Marie Force

Fatal Threat


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placed Scotty’s game station. They knew what it would take to entertain him in the underground bunker.

      “He’s perfect,” Nick said, his lips close to her ear.

      She shivered from his touch. “He sure is.”

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      MUCH LATER, AFTER having had the satisfaction of shooting thousands of bad guys, Sam lay awake next to Nick, thinking it through from all possible angles. At times like this, it was nearly impossible to turn off her detective’s brain. Her dad always advised starting from the beginning when a case stalled out, so that’s what she did.

      After months of having the agents close by at all times, one thing was clear to her—they didn’t overreact unless they had a damned good reason to. In the course of a week, they must get all kinds of threats against the first and second families. What had been so different about this one to warrant a reaction like this?

      “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, knowing Nick was still awake. His breathing was deeper when he was asleep.

      “What do you mean?”

      “It doesn’t add up. Your office receives a letter with a threat, and the Secret Service goes dragnet on us. How many threats do they receive directed at us and the Nelsons in a given week?”

      “A lot. Brant told me they’ve had more threats toward me in six months than they had toward Gooding in three years.”

      The thought of lunatics threatening her husband made her queasy. “Why such an uptick?”

      “They think it was because I was appointed rather than elected.”

      “What was different about this one?”

      “I told you what it said.”

      “You told me part of it. Now would be a great time to tell me what we’re really doing stuck in this cement prison.”

      After a long silence, she heard his deep sigh. Then his hand found hers, and he linked their fingers. “The smudged postmark.”

      “What about it?”

      “The FBI has seen that particular mark once before in a threat that was traced to a faction of the Islamic State that’s known for brutality against women and children. They think there’s something in the timing of the letter being sent while I was in Iran, and they’ve got counterterrorism people looking into that angle.”

      Sam’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to beat wildly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

      “I didn’t see the point in scaring you further when everyone is with us and perfectly safe.”

      Sam pulled her hand free of his. “You didn’t see the point. Remember how pissed you’d get when I kept things from you? You tell me we’re better than that, but I guess that only applies to my work, not yours.” She sat up and reached for the T-shirt she’d left at the foot of the bed.

      “Where’re you going?”

      “I want to talk to Brant about getting me out of here. I can’t help figure this out if I’m stuck down here.”

      “You’re not leaving, Samantha.”

      “You don’t get to decide that for me. I don’t have Secret Service protection. That was our deal when you took this job, and I expect you to honor our agreement. I don’t technically have to be here.” She pulled on shorts and jammed her feet into flip-flops.

      “Please don’t do this.”

      “What am I doing?”

      “You’re putting me in an impossible position. I already feel impotent enough that I can’t do a fucking thing to protect my family, because I’m not allowed to breathe without the Secret Service’s permission.”

      “That’s your situation. Not mine.”

      “Sam, you’re my wife.”

      “Do you honestly think I need you to tell me that? I know who I’m married to, and if someone threatens you and our loved ones, they threaten me too. All I’m asking for is a chance to do something about it rather than being trapped here with my thumb up my ass, hoping someone else will figure out who the fuck sent that letter. Let me go do what I do best.”

      “No.”

      “Again with the one-word answer.”

      “The Secret Service won’t let you out of here unless I specifically authorize you to leave, so don’t try anything.”

      She headed for the door to their room. “I hope you’re enjoying your little power trip.”

      “Sam, come on...”

      “Don’t tell me to come on. In fact, don’t say anything to me until you’re ready to tell me I can leave this hellhole.” She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the room and stormed through the dark corridor to the common area, where she ran into her stepmother, Celia, heading for the kitchen area.

      “What’re you doing up?” Sam asked.

      “Your dad is restless. I thought some tea might help.”

      Sam was immediately on alert for trouble where her dad was concerned. “Is he okay?”

      “I think so, but go ahead in and see for yourself. He’s awake.”

      Sam returned to the dark hallway and knocked on the closed door to her dad’s room.

      He called for her to come in.

      Sam went in and closed the door behind her.

      “What’re you doing up, baby girl?”

      “Same as you. Can’t sleep. I’m going crazy in this place.”

      “I wondered when you’d snap.”

      “Are people placing bets?” Sam asked as she fell into a chair next to his hospital bed. She had to give the Secret Service props for seeing to everything they’d need in the hellhole.

      “Graham suggested a pool, but I knew better than to take that bait.”

      “You’re very funny tonight, Skippy.”

      “Are you going to tell me what’s got you all wound up and fully dressed in the middle of the night?”

      “I was gonna make a break for it.”

      “Is that so? What stopped you?”

      “My freaking husband, who apparently has all the power over this situation.”

      “You can’t blame him for wanting to keep us safe.”

      “I don’t blame him! But how long can they reasonably expect us to stay in this dungeon while they chase their own dicks trying to figure out who’s threatening us?”

      Skip chuckled. “You do have a way with words, Sam.”

      “You know I’m right. I bet I could get to the bottom of it in twenty-four hours. I’ve got too much crap going on to be stuck here. I’ve got a floater in the river and a freaking wedding to be in next weekend. Or is it this weekend? What the hell day is it, anyway?”

      “Take a deep breath, Sam, and think it through from Nick’s perspective. He feels responsible for putting our family in the spotlight and making us vulnerable to threats. It has to be weighing heavily on him.”

      “It is,” Sam said with a sigh, “but if he’d only let me out to do my own investigation, we might be able to get everyone out of here that much sooner.”

      “How does he have a moment’s peace if you’re out there hunting down a possible terrorist while he’s sealed off in an underground bunker?