Honor Bound

"Your hair is wet," Blair commented as she watched Cam gathering her scattered clothing. She leaned against the bathroom door, wearing the terrycloth robe that she had donned the previous evening when Cam had appeared at her door. "If you leave my room and go to a briefing like that, you might as well wear a sign saying 'I slept with the First Daughter'."

Cam grinned as she buttoned the borrowed shirt. "It'll dry while I put on my own clothes. I've got a suitcase in the other room that Mac brought." She pulled on the jeans and smiled faintly. "Somehow I fell asleep last night before I got around to changing."

"That's because you were out on your feet," Blair remarked with a combination of irritation and concern. "Will you get someone to take care of those burns?"

Cam nodded. "I'll ask Stark. The EMTs left something for me to put on it." She crossed to her, and put her hands lightly on Blair's waist. "I'll take care of it, I promise."

"You'd better," Blair said, her voice husky. As much as she hated to, she added, "You should go, Cam."

Cam sighed, reluctant to leave her. "I'm going to be tied up all day with the briefings. Stark will see to anything that you need."

Blair smiled wryly. "As long as she doesn't make me play pinochle with her. That's where I draw the line."

"Understood," Cam said, lightly pressing her lips to Blair's forehead. She didn't dare do more, because she was afraid if she felt the softness of Blair's lips, she might not be able to stop with one kiss. For some reason, she couldn't seem to control herself the way she was used to. She couldn't seem to stop wanting her.

Finally, Cam stepped away and crossed to the door. She looked back, her hand on the doorknob, and said quietly, "By the way, Dr. Coleman is fine. She was shaken up a bit by the blast, and I think she might have ended up on the bottom of the pile when we all hit the ground, but she's all right."

Blair studied her silently for a moment, looking for some sign that there was a hidden message in Cam's words. She should have known there wouldn't be. Cameron Roberts did not play games. "Thank you. I was worried."

Cam nodded, and opened the door. "I thought you might be."

"Cam?" Blair said quickly.

Cam looked at her questioningly.

"You do know there's no one, don't you?"

"I'd hoped," Cam replied softly, and then she was gone.

*

Two hours later, Blair stood in the doorway of the makeshift command center and surveyed the people grouped around the long dining room table in the center of the room. Cam, attired now in a dark gray suit and silver silk shirt, sat at one end of the table while Patrick Doyle occupied the seat opposite her at the far end. Mac was to Cam's left and Stark, a bandage on her forehead and a very impressive bruise on the side of her face, was beside him. Across from them were a man and woman Blair did not recognize. Savard looked mildly uncomfortable situated between Stark and Doyle.

Patrick Doyle looked up and frowned. "Can I do something for you, Ms. Powell?" he said tersely.

Blair studied him silently for a moment, then walked around the table and pulled out a chair next to Cam. "I'd like to get some idea of what's happening," she said quietly.

Doyle cleared his throat and rearranged some of the papers in front of him. When he looked up at her, his gaze was wintry. "We've just started, and I think at this point anything I could tell you would be premature. I'll advise you of anything you need to know at a later date."

Silently, Blair turned to Cam. No one could keep her out of the briefing, although it wasn't routine for her to sit in on one. It was obvious that Patrick Doyle did not want her there, but it wasn't his opinion she cared about.

"We're just getting started," Cam said. She didn't even look in Doyle's direction, but instead, pointed to the redhead next to Blair. "Ms. Powell, this is Special Agent Lindsey Ryan, a profiler from the behavioral science division at Quantico. I've asked her here to give us an idea of what to expect from Loverboy in the future."

"I think we should discuss the crime scene evidence and find out what we have from the bomb," Doyle immediately countered. "We need is hard data, not theory."

Cam did stare the length of the table at him then, but responded evenly, "Everything is important. My primary objective is to anticipate the potential threat to Ms. Powell, and to that end, I'd like to have as much information about the perpetrator as we can get. However," she said, indicating the handsome, dark-skinned man next to Ryan, "Captain Lane is our liaison from the ATF bomb division and he'll fill us in shortly."

Doyle's color rose, and although it appeared that he wanted to object, it was difficult to argue that Blair's safety was not the main concern. It was also clear that he was irate at having been subtly outmaneuvered. He merely closed his jaws tightly and nodded once, curtly.

"If you would go ahead, please, Agent Ryan," Cam said quietly.

Lindsey Ryan sat forward slightly and began, "After the incident yesterday, I reviewed all the information available on the UNSUB beginning with the first contact. My specific intention was to track his behavior, looking for any kind of cyclical or repetitive pattern. I was hoping that I might identify some kind of trigger that could help us predict what he would do next. What we see," she continued, her voice low and steady, "is a fairly erratic temporal pattern marked by predictable sequential events. Namely, he attempts seduction, and when that is unsuccessful, he follows with aggressive retribution when his overtures are rejected."

"Does this explain why someone who is presumably obsessed with Ms. Powell would also want to harm her?" Mac asked, frown lines deepening between his brows.

Ryan nodded. "Initially, he left a written message delivered to Ms. Powell's door, suggesting thathe was the most worthy recipient of her attentions. He also indicated underlying anger by suggesting that she was misguided in placing her affections with people who were 'unworthy'. In essence, he was offering himself as a suitor. Clearly, when this approach failed, his anger escalated and he made his first attempt on Ms. Powell's life. This is not inconsistent with his obsessive attraction, in that very often a rejected suitor resorts to aggression. It's the old case of 'If I can't have you, no one else can either'."

"Does the fact that he's changed his methods signify anything? First a sniper attack, and now a bomb?" Cam asked quietly. She did not look at Blair, but she was acutely aware of her arm resting only an inch from hers on the tabletop. It was difficult knowing that Blair was hearing herself being discussed by relative strangers. She wished she could spare her that. She knew, however, that that was neither feasible nor desirable. Blair had a right to know about the threat that involved her, and keeping her in the dark would only result in losing her cooperation. And if Blair didn't cooperate with them, she would be in even greater danger.

"I don't think so," Ryan said with certainty. "I don't think that he is attached to any particular form of violent expression, as some psychopaths appear to be. I think it's more likely that he chose a more dramatic method of expressing his displeasure because his tolerance for failure is decreasing. Nothing else he's tried has worked, so he's going to be sure that she takes him seriously now."

A hard fist of anxiety clenched in Cam's chest. "So are you saying we can expect an escalation in the violence?"

Ryan shrugged. "This latest action is a statement. He's reminding us that he has power, and that he's in control, and that he should not be ignored. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't made some attempt at personal contact before this."

"He has," Blair said quietly.

Cam stared at her, a muscle in her jaw clenching. It took all her effort not to raise her voice. "Has he approached you in some way?"

Blair hesitated briefly, then met Cam's penetrating gaze steadily. "Not exactly. He sent a message saying he wanted me to meet him."

Doyle rose halfway from his seat, barking out, "When did this happen? Why weren't we made aware of it? If this is some kind of attempt by the Secret Service to cut us out of the loop, I'll-"

"I didn't tell anyone," Blair interrupted him by saying.

He was left momentarily speechless as he slowly sat back into his seat.

"Why not?" Cam questioned softly.

"I didn't realize at the time that it was significant," Blair answered, her eyes shadowed with worry. "He'd been sending messages regularly, mostly e-mails and the - videos. You know that - I reported that. I thought it was just more of the same."

Cam's stomach turned as she recalled the explicit images that Blair had received, and the graphic messages describing in excruciating detail what this nameless, faceless man fantasized about her. "What was it this time?"

"It was just another message," Blair said, her voice trembling slightly. "At least that's what I thought. I just logged on and it came up on the screen. He said- he said he'd been waiting for me, and he couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind. He said he would have to do it for me."

Stark looked at Doyle accusingly. "I thought you had someone monitoring her servers? How did this message get through and we didn't know?"

"You're out of line, Agent," Doyle growled.

"She has a point. An important one," Cam stated. "Why didn't any of us know this?"

Savard looked the length of the table at Blair and asked, "When was this?"

"Ten days ago," Blair said quietly. She looked at Cam. "The day you came back."

Blair didn't need to say anything. Cam realized that part of the reason Blair hadn't informed anyone about the message was because she hadn't been thinking about the threat to her life. Her attention had been focused on Cam's sudden reassignment to the security detail.

Savard continued, "It could have been a virus implanted previously and activated by something as simple as a piece of code buried in an innocuous e-mail advertisement. Even though Ms. Powell's system has been swept, it doesn't mean he hasn't infiltrated something else more recently."

Blair looked at Lindsey Ryan, her face pale. "Did he kill Jeremy Finch because I ignored him? Is it my fault?"

"No," Cam said quickly.

"Commander Roberts is right," Ryan interjected. "You're not responsible for Agent Finch's death. The only one responsible for that is the individual who placed and triggered the bomb. There is no way you could've satisfied his demands, because he is not even aware of what actually drives him. Regardless of what you do or do not do, he will never be content."

Doyle took that moment to add contemptuously, "Youare certainly not to blame. No one would have been able to plant a bomb if security measures had been adequate."

His criticism was clearly directed at Cam, but it was Mac who responded. "You son of a bitch," Mac exploded, rising from his chair.

"Mac," Cam said firmly, her voice carrying a clear command.

Mac remained half-standing, his hands braced on the table, his expression murderous as he glared at Doyle.

"Let's take a break," Cam said calmly, pushing back her chair. She stood but didn't move until everyone but she and Doyle had left the room.

"If you have something to say to me, Agent Doyle, say it now," she said, facing him squarely.

He shrugged, his expression smug. "Youlost a man, Roberts, not me. I have no idea why you're still in command, but I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you."

Cam waited until he had walked out before she sank slowly into her seat. She would have argued if he hadn't been right.