Nick hadn’t been gone even a minute, and Sam was already lonely for him and worried about what he’d have to contend with over the course of the day. When he’d agreed to be Nelson’s new vice president, neither of them could’ve imagined a day like this one, when he would be heading to the White House, as president, to negotiate the release of the secretary of State from Iranian detention. It sounded more like a plot out of a spy movie than real life.
Sam went to the kitchen to brew coffee and check the to-do list Shelby had left for her when she insisted on helping with the party. Before kids, Sam would’ve been inclined to delegate the whole thing, but now she wanted to be as involved as she could be and was determined to make sure the twins had the best possible day on this, their first birthday without their beloved parents.
She spent the next hour and a half assembling thirty goody bags from the items Shelby had ordered. They’d invited all the twins’ classmates as well as several of their former neighborhood friends—and their parents—all of whom had been vetted by the Secret Service weeks ago.
Of course, both parents in each family had RSVP’d to attend a birthday party at the vice president’s home. How excited they must be to tell their friends they were now going to a birthday party at the home of the president. The thought of having sixty strangers in her house, all of them gawking at the new first lady, was enough to give her hives. Thankfully, they’d also invited their personal friends and family, who’d hopefully provide a buffer to the gawkers.
Shelby came in a few minutes later, carrying her son, Noah, and followed by her husband, Avery, who was hauling multiple containers. “You can put that in the dining room,” Shelby told Avery, already in party-planning-general mode.
Sam had learned to stay out of Shelby’s way when she was in general mode. She held up her hands to take Noah, and Shelby gratefully transferred him to Auntie Sam, as Shelby referred to her.
“He suddenly weighs a ton,” Shelby said, shaking out her arms as she followed Avery to the dining room.
As Sam ran her lips over the soft silk of the baby’s blond hair, an irrational yearning overtook her. It’d been a while since that particular yearning had shown up to remind her of the fertility issues that had plagued her adult life. What in the name of all that was holy would she ever do with an infant in the midst of the madness that was their life? Especially now, when everything had changed. But the yearning was there just the same, impossible to ignore as she snuggled the sweet-smelling baby.
Avery came back to the kitchen. He was tall and handsome, with golden-brown hair and eyes and cheekbones to die for. “How’re you holding up?” he asked in the honeyed accent of South Carolina.
“We’re doing just great, especially since the Iranians decided to detain the secretary of State.”
“What the hell is that about?”
“Great question, Agent Hill. We believe it may be to test the mettle of the new president, or some such thing.”
“By risking war?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“How is Nick? I mean… Jesus, Sam. You guys must be reeling.”
“It’s been an interesting couple of days.”
Avery snorted out a laugh at what had to be the understatement of the decade. “Listen, before Shelby comes back, she’s been really tired lately. This pregnancy is kicking her ass, though she’d never say so. Keep an eye on her today?”
“I will. Thanks for sharing her with me. I couldn’t survive without her.”
“Me either.”
His heartfelt statement was a testament to how far they’d come from the days when the FBI agent had convinced himself he was in love with Sam. They’d traveled a million miles from that unfortunate situation. He was now happily married to Shelby, and they were expecting their second child.
“I’ll take him,” he said of Noah. “We’ll be back for the party.”
Sam reluctantly turned the baby over to his daddy.
“We need to talk on Monday.”
“What about?”
“I don’t want to disrupt your weekend.”
Sam laughed. “My husband became president of United States this weekend. There’s nothing you can say that’ll disrupt my weekend any more than that already has.”
“It’s about the investigation, which I probably shouldn’t even talk to you about since your husband’s Justice department oversees my agency.” The FBI had been brought in to investigate the Metropolitan Police Department after a series of high-profile officer arrests. Those arrests included the deputy chief, who’d been charged with withholding vital information pertaining to the shooting of Sam’s father.
“What about it?”
“You sure you want to do this now?”
“No time like the present.”
“And we’re acknowledging the potential conflict of interest here?”
“Duly noted.”
Avery shifted his weight to better accommodate the baby. “Someone mentioned we need to take a closer look at what went down with the Johnson case.”
“Someone mentioned that, did they?” Sam made an effort to hide the blast of rage she felt at knowing one of her colleagues was trying to drag that painful incident into the FBI’s probe of the MPD. Two years ago, a child was killed in a shootout after she gave the order to raid a crack house. She’d been haunted by that child’s death ever since. “I’m sure it was one of my good friends. Was it Ramsey? Or maybe Offenbach. He’s still pissed at me for outing his affair. Apparently, the mother of his five children doesn’t want to be married to him anymore, and it’s my fault because I’m the one who figured out that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.”
“I’m just saying it came up in the context of black marks on the department.”
“An internal investigation has already determined Quentin Johnson was killed because his deadbeat father took him to that crack house, not because I ordered our people to invade it. He shot at us. We shot back. His son was killed.”
“I understand this is a sore subject—”
“Do you? When was the last time you gave an order that got a kid killed? I spent months undercover with the Johnsons, and never once did I see either of them do anything to endanger Quentin. Why in the world would he be at that house late at night when he’d never been there before?”
Sometimes when she closed her eyes at night, she could still hear Marquis Johnson’s anguished screams following his son’s death. “Are we really going to revisit that case? I’d imagine that after recent events, the department has much bigger problems than a crack house shooting from two years ago, especially when everyone involved was already found to not be at fault.”
“I’m not planning to revisit it,” Avery said. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that it’s been mentioned.”
“Noted. I’ll be disappointed if that case gets relitigated in the media. The first time was more than enough for me.”
“We’re getting a lot of press inquiries about the investigation, but we’re stonewalling them for now. Our job is to provide a report to the U.S. Attorney at the end of this, and I’ve got no intention of mentioning the Johnson investigation in that report.”
“Thank you for the heads-up. It’s appreciated, even if it doesn’t seem so.”
Shelby came back into the kitchen, carrying a plastic bag full of plates and other paper products.
“I’ll get out of your hair, ladies. Call me if you need me to grab anything on the way back, and don’t overdo it, Mrs. Hill.” He kissed his wife and held the baby so she could kiss him.
“You boys have fun at the park,” Shelby said, “and try to make sure he gets a nap, or he’ll be a bear at the party.”
“Will do.”
“What can I do?” Sam asked Shelby.
“Start unwrapping the plates and napkins while I finish the goody bags.”
“I finished the goody bags.”
“Um, no, you started them.”
“What’s the secret?”
“To what?” Shelby asked.
“To knowing how to do all this stuff.”
“You know how to do stuff that I’ll never know anything about. You have your gifts, and I have mine. You don’t need to worry about knowing how to do any of this, because you have me, and I’ve got you covered.”
“You’ll never know how thankful I am to have you, Tinker Bell. Especially on days like today. You’re going to come to the White House with us, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I can’t let you make a hot mess of it.”
Sam cracked up laughing. “I don’t want you to overdo it today. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Sounds like a plan. I took the liberty of consulting with Lilia about how best to deal with the curious parents, and she suggested we draft something to hand each of them as they arrive. I wanted to run it by you to make sure you approve.”
Sam took the sheet of paper that Shelby handed her.
Thank you so much for attending Alden and Aubrey’s birthday party! We hope you and your children have a wonderful time. We ask that you please keep the focus on our birthday boy and girl and refrain from asking President or Mrs. Cappuano to pose for photos or provide autographs. We sincerely appreciate the friendship and support provided to Alden and Aubrey during this difficult time in their lives, and we thank you for joining us today.
Sincerely,
Nick and Sam Cappuano
“That’s perfect,” Sam said. “Do we need to run it by Nick’s people?”
“Lilia was going to take care of that and call me if there’re any concerns.”
“Thank you so much for thinking of that. I’ll admit I was feeling freaked out about sixty strangers coming to my house on this of all weekends.”
“I figured you would be, so I also texted your friends, including Freddie and Elin, Gonzo and Christina, Harry and Lilia, Jeannie and Michael, the O’Connors, Celia, your mom, your sisters and Nick’s dad, to put them on notice that we need them to help run interference with the other guests.”
“That’s very good thinking too.”
“Is Nick going to make the party?”
“Probably not. The Iranians have messed up his plans for the weekend.”
“I saw that on the news this morning. What could they possibly be hoping to achieve?”
“I don’t know, but I hope they can resolve it soon.”
The news from Iran was grim. According to Nick’s advisers, the Iranians hadn’t responded to a request for information about the well-being of the secretary and his detail. The secretary’s plane was still surrounded by Iranian forces, with more than two dozen Americans on board.
“According to the Air Force, they have six days’ worth of food and water,” Terry reported during the day’s first meeting in the Situation Room, “but the bathroom situation will become a concern sooner rather than later if they can’t get it pumped.”
Nick took calls of concern and offers of support from U.S. allies, all of whom were equally anxious to see the situation resolved peacefully.
Over the next few hours, Nick received briefings from intelligence and military officials that made him increasingly more nervous about what the Iranians’ end game might be.
“Are they hoping we’ll send in U.S. forces?” he asked the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“We believe so, sir,” Army General Michael Wilson said.
Nick expelled a long deep breath. “I’d like to see my options by the end of the day. We can’t let this go on indefinitely.”
“If I may, sir,” Jennings, the Defense secretary said, “I prefer to see us discussing sanctions before we talk about sending in troops.”
“Everything is on the table,” Nick said, “up to and including sending in special forces if it comes to that.” He’d instructed the Treasury and Commerce secretaries to work on a list of economic sanctions designed to cause the utmost pain to the Iranian economy. However, those sanctions would mostly hurt regular people in Iran who’d had nothing to do with detaining the United States’ top diplomat. There were no good solutions to a problem like this, which of course the Iranians had known when they took the bold action of detaining the secretary in the first place.
Nick returned to the Oval Office and placed a call to Secretary Ruskin’s wife, Marilyn.
“Mr. President,” she said, “thank you so much for calling.”
“I’m so sorry for the need to call to reassure you that we’re doing everything we can to ensure the safe return of your husband and the others involved in this incident.”
“I appreciate that,” she said, sounding tearful. “Marty would want you focused on the agents and the others on the plane ahead of him.”
“We’re focused on bringing all of them home safely. I’ll make sure you’re kept informed of what’s going on.”
“Thank you again for calling, Mr. President. It means a lot to my family and me.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
He made calls to the distraught families of everyone else involved in the incident, did his best to reassure them and was emotionally drained by the time he was finished. A quick check of his watch indicated it was nearly party time at home, where he longed to be.
Terry came into the office. “Did you finish the calls?”
“Yes, and you’d never believe how much fun that was.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I want to call Sam. Am I allowed to use my phone?”
“I have a new, secure BlackBerry for you.”
“Ugh, back to the BlackBerry, huh?”
“Afraid so. It’s that or nothing, my friend. They’re going to want Sam to have one too.”
Nick cracked up laughing. “Good luck with that. If the phone doesn’t slap shut, she doesn’t want it.”
“It’s one of the few things they’ll probably insist on, since she’ll be talking frequently to you.”
“We’ll make it work.” Somehow. Maybe she could use a secure phone for anything to do with him and her duties as first lady, and her regular phone for work and personal contacts. Using the new BlackBerry, he made the call to Sam’s cell phone, hoping she’d take the call from a number that would show up on caller ID as unavailable.
It rang four times before she answered with a breathless hello.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hey! How’s it going?”
He was so damn glad to hear her voice. No one had ever been able to calm him with just a few words the way she could. “It’s going. Tense. How are things there?”
“The six-year-old excitement is off the charts. Eli predicted the twins are going to spontaneously combust before the day is over.”
Nick chuckled as he imagined the scene and desperately wished he were there to see it. Missing something like the twins’ birthday party was exactly why he’d made the decision to sit out the next election cycle. He didn’t want to miss anything with them or Scotty, who’d be playing high school hockey by this time next year. “Did you tell them how sorry I am to miss it?”
“I did, and they understand. I told them you’d celebrate with them when you got home.”
“It makes me sick to miss it.”
“There’ll be so many other years, Nick. Try not to let it upset you.”
“I’m trying.” He fiddled with a pen while he talked to her. “I’m worried about the other parents hassling you for pictures and shit.”
“Shelby and Lilia already thought of that. Lilia prepared something to hand out to each of the parents as they come in. Lilia cleared it with Trevor and Terry.”
“I’m glad they’ve got that covered,” he said, relieved to know she wouldn’t be bothered in her own home because of his job.
“Vernon and Jimmy told me they plan to stay close today too, and I’ll be surrounded by friends and family. Try not to worry. Just do what you need to do there so you can get home to us.”
“That’s the only place I want to be. I hope you know that.”
“I do know that, and one of the benefits of living at the White House is if something like this happens again next year, you can pop into the party and then go right back to work.”
“That’s true.” He sat up straighter as an idea took hold. “Take lots of photos and videos for me.”
“Will do. We miss you and we love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
He ended the call and bellowed for Terry and Brant.
They came in together.
“You rang, sir?” Terry asked, eyebrow raised.
“I want you to take me home for thirty minutes.” He checked his watch. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for the five o’clock briefing.” He was the fucking president and could do whatever the hell he wanted, and what he wanted more than anything—other than for the fucking Iranians to let his secretary of State leave the country—was to be home with his family for the kids’ birthday party.
“Yes, sir,” Brant said. “We’ll make that happen.”