“I’ll be here.”

After the last of their friends left, Sam held out her arms to Scotty, who crawled into her embrace like he’d been doing it all his life. “How’s my best boy?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Much better now that I can hug and kiss on you.”

Scotty made a face but he put up with her need to love him. “I’m glad you’re okay and back to being annoying.”

“Annoying?” She tugged playfully on a tuft of his hair. “Annoying?”

“Tell her, Nick. She’s annoying when she wants to kiss my whole face.”

“I sorta like it when she kisses my whole face.”

“Ewww, gross. I need a shower.” He got up from the sofa. “I’m outta here.”

“Is all your homework done?” Sam asked him.

“Yep. They go easy on us the first week back after vacation.”

“We’ll be up to tuck you in,” Nick said.

“I don’t need to be tucked in,” he said as he did every night.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said. “We need it.”

Nick sat on the edge of the sofa and propped an arm on the back. “How you doing, babe?”

“A little tired, a lot sore, but otherwise, I’m okay. I’m glad he seems okay too.”

“He’s resilient like his mother.” Nick leaned in to kiss her and rubbed his nose against hers. “Ready for a lift upstairs?”

“I can walk.”

“Why would you want to walk when I love to carry you?”

“Because I have plans for your back that don’t include it being thrown out from carrying me?”

“Plans? What are these plans of which you speak?”

She reached out to caress his face and then ran her fingers through his hair.

“What?” he asked, after she’d studied him for a long silent moment.

“I like to look at you and touch you. Because I can.”

“Anytime you want.” He kissed her again. “Let’s get you comfortable upstairs.” Sliding his arms under her, he lifted her and headed for the stairs.

She curled her arms around his neck and dropped her head to his shoulder. “My hero.”

“Hardly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I wasn’t able to save you. They wouldn’t let me go near the place until it was totally safe. Made me feel like... I don’t even know how to describe how that made me feel. Like my safety was more important than yours.”

“I hate to say it because it’ll make you mad, but your safety is more important than mine and just about anyone’s.” In a whisper, she added, “You’re the vice president.”

“It’s not funny, Sam. It made me feel useless, and I hate that.”

“You’re extremely useful to me and don’t ever forget that.”

“I’m not talking about sex.”

“Who said anything about sex?”

He raised a brow and tried to scowl at her, but failed miserably because he was so damn grateful to be arguing with her. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I know I am. You laugh at most of my jokes and so does Freddie, except for the ones that are at his expense. Which is almost all of them.”

Nick set her down gently on the bed and settled her under the covers.

“Brant was looking for you earlier. What did he want?”

“Nothing.”

“Must’ve been something. He had that intense look he gets when something’s up.”

“Are you checking out my detail now?”

“Hardly. I pay attention, though, and he seemed stressed out.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Aha! So it is something.”

“A little something.”

“They want me to have protection, don’t they?”

“Sam.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yeah, they do, and it’s coming from Nelson.”

“What do you have to say about it?”

“I told Ambrose Pierce that if Nelson is going to insist on you having protection, he’s going to need to get himself a new vice president.”

“You really said that? To the Secret Service director?”

“I really said that. And I meant it.”

“Even though you probably want me to have protection more than anyone. You still said that.”

“I did, so what about it?”

“Do you know what I love best about you?”

“Did you suffer a head injury that hasn’t been diagnosed?”

Sam laughed, a deep guffaw that had her gripping her stomach. “No, I did not suffer a head injury. Now answer the question.”

“I suspect what you love best about me is what goes on right here in this bed.”

“Nope.”

“I’m wounded and more than slightly offended.”

“Oh, shut up. You know I dig the sex big-time. But what I love most about you is that you know me. You really, really know me. You get me, and even though you’d love nothing more than to let them push you into pushing me to have protection, because you’d breathe a hell of a lot easier if I had it, you’d never, ever do that to me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Because you know me.”

“I know you.” He kissed her softly, not wanting to cause her any more pain than she was already dealing with. “And I love everything I know about you, even the stuff that makes me crazy and gives me nightmares.”

“Did you really tell them you’d quit if they push the matter?”

“I really did.”

“And would you? Really?”

“I really would.” He tucked her hair back behind her ear. “When are you going to figure out that all I truly need are you and Scotty? The rest of it—the job, the White House, the attention... It could all go away in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t miss it in the least. But you... If you went away, I’d never be the same. My life would be completely ruined in ways that could never be fixed. So yeah, if it came to that, I’d quit in a heartbeat.”

She reached for him, and he went willingly into her arms. “I love you so much. I thought I knew how much until it was possible I might never see you again. And then I realized it’s a million, billion, trillion times more than I thought it was.”

“Me too, baby. Quadrillion.”

She thumped him on the back. “Of course you know what comes after trillion!”

Laughing softly, he said, “Only because I’m keeping an eye on the federal deficit.” He held on tight to her, overwhelmed with love for her and gratitude that she was safely back in his arms where she belonged.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sam knew she was dreaming. It had happened this way before, after the disaster at the crack house the night Quentin Johnson had died in his father’s arms. The nightmares had been relentless. Now there was a new nightmare. She was back in the Springers’ basement, tied to the chair, at the mercy of a madman who was playing with matches.

The stench of gasoline burned her nose and made her eyes water.

Stahl lit a match and waved it around in front of her face.

Sam watched the flame dance before her eyes, the strong scent of sulfur overpowering the gasoline for a second. Then he looked directly at her and dropped the match into the puddle of gas at her feet. As the flames exploded around her, Sam screamed.

“Baby, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Sam came awake sweating and crying and gasping for air. “Nick.”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He held her tight and stroked her back while she sobbed helplessly. “You’re safe.”

How would she ever feel truly safe again? How would she ever trust the instincts that had guided her career up until now but had failed her so spectacularly in this case? Stahl had played her—and the people around her—like a well-tuned fiddle.

She pushed those disturbing thoughts from her mind, determined to focus on her loved ones and not give that animal one more second of her mental energy. He’d already gotten far more than he’d ever deserved.

Sam squirmed against Nick, trying to get closer to him.

He gasped at the press of her pelvis against his. “Samantha.”

“Need you.”

“Baby, you need to rest and recover.”

“I need you more than I need anything else.” With her face nestled in the curve between his neck and shoulder, she took a deep breath of his endlessly appealing scent and then bit the tendon at the base of his neck.