began to pace the small room. “I have an idea...”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Skip asked.
“I need you to like it because it involves you.”
“How so?”
“What if you were to spike a fever that required immediate medical attention?”
“I can’t just flip a switch and make that happen.”
“They wouldn’t check. They’d take Celia’s word for it, and Nick would never stop me from accompanying you to the hospital. Once we get you there safely, I’ll slip away and figure out who the hell is threatening my family.”
Skip and Celia stared at her.
“What do you think?”
“No way,” Skip said.
“Come on, Dad! It would totally work to get us out of here, and you know I’d get to the bottom of this faster than the FBI ever will.”
“You honestly think I’m going to help you put yourself in danger?”
“I’m not going to be in any danger. They don’t want me. They threatened the kids.”
“If it is Peter, he most definitely wants you, and he’s using the kids to get to you because he knows they’re your Achilles’ heel.”
“He’s too stupid to get to me.”
“He almost blew you up!”
“Now I know what he’s capable of, and my squad can hunt him down and figure out whether he’s behind this. I won’t be doing it by myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried about you getting yourself killed by going rogue against someone the Secret Service felt was a big enough threat to put us all in lockdown.”
“This was a massive overreaction if you ask me.”
“You’ll notice that no one asked you,” Nick said from the doorway.
“Oh, here he is, the one with all the power. What do you need, oh powerful one?”
“What’re you up to, Samantha?”
“Not a damned thing, thanks to the fact that I’m being held prisoner against my will.”
“Come with me,” he said in a stern tone he rarely used with her.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I’m asking you to come with me.”
Sam glanced at her dad, who raised his brows in Nick’s direction, letting her know exactly whose side he was really on. She scowled at him but went to kiss him good-night anyway. “Get that fever in the morning,” she whispered in his ear. “Do it for me.” As she walked toward the door where her husband waited with a hard-to-read expression on his handsome face, she said, “Night, Celia.”
“Night, Sam. Try to get some sleep.”
Nick stepped back to let Sam go by and then followed her to their room.
“Everything all right, Mr. Vice President?” Brant asked from his post at the end of the long dark hallway.
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Thanks, Brant.”
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