Right back atcha.

She almost sighed—audibly—with relief to know that particular atrocity wasn’t in his plans, but she maintained her silence, which she could tell was getting to him. He’d expected her to be her usual mouthy self, and he didn’t know what to do with silent Sam. Silent Sam. If she weren’t tied to a chair and being wrapped in razor wire that was already poking through her clothes to puncture her skin, she’d find that funny. When was she ever silent?

The razor wire hurt, especially when he pulled it tight against her neck. If she so much as moved, her jugular could be punctured. So she remained very, very still, even when he brought his face right down in front of hers.

She closed her eyes, refusing to look at him.

“You can play your little games, Holland. But we’ll see who wins this round.”

She kept her eyes closed and thought about Nick, imagining the scent of his cologne, the scent of home, and finding comfort in him.

* * *

Scotty stayed close to Nick’s side during the reception, almost as if he was afraid to let Nick out of his sight. The poor kid had been through so much at an early age, and just when things were beginning to settle for him, a new challenge arose. Nick had hated telling him the news about his biological father.

He’d also hated the spark of curiosity he’d seen in Scotty, as well as the spike of jealousy he’d experienced at realizing the boy was interested in the man who’d fathered him. Of course he was. Anyone would be. But Nick didn’t want him to be interested in any other father but him. Petty much? Yeah, he knew it was, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.

Maybe Scotty wouldn’t like the guy and would see him once and be done with him. But what if he liked him? What if he wanted to see him again? How would Nick be able to stand turning him over to his other father on any kind of regular basis? He’d loved being the first father the boy had ever had. He wanted to be his only father.

“What do you think, Nick?” Graham O’Connor asked, stirring Nick from his musings.

“About what?”

“I told you he was spacing out,” Scotty said with a laugh.

“Sorry,” Nick said with a sheepish grin for them.

“I was wondering what you thought of the West Wing so far.”

“One day in, and so far, so good.” He wasn’t ready yet to share his concerns about Nelson’s motivations with anyone other than Terry, even Terry’s father. “Still trying to figure out where everything is and what I’m supposed to be doing, but I suppose I’ll work that out eventually.” At least he hoped so. No sign yet of Nelson, his chief of staff Tom Hanigan or Derek Kavanaugh at the reception.

The first chance he got, he planned to ask his good friend Derek if the chill he was feeling from the Oval Office was intentional. He’d hate to think he’d been so wrong about someone, but he’d expected better from Nelson, especially after the way he’d wooed him and waged political war to get him confirmed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Terry take a phone call and then head into his office and close the door. Probably Lindsey. Nick was thrilled for them both. They made a great couple, and he couldn’t be happier for his chief of staff after the road he’d traveled in the last year to turn his life around.

While Nick chatted with Graham, Laine and staffers who’d come from the Senate with him as well as those who’d recently joined his White House team, he saw Terry come out of his office and head straight for him. He couldn’t help but notice the odd look on his face.

“A moment please, Mr. Vice President.”

“Excuse me,” Nick said.

“Duty calls,” Graham said gleefully. No one was happier about Nick’s new job than Graham.

When Scotty started to follow them, Terry said, “Scotty, will you go see if my mom needs a refill for me?”

“Sure.” Scotty dashed off to tend to Laine O’Connor, one of his favorite new friends.

When Terry headed for Nick’s office, he followed him, closing the door. “What’s going on?”

“Christina called.”

“I thought she might be here. We invited her, right?”

Terry nodded and rubbed a hand over the late-day stubble on his jaw. “I...I wish I didn’t have to tell you...”

Nick’s entire body went cold with fear. “Tell me what?”

“Sam’s in some sort of trouble. Gonzo asked Christina to track you down. They believe Sam is being held hostage at the Springer home on MacArthur Boulevard.”

“They believe?” Somehow he was able to force the words out despite the fear that gripped him. “They don’t know?”

“Not for sure. Her car is parked out front, and no one has heard from her for quite some time. They haven’t yet tried to gain access to the house. Christina said Gonzo told her they’re still assessing the situation.”

When Nick pulled his personal cell phone from his suit coat pocket, his hands trembled as he checked to see when the most recent message from his wife had arrived. More than five hours ago. Five hours. Jesus.

“I need to go there.”

“The Secret Service will never allow you to go to a possibly active crime scene.”

At the words possibly active crime scene, Nick’s chest began to ache along with his stomach. “Will you get Brant in here, please?”

“Nick.”

“Do it, Terry. Please.”

Terry walked out the door, leaving Nick in a state of stunned disbelief. Was she already dead and no one wanted to tell him? No. If she were dead, he’d know it. He’d feel it.

Agent John Brantley Junior came into the room, closing the door behind him. “You asked to see me, sir.”

“My wife is involved in a situation at work. I need to go to her.”

“Where is she?”

“From what I’m told, it’s believed she’s being held hostage in a townhouse on MacArthur Boulevard.”

Brant was shaking his head from the word hostage forward. “I can’t take you there, sir.”

“Let me be clear—I’m going to her, and I don’t give a flying fuck if you come with me or not. But I am going. It’s up to you as to whether you’ll be joining me.”

The young agent with the close-cropped blond hair and the chiseled jaw stared at him with unblinking blue eyes. “My job is to protect you, sir. I can’t do that if you put yourself into dangerous situations.”

“My job is to protect her. I’m going.” Nick knew what Sam would have to say to him taking responsibility for her safety, but right then he didn’t care. He could only hope he’d get the chance to tell her he’d said it.

“Give me one minute to put something together.”

“Just you and me, one car, no motorcade. One minute. That’s all I’m giving you, and it’s sixty seconds longer than I want to give you.”

“Scotty?”

“Stays here with the O’Connors.”

With a brisk nod, Brant left the room.

Nick ran shaking hands through his hair, forcing air to his lungs. The thought of her in danger always made him crazy, but knowing for sure that she was in some sort of trouble made him tremble with fear. Nothing had ever scared him more than the possibility of losing her suddenly.

The door opened and Terry came in. “What did Brant say?”

“He’s working it out so the two of us can go.”

“I’m surprised he went for it.”

“He didn’t.”

Terry offered a small smile that he intended to be reassuring, but Nick could see the concern in his aide’s eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine, Nick. She’s always fine.”

“I wish I could be so sure. Do me a favor—keep Scotty here with your folks. I don’t want him to worry before we know what’s going on.”

“Of course. We’ll take care of him.”

“Thanks.” Nick stared at the door, willing it to open. “Make my excuses at the reception?”

“Yes, I will.”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Nick bent at the waist, propped his hands on his knees and forced himself to breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be any good to Sam if he lost his composure. Somehow he also had to walk through a room full of people who’d be focused on him and leave his son without worrying him. Get it together, man.