Page 27 of State of Retribution (First Family #9)

S am texted Freddie and Gonzo. Vernon thinks it’s possible this is about luring me so someone can take me out.

That, in turn, would drive Nick out of office.

Or the goal is to drive me out of the MPD.

I can’t endanger my detail and all of you by making us an easy target.

I’m sitting this one out. Gonzo, you’re in charge for the time being.

I’m available to consult and work the case from home. I’m sorry about this.

Freddie wrote back first. Holy shit, Sam. You really think either of those things is possible?

Vernon made a good point. He said my movements are predictable any time we get a new case. It’s more than possible and could be tied to the thwarted drone attack, too. Who knows at this point? But I’m not risking it—or any of the people who work with me, or the ones assigned to keeping me safe.

She texted the same information to Jeannie, the chief and Malone.

What is this world coming to? the chief responded. Work from home, and do what you can until we know more.

Her phone rang with a call from Archie. “Hey, how’s Harlowe?”

“I was talking to Gonzo when he got your text. Do you really think this could be someone trying to get at you?”

“I don’t know that it isn’t, and until I do, I’m taking myself out of the game.”

“So Harlowe was attacked, raped, assaulted… because someone was trying to get to you ?”

Sam’s stomach ached fiercely at the accusatory tone in his voice. She didn’t blame him for being outraged. “I… I don’t know, Archie. It was mentioned to me as a possibility. We still don’t know if her case is related to the others.”

“You were shot at while investigating hers .”

“Yes, but…”

“Christ, Sam. If someone planned this, they know we’re friends… They followed me, saw me with her… They might know she’s here now.”

Her mouth had gone totally dry. “I don’t know, Archie. If it’s true… I…”

How in the world would she ever spend another day as a member of the Metropolitan Police Department if it was true?

“I’ve got to go.”

The line went dead before she could respond. Although what, exactly, could she say?

Back at the White House, the SUV was stopped at the gate as the agents insisted on checking the vehicle, which had never happened before.

When they saw only her and the two agents, they waved them through.

At the entrance, Vernon opened the back door for her.

Sam got out, went inside, bypassed George and went up the stairs, not stopping until she was inside their suite with the door closed. She slid down the door and into a sobbing mess on the floor, head in her hands as the horror of it fully registered with her.

People had been attacked, assaulted, shot because of her? The incident at the Easter Egg Roll might’ve been about taking her out, not Nick?

Every cell in her body was rocked by this realization.

And then he was there, wrapping his arms around her, bringing the scent of home, and the warmth of his love infusing the parts of her that’d gone ice-cold.

“What happened?” he asked.

She tried to form the words, but none came.

He held her until she was somewhat calmer, until she found the ability to speak again, to say something that, once conveyed to him, could never be unsaid.

She wiped the tears from her face. “Did you talk to Aubrey?”

“I did. We had a nice chat, and I think she feels better than she did.”

“I should go in there and see her.”

“They were tired, so they wanted to go to sleep. It can keep until the morning. Talk to me, Samantha.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, wishing more than anything that she didn’t have to tell him what’d upset her.

“It’s possible… that all of this—the drones, the murders, the shooting of Jimmy, the kidnapping and assault of Archie’s friend…”

“What about it?”

“Vernon suggested it might be someone coming for me because they know if something happens to me, you’d never stay in office. In another possible scenario, someone is trying to drive me out of the MPD.”

“ What? ” he asked on a long exhale.

“Th-think about it. Vernon said, and it’s true, my movements in new cases are predictable.

I do the same things every time. If someone wanted to find me, it wouldn’t take much effort to know where I’d turn up.

Kill an innocent person and then watch me go through the steps.

They knew I’d be on the lawn with the kids at the egg roll.

What if they weren’t after you but were gunning for me ? ”

“I… I can’t… My God, Sam.”

“I came home because I can’t risk someone else I care about being hurt, or worse, because of me.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“But it’s true… If someone killed me, that would drive you right out of public life, or if they kill someone on my detail or a member of my team, they’ll run me out of the MPD. I’m not sure which of those things these sick fucks want. Maybe they want both of them.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“We’re going to figure who’s behind this, and we’re going to take them down.”

Sam was up all night, making lists of people to investigate, beginning with former Sergeant Ramsey, who had a stick up his ass a mile long for her.

He blamed her for his son being killed in a shootout when Shane Ramsey was holding a naked woman hostage.

The disgraced former sergeant blamed her for everything that’d gone wrong in his life and career without taking any responsibility for his own actions.

She wouldn’t put it past him to be participating in something like this.

First on her to-do list for the morning was getting a warrant to dump his phone for the months leading up to his most recent arrest, for disrupting the funeral of U.S.

Attorney Tom Forrester. He’d hated Forrester for declining to prosecute her after an altercation between them had left Ramsey at the bottom of a flight of stairs with a concussion and broken arm.

He’d started it by telling her she’d gotten what she deserved from Stahl and his razor wire.

Freddie had reported in that their new victim was a twenty-four-year-old male graduate student at American University. He’d been walking home from an all-night gym when he was attacked from behind and killed with one strike to the back of his head.

As she processed that new information, she combed through the lists of people she’d helped to put away in recent years, everyone from former Lieutenant Stahl to Marquis Johnson, who’d lost his son in a shootout after Sam had been embedded with his crime organization for months.

And then she made a list of the people who had it out for Nick:

Former Secretary of State Martin Ruskin, fired after a scandal involving the Iranians during Nick’s first week in office.

Former Attorney General Reginald Cox, fired for gambling on the job and blocking an investigation that would’ve revealed his vice.

Former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Michael Wilson, fired for conspiring to overthrow the Cappuano administration. Charged with multiple felonies and dishonorably discharged from the military.

Former Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Nathan Goldstein, conspiring to overthrow the Cappuano administration and arranging for the (failed) murder of Navy Lieutenant Commander Juan Rodriguez. Charged with multiple felonies and dishonorably discharged from the military.

Any combination of the people on Nick’s list and hers could’ve put something like this together, and she was determined to find out who was killing innocent people in an attempt to get at her—and Nick by extension.

If that was even the motive. She still didn’t know for sure, but the more she turned it around in her mind, the more plausible it became.

Next, she composed a text message to FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill, alerting him to her investigation and asking for whatever help the Bureau could provide.

She’d send that message first thing in the morning, which was now a mere three hours away.

He’d returned to limited duty after recently sustaining a gunshot wound to the shoulder in the Harlan Peckham case.

Nick’s hands landed on her shoulders, making her startle. “You need to get some rest, babe.”

“I couldn’t possibly sleep right now.”

“Would you try? For me?”

She was wound so tightly, she felt like she might implode at any second, but as he needed sleep even more than she did, she gave a quick nod and let him help her up.

Sam went through the motions of brushing her teeth and changing her clothes. When she got in bed, he reached for her, indicating he wanted her to curl up to him, to fall asleep with his arms around her, but she didn’t want even him to touch her, so she stayed where she was.

He turned on his side to face her. “Samantha… Sweetheart, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Neither of us has done a single thing other than our jobs. If someone is coming for you or us, that’s on them, not us.”

“That’s damned hard to swallow when a young Secret Service agent is in the hospital tonight recovering from wounds that very easily could’ve been fatal. Weeks before his first child is due, no less.”

“Not your fault. Not mine.”

“Tell it to four innocent families mourning loved ones murdered for no good reason. Tell it to Archie’s girlfriend, Harlowe, who’s forever changed by what was done to her, even if she doesn’t remember it yet.”

“It’s a terrible thing no matter how we look at it. But we don’t even know yet if it’s related or if it has anything to do with you or us.”

“Of course it does. The second Vernon mentioned the possibility, it all snapped into focus for me.”

“And while I can see the logic in it, until there’s some sort of proof, that’s all it is—a possibility.”

“I feel it in my gut, Nick. It’s related. My gut is hardly ever wrong.”

“I hate to remind you of things you’d rather forget, but it was recently wrong about that woman’s daughters being involved in her murder.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Wow, that’s a low blow.”