“I’m sure you would,” Sam said with her trademark cheeky grin. “But I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. You take care of my guys. I’ll take care of myself.”

Nick tried very hard not to get in the way of her job, but he had a bad feeling about what might happen in the city if the Feds lost. “Sam—” The steely stare she directed his way killed the thought before he voiced it. “Be careful out there, babe.”

“I always am.” Nick’s eyes were glued to her as she said goodnight to her dad and Celia and hugged her sister. He wanted to go after her and find a way to make her stay. But when duty called, as it often did, Sam always went.

“Senator?” Eric’s second inquiry was more urgent than the first.

Nick glanced at the field to find the outfield covered in trash and team security surrounding Willie Vasquez as they led him to the dugout, presumably to get him out of harm’s way. Didn’t the fans know the Feds had three more outs and only needed one run to tie and two to win? It could still be done.

He glanced at Scotty, who watched the scene on the field with a mix of confusion and anger. “I don’t understand. Why are they doing this? The Feds still have three more outs. The game isn’t over.”

“I don’t get it either, buddy. Listen, Eric wants to get us out of here in case there’s trouble.”

“Before the game is over?”

“Yeah, he wants to go now.”

“Will they get to finish the game?”

“As soon as they get the fans settled. We can watch the end on TV at home.” All at once, Nick was anxious to get the hell out of there, and more important, to get Scotty the hell out of there.

“Okay.” Scotty took a last look at the field before he let Nick guide him toward the exit.

The rest of their party followed them to the elevator, which the Secret Service had secured for their descent. How they did that—and the many other things they did with seemingly effortless authority—was a source of constant fascination to Nick.

“I’ll make sure Shelby gets home,” Derek said in a low voice that only Nick could hear over the conversation in the elevator.

“Oh, thanks. That’d be great. You seemed to have a good time tonight.”

Derek focused on Maeve, who had a spit-soaked fist jammed in her mouth. “What’s a good time anymore?”

Nick ached for his heartbroken friend. “It’s nice to see you out.”

“Thanks for asking me. I don’t mean to be a downer.”

“You’re not. You know we all want to help. Any way we can.”