“Power does strange things to people, Sam. It can be addicting. Once you get a taste of it, it’s hard to give it up. I’ve always found Graham to be a kind and loving—albeit exacting—father, but he’s as human as the next guy. He would’ve been susceptible to the seduction of power.” Nick paused, as if he was pondering something else.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering how, considering you’re certain he had a son, you also think he might’ve been gay.”

“Just a vibe we’ve picked up on the investigation. Nothing concrete. I’ve told you my gut says it was a woman he’d wronged, but then Freddie goes and ruins that by pointing out that it could’ve just as easily been a love affair gone wrong with a guy.”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t imagine it. There was never anything, anything in almost twenty years of close friendship that would make me doubt his orientation. Nothing, Sam. He was a skirt-chasing hound.”

“So I’ve discovered. But he wouldn’t be the first guy to use that as a front to hide his real life.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re upset. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s just…you think you know someone, really know them, only to find out they had all these secrets. He had a son. A child. And in twenty years, he never mentions that to his closest friend? It’s disappointing at the very least.”

It was also a betrayal, she imagined. That the family he’d considered his own—his only—had kept something of this magnitude from him.

As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “Did they think I’d tell anyone?”

“You shouldn’t take this personally, Nick. It won’t do you any good.”

“How else should I take it?”

Looping an arm around him, she bent to press her lips to his chest and felt the strong, steady beat of his heart. “I’m sorry this is hurting you. I hate that.”

He enfolded her in his arms. “It goes down easier coming from you.” Tilting her chin, he fused his mouth to hers.

“I should go,” she said when they resurfaced.

“Stay with me. Sleep with me. I need you, Samantha.” He dropped soft, wet kisses on her face and neck. “I need you.”

“You’re playing dirty.”

“I’m not playing.”

Something other than pain settled in her gut, something warm and sweet. This was a whole new kind of powerlessness, and it felt good. Really good. She let her hand slide over the defined chest, the ripped abdomen and below. Finding him hard and ready, her lips followed the path her hand had taken. His gasps of pleasure, his total surrender, told her she had succeeded in taking his mind off the pain and grief, which made everything that was wrong about this feel right.