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Sam flicks a quick look my way before leaning back into the leather seat. He slides his hand down the thighs I was just admiring, widening his stance on the floorboard and shifting in the seat.

“My parents.”

I wait for more. And wait. And wait.

“Good story,” I say with an incredulous snort.

With a shake of his head, he begins to systematically pop the knuckles on his left hand, then right.

“We were wealthy growing up, but then it was all taken away. Bad investments with a guy running a Ponzi scheme. One day we had it all; the next we were nothing. Our friends turned their backs on us, we lost the house, the staff, everything. I was fine with it, wasn't that big of a deal. I was about to graduate high school, already had college locked up with scholarships.”

“Academic or sports?” I cut in.

The corners of his lips twitch up. “Both.”

“Which sport? You seem like you'd play….” Finger to my lips, I tap against the soft surface as I give him a pointed full-body scan. “Chess.”

The men in the car chuckle while Sam's lips split in a full smile.

“Rowing.”

“Oh. Didn't even know that was a sport.”

“Really? That's surprising.” He narrows his brows, causing a deep line to form between them.

“And why's that?”

He shoots a concerned look up front, his eyes meeting T's in the rearview mirror for half a second.

“I just assumed… since you and Benson were whatever you were….”

“What about Trey?”

“He rows. I didn't know who he was until I met him that first time, but I started to notice him at the club.”

“The club?” I whisper.

“The Potomac Boat Blub. We've crossed paths a few times since then.”

“Oh, right. That club,” I say with a nervous laugh. Embarrassment at not knowing this side of Trey’s life creeps up my neck, heating my cheeks. Sliding along the leather, I adjust in the seat to lean my forehead against the cool, dark-tinted window. “We digress. Your family. The Ponzi scheme.”

“Like I said, I wasn't devastated.” The heaviness in his tone has me rolling my forehead along the glass to see across the SUV. Gaze locked on the headrest in front of him, he slides his palms up and down his dark jeans. “But my dad was. Hated that we lost everything because of him.”

“Sam, I didn't—”

“I was the one who found him.” The pain in his voice cuts through my earlier embarrassment. Again he adjusts uncomfortably in his seat. “Nothing was the same after that.” His longing-filled sigh envelops the silent SUV. Even the guys up front stay quiet, their normal banter dropped for the moment. “It was then that I knew I wanted to be in a role to take down people like the man who took my family from me. With the DOJ, I get to uncover the filth of America who think they’re above the law.” The thin muscle along his jaw twitches. “I don't want anyone else to go through what I did.”

I swallow hard before taking a sip from my water bottle to soothe my dry throat. “Did they ever convict the guy?”

Sadness settles in the SUV like a heavy blanket. Sam shakes his head, his shoulders rounding slightly. “They had enough, but someone leaked the information before they could arrest him. He's been in the wind ever since. Every now and then, I try to track him down using my connections from work, but every time I get close, he vanishes.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. I reach across the center console and grip his hand with my own. “Truly. I can't imagine any of that. It makes sense why you're so insistent on making sure Kyle pays for his crimes, what he's trying to hide from everyone.”

“It's an abuse of power on his part,” Sam grits out, the fingers beneath mine tightening into a fist. I hold back a cringe of pain. “That's what we can get him on. He's using his role as president to manipulate laws, to allow federal land access, not doing due diligence in contracting drilling companies. He has to be stopped. No one, and I mean no one, should have that kind of power.”

I nod in agreement, because I do agree 100 percent, but it won't be easy. Maybe he's too focused on tracking the information to see the other hurdles we'll have to get through. Getting the House and Senate to agree on moving forward with the impeachment trial is the biggest one. It’s one thing to have the evidence, but for them to agree on anything will be a damn miracle.

Sweat builds beneath my palm where our hands are still connected. Clearing my throat, I slide my hand from his, pulling past the bit of resistance he gives by holding on tight.