A Scandalous Affair Page 10

  “She’ll never do it and you know that. It’ll only turn into a shouting match, and she’ll win.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he snapped. He turned to her, saw the pained look on her face and knew she was just as concerned as he was. “I’m sorry, babe.” He sat beside her on the bed.

  She rested her head on his chest. “At least she’ll be all right tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Chad is staying with her.”

  “Damn.” He blew out an exasperated breath.

  “What is it?”

  “I talked to him today.”

  Vaughn sat up straight. It was her turn to become indignant. “About what, Justin? You promised me.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything to Samantha and I didn’t. I never said I wouldn’t talk to Chad,” he snapped back. “We had a good man-to-man chat.”

  She shook her head. “Well…what happened?”

  He replayed their conversation for his wife, making it all sound quite innocent and safe. His assurances to her that Samantha would not learn of their exchange didn’t totally win over Vaughn.

  “Now what?”

  “Now I hope he does the right thing.”

  “But what is the right thing, Justin? Do we really know? That’s between them. We need to stay out of it. This is not our business.”

  “I wouldn’t be a father if I simply stood by and did nothing. I won’t have my hands tied behind my back when it comes to my family. Whatever I need to do to protect them is what I’ll do. And if a few egos get bruised in the process, then the hell with it. And Samantha is just going to have to be upset because I’m calling Janice in the morning.”

  Vaughn looked him directly in the face, composing what she had to say. “Justin, our girls are grown, capable of making their own decisions. If we try to live their lives for them, they will only end up resenting us for meddling in their affairs. Advise them, yes. But if you intervene and try to change the outcome to suit your own wishes, something bad could come of it.”

  “What are you saying? Just let them be killed because of their youthful bravado? I know they’re adults, but that doesn’t mean that they always know what’s right for them. I don’t want to see either of them hurt because they leaped into this business half-cocked. They have no idea what they’re confronting with this campaign of theirs. This whole business will not just end with the police. Imagine if their lawsuit is considered a national security risk, then all kinds of agencies could get involved here. The Justice Department, the CIA, even the NSA.”

  Vaughn sagged against him as if all of her power had been drained. “Stop, Justin, you’re scaring me now. I don’t want to see them get mixed up in something that can become totally out of control, putting them and everyone they know in danger. I don’t want to even think about what could happen with this thing.”

  “I don’t want to frighten you, dear,” he replied. “I just want you to realize what can possibly result from their so-called fight for justice. This can easily become a hardball affair. When the federal government feels threatened, pushed into a corner, it will strike back, and hard.”

  “Is there a way we can convince them to stop their suit before it reaches that point?” she asked, a sense of alarm coloring her words.

  “I don’t know if I can,” he said. “They’ve got too much vested into this. In fact, I believe the opposition already knows the game plan or Samantha wouldn’t have gotten this last love note. It was nothing like the others. Somebody knows something. Nothing is secret anymore.”

  “Do you think somebody close to them is feeding information to the feds? A snitch, an informer from their staff. If that’s the case, they’re in big trouble.”

  Justin stood and walked to the window, looking out through the curtains. “I pray they don’t bite off more than they can chew. This is the big league and these guys don’t take prisoners. You know how the Beltway works.”

  “Yes, I know,” she answered sadly. “If they can go after a president, senators and cabinet members, people with clout and some power in this town, they don’t have a chance. They’ll be crushed before they file their first brief. Both of us know that. They’re taking a big chance, a really big chance, by following through with this.”

  He came back to her and knelt before her, his hands on both sides of her worried face. “Believe me when I promise you that I won’t let anything happen to either one of our girls. You have my word on that.”

  She nodded and let a false glimmer of serenity come into her face, just before he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. His hands never left her cheeks while he repeated softly in her ear: “You have my word on that. Nothing will happen to them, either of them.” They held each other close, their arms surrounding each other. If only it would be that easy to surround and protect their girls.

  Chapter 17

  Samantha lay with her hands folded across her stomach, fingers linked, her gaze focused on the fluttering curtains at her window. Beyond its frame a multitude of stars glimmered against a blanket of midnight blue velvet. In the distance, the faint echo of night sounds filtered through the trees, and the soft rustle from the light breeze was a perfect musical complement.

  Serene. Tranquil. Everything peaceful and safe. Yet, beyond the facade, elements were at work to dismantle it all, bringing their wrath against her and her family.

  She shivered violently, the sudden force of the chill jerking her body.

  She moaned and closed her eyes, tried to sleep. She couldn’t. Images of faceless people, the sounds of wails and sobs blocked out the stars and muffled the comforting rhythms of night.

  A strangled cry bubbled up from her throat. What was she going to do? If these threats were real, which she now believed they were, what was she going to do? Sure, she’d sounded brave and defiant in front of Chad and for Vaughn. But the truth was, she was terrified, not so much for herself, but for her family. Before, the danger had always been something distant, abstract. She’d understood that in her line of work there would be crackpots and zealots who would oppose her, try to scare her away. So she’d accepted the other notes as part of the job and considered herself lucky there’d been so few. Those notes had arrived at her office, a place connected to her only by virtue of her work. Now the line had been crossed, her personal space invaded. Whoever it was may have been close enough to touch her, peek into her window, jiggle her lock.

  She sprung up in bed as if stunned with a prod. Her gaze raced around the room, searching the dark corners, hoping to find—nothing. Short, staccato bursts of air pushed past her lips. “This is insane,” she mumbled into the night.

  “Sam? You okay?”

  A sharp gasp caught and held in her throat. Blinking several times, she focused on the dark figure outlined in the doorway of her bedroom.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, quickly wiped her eyes and pressed her palms down into the firm mattress, thankful for the dark.

  “I thought I heard you crying.” He sat down on the ottoman near her bed, trying to make out her expression from the starlight.

  A shudder scurried up her spine. He saw her tremble.

  “Must have been dreaming.”

  Chad reached out and lightly touched her bare arm. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He turned on the bedside lamp. Soft light bathed the room and illuminated the taut expression on Samantha’s face.

  “Sam…”

  She snapped her head away. She couldn’t let him see the tears.

  “Sam, it’s okay.”

  “What’s okay? To sit in your own house and be terrified of every sight and sound, every shadow. Imagine someone lurking in the dark. Then when you close your eyes it’s not you they’re after but your family.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and fort
h, something Chad realized she did when she passed her anxiety threshold.

  “What I meant was, it’s okay to be afraid. It’s only human, Sam. Anyone would be afraid in your place.”

  “I don’t have the luxury of being afraid. Too many people depend on me. I can’t fall apart.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. You’ve had a shock. A big one. Give yourself a chance to go through the emotions. Whatever they may be. Don’t fight them because then they’ll spring up on you when you least expect it and paralyze you.” He waited a beat, let his words settle. “I’m here tonight,” he added gently. “Be afraid. Rant, rave, scream, cry, whatever. I won’t judge you. But don’t bottle it up inside, Sam.”

  “It’s…it’s just so hard for me.”

  “What is?” He pulled the chair closer and took her hand.

  She stared down at their joined hands, memorized the circular scar on the third knuckle of his right hand, the way the veins pulsed gently beneath the warm brown skin, the long fingers and tapered nails. Samantha catalogued it all, even as she formed the words to explain a part of herself she’d never shared before.

  He stroked the underside of her wrist with his thumb and she struggled to concentrate.

  “My mother,” she began haltingly, “always drilled into my head that the only person you can depend on is yourself. People will betray you, even the ones who claim to care about you. If they see weakness they’ll use it against you.” She paused and looked toward the window. “So I grew up pretty much a loner, steering clear of friendships and commitments, doing everything on my own. But I always wanted to be a part of something, you know. I felt as if something was missing from my life.”

  She got up and walked toward the window.

  “Everything changed for me when I found my father and came to Washington.”

  Chad watched her slender silhouette in the frame of the window, saw the subtle relaxation of her shoulders and the tight hold she had on her body.

  “All of a sudden I was finally a part of something—a family. A family who devoted itself to helping others.” She turned to face him. “That’s what had been missing in my life—the void that I couldn’t figure out how to fill. And it became my life, helping others—being a part of something greater than myself.”

  “But all that ‘stuff’ your mother put in your head is still there—under the surface.” It wasn’t a question.

  She blew out a breath. “Yeah. More than I realized, I guess.”

  “Sam.” He rose, crossed the room and stood in front of her. He slid his hands into the pockets of the sweatpants she’d loaned him to sleep in. “There are all kinds of things that make us who we are. You said as much yourself. The key is to find a balance that works.”

  Samantha looked into his eyes and saw the tenderness and understanding there. Never before had she revealed this part of herself to anyone. Not even Simone. She felt totally vulnerable, yet had a sense that Chad would not abuse it.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “For…?”

  “Being here, listening…being you.”

  Chad smiled softly.

  She moved closer to him. She could feel the protection of his warmth surrounding her. Her gaze drifted slowly across the planes of his face and took in the smoldering dark eyes that had seen so much, the deep brown complexion enhanced by the rays of the African sun, the full mouth with the bottom lip more lush than the top, and the sharp cheekbones that defined his face.

  Slowly, she lifted her chin as if drawn to his mouth by an inner magnet. At that moment, right or wrong, she needed to be held, touched, assured of her life and vitality. She needed to feel connected.

  She touched her mouth to his, tentatively at first, a gentle exploration, then with more assurance as his lips responded to hers and his hands found her waist.

  Samantha moved against him, felt the fullness of him swell between the juncture of her thighs, and a soft sigh flowed from her mouth into his.

  Chad’s hands traveled along the curve of her waist, up the column of her spine, to let his fingers tangle in her locks, enjoying the coarse texture of them.

  The night breeze danced around them, filling the room with the scent of cherry blossoms, brushing their skin, teasing, taunting, weaving between their bodies.

  He held her tighter, deciding to let go for the moment, give in and let it happen. Yes, he’d promised Justin he wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t. His thumbs brushed across her nipples and felt them harden beneath the lightweight fabric of her gown, and he remembered Simone’s parting words—that Sam would need more than one night—and so did he.

  Torn between mounting desire and reason, he reluctantly broke the contact, eased back and looked down into her wide, questioning eyes. “Sam,” he whispered, his voice thick. He stroked her cheek. “I want you, believe me I do. More than you can imagine.” His erection throbbed against the soft cotton pants, reminding him how much. Samantha’s thoroughly kissed mouth trembled ever so slightly. “But not like this,” he said with regret. “Not when you’re feeling vulnerable and scared. Whatever happens between us, I want it to be free from artificial reasons.” He wouldn’t have a repeat of what happened between him and Simone. Not again, and especially with Samantha. Maybe he was being too cautious, but it was better that than mistakes he’d regret later.

  She spun away from him and crossed the room in hard strides, moving as far away as space would allow.

  “Are you saying that your feelings and mine are artificial, too?” she asked, her voice unable to contain the hurt, the rebuff.

  “No, Samantha, and I think you know that.” He walked up behind her. “I’m saying that if we make love, I want to be sure it’s for the right reasons. Sure, tonight would be a great release, a few hours of comfort, but what about tomorrow?”

  “Fine,” she blew out on a breath. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.” She walked toward the bed.

  He lowered his head. “Good night,” he whispered and walked toward the door.

  “Chad…”

  “Yes?” He slowly turned around, his hand on the knob.

  Silence stretched the distance between them.

  “Good night.”

  He nodded and closed the door behind him.

  This was the second time he’d turned her down, Samantha thought miserably, her body still tingling. She lay on her side and pulled the sheet up to her chin. At first she admired his sense of gallantry, the old-fashioned streak in him. But this time was different. At least she thought it was. She knew he cared for her, found her attractive, desirable. She sighed heavily. It was more than what he’d said. Something deeper than the words on the surface. But she had no idea what it was.

  Justin and Vaughn had talked until the sun peaked above the treetops. She was dead set against his calling his ex-wife, Janice. It would only upset Samantha all the more, she insisted. Her relationship with her natural mother was tenuous at best, and Vaughn believed this would not help.

  Justin on the other hand felt just the opposite. It was about time that Janice did something positive for their daughter—take care of her when she needed it instead of only concentrating on her own selfish needs. He knew Vaughn would be pissed, but he’d made up his mind.

  He flipped open the large leather phone book on his desk and dialed the Atlanta number.

  Janice’s husky voice picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  He hadn’t spoken to her in nearly six years, not since Samantha had come to D.C., and the distaste he felt then still lingered in his mouth.

  “Janice, it’s Justin.”

  Janice uncrossed her bare legs and sat up straighter in the bed. She reached for a cigarette and lit it. “Well… what can I do for you, Justin?” She inhaled deep and long.

  “Samantha’s in trouble and I want to send her down there to stay with you for a while.”

  “Trouble. She’s pretty old to be getting sent away because she’s pregnant.” She chuckled nas
tily. “That’s very archaic of you, dear.”

  “Typical response, Janice. Not that kind of trouble.”

  She took another drag on her cigarette. “What…kind of trouble? Something with that job of hers. Her name is in the paper every other day. I told her—”

  “Would you just listen for a minute,” he almost shouted, trying to control his rising temper. “She’s been getting threatening letters…” He went on to explain what had been happening and his reasons for wanting Samantha to get away.

  Janice’s lips trembled. As much as she may have regretted what happened between her and Samantha, the fact that she left her alone to live with her father, and that Sam had little if anything to say to her when she called, she still loved Samantha. Loved her with all her heart, no matter what Justin thought.

  She pulled out her sword and attacked, the only thing she knew how to do anymore. “She should have stayed here,” she slashed. “You got her head full of all that craziness about saving the world.” Her voice rose in pitch. “And now look what’s happened. She’s been in nothing but one incident after the other since she’s been in Washington. What kind of father are you? I swear, Justin, if anything happens to my baby, I’ll make you regret it.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Janice,” he said from deep in his throat. “You can think what you want about me, you always have. That’s not the issue. The issue is Samantha and her safety. I’m sure we both can agree on that.”

  She was silent, refusing to give him even that much.

  “I want you to call her, tell her to come, insist that she come.” He paused, the next words out of his mouth bitter as bile. “And…I’ll back you up.”

  Her finely arched brows rose against her sandstone colored skin. She heard something in Justin’s voice she never thought she would: fear. She crushed her cigarette and lowered her saber. “Sam and I don’t seem to do well over the phone.” She nervously lit another cigarette and took a long drag, blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the air. “I can be on a flight in the morning. I’d rather do this in person.”