Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair Read online

  “Tell me about John.”

  Nick thought for a moment before he answered. “If his father is complicated, thoughtful and demanding, John was simple, forgetful and lackadaisical. But like his father, he loved his family and his country and was proud to serve the people of Virginia. He took those responsibilities seriously but didn’t take himself too seriously.”

  “Did you like working for him?”

  “I liked being around him and helping him to succeed. But from a political staff perspective, he could be a bit of a handful.”

  “How so?”

  Nick paused, considered and decided. “Right now, my chief goal is to protect his legacy and ensure he’s afforded the dignity and stature he deserves as a deceased United States senator.”

  “And my goal is to figure out who killed him. If I’m going to do that, I’ll need you and the rest of your staff to be forthcoming. I can do it faster and more efficiently with your help than without it. I need to know who he was.”

  Nick wished he couldn’t smell her, wished he wasn’t so aware of her. And more than anything, he wished he didn’t so vividly remember the night he’d spent lost in her. “I was furious,” he said in a soft tone.

  “When?” she asked, confused.

  “On my way to his place this morning. If he hadn’t been dead when I got there, I might’ve killed him myself.”

  “Nick…” Her tone was full of warning, reminding him not to forget who he was talking to.

  “If you want to know who John O’Connor was, the fact that his chief of staff was on his way to haul him out of bed—again—should tell you everything you need to know.”

  “It doesn’t tell me everything, but it’s a start.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Sam’s memories of Nick Cappuano should have faded over the years, but they hadn’t. He remained a larger-than-life character from a single night that shouldn’t have meant as much as it had. But she had forgotten the reality of him—his height, easily six-three or -four, broad shoulders, chocolate brown hair that curled at the ends, hazel eyes that missed nothing, olive-toned skin, strong, efficient hands that changed forever what she expected from a lover, crackling intelligence, and the cool aura of reserved control she’d found so fascinating the first time she met him.

  Cracking that control had been one of the best memories from her night with him. When he didn’t call, she’d wondered if their intense connection had scared him off. But now that she knew he had called, that he had wanted to see her again…that changed everything.

  “Can I ask you something that has nothing to do with the case?” she said as they cut across the District on the way to the Watergate where he’d left his car. Along the way, they noticed a few American flags already lowered to half-mast in John’s honor. The word was out, and the official mourning had begun.

  “Sure.”

  Her heart raced as she picked at a scab she’d mistakenly thought healed long ago. “When you called me…after…that night…do you remember who you talked to at my house?”

  He shrugged. “Some guy. One of your roommates maybe.”

  Knowing the answer before she even asked, she said, “You didn’t get his name? I lived with three guys.”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Paul maybe.”

  “Peter?”

  “Yes. Peter. That was it. I talked to him a couple of times.”

  Gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, Sam wanted to scream.

  “Was he your boyfriend?”

  “Not then,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Later?”

  “He’s my ex-husband.”

  “Ah! Well, now it all makes sense,” he said but there was a bitter edge to his voice that she understood all too well. She was feeling rather bitter herself at the moment.

  “Too bad you didn’t give me your cell number instead of your home number.”

  “I only had a department cell then, and I never used it for personal business.” They were quiet until she pulled into the Watergate. “I’d like to interview your staff in the morning,” she said as the car idled.

  “I’ll make sure they’re available.” He rattled off the Hart Senate Office Building address where she could find them.

  “In the meantime, here’s my card in case you think of anything that might be relevant. No matter how big or how small, you never know what’ll crack a case wide open.”

  He took the card and reached for the door handle.

  “Nick,” she said, her hand on his arm to stop him from getting out.

  Looking down at her hand and then up to meet her eyes, he raised an eyebrow.

  “I would’ve liked to have gotten those messages,” she said, her heart racing. “I would’ve liked that very much.”

  He sighed. “I can’t process this on top of everything else that’s happened today. It’s just too much.”

  “I know.” She raised her hand to let him go. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  He surprised her when he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Don’t be sorry. I really want to talk about it. Later, though, okay?”

  Sam swallowed hard at the intense expression on his handsome face. “Okay.”

  He released her hand and opened the car door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes,” she said softly to herself when he was gone. “See you then.”

  *

  Frederico Cruz was a junk food addict. However, despite his passion for donuts, his ongoing love affair with the golden arches, and his obsession with soda of all kinds except diet, he managed to maintain a wiry, one-hundred-seventy-pound frame that was usually draped by one of the many trench coats he claimed were necessary to staying in character.

  In some sort of cosmic joke, Sam had drawn the dietary disaster area known as Freddie for a partner. In the midst of the HQ detective pit chaos, Sam watched fascinated and envious as he chased a cream-filled donut with a cola. She swore that spending most of every day with him for the last year had put ten unneeded pounds on her. “Where are we?” she asked when he put down the soda can and wiped his mouth.

  “Still at square one. The neighbors didn’t hear anything or see anyone in the elevator or hallways. I sent a couple of uniforms to pick up the security tape—not an easy task, I might add. You’d think we were planning to send G. Gordon Liddy back in there or something. I had to threaten them with warrants.”

  “What was the hang-up?” Sam asked, eyeing his second donut with lust in her heart.

  “Resident privacy, the usual bull. I had to remind them—twice—that a United States senator had been murdered in his apartment and did they really want any more unfavorable publicity than they’re already going to get?”

  “Good job, Freddie. That’s the way to be aggressive.” She was forever after him to get in there and get his hands dirty. In turn, he nagged her about getting a life away from the job.

  “I learned from the best.”

  She made a face at him.

  “We also seized everything from the senator’s home and work offices—computers, files, etc. The lab is going through the computers now. We can hit the files tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s your take on the O’Connors?”

  “The parents were devastated. There was nothing fake about it. Same with his sister.”

  “What about the brother?”

  “He seemed shocked, but he says he was with a woman whose name he doesn’t remember.”

  “He’ll have to produce her if he’s going to rely on her for an alibi.”

  “He’s painfully aware of that,” Sam said, smirking at her recollection of Terry O’Connor’s discomfort and Graham’s obvious disapproval.

  “That’s what he gets for sleeping with a stranger. Imagine going up to someone you slept with to ask for her name.”

  Sam’s face heated as memories of her one-night stand with Nick chose that moment to resurface. “Easy, Freddie. Don’t get all