Fatal Identity (20 page)

“She's a professional.”

“She's a
woman
who knows a hot guy when she sees one.”

“And Avery is a man who knows a hot woman when he sees one, and he wants you. I don't care what you or anyone else says. He wants you, and you're handing him a golden opportunity.”

“For what? To
have
me? Fuck you.” She pushed him off the door and went across the hallway to pack for the night away.

The closet door slammed shut, and she spun around to find him advancing on her, a look of fury on his face. “
Fuck me?
Really?
Is that how we fight now?”

“That's how we fight when you insinuate that I'm unable to spend a night out of town with a colleague without being unfaithful to you.”

Even with his hands on his hips and his mouth set in a mulish expression, he was still the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on. Even if she currently wanted to punch his lights out. He stared at her for a long, charged moment before the starch seemed to leave his spine as he exhaled. “I trust you.”

“Then we don't have a problem.” She packed a clean pair of jeans, a sweater to wear tomorrow, underwear, pajamas and socks into an overnight bag. Then she changed into a pair of black dress pants and a silk blouse to wear to the White House.

“Why're you getting dressed up to go on a trip with him?”

“I'm getting dressed up to go to the
White House
, you ass.”

“I don't want you to go with him.”

“I don't want you to go to Iran.” Sam brushed by him as she left the closet and crossed the hall to the bathroom to pack a small cosmetic bag. When she was finished, she went into the bedroom where he was sitting on the bed watching her. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“I guess you will.”

She didn't want to leave it like this, but she was as mad at him as she'd ever been. “Tell Scotty I'll call him tonight.”

“Okay.”

Apparently, he was mad too, or he would've told her to be careful. He would've said he loved her. But he didn't say anything and neither did she. Checking the time on her phone, she saw that she had thirty minutes to kill before the pickup for the meeting with her White House staff—a meeting she wished she could cancel in light of her argument with the vice president.

After unlocking her bedside drawer to retrieve her weapon, badge and cuffs, she went downstairs, put on her coat and left the house with a heavy heart. She and Nick didn't fight like that. Ever. Her eyes burned, and she blinked back tears that she attributed to the cold.

She took the ramp to her dad's house and went in without knocking. “Hello?”

“In here, honey,” Celia called from the kitchen.

Sam entered the kitchen where Celia hurriedly gathered up paperwork that had been spread out on the table. Since this was the second time she'd come upon them obviously trying to hide something, she said, “What gives?”

“Nothing,” Skip said gruffly.

“Are you guys having financial issues? Tell me the truth.”

The look that Celia gave her father confirmed it for Sam.

“What's going on?” Since she had time and didn't want to be at home, she took a seat at the table.

“We're handling it,” Skip said.

“Skip—”

“We're handling it, Celia. That's the end of it.”

“That's not the end of it.” To Sam, Celia said, “Insurance only covered a portion of your father's surgery. We owe the rest.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

“What?”
Sam asked, shocked. “Have you talked to the union?”

“We're not talking to the union.” Skip's mulish expression told Sam he'd had this same argument with Celia. “My injury has already cost them enough. Everyone's premiums have gone up because of me.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me. I know how much all this costs.”

“You were injured
on the job
. No matter what it costs, they owe it to you to find a way to pay for what you need. That surgery wasn't elective. It was lifesaving.”

“I don't want to talk about this,” Skip said.

“We have to talk about it,” Celia said.

“We'll get a second mortgage on the house,” Skip said.

“Dad, let me talk to the union, will you please?”

“No. I don't want charity.”

“It's not charity! You were shot in the line of duty. You nearly gave your life for this city, and you're stuck in that chair for the rest of your life because of your service. It's the least they can do to help offset the cost. Please. Let me run it up the flagpole and see what can be done.” She hated watching his eyes fill with tears. Covering his right hand, the one that retained sensation, with hers, she said, “Let me help.”

“Okay,” he said begrudgingly, “but make sure you tell them I didn't want to ask.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Celia said, blinking back tears of her own.

“I don't want you guys suffering in silence over something like this, and Trace and Ang wouldn't either. We want to help, but you have to tell us when you need it.”

“I hate that I need help for everything.”

“I know you do,” Sam said, feeling teary-eyed herself now. He'd always been so fiercely independent and vital. She never got used to the sight of him in the chair where he would spend the rest of his life. While the surgery had removed the bullet and restored some sensation to his extremities, it had caused secondary issues with pain that they were still contending with months later. He was better than he'd been, which was something to be thankful for, but it broke her heart to think of him and Celia stressing out about medical bills.

“This isn't why you came over,” Celia said. “What's going on?”

“I'm heading to Knoxville for the night.”

“How come?” Skip asked.

“Hamilton investigation.”

“What happened to being suspended?” Skip asked.

“I'm still suspended. I'm going on my own time and dime to talk to someone we feel might have information about how Josh Hamilton came to be in the custody of Troy and Courtney Hamilton. Courtney says he was the son of Troy's administrative assistant who couldn't care for him. She still works in the office where Hamilton was assigned in the eighties, so Hill and I are going to talk to her.”

“You and Hill?” Skip said, raising a brow.

“It's our case, Dad. We need someone there, and we're short-handed as it is, so I volunteered to go.”

“And Jake signed off on that?” he asked, referring to Malone.

“He did.”

“We couldn't believe the news about the FBI director,” Celia said. “He didn't have security?”

Sam shook her head. “He declined it.”

“Like someone else we know,” Skip said pointedly.

“And Freddie,” Celia said, “he's all right?”

“He's back to work with a lump on his forehead, no worse for the wear.”

“Thank God for that,” Celia said.

“No kidding. My squad has been through enough since losing Arnold. We can't take any more.”

“Not to mention what nearly happened to you,” Skip said.

“Not to mention.”

“How's Tommy?” Celia asked. “I think of him so often and what he has to be going through.”

“He was at the house this morning and is working the case. He didn't say much, but he seemed a little better maybe.”

“It's going to take time,” Skip said, speaking from experience. “The rest of his life really.”

“He's talking to Trulo, so hopefully that helps him come to terms with it. He blames himself because he let Arnold take the lead for the first time, and this is what happened.”

“It's such a terrible thing,” Celia said. “For everyone. I think about AJ's poor parents and sisters too.”

“I know,” Sam said with a sigh. “I talked to his mother last week, and she's so strong. I don't know how she does it. I'd be a disaster.”

“How are your boys feeling?” Skip asked.

“Scotty is back to school today, and Nick is... Well, he's pissed at me.”

“Because you're going on this trip with Hill,” Skip said.

“Yeah. He's being completely unreasonable.”

“Is he?”

“Yes! Does everyone think I'm going to
cheat
on my husband the second his back is turned? That I can't control myself for one night away with a colleague?”

“A colleague who's made no secret of his affection for you.”

“That's
his
problem, not mine.”

“Listen to me, baby girl, and hear me when I say it's your problem too. It's your problem because Hill's affection for you makes your husband uncomfortable. After Steven died,” he said of his partner who was killed years ago in the line of duty, “I was so intent on caring for Alice that I totally neglected your mother. I let her think someone else's wife was more important than mine. I regret that.”

“This is different, Dad. He is nothing to me but a colleague and my friend's fiancé. That's it. And Nick knows that.”

“Doesn't matter. He's threatened by the guy, and you need to respect that.”

“What do you think?” Sam asked Celia.

“I agree with your dad. He's often talked about how his attention to Alice ruined his marriage, and I know he regrets that your mother felt neglected.”

“Nick is
not
neglected. He's the
opposite
of neglected.”

“He's threatened by Hill's interest in you, Sam,” Skip said. “That's all you need to know.”

“I would never, ever, ever,
ever
cheat on Nick.
Ever
.”

“And he knows that, but it doesn't make him any less threatened by Hill,” Celia said gently.

“You guys are supposed to be on my side at all times,” Sam said, making them laugh.

“We
are
on your side, baby girl, which is why we're giving you this advice,” Skip said. “We love you, we love Nick, we love the two of you together. Just because something seems preposterous to you doesn't make it less real for him.”

“I get what you're saying, even if I don't like it.” She checked her watch. “And I've got to run. Lilia is sending a car to pick me up for a meeting at the freaking White House.”

“When do we get to see your speech?” Celia asked.

“I haven't even seen it yet, but I'll email a copy to you when it's ready.”

“I can't wait to see it,” Celia said, “and in case I haven't told you, I think it's amazing that you're going public with your fertility struggles. It'll help so many people.”

“Thanks.” She rubbed her belly, which fluttered with anxiety. “I just hope I can do it without making a fool of myself.”

“You'll be great,” Skip said. “I have no doubt. I can't wait to watch it on C-SPAN.”

The reminder that her speech would be televised didn't do a thing for her nerves. She gave them each a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

“We'll be here,” Skip said. “Safe travels. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

With her dad and Celia's thoughts about the situation with Nick and Hill heavy on her mind, Sam went outside to find a big black SUV waiting for her. One of the Secret Service agents on Nick's detail held the back door for her.

“Thank you, Nate.”

“Yes, ma'am. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” She glanced at her home as the car pulled away, wondering if Nick was watching her leave and whether he was still angry. Though she still felt hurt by his insinuation that she would cheat, she had new perspective thanks to what her dad and Celia had said. When she had the chance, she would talk to him about it and hopefully fix the damage they'd done this morning.

CHAPTER TWENTY

G
ONZO
COULDN
'
T
FIND
a parking space in freaking Georgetown where Trulo's office was located. Since Christina was joining him for this session, they'd chosen to meet Trulo here rather than at HQ, where everyone would know their business.

He was a full five minutes late by the time he sprinted up the stairs to the second floor, taking a minute to catch his breath and gather his composure. He would need all the composure he could muster to get through the next hour. When he felt as ready as he'd ever be to rip the scab off the wound on his soul, Gonzo raised his hand to knock softly on the door.

Trulo opened it and gestured for him to come inside where he found Christina seated on the sofa, looking tense and anxious. He'd done that to her. In the year they'd been together, she'd gone from free and unencumbered, to insta-motherhood and partner to a wreck of a man. On many a day lately, he wondered why she stayed when she certainly didn't have to.

Gonzo took a seat next to her, attempting a reassuring smile that apparently fell flat. She didn't look reassured at all. Rather, she looked as if she were about to jump out of her own skin.

“Sorry I was late. Parking is a bitch around here.”

Christina reached for his hand. “It's okay.”

Trulo zeroed in on Gonzo. “Christina filled me in on some of what's been going on at home.”

Gonzo felt his face heat with embarrassment and shame over what he'd put her through. “She's a saint to stay with me.”

“I believe she stays because she loves you.”

“She's a saint for that too.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, her voice catching. “I'm exactly where I want to be, with the man I wish to be with.”

Gonzo withdrew his hand from her grip and bent forward, elbows on knees. “It's not really fair to you. It hasn't been from the beginning. We were barely dating when I found out about Alex, and we went from a twosome to a threesome practically overnight. Then his mother was murdered and everyone thought I did it.” He ran his hand over the jagged scar on his neck. “I got shot and nearly died. My partner got shot right in front of me and actually died, when it should've been me in his place. What woman in her right mind would stay with someone after all that shit in just over a year?”

Trulo turned his attention to Christina. “What do you have to say to that?”

She sounded unusually composed when she said, “What about all the time in between those events? What about all the days and nights the three of us spent together as a family? Doesn't that count for anything?”

“It counts for everything, but you can't deny I've put you through a lot in our short time together.”

“You've also shown me love like I've never known. You've shown me it's possible to love someone else—two someone elses—more than I love myself. You've given me the family I always wanted, and even in the worst of times, I'm happier with you, Tommy, than I ever was without you.”

Though he'd come in here hoping to convince her that she could do better than him and the insanity of his life, her words cut straight to his heart, reminding him of what they'd had and who they'd been before it all spun out of control.

“Tommy?” Trulo said gently. “What do you think of what Christina said?”

“I think...” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and fought through the emotional reaction her words had stirred in him. “I'm a lucky man to have someone like her feel that way about me. But what about her? What about what she deserves?”

“Doesn't she get to decide that?” Trulo asked. “Doesn't she get to say what works for her and what doesn't?”

“Yes, of course she does.” Uncomfortable and on the spot to talk about things he'd prefer to keep private, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to buy himself some time.

“One of the things I preach to people in situations like yours is that crisis is never the time to make big decisions. You've been through a lot in the last year. Any one of those things would be enough to test a person's mettle. Added together they become overwhelming.” Trulo leaned forward. “As hard as it is to believe now, you won't always feel the loss of AJ as acutely as you do today.”

Gonzo huffed out a breath. “I doubt that.”

“Remember the day you found out about Alex?”

“What about it?”

“Did you feel shocked? Sucker punched? Stunned? Confused? Overwhelmed? Enraged that his mother had kept him from you?”

“All those things and more.”

“Over time, did most of those emotions fade away and leave you with other more manageable feelings about your son?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It may take a year or two or perhaps even three, but one day you'll wake up and your first thought won't be about your murdered partner. Your first thought will be about your son or the woman you love or maybe both of them. When that day comes, I want you to be able to look over in bed and still see the same person lying next to you who you loved before your partner was murdered. I want your son to be sleeping in the next room, hopefully past 6:00 a.m.,” he added with a small smile. “I don't want you to wake up alone, filled with regret over what you let get away at a time when you were traumatized.”

As much as Gonzo hated to admit it, Trulo's words made sense. “You're right. You're absolutely right. But I can't get past the feeling that I'm being completely unfair to Christina to force her to stick with me while I take years, possibly, to come to terms with Arnold's death.”

“From what she's said, it would be far more unfair to her if you were to end your relationship because you're having trouble coping with the death of your partner and friend.”

Christina's soft sob broke him.

“Please don't cry. I'm sorry. I'm an asshole.” Gonzo put his arm around her and drew her in close to him, holding her while she wept silently. He had no idea how long they stayed that way before she lifted her head from his chest and tried to regain her composure.

“You're not an asshole,” she said softly. “You're heartbroken. I only want to help.”

“I know, baby. I just... I don't know how to let you help me. I feel like no one can help me.”

“That too will pass,” Trulo said. “In time.” After a pause, he said, “Christina?”

She swallowed twice and looked up at Gonzo with liquid blue eyes, her nose red and her skin blotchy from crying. It broke his heart to know he'd done that to her, to know it was the least of what he'd done.

“I'll stand by you for as long as it takes,” she said. “If it takes years for you to feel like yourself again, I'll be there. But...”

Gonzo steeled himself to hear what came next.

“If you try to push me away again, Tommy, like you did the other night, I'm gone. And I'm taking Alex with me. If we go, we won't be back. I can take all the rest of it. That I can't handle. I just can't.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Tommy? Do you understand what Christina is saying?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“What happened the other night won't happen again. I promise.”

Her relief was so obvious and so profound that it cut through the numbness inside him, making him ache for what he'd put her through.

He reached for her and she came willingly into his arms.

“We've got a lot of work to do together,” Trulo said. “But today was a good start.”

Gonzo buried his face in the sweet fragrance of her hair, taking comfort in her familiar scent. They broke apart reluctantly. He was nowhere near done holding her, and he sensed she felt the same way.

Trulo saw them out. “I'll see you next week at the same time.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he said as he guided Christina through the door with a hand on her lower back. He kept it there until they were on the sidewalk and she turned to look up at him.

“Are you going to work?”

“Malone encouraged me to take a few more days to get my head together. He told me to come back Monday.”

“You must not have been happy to hear that with such an intense case underway.”

He shrugged. “If there's one thing I know for certain, there'll be another hot case right around the corner. It won't kill me to sit one out.” Though it did make him feel guilty to sit one out while Sam was suspended. “How'd you get here?”

“I took a cab. I figured parking would be tough.”

He put his arm around her. “I'll give you a ride.”

They were quiet on the way home. He thought about the session with Trulo and could only assume she was doing the same. They climbed the stairs to their apartment, their footsteps heavy against the treads. Everything felt heavy these days.

“What time do we have to get Alex?” he asked, taking her coat to hang it next to his in the closet.

“Angela has him until four,” she said of Sam's sister, who watched Alex for them occasionally.

He forced a smile, trying to act the way he would have before. “That's like two and a half hours from now.”

“Uh-huh.”

Not that he felt that he had the right after the way he'd behaved, but he went to her anyway, put his hands on her hips and drew her in close to him.

Sighing, she looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest.

Holding her this way reminded him of how perfectly they fit, like she'd been made for him and vice versa. “I'm sorry, baby. If I could take back what I said the other night, I would. I hate that I hurt you.”

“I know it wasn't you talking. It was the grief.”

“Still...that's no excuse.”

She raised her head from his shoulder to offer a smile, but her eyes were still sad, and he hated that. “You're forgiven.”

“You're better than I deserve.”

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered, drawing him into a kiss that went from soft and gentle to desperate in a matter of seconds. “I love you so much, Tommy,” she whispered against his lips. “You'll never know how much.”

Her words, words he didn't feel he deserved after the things he'd said to her, moved him deeply. Keeping his arms around her, he walked her backward toward their bedroom and came down on top of her on their bed. It had been weeks since he'd touched her this way, and all the love and desire he'd always felt for her came roaring back to life in a flashpoint of heat that left him breathless.

He'd been so numb, so broken, that it was almost painful to feel so much all at once. And then to realize what could've been lost forever... He dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing through the ache inside him.

She ran her fingers through his hair as she sprinkled kisses on his face. “Make love to me, Tommy. I've missed you so much. I've missed
us
.”

He pushed up her sweater and helped her remove it, then she did the same for him. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra and pushed it aside, revealing sweet pink nipples. As he bent his head to tease one of them with his tongue, it occurred to him that Arnold would never have this. He'd never fall in love or make love to the woman he adored. He'd never know the joy of fatherhood. He would never again have anything. Ever.

Those few thoughts were all it took to extinguish his desire.

Dropping his head to Christina's chest, he fought through the tsunami of emotions that hit him every time he remembered what had happened to his partner.

“Tommy? What is it?”

“I...” His throat closed and his voice broke. “I can't. I can't do this.”

“It's okay.” She tightened her arms around him. “We don't have to do anything. I'd be perfectly happy if you held me for a little while.”

As he wrapped his arms around her, he felt like a total failure—as a partner to her and to Arnold, as a cop, as a father, as a man. Trulo had said those feelings would fade in time. He only hoped that would happen before Christina wised up and realized she could do a hell of a lot better than him.

* * *

T
HE
SUV
DELIVERED
Sam to the West Wing entrance, where Lilia waited for her wearing a classy red dress with a black blazer. “You look nice,” Sam said, grateful she'd taken the time to change before her trip to the White House. “I feel like an amateur next to you.”

Lilia laughed. “You look great as always. Come on in.” She said that so casually, as if she weren't inviting Sam into the most famous house in the world. “How's the suspension going?”

“It's been eventful, as I'm sure you know. I'm headed to Knoxville this afternoon to follow a lead in the Hamilton case.”

“So you're working the case even though you're suspended?”

“Shhh,” Sam said with a grin.

“I should've known. The West Wing has been buzzing all morning over the death of Troy Hamilton.”

“What're people saying?”

“They're shocked. He was so larger than life and so respected.”

“Yes, he was.” It was all Sam could do not to tell Lilia the rest of the Troy Hamilton story. But that would come out in time, if Josh turned out to be Taylor Rollings.

“The morning shows were one big tribute to him,” Lilia said. “People are stunned that someone like him could actually be murdered. It reminds me of how I felt when I heard Senator O'Connor had been murdered.”

“When someone seemingly untouchable is taken from us, it's a reminder that we're all mortal.”

“Yes, exactly. I hope you find the person who did it very soon.”

“I hope so too.” As they reached her suite of offices, Sam's phone rang and an out-of-state number appeared on the caller ID. Her heart leaped at the realization that the call was from Franklin, Tennessee. “I'm sorry, but I have to take this.”