOP minority leader has inquired about whether taxpayer dollars should be used to protect children you voluntarily brought into your family while in office. ”
“I’m not surprised. I expected some backlash.”
“But since you and Mrs. Cappuano will be their legal, custodial guardians, they’re entitled to protection, and we recommend they have it.”
“Agreed.”
“If it meets with your approval, I’ll work with headquarters to coordinate their protection.”
“It does. Thank you.”
“Very good. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“You should take a day off one of these days.”
“And do what?”
“Get a life?”
Brant laughed—as hard as Nick had ever seen the always-serious agent laugh. “That’ll be the day. My life is protecting your life.”
“That doesn’t count as a life of your own. We need to see about getting you a girlfriend.”
“Good night, sir.”
Nick wished he could see if Brant was blushing. He wouldn’t be surprised. “Good night, Brant.” He finished his drink and went upstairs to join Sam in bed, even if he didn’t feel tired. He rarely did without some form of medication that made him groggy the next day.
Sliding into bed next to his beloved, he snuggled up to her and took comfort from her nearness, her scent, her heat, the silk of her hair and the softness of her skin.
Freddie would keep an eye on her at work. He would keep an eye on her at home. Together, they would get her through this. Whatever she needed, whatever it took. He would be there for her—always.