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“What’s your hunch about whether or not he’s behind this latest threat?”
“If you’d asked me that two years ago, I would’ve said he lacked the balls to threaten the sitting vice president. But after he tried to blow us up, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“The good news is his prints are on file after his arrest on the bombing, so if he touched that letter, we’ll have him.”
Her heart sank. “There won’t be prints.”
“Why do you say that?” Avery asked.
“Because he’ll have learned that lesson with the bombs. I called him out on it in interrogation. Like, how could you be so stupid? Didn’t you learn anything from living with a cop for four years? He wouldn’t make that mistake again.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t get him in other ways.”
“He won’t make it easy.”
“Who are we talking about?”
Sam whirled around to find Nick standing in the doorway, his face lined from the pillowcase and his hair standing on end. He hardly resembled the handsome, debonair vice president the rest of the world knew. She held out her hand to him. “Do you feel better after getting some rest?”
He stepped forward to take her hand and sat next to her. “I did until I realized I’d been left out of this conversation.”
“You didn’t miss anything other than a trip down unpleasant memory lane.”
“You’re talking about Peter, then.”
“How’d you guess?”
“What’s your take?” Nick asked Avery.
“It’s as good of a lead as we’ve gotten. Often when someone threatens the president or vice president, they like to crow about it. In this case, there hasn’t been anything. No claim of responsibility. No chatter. No nothing.”
“Which means we’re stuck here indefinitely?”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
Right then and there Sam reached her breaking point. “I want out of here. I’m not under Secret Service protection, and I shouldn’t have to be here if I don’t want to be protected. Everyone here should be given that choice. You can’t hold us indefinitely.”
“That’s not up to you,” Nick said in a tone that told her he didn’t appreciate her doing this in front of Avery, of all people.
For once, Sam didn’t care what he appreciated. “You can’t hold me here against my will.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I’m your wife, not your prisoner.”
Avery stood and gathered up his pad, phone and other belongings from the table. “I’ve got what I need for now. I’ll be back if I have other questions about Peter Gibson.”
“You know where I’ll be.” Sam glared at Nick, who glared right back at her. “Be sure to give Shelby our regards and let her know she’ll still get paid even if she’s not able to assist us with anything at the moment.” Shelby, their faithful assistant, was engaged to Avery.
“I’ll pass that along. She’s so pregnant she’s probably relieved to sit with her feet up and do nothing.” At the doorway, he stopped and turned to look at them. “I know this is hard on you guys. We’re doing everything we can to figure it out as fast as we can.”
“Try harder,” Sam said, aware that she was being a jerk but unable to work up the fortitude to care.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“You’ll have to stop by since you can’t call us down here.”
“Right,” Avery said before he left them.
“Do you really have to pitch a fit in front of him of all people?” Nick asked when they were alone.
“Pitch a fit? Is that what you call expressing my disbelief that an American citizen can be held by her government without her permission for days with no end in sight?”
“You’re being a little dramatic, babe.”
Sam’s brows shot up to meet her hairline. “I’m being dramatic? Don’t you think ordering a dragnet over a letter was a little dramatic?”
His expression hardened. “Not even kinda. You tell me what you would’ve done in my place if you’d been out of the country and found out everyone you love had been threatened with kidnapping and dismemberment.” As he spoke, his voice got louder and his eyes got darker, the way they did when he was turned on. Except now he was furious rather than turned on. “You would’ve done exactly what I did with the resources I have available to me.”
“As vice president—a job you claim to hate until it comes in handy.”
“You’re really going to throw that back in my face?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I get why you did it, and I agree that I would’ve done the same thing in your place when I was out of the country. But you’re back now and we’re all safe. How long can you reasonably expect to keep us here, Nick? What if it takes a month to find the person who sent that letter?”
Sighing, he looked defeated when he said, “I don’t know. How do I let everyone out of here and go about my life with full protection while hoping whoever made the threat doesn’t make good on it with someone who isn’t protected?”
“Are you guys fighting?” Scotty asked in a small voice from the doorway.
Nick said “no” as Sam said “yes.”
After a second, the three of them laughed.
“I love how you fight about whether or not you’re fighting,” Scotty said, seeming relieved that they were at least laughing.
“This is a stressful situation for all of us, buddy,” Nick said. “No one wants to be stuck in this dungeon, least of all your mother.”
Scotty snorted with laughter. “She’s like a toddler in situations like this.”
“Um, excuse me, the toddler is in the room.”
His smile lit up his face and made his eyes dance with mischief.
Sam loved him so damned much. He always made everything better, even shitty situations like this one. “You know what I need right now?”
“Am I allowed to hear this?” Scotty asked.
“Ewww, knock it off, brat!”
“Well, I do have to witness an awful lot of kissing in my house. I’ve learned to be wary.”
“How does he know words like wary?” Sam asked Nick.
“It was your idea to send him to school,” he replied, making Scotty laugh again.
Sam rolled her eyes. “What I was going to say is I want to play one of those video games where I get to shoot people. I really need to shoot someone.”
“I can set you up,” Scotty said. “Step into my office.”
“He’s too smart for our own good,” Sam said to Nick as they followed their son into the common area where the Secret Service had placed Scotty’s game station. They knew what it would take to entertain him in the underground bunker.
“He’s perfect,” Nick said, his lips close to her ear.
She shivered from his touch. “He sure is.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
MUCH LATER, AFTER having had the satisfaction of shooting thousands of bad guys, Sam lay awake next to Nick, thinking it through from all possible angles. At times like this, it was nearly impossible to turn off her detective’s brain. Her dad always advised starting from the beginning when a case stalled out, so that’s what she did.
After months of having the agents close by at all times, one thing was clear to her—they didn’t overreact unless they had a damned good reason to. In the course of a week, they must get all kinds of threats against the first and second families. What had been so different about this one to warrant a reaction like this?
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, knowing Nick was still awake. His breathing was deeper when he was asleep.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t add up. Your office receives a letter with a threat, and the Secret Service goes dragnet on us. How many threats do they receive directed at us and the Nelsons in a given week?”
“A lot. Brant told me they’ve had more threats toward me in six months than they had toward Gooding in three years.”
The thought of lunatics threatening her husband made her queasy. “Why such an uptick?”
“They think it was because I was appointed rather than elected.”
“What was different about this one?”
“I told you what it said.”
“You told me part of it. Now would be a great time to tell me what we’re really doing stuck in this cement prison.”
After a long silence, she heard his deep sigh. Then his hand found hers, and he linked their fingers. “The smudged postmark.”
“What about it?”
“The FBI has seen that particular mark once before in a threat that was traced to a faction of the Islamic State that’s known for brutality against women and children. They think there’s something in the timing of the letter being sent while I was in Iran, and they’ve got counterterrorism people looking into that angle.”
Sam’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to beat wildly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“I didn’t see the point in scaring you further when everyone is with us and perfectly safe.”
Sam pulled her hand free of his. “You didn’t see the point. Remember how pissed you’d get when I kept things from you? You tell me we’re better than that, but I guess that only applies to my work, not yours.” She sat up and reached for the T-shirt she’d left at the foot of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
“I want to talk to Brant about getting me out of here. I can’t help figure this out if I’m stuck down here.”
“You’re not leaving, Samantha.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me. I don’t have Secret Service protection. That was our deal when you took this job, and I expect you to honor our agreement. I don’t technically have to be here.” She pulled on shorts and jammed her feet into flip-flops.
“Please don’t do this.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re putting me in an impossible position. I already feel impotent enough that I can’t do a fucking thing to protect my family, because I’m not allowed to breathe without the Secret Service’s permission.”
“That’s your situation. Not mine.”
“Sam, you’re my wife.”
“Do you honestly think I need you to tell me that? I know who I’m married to, and if someone threatens you and our loved ones, they threaten me too. All I’m asking for is a chance to do something about it rather than being trapped here with my thumb up my ass, hoping someone else will figure out who the fuck sent that letter. Let me go do what I do best.”
“No.”
“Again with the one-word answer.”
“The Secret Service won’t let you out of here unless I specifically authorize you to leave, so don’t try anything.”
She headed for the door to their room. “I hope you’re enjoying your little power trip.”
“Sam, come on...”
“Don’t tell me to come on. In fact, don’t say anything to me until you’re ready to tell me I can leave this hellhole.” She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the room and stormed through the dark corridor to the common area, where she ran into her stepmother, Celia, heading for the kitchen area.
“What’re you doing up?” Sam asked.
“Your dad is restless. I thought some tea might help.”
Sam was immediately on alert for trouble where her dad was concerned. “Is he okay?”
“I think so, but go ahead in and see for yourself. He’s awake.”
Sam returned to the dark hallway and knocked on the closed door to her dad’s room.
He called for her to come in.
Sam went in and closed the door behind her.
“What’re you doing up, baby girl?”
