Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

secrets.”
    “You’re one to talk, and which secrets are you referring to?”
    Sam raised an eyebrow as she slipped into a kitchen chair.
    “Oh. Celia.”
    “Uh huh,” Sam said, delighted by the faint blush that appeared on his ruddy cheeks.
    “Well, I was going to tell you.”
    “Except you were too chicken so you got her to tell me.”
    “Something like that.”
    Sam laughed. “I’m happy for you.”
    “Really? You are?” His relief was almost as comical as his embarrassment.
    “Of course I am. She’s terrific. What would we have done without her the last couple of years?”
    “No kidding. Thing I can’t understand is why she’d want to shackle herself to this?” With his eyes, he took in his useless body, the chair, the whole situation.
    “She loves you. I think it’s that simple.”
    “She’s not in it for the house or the pension, in case you wondered.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Sure you did, because I’ve trained you to be as cynical as I am.”
    “Well, maybe it crossed my mind for an instant, but listening to her talk about you…she’s genuine.”
    “I think she is,” he said, seeming incredulous. “In fact, she wants to sign something that says she gets nothing, you know, after…”
    “Which says to me she should get it.”
    “See? That’s what I think, too. It wouldn’t bother you or your sisters if she got a cut?”
    Sam stood up to rest her hands on his shoulders and brought her face down to his. “All I want is you, here with us, for as long as we can have you, for as long as you want to be here.”
    “You haven’t forgotten, have you? About our deal?”
    Sam thought of the prescription bottle she had stashed in a safety deposit box. “No.”
    “And you’re still willing? If the time comes…”
    Fighting back the sting of pain in her belly and her heart, she kept her voice steady when she said, “If the time comes.”
    He released a long deep breath. “Good. Okay. Let me get back to this. I’ll report in if anything jumps out, Sergeant—or should I say Lieutenant?”
    “Not quite yet.” She kissed his forehead. “Thanks for the help.”
    “My pleasure.”
    And she could see that it was. He seemed more vital, more alive in that moment than he had in a long time. She should’ve been bringing him into her cases on a more formal basis all along and vowed to do so going forward. His mind was as sharp as ever, and if using it gave him a reason to stay in the fight, then she’d use it and no doubt benefit from it.

    Nick ended the call with Christina and stashed the cell phone he’d borrowed from Sam in his pocket. He rested against the porch rail and let his eyes wander up and down the quiet street. Some of the townhouses were painted in a variety of bright colors while others were fronted by brick or stone. The red brick sidewalks sloped and curved over tree roots. Black wrought iron gates added a touch of class to the Capitol Hill neighborhood.
    Was someone out there right now watching him? Hoping to get another shot at Sam? Or at him? The thought sent a chill chasing through him as he contemplated the sudden changes in his life. Last Saturday, he spent the morning in the office and then played in a pickup basketball game at the gym. He went out for a few beers with the guys he’d played with and went home alone.
    Now, a week later, John was dead, he was in love with Samantha Holland and someone had tried to kill them both. Any doubt that he was in love with her had evaporated during the interminable trip through shattered glass to get to her after the bombing. He’d had just enough time to imagine a return to the empty existence his life had been without her to be certain he loved her.
    Three doors down on Ninth Street, a metal “For Sale” sign caught his attention as it banged against a brick-front townhouse. The creepy sound reminded Nick of ghost towns and spaghetti Westerns. Another trickle of fear crept along his spine as he took a long look up and down the deserted street.
    “What’re you doing out here in the cold?” Sam asked as she joined him on the porch.
    “Nothing much.” He extended a hand to her. “Where’s your coat?”
    “I’ll share yours.” She slipped her arms around his waist and burrowed into his coat. “Mmm. Warm.”
    As Nick held her close, he wondered how he had survived, how he had lived without her for all the years since he first met her. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
    “What are