She cupped his balls and squeezed, sending him into orbit. After she licked him clean, she stood and eyed him triumphantly. "Wasn't much of a challenge. You might want to fight a little harder next time."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, still breathing hard as she conditioned her hair and finished getting washed.

"Gotta get to it, Senator. Have a good day."

"Sam."

"What?"

He reached for her. "Come back."

With a quizzical expression, she moved closer to him. "Why?"

He bent his head and kissed her softly. "I love you."

"I know you do. I love you too, even when you're being an ass hat lughead."

"I don't give a shit about Hill, and I know you don't either."

"Then why do you insist on pushing my buttons where he's concerned?"

"Because pushing your buttons is always fun." He waggled his brows for emphasis.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "So wait, did you just totally play me here?"

Smiling, Nick shrugged. "Now, babe, that'd be awfully devious of me, wouldn't it?"

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as she poked him in the belly and stepped out of the shower. "This means war," she called over her shoulder.

"I'll look forward to that."

Well into his tenth month of sobriety, Terry O'Connor cherished his new routine. He'd all but moved into the Adams Morgan home of his girlfriend, Dr. Lindsey McNamara. He loved nothing more than waking up to her gorgeous face on the pillow next to his. Some mornings, like today, they lingered in bed for as long as they could, laughing, talking and making slow, sweet morning love that left him completely sated but with no time for the AA meeting he attended most days before work.

He'd catch the noon meeting on the Hill or another after work if he got tied up in the office. Terry tried to make a meeting every day, but because of his crazy schedule during the campaign, he occasionally missed a day. Not many of them, though.

His hard-won sobriety was one of the most important things in a new life that was so much better than his worthless old life there wasn't even a word to describe how different it was. The relationship with Lindsey was by far the best part, with his job as Nick Cappuano's deputy chief of staff ranking a very close second.

After a shower and shave, he found a bag from the dry cleaner in the closet Lindsey had cleared out to make room for his suits. Though he still had an apartment of his own, he went there rarely these days to water a couple of lonely plants, pick up the mail and pay the bills.

He was knotting a red silk tie when she came into the bedroom bearing coffee fixed just the way he liked it-dark with a hint of sugar. "Thanks, hon, and thanks for picking up the dry cleaning. You're too good to me."

She patted his cheek and kissed him. "You're just as good to me," she said with a wink that was a not-so-subtle reminder of the bonus orgasm he'd treated her to before he let her out of bed.

"Did the papers come?" He'd had his subscriptions to all the major papers moved to her house, since he spent most mornings there.

"They're on the kitchen table. What's up later?"

"We've got a campaign meet and greet in Arlington after work. I shouldn't be too late if you want to grab dinner."

"That sounds good. Byron is on the early shift this morning, so I'm working until seven anyway."

"Perfect." He took her by surprise when he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close so her back was snug against his chest. He nibbled on her neck and made her tremble. "Have I told you yet today that I love you?"

"Only a couple of times."

"I'm slacking off."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

Terry had never been in a relationship like this one. They talked and laughed and poked fun at each other. They made mad, passionate love and even laughed in bed too. Underneath it all was a foundation of respect and mutual admiration that humbled him. Every day he tried to make sure he deserved her. The thought of losing her respect or her love kept him sober. It was that simple.

She turned in his arms and raised her hands to his face. "I love you too."

Looking down at her, he took note of her bright green eyes, the dusting of freckles across her nose and the pink lips that were slightly swollen from his kisses. He fisted her long red hair and gave a gentle tug to position her for another kiss. "When I think about the way I was living a year ago... I had no idea life could be this sweet."

"My life was perfectly fine before, but this is so much better than perfectly fine."

They shared a warm smile that nearly made him forget all about the day of meetings and campaign business to attend to. "After the election, I want to get out of town for a week or so. Would you be game for that?"

"Yes, please. I haven't had a vacation in so long that I forget when the last one was."

"Let's get something booked ASAP. I'll look into it." He released her hair and let it flow through his fingers as she reached for his hand and led him to the kitchen. "Any preference on where we go?"

"Hot sand. Umbrella drinks. Very clear blue water."

"Got it," he said, smiling at her quick reply. He expected nothing less from her. "I like the way you think."

"Bagel?" she asked, holding up the bag from their trip to the market the night before.

"Sure. Thanks." While he waited on the toaster, he scanned the headlines in the Washington Post, Washington Star, the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. He opened the Star to peruse the political news, and an item on page two caught his attention: Fire in Thailand Linked to U.S. Company.

He skimmed the story about the factory fire that killed more than three hundred young women over the summer. An investigation had uncovered a connection between the factory and U.S. textile giant Lexicore.

Terry gasped in shock as the name Lexicore jumped out at him. "Oh no, no, no," he whispered. "Holy shit."

Carrying two plates with bagels slathered in cream cheese, Lindsey came over to where he was standing at the counter. "Terry? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Remember the fire in Thailand last summer when all those girls were killed?"

She nodded. "Didn't they have the doors barred from the outside or something?"

"Yes."

"So horrible. What about it?"

"The factory is owned by Lexicore."

"As in Lexicore the big U.S. company?"

"One and the same. My dad is close to the company's president, and he's a huge stockholder. When my brother died, he left a two-million-dollar life insurance policy to Nick, and my dad invested most of it for him-some of it in Lexicore."

"Oh no," Lindsey said, properly stricken. "Oh God."

"Oh yes, and the press has made the connection to Lexicore this close to the election." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and found his dad's number on his list of favorites.

"Good morning, son," Graham said. "This is a nice surprise."

"Dad, we've got a huge problem."

Chapter Nine.

Sam arrived at HQ fifteen minutes before the meeting she'd called, raring to dig into the investigation after a decent night of sleep. Despite the interruptions, she felt rested and recharged and determined to make serious headway.

Her first stop was in the pit to talk to third-shift detectives Carlucci and Dominguez. "What've we got, ladies?"

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Carlucci said, choking back a yawn. "Autopsy report and photos from Dr. McNamara that came in last night. Vic died of a single stab wound to the chest that punctured his aorta. She puts the time of death between two and four yesterday morning."

Sam opened the envelope, flipped through the photos and scanned Lindsey's report, frowning when she saw that it contained nothing else she didn't already know.

"We watched security footage all night," Carlucci continued, "and were able to isolate the drop off of Ms. Clark in the area of the L'Enfant Plaza Metro station. He pulled back into traffic on Maryland Avenue, and that's where we lost him."

"Heading in which direction?"

"Toward Georgetown."

"So whatever occurred, it happened between L'Enfant and Georgetown."

"That's a lot of ground to cover," Dominguez said.

"Any sign of the car or the blood?"

"Neither," Carlucci said. "Based on his interviews with team personnel last night, Agent Hill asked us to do background and financial checks on a number of the key players."

It irritated her that he'd asked her people to do something for him, but to say so would be childish and counterproductive, so she held her tongue. "Anything pop on that?"

"The general manager, Garrett Collins, is up to his eyeballs in debt." Carlucci handed Sam a printout that detailed a dire financial situation.

"Well, well, what've we got here?" she asked as she scanned the three-page list of creditors. "The guy makes seven figs and doesn't pay his cable bill?"

"We said the same thing."

Acting on a hunch, Sam said, "Go pick him up for further questioning."

"What about the meeting?" Dominguez asked.

"You can join us already in progress if you get back in time. Before you go, print me out a picture of Willie alive and in uniform, will you?"

"Sure thing."

Carlucci produced the photo about two minutes later and headed out with her partner to pick up Collins.

Right after they left, Hill came into the pit looking perfectly put together in a dark suit with a lavender tie. Another guy might've looked effeminate in a tie that color, but there was nothing effeminate about him. He looked her over in that intense way he did so well. "You seem rested, Lieutenant."

"Rested and ready to hit it hard. I just sent Carlucci and Dominguez to pick up Garrett Collins."

He seemed taken aback by the news. "Why? I met with him yesterday and didn't pick up the murderer vibe at all. He's alibied up the wazoo too. He was at the ballpark until five in the morning after the game."

"That's after our estimated time of death, but he's also in debt up the wazoo," Sam said, handing him the printout of Collins' financials.

"Whoa," Hill said as he read over the info.

"I thought it was worth another conversation."

"Agreed. After I left your place, I went to his house on Sixth. He'd taken a baseball bat to his living room. Everything that could be smashed was-even what looked like a very big and very expensive flat-screen TV."

"What the hell? Did he say anything about it?"

"Just that he took his frustration out on things rather than people."

"Based on that and the financial report, I'd say he had some sort of stake in the game beyond the obvious professional interest."

"It's a thought worth pursuing. Collins mentioned the restraining order Willie had against Carmen's brother. I took the liberty of asking my deputy to look into that further. I'll let you know what we uncover."

Sam wasn't sure how she felt about him taking liberties with her investigation, but she chose not to express the thought since he had been quite helpful.

"We also need to take a look at Rick Lind," Hill said.

"The closer? How come?"

"From all reports he was infuriated about Vasquez missing the catch, which put the loss and blown save on Lind's record."

"How infuriated?"

"He made firewood out of some of the furniture in the locker room and was ranting for quite some time after the game. Lots of witnesses."

"We'll talk to him after the meeting."

"Mind if I tag along?"