Sam rattled off Nick’s cell number, praying he’d take the call from a number he didn’t recognize. “Come on, come on, pick up.” When she reached his voicemail, Sam handed the phone back to the paramedic. “Call again. Please.”

Frowning at her, the paramedic redialed.

“Come on, Nick. Pick up.”

Nick spent the morning in meetings with his campaign team, but couldn’t concentrate on work as he thought about the previous evening. Whatever Sam dreamed about had frightened her deeply, and that had rattled him.

And when he thought about that freak Gardner and what he’d done to that poor girl… He shuddered remembering those photos. Asking Sam not to pursue the case against Gardner wasn’t something he’d done lightly. He also knew it wasn’t something he could do again any time soon.

All morning he’d had a bad feeling nagging at him. She’d promised she wouldn’t go after Gardner for the rape of that girl. On the way into the office it had dawned on him that he’d failed to include investigating what role Gardner might’ve played in her father’s shooting in his wedding week moratorium.

“Senator?”

Startled, he looked up at Christina, his chief of staff. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“We’re talking about your latest numbers in southern Virginia. We need to spend more time in Norfolk, Newport News and Virginia Beach after your vacation.”

Nick’s BlackBerry buzzed in his pocket. “Excuse me.” He checked the caller ID, didn’t recognize the number and returned the phone to his pocket. “What’s the issue in that area?”

“Heavy concentration of military,” the head pollster said. “Because you’ve never served—”

The phone buzzed again. “Sorry,” Nick mumbled. “Crazy week.” Normally, he’d never bother with his phone during a meeting, but there was that feeling he just couldn’t shake. He glanced at the caller ID, saw the same number as before and took the call.

“Nick Cappuano.”

“Oh thank goodness you answered.”

“Samantha?”

“Something happened, but I’m fine.”

Nick sat up straighter in his seat. “What happened?”

“Freddie and I got shot at, and I smacked my head. They’re taking me in to get it checked.” He heard her ask someone which hospital they were taking her to.

“Going to GW,” she said to Nick. “It’s no biggie. Coupla stitches maybe. Won’t show on Saturday.”

“Who shot at you?” Nick asked, taking in the stunned expressions on his staffers’ faces. Why couldn’t he have fallen for an accountant?

“We went to talk to Gardner about my father’s shooting, and he was not happy to see us. The good news is now we’ve got him on charges that’ll stick. Even he can’t wiggle out of shooting at cops.”