Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair Read online

He startled and then relaxed into her embrace. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “Can’t sleep without you. You’ve ruined me.” She pressed a series of kisses to the warm skin on his back. “Come on.”

  He shut off the water.

  Sam grabbed his towel and dried them both. Taking his hand, she led him to bed. Wrapped in his arms, she was finally able to sleep.

  *

  Walking into the National Cathedral for the first time in her life the next morning, Sam gazed up at the soaring spires like an awestruck tourist from Peoria.

  She wondered if staring at the president of the United States and his lovely wife like a star-struck lunatic made her any less of a bad-assed cop. In all her years on the job and living in the city, she had caught occasional glimpses of various presidents, but never had she been close enough to reach out and touch one—not that she would because that would be weird of course. Not to mention the Secret Service might take issue with it.

  But as President Nelson and his wife Gloria approached Nick to offer their condolences, Sam could only stand by his side and remind herself to breathe as he shook hands with them.

  “We’re so very sorry for your loss,” Gloria said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Nelson. John would be overwhelmed by this turnout.” He gestured to the rows of former presidents, congressional members past and present, Supreme Court justices, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the secretaries of state, defense, homeland security and labor, among others. “This is Detective Sergeant Sam Holland, Metro Police.”

  Sam was struck dumb until it dawned on her that she was supposed to extend her hand. To the president. Of the United States. And the first lady. Jesus. “An honor to meet you both,” Sam said.

  “We’ve seen you in the news,” the president said.

  Sam wanted to groan, but she forced a smile. “It’s been a unique month.”

  Gloria chuckled. “I’d say so.”

  Since both men were speakers, they were shown to seats in the front, adjacent to the O’Connor family. While Nick went over to say hello to them Sam scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Patricia or Thomas. Seated behind the O’Connors were most of John’s staff and close family friends whom Nick identified for her when he returned to sit next to her.

  She glanced over to find him pale, his eyes fixed on the mahogany casket at the foot of the huge altar. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had even refused coffee. Looking back at the throngs of dignitaries, she couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for him to stand before them to speak about his murdered best friend. Disregarding her PDA rule, she reached for his hand and cradled it between both of hers.

  He sent her a small smile, but his eyes expressed his gratitude for her support.

  The mass began a short time later, and Sam was surprised to discover Nick had obviously spent a lot of time in church. Since she’d been raised without formal religion, the discovery was somewhat startling.

  John’s sister Lizbeth and brother Terry read Bible passages, and his niece and nephew lit candles. When both of them ran a loving hand over their uncle’s casket on their way back to their seats, Sam’s eyes burned, and judging by the rustle of tissues all around her, she wasn’t alone.

  President Nelson spoke of his long friendship with the O’Connor family, of watching John grow up and his pride in seeing such a fine young man sworn in as a United States senator. As the president left the pulpit, he stopped to hug John’s tearful parents.

  An usher tapped Nick on the shoulder. With a squeeze for Sam’s hand, he got up to follow the usher’s directions to the pulpit.

  Unable to tear her eyes off Nick as he made his way to the microphone, Sam was swamped with love and sympathy and a jumble of other emotions. She sent him every ounce of strength she could muster.

  “On behalf of the O’Connor family, I want to thank you for being here today and for your overwhelming outpouring of support during this last difficult week. Senator and Mrs. O’Connor also wish to express their love and gratitude to the people of the Commonwealth who came by the thousands to stand in the cold for hours to pay their respects to John. He took tremendous pride in the Old Dominion, and the five years he represented the citizens of Virginia in the Senate were the most rewarding, challenging and satisfying years of his life.”

  Nick spoke eloquently of his humble beginnings in a one-bedroom apartment in Lowell, Massachusetts, of meeting a senator’s son at Harvard, of his first weekend in Washington with the O’Connors and how his exposure to the family changed his life.

  Sam noticed the O’Connors wiping at tears. Behind them, Christina Billings, Nick’s deputy and the woman who’d suffered through unrequited love for John, rested her head on the communication director’s shoulder.

  Nick’s voice finally broke, and he looked down for a moment to collect himself. “I was honored,” he continued in a softer tone, “to serve as John’s chief of staff and even more so to call him my best friend. It’ll be my honor, as well, to ensure that his legacy of inclusiveness and concern for others lives on long after today.”

  Like the president before him, Nick stopped to embrace Graham and Laine on his way back to his seat.

  Sam slipped her arm around him and brought his head to rest on her shoulder. At that moment, she couldn’t have cared less who might be watching or who might gossip about them later. Right now, all she cared about was Nick.

  The mass ended with a soprano’s soaring rendition of “Amazing Grace,” and the family followed the pallbearers down the aisle and out of the church.

  Dignitaries milled about, speaking in hushed tones as the church emptied. Watching them, Sam realized this was as much an official Washington political event as it was a funeral.

  With Nick’s hand on her elbow to guide her, they worked their way through the crowd. He stopped all of a sudden, and Sam turned to see who had caught his eye.

  “You came,” Nick said, clearly startled to see the youthful man with brown hair and eyes and an olive complexion that reminded Sam of Nick’s.

  “Of course I did.” After a long pause, he added, “You looked real good up there, Nicky. Real good.”

  An awkward moment passed before Nick seemed to recover his manners. “This is Sam Holland. Sam, my father, Leo Cappuano.”

  “Oh.” Sam glanced up to take a read of Nick’s impassive face before accepting Leo’s outstretched hand. He seemed far too young to be Nick’s father, but then she remembered he was only fifteen years older than his son. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “You, too,” Leo said. “I’ve read about the two of you in the paper.”

  Nick winced. “I meant to call you, but it’s been kind of crazy…”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I appreciate you coming. I really do.”

  “I’m very sorry this happened to your friend, Nicky. He was a good guy.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  Neither of them seemed to know what to say next, and Sam ached for them.

  “Well,” Nick said, “the family’s having a thing at the Willard. Can you join us?”

  “I need to get back to work,” Leo said. “I just took the morning off.”

  Nick shook his hand. “Give my best to Stacy and the kids.”

  “You got it.” With a smile for Sam, Leo added, “Bring your pretty lady up to Baltimore for dinner one day soon.”

  “I will. I have Christmas presents for the boys.”

  “They’d love to see you. Any time. Take care, Nicky.” With a smile, Leo left them.

  “Dad?”

  He turned back.

  “Thanks again for being here.”

  Leo nodded and headed for the main door.

  Nick exhaled a long deep breath. “That was a surprise.”

  “A good surprise?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  But she could tell it had rattled him. What would it be like to expect so little of your father that you’d be shocked to see him at your best friend’s f