with Nick.
“I’m fuzzy on the details.”
Sam wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she wanted to get this over with, so she humored him. “The first week I was back together with Nick, Peter tried to blow us up by strapping crude bombs to my car and Nick’s. Mine detonated, thankfully while I was outside the car and not in it. I was knocked off my feet and smacked my head on the outside of Nick’s townhouse in Arlington. He was actually more severely injured than I was because the glass door he was standing behind shattered in his face—and he walked over broken glass with bare feet to get to me.”
Sam shuddered remembering the horror of that day. It’d been a long time since she’d given Peter a thought, and the sick feeling that turned her stomach was an unwelcome reminder of the ordeal he’d put her—and Nick—through.
“Did you know right away that it was him?”
“No! It never occurred to me that he’d do something like that. At first we thought it was John O’Connor’s killer trying to throw us off his or her trail. We were entirely focused on that angle until my dad connected the dots and turned our attention toward Peter. As soon as my dad suggested him, I knew he was right. Me getting together with Nick would’ve infuriated Peter because he knew how much I’d liked Nick the first time around. He had to know we would’ve put together that he was the one who’d kept us apart.”
Thinking about the long, lonely years between when she first met Nick and when they finally had their chance to be together made her sad for what they’d missed out on. They’d more than made up for lost time in the eighteen months they’d been back together, but they’d never get back the six years they’d lost to Peter’s manipulations.
“Of course, you know the rest, how my squad found bomb-making materials in Peter’s apartment and how he got off on a warrant technicality. Other than him accosting me on the sidewalk outside my house on the night before my wedding, he’s been keeping a pretty low profile.”
“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,
