“Hey, Cruz.” Sergeant Delany was on duty. “You’re working late.”

“Yeah, it’s one of those days.”

“What can I do for you?”

“The guy who was brought in from the 16th Street gym...”

“Andre Elliott. He’s in number six.”

Freddie looked the sergeant in the eye. “He put my girlfriend in the hospital. I’d like to have a chat with him.”

After a long pause, during which Freddie never blinked, Delany said, “Go ahead.” He handed Freddie the key to the cell.

“Thanks.”

Delany nodded.

Freddie unzipped his hoodie and removed it before using the key to open the cell door.

Elliott was stretched out on the narrow cot, but sat up when Freddie came in. “Who are you?”

Raising the hoodie so it covered his face, Freddie hung it over the camera that was trained on Elliott. He was tall and muscular with a complexion that indicated mixed-race lineage. He had a jagged scar on his bicep and sleeve tattoos. The knuckles on his right hand were bruised and swollen.

“I’m Detective Cruz.” With his hands propped on his hips, his gold shield was visible to the other man.

“What’d you want?”

“The woman you hit at the gym today...”

“What about her?”

“She’s mine. She says you’ve been hassling her for a while now.”

“She lies.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Freddie took a step closer. Even though the guy was bigger than him and probably a whole lot meaner, Freddie was running on adrenaline and rage. He felt like he could kick the shit out of a raging bull if he had to. “Let me make myself really clear. Stay the fuck away from her, or you’ll be dealing with me.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

Freddie moved so fast Elliott never saw the knee to the groin coming. He cried out in pain as he went down hard. Without giving him time to recover, Freddie punched him in the face, in the same area where Elin had been hit. Then he took a handful of Elliot’s hair and forced him to look up.

Freddie brought his face down close to Elliott’s. “Stay the fuck away from her, or I swear to God I’ll fuck you up. Are we clear?”

“I’ll have your badge for this.”

“No, you won’t. We don’t think much of scumbags who hit women around here.” He pulled hard on the handful of hair. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“We’re clear.”

Freddie released his hold on Elliott’s hair and pushed him aside, leaving the man slumped on the floor, cupping his injured testicles. On the way out of the cell, Freddie walked past the camera before he pulled his hoodie off it.

At the desk, he handed the key to the Delany.

“Everything all right?” Delany asked.

“It is now. If you could forget I stopped by, I’d consider it a personal favor.”

“Never saw you here.”

“Thanks, Sarge. Happy New Year.”

“Same to you.”

Freddie went up the stairs two at a time, propelled by the same surge of adrenaline that had brought him here. He retrieved his weapon from his desk and was on his way to the hospital five minutes later. Only when he was back in Elin’s room, his hand swelling from the impact to Elliott’s face, did the adrenaline leach from his body, leaving him cold and shaky as he leaned over the bed to kiss her forehead.

Sagging into the chair next to the bed, he accepted that he’d risked his hard-won career by going to the jail. But he’d do it again to protect the woman he loved.

* * *

Sam and Nick waited an hour after Scotty went to bed before heading up to their loft on the third floor. On the way up, Nick went into Scotty’s room to check on him. He was asleep with most of his covers on the floor, so Nick covered him up and shut off the bedside lamp.

When he got upstairs, Sam was on the phone, apparently with Gonzo.

“We do have some threads, and we’re pulling them. Carlucci and Dominguez are working on Lori’s financials tonight, and we’re looking at the church she belonged to. They protest at veterans’ funerals, among other unsavory things. I’m going on TV with the chief tomorrow to talk about Springer, and I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to direct the heat off you.”

Nick lit the beach-scented candles, turned on the music they’d loved on their honeymoon in Bora Bora and shut off the overhead lights. He sat next to her on the foot of their double lounge chair, put his arm around her and kissed her neck. He was fine with starting without her. She’d catch up. She always did.

She leaned into him. “I know,” she said to Gonzo. “It totally sucks that people are saying that, but the people who matter know the truth. Just remember that. I’ll check in tomorrow, and I’ll keep you posted. Try to get some sleep.” She ended the call, then tossed her phone aside. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. I managed to entertain myself.”

Laughing, Sam began tugging at his shirt.

He put his arms behind him so he could watch her push up the shirt she’d bought him to replace the ratty one she hated. “What’s this about TV?”

“Oh. You heard that, huh?”

“Yep. What gives?”

“So, things with the chief are bad. The press is doing a number on him. I suggested he go out there and tell his side of the story.” When Nick pulled the T-shirt over his head, she trailed her finger from his neck to the waistband of his jeans, sending all the blood in his body to his cock, which surged against his zipper.

“How’d you get roped into it?”

Sam bent to kiss the same path. “I might’ve offered to use my, you know...” She waved her hand. “What do you call it?”

“Your stature as the wife of the vice president of the United States?”

“Yeah, that.”

Laughing, Nick fell back on the bed. “You are so funny, you know that?”

“How am I funny?”

“You don’t even know how to play the game, do you?”

“What game?”

“The fame game. You’re famous, Samantha. Everyone in this country knows who you are now. Go out there and use that to square things away for your chief.”

“Use it.” She bit her lip the way she did when she was thinking. “Isn’t that kind of...unethical?”

“Not at all. It would be unethical if you asked me to get involved behind the scenes to make it go away. If you go on TV and take advantage of the interest in us to change the conversation then that’s not at all unethical.”

“It feels icky.”

“Welcome to politics, babe.”

She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “I don’t want to talk about politics.”

Twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, he said, “What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about how sexy my husband, the vice president, is and how every woman in America would like to be me right now.”

“Sure, they would.”

“Speaking of not knowing how to play the game.”

“I don’t want to play this particular game with anyone other than my beautiful wife.”

“Spoken like a true politician.”

“Or a smart husband.”

“That too,” Sam said with a laugh. She kissed a path from his belly to his chest, ending at his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her to keep her there, losing himself to her kiss and the way she made him feel. Her mouth opened and her tongue tangled with his. God, he could kiss her forever and never get tired of it. As he kissed her, he pulled at her clothes impatiently, breaking the kiss only to tug her top over her head. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled his senses and made him greedy for more of her.

Nick released the clasp on her bra and pushed the straps down, gasping at the exquisite feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. That was one of his top five favorite things in life. As he pushed her jeans down, he uncovered one of his other top five favorite things—her gorgeous ass. Truth be told, he loved every incredible inch of her, and the way she responded to him was a constant reminder of how damn lucky he was that she loved him.

And then she broke the kiss and reminded him all over again why he was so lucky. She pushed him onto his back and kissed a path straight down the front of him.