Fatal Identity (12 page)

She caressed his face and chest, looking up at him with wonder in her big eyes.

He bent his head to draw her nipple into his mouth, and her moan traveled straight to his cock. Sucking on the tight nub, he picked up the pace until they were both coming with deep groans. Afterward, he gathered her in close to him and closed his eyes as his heart continued to beat fast and hard.

The next time he opened his eyes the room was dark, and Shelby was fast asleep in his arms. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, his brain coming back to life to focus on the situation with Director Hamilton. Hours later, he had the same thought he'd had earlier: it couldn't possibly be true.

Moving carefully, he disentangled his limbs from Shelby's embrace and got up to shower. As the hot water rained down upon him, he decided he needed to know. He had to see Troy, to find out what was going on and ask how he could help. That was the right thing for him to do, even if it might be difficult.

And what if the worst was true? What if Troy had been involved in the kidnapping of Taylor Rollings? What if he had knowingly raised a child who belonged to someone else? If Josh was actually Taylor, Troy couldn't have known that. Someone had fooled him into raising the child. Except... The Troy Hamilton he knew and admired was nobody's fool. It didn't add up or make sense.

Avery stepped out of the shower, dried off and got dressed in the same jeans and sweater he'd had on earlier. When he stepped into the bedroom, Shelby stirred, looking up at him.

“I need to run a quick errand.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek and then her lips. “I'll bring something for dinner when I come home.”

Her eyes closed. “'K.”

He went downstairs to his office where he retrieved his badge and weapon from the locked desk drawer and headed out. Troy lived in a big house in the city's Northwest quadrant, near the vice president's usual residence. As everyone knew, the current vice president had chosen to remain in his Ninth Street residence so his wife could be close to her paralyzed father.

But he was not thinking about
her
right now. No, he was thinking about his director and his pregnant fiancée and his own damned life.

Avery had been to Hamilton's house several times in the last year, most recently for the holiday get-together the director had held for the Bureau's top people. He'd been amazed to realize he was among the top people, one step outside the director's inner circle. He had admired Hamilton from afar long before he joined the Bureau. The dynamic director had been a big reason Avery had chosen the FBI over other agencies that had expressed an interest when he left the military after ten years as an Army Ranger.

Being handpicked by Hamilton to lead the Bureau's Criminal Investigative Division had been the highlight of his career. Thinking back to the day he'd been summoned to Hamilton's office reminded him that he'd intended to put in for a transfer far from D.C. and the beguiling detective. Hamilton had changed his plans with the offer to head up CID, and Avery's path continued to cross hers on a regular basis.

With hindsight, he probably should've turned down the director's offer and gone with his original plan. By now he'd be far away from the source of his continuing vexation. But he also wouldn't be engaged to Shelby and preparing to be a father to her child.

Tightening his grip on the wheel, Avery wondered if perhaps he needed intense therapy or something to rid his brain of thoughts about a woman who didn't belong in his head. He did not
want
her there.
She
did not want to be there. Her husband would kill him—or have him killed—if he knew how often Avery still thought of her. Not to mention what it would do to Shelby to find out that he still reacted to Sam the way he always had, despite the amazing relationship he now had with Shelby.

He'd never in his life faced a challenge as confounding as this one. How could he be madly in love with one woman and still thinking about someone he'd never had
anything
with?

“Fucking hell,” he muttered as he brought the car to a stop at the curb a block from Hamilton's red brick mansion. “It's got to fucking stop, and it's going to stop right now. Today. That's it.”

He got out of the car and walked the short distance to the director's front gate, surprised to find one side of it open. Avery knew the director had declined any sort of government security for himself or his home, preferring to take care of himself rather than have a detail, so it was surprising to see the gate standing open.

A tingling sensation rippled down his spine. Avery had learned to pay attention to the sensations that alerted him to potential trouble. Looking around, he saw that the street and sidewalk were all but deserted. Other houses on the block were aglow with lights, but Hamilton's place was dark.

He walked down the driveway to the portico where Hamilton's silver Jaguar was the only car in the driveway. The tingling intensified when he went up the stairs to the wide veranda and noticed the front door was ajar. Pausing for a second, he contemplated calling for backup, but hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to draw any more attention to the director or his family, especially if there was no reason for it. He rang the doorbell and listened to the loud chimes echo through the house.

After waiting a few minutes, he knocked on the door. When no one came, he drew his weapon and nudged the door open with his shoulder. The house was so dark he could barely make out the shape of a table in the front hall. His foot slipped on something on the floor. Withdrawing his phone, he turned on the flashlight to find a shattered vase that had contained yellow flowers. Water had spilled all over the marble floor.

He should retreat, call for backup, get the hell out of there. Though he knew all these things, he pressed on, deeper into the house, using his flashlight to guide him. In the sitting room to the right of the foyer, a lamp had been knocked off a side table. Avery walked around the fallen lamp and into the room the director used as a home office. He'd taken Avery and others inside to show off the office during the holiday party. Avery recalled being impressed by the lineup of photos showing Hamilton with the last four presidents, countless senators and numerous world leaders.

Following the beam of his flashlight into the office, the first thing he saw was a foot on the floor. The tingling in his spine was now a cascade of nonstop sensation, his better judgment telling him to get the fuck out of there right now. But he had to know. He had to see with his own eyes.

Using his elbow, he pushed the right side of the double French doors open to reveal Hamilton, lying in a pool of blood.
“Fuck.”
Avery knew it was him by the size of his frame and the width of his shoulders. His face had been beaten to a bloody pulp by a golf club that had been left on the floor next to the body. Under normal circumstances, he would've checked for a pulse, but there was no point. The director was dead and had been for some time.

Confusion and despair mixed with grief and anger that someone, anyone could've killed this giant of a man, a man Avery had looked up to for most of his adult life. He sent the beam around the room, making sure it was clear before he extinguished it and, knowing the situation was out of his hands now, called it in.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
AM
HEATED
UP
Shelby's meatballs and boiled pasta for dinner. Nick and Scotty were much better, but still not that interested in food. They ate the soup Celia had sent over while she and Josh had the pasta and meatballs.

Josh pushed the food around on his plate, not showing much interest in the meal.

Nick glanced at Sam, his brow raised in question, as if to ask what the hell Josh was doing here.

Though she'd explained the need to keep Josh safe, bringing him here had been a questionable decision at best. But what was she supposed to do? Where else could she have taken him where there was no chance the most powerful law enforcement official in the nation would find him?

Her home was the safest place for him. No doubt about that, but it was a lot to ask of Nick—and Scotty, who tried to engage Josh in conversation.

“Do you like sports?” Scotty asked.

“Some.”

“Which ones?”

“Baseball, but my dad always said it was boring as shit. He hates it.”

“My dad and I love baseball. We go to lots of Feds games and last year we saw the Red Sox play at Fenway. That was so cool.”

“I'd love to go to Fenway sometime,” Josh said wistfully.

“You should. It's awesome. We sat in the Green Monster seats, and I got to see Big Papi. He's my favorite player. I liked Willie Vasquez from the Feds, but he got murdered.”

“I know. I liked him too.”

“All because he dropped a ball.”

Sam didn't mention that there was a lot more behind Willie's murder than the error he'd made on the field. The loss of one of her son's favorite ballplayers had been traumatic enough for him at the time. There was no need to revisit that now.

“Do you have homework you need to do before you go back to school?” she asked.

Scotty frowned. “I don't know. Probably.”

“You ought to check in with some of your classmates so you can find out what's due.”

“I'm sick. I don't have to do it now.”

“You'll have to do it eventually,” Nick said. “If you do some now and some later, it won't be as awful.”

“I guess. I'll see if I can find out.” To Josh, he said, “Do you like Xbox?”

“I guess.”

“You wanna play?”

Josh glanced at Sam, who nodded. “Sure,” he said.

“I'll get the dishes,” she said. “You guys go ahead.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Scotty said, taking his bowl to the sink.

“Yeah, um, thanks,” Josh said as he too delivered his plate to the sink.

They left the room, and Sam forced herself to meet Nick's questioning gaze.

“This is weird,” he said.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but this place is like a fortress with the Secret Service surrounding us. It was the best place for him until we figure out what's going on.”

“This might be the strangest case you've ever been involved in, and that's saying something in light of some of the crap you've dealt with.”

Sam poured herself a glass of wine. “It's bizarre. I'm hoping the DNA will be back tomorrow so we can get some answers for Josh—and the Rollings family.”

“You haven't told them anything yet, have you?”

She shook her head. “I talked to the detective in charge of the kidnapping case, and we agreed to keep it between us until we had proof one way or the other. I let him know about Josh as a professional courtesy.”

“It would be quite something if you could help to solve the mystery for Taylor's family, but the possibility of Hamilton being involved in something like this is...”

“It's hard to comprehend.”

“Yeah.”

Sam got up to deal with the dishes and was standing at the sink when his arms encircled her waist, making her smile.

He nudged her hair aside and delivered a series of kisses to her neck as his erection pressed against her back.

“Someone is feeling better.”

“Much better.”

“I'm so glad. I don't like it when you're sick. It's scary.”

“Sorry you were scared, babe.”

Sam dried her hands and turned to face him, taking in the scruff on his jaw, the paler-than-usual face and the hazel eyes that burned with desire for her. “Nice to have you back.”

He bent his head to kiss her softly. “I'm still feeling a little achy in some places. I could use some TLC from my wife tonight.”

She laughed at his blatant come-on. “Your wife has been afraid to go near you for fear of contracting the plague.”

“I'm no longer communicable.” Raising his hands to her face, he kissed her more insistently as his erection pressed against her.

All he had to do was look at her and she wanted him, but when he kissed her and touched her this way, she was lost to him every time. But he'd been so sick only yesterday, and her better judgment took over. “Not yet.”

“Hmm?” His lips moved softly over her neck, feeding the fire.

It took all the willpower Sam could muster to gently push on his chest.

“What?” he asked, sounding perplexed because she hardly ever pushed him away, and it was the last thing she wanted to do now.

“You were so sick only yesterday.”

“I'm fine now.”

“No, you're not.”

He rubbed his erection against her, his fingers digging into her hips as he tugged her into his embrace. “I'm
fine
, Samantha.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You're not seriously saying no to me.”

“First time for everything, my love.”

“No way. I can change your mind.”

“I have no doubt you could, but you're not going to. One more day won't kill you.”

“It just might, and think about how bad you'll feel if it does.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Shameless manipulation will get you nowhere tonight.”

His low growl made her laugh.

“I've spoiled you rotten in our first year of marriage,” she said, “and now you're downright unmanageable.”

He took her hand and pressed it against his cock. “I'm very manageable. Give me what I want, and you'll see just
how
manageable I can be.”

She leaned in close to him, so close that her lips nearly touched his. “Not. Happening.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“No, this is me being a good wife and making sure you're totally healed before I ravage you.”

He scowled. “You can't say no in one breath and then talk about ravaging me in the next. Not fair.”

“It'll give you something to look forward to tomorrow. And PS, pouting is not an attractive quality for a vice president.”

“I'm not the vice president right now. I'm a horny husband with an uncooperative wife.”

“Whatever! I'm the most cooperative wife in the history of the
world
.”

“Most of the time...”

Before she could respond to that, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID, saw Avery's name and took the call.

“I'm at Hamilton's house. He's been murdered.”

At first, his words didn't compute. And then they registered, taking her breath away in a whoosh. “How?”

“Someone took a golf club to him. His face is unrecognizable.”

“Who else knows?”

“Only you so far. It's your jurisdiction, and even though it goes against everything I believe in as a federal agent to hand this off to someone else, it'd be a conflict for us to be involved. I want this done right, Sam.”

“I understand. Stay put. I'm on my way.”

“Are you allowed? Aren't you still suspended?”

“I'll clear it with Malone. We'll be right there.”

“Okay.”

“Are you all right, Avery?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” he said grimly before he ended the call.

“What does he want?” Nick asked.

“He found Director Hamilton murdered in his home.”

Nick's mouth opened and then closed as his eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately.” Sam eyed the closed kitchen door, thinking of Josh on the other side of it and how she should handle this with him. Tell him or wait until they knew more? What more did they need to know? His father was dead.

“What if it was him?” Nick asked, using his thumb to point to the other room.

Recalling Josh's disheveled appearance when he arrived earlier, Sam's stomach twisted with anxiety. “There was no sign of blood on him. I would've noticed that. And murder by golf club would be messy.”

“Still, you can't say for sure it wasn't him. He certainly had motive.”

With her brain whirling with details and implications, Sam blew out a deep breath and placed a call to Captain Malone.

“Hey, what's up?” he asked.

“Troy Hamilton is dead. Avery found him bludgeoned with a golf club in his house.”

“Fucking hell.” After a short pause, Malone said, “Call in your troops and meet me there.” The phone went dead before Sam could say, “Yes, sir,” and before she could ask him what she should do about Hamilton's son, who was currently playing video games with her son.

“He wants me there,” Sam told Nick, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and brows knitted in concern.

“And what am I to do with the son who may or may not have wanted his father dead?”

“I don't know, Nick!”

“He doesn't need to stay here anymore since the so-called threat has been neutralized.”

“We don't know that. Whoever killed Troy might be gunning for Josh next.”

“Sam, come on. I want him out of here.”

Keeping her gaze fixed on Nick, she called Dispatch and asked them to recall her squad to Hamilton's address.

“Yes, ma'am,” the dispatcher said after a short pause, during which Sam had no doubt the woman was wondering why Sam was issuing orders while suspended. Luckily she didn't ask so Sam didn't have to tell her to mind her own business. She slapped the phone closed and stashed it in her pocket.

“I know it's a lot to ask.”

“Yeah, it is. The guy was running from the threat of murder, so you brought him here.”

“I wanted to keep him safe!”

“By endangering us?”

“There's no danger to us with the Secret Service all over this place.”

“So now my detail is convenient to you when most of the time you hate it?”

“Are you fighting with me because I said no to having sex with you tonight?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“No, I guess I'm not.” She went to him, flattening her hands on his chest. “I know it's an awful lot to ask, and I'm sorry I brought him here. He was so damned scared. Freddie and I both saw it, and I didn't know where else to take him that Hamilton couldn't get at him.”

“This whole thing is fucking crazy. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, I do, but now I've got a homicide to contend with, and it's going to be the hottest case we've had in years.”

“Which is saying something,” he muttered. “I don't want him alone with Scotty.”

“Okay.”

“One night, Samantha, and then he's out of here. Are we clear?”

“Yes, thank you. I agree that I need to figure out something else for him, and I'll take care of that as fast as I can. I promise.”

“I want to bring Brant in on what's going on. He can't protect us if he doesn't know.”

She hesitated as she considered that. It was her natural tendency to keep things to herself, but Nick was right. Brant couldn't do his job without all the information, and since Brant's job was to protect the two most important people in her life, she nodded. “Fair enough.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you. I'm sorry I brought this situation into our home, and I'm sorry I had to say no to you for the first time ever.”

His lips curved into a small, sexy smile. “You'll make it up to me.” He leaned in close to brush his lips against her ear. “On your back, with your legs on my shoulders, your ass red from my hand and—”

“Stop it,” she said, shivering from the desire that instantly heated her core. “Right now. I've got to go to work.”

Chuckling, he released her. “Hurry home, and be careful out there, Samantha. Whoever decided to kill the FBI director won't think twice about killing again.”

“I'm always careful. Don't worry.”

“Right. You may as well tell me not to breathe.”

“Don't do that. I need you alive and well when I get home so I can make it up to you.”

“It's not fair. You're suspended and you still have to work. I was sort of looking forward to having you all to myself for a few days. Should've known it was too much to hope for. But you'll pay. Yes, you will. When you get home and when we get to Bora Bora at the end of the month. You will pay.”

Smiling, she kissed him again. “Can't wait.”

“Me either.” He stole another kiss from her. “Love you so much. Please be careful.”

“I will. I promise. Hold down the fort, and keep an eye on our guest.” She patted his chest one last time and left the kitchen, deciding in that moment to keep the news about Troy from Josh until she knew more. They'd keep it on lockdown so there was no way he'd hear it online or anywhere else until they were ready to release the news.

In the living room, Scotty and Josh were playing a driving game on the Xbox, racing through winding mountain roads.

“I have to go out for a while,” Sam said as she put on her coat. “I'll see you guys in the morning.”

“Bye, Mom,” Scotty said without taking his eyes off the screen.

Josh glanced up at her. “Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

“Sure, no problem.” Sam had spent most of her career dealing with murderers, and if Josh had murdered his father, he was being awfully calm in the aftermath. Most of the time, a regular person who was driven to kill would be agitated, nervous, afraid of being caught. She'd seen none of that behavior in Josh. If he'd had anything to do with his father's murder, he was doing a hell of a job hiding it.