Honor Bound

Mac was on the sofa, looking exhausted, when Savard returned to the room. He asked quietly, "Is she okay?"

Savard sank down on the couch next to him and blew out a deep breath. "She's got to be hurting like hell, but it's nothing that won't heal."

They regarded one another cautiously, each trying to judge the other's frame of mind. They were on opposite teams, in a manner of speaking, and had only been working together a few days. A few days that felt like a century.

Finally, Mac said, "Do you have any idea what that was all about?"

Savard chose her words carefully, aware of the fact that she was only on temporary loan to the Secret Service, and that ultimately she would have to survive within the hierarchy of the FBI. On the other hand, she would never defend someone like Patrick Doyle, even if it did mean risking her career. "Special Agent in Charge Doyle does not confide in me, Agent Phillips," she said quietly.

Mac waited.

"However," Savard continued, "speaking only as an observer, I would say the man has a hard-on for her."

Mac blinked, then grinned broadly. "Well then, he's going to wait a long time for a little relief."

"I'd say that's the truth," Savard said, grinning back. Then, she added seriously, "I don't know what's going on with him. At first I thought it was just bureau politics. But it seems like it's more than that, and I don't know him well enough to speculate."

Mac propped his feet up on the coffee table, suddenly aware of how very tired he was. "It's bad enough that we have to worry about Egret. Now we have to worry about Doyle and the Commander."

"I don't really think you have to worry about your commander, Mac," Savard responded. "She's a little torn up at the moment, but once she has her feet back under her, I'm sure she can handle him. She didn't get as far as she has by being pushed around by men who resented her position or her competence. I think we should all concentrate on catching Loverboy and let the Commander handle Doyle herself."

Mac sighed in agreement. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Have you seen Stark?" Savard asked casually.

"The last time I saw her she was talking to Lindsey Ryan in the kitchen.

Savard raised an eyebrow and stood. "Was she now?"

Mac watched her walk away and wondered why he felt like he never really knew what was going on around him.

*

It was sometime after one a.m. when Cam stepped into the darkened hallway. She closed her door quietly behind her and turned, meeting the eyes of Renee Savard, who stood watch next to the window nearby. The hallway was in shadow, but there was enough light coming from the lamps in the living room to illuminate their faces. They studied one another silently. Then, very deliberately, Savard turned her back to Cam and looked out the window into the night. Cam crossed the few feet to the opposite side of the hall and opened the door to Blair Powell's bedroom.

She waited just inside the room for her eyes to adjust.

"Is this an official visit, Commander?" Blair said quietly from the darkness.

"No."

"Then I'll leave the lights off."

Cam made her way to the side of the bed and eased down on the edge, reaching for Blair's hand with her uninjured one. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to worry you quite so badly."

"How do you feel?"

"Better." She hesitated a beat, and then added, because she knew she had to tell her, "The damn thing hurts like hell, but I'm not dizzy and my stomach has settled. I'm okay."

"Did you come here to give me a personal medical report?" Blair asked sharply. Relieved of her worry, she remembered how angry she was. She sat up against the pillows, acutely aware of the fact that she was naked under the light sheet. "Because if that's why you're here, you can consider your duty done."

Cam was wearing only a thin sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Blair had opened the windows, and the August air hung hot around them.

"No," Cam said softly, circling her thumb in the palm of Blair's hand. "I came because I couldn't sleep."

Blair's pulse began to hammer, but she steadfastly ignored it. This was one time she was not going to let her body rule her better judgment. "This isn't going to work, Cam," she said quietly.

A cold hand closed around Cam's heart, making it hard for her to breathe, but she answered calmly, "Why not?"

"You know why not. We've been all through this before. Because I can't stand caring about you and knowing that you might be hurt because of me. I can't do it. I don't want to risk feeling anything for you."

"If we were crossing the street," Cam said as if Blair had not just driven a knife into her depths, "and a car were about to hit me, would you push me out of the way even though you might be hurt yourself?"

"Yes," Blair said softly, "but the odds of that happening are almost zero."

"I know," Cam said, moving her hand to Blair's shoulder, running her fingertips lightly along the ridge of Blair's collarbone. "And the odds of me dying to save you are just as slim. We've just had a run of lousy luck."

Blair laughed harshly, trapping Cam's hand in hers to stop the undeniable excitement that the mere brush of her fingertips started inside. "Well, I'm not trusting anything to luck. Either you resign from my detail, or I don't want anything to do with you beyond our daily briefings."

Cam leaned forward and brushed her lips over the tip of Blair's shoulder. "No," she said very softly.

Blair ignored the swift stab of desire that raced through her. "I'm sorry?" she managed, her voice cold.

"No," Cam repeated, moving her mouth a fraction of an inch closer to the base of Blair's neck. She was leaning over her now, her breasts brushing lightly against Blair's bare arm. She felt her nipples stiffen beneath her T-shirt and knew that Blair could feel them too.

"It's not about sex," Blair said harshly, all too aware of the fire burning hotter every second. She was shaking lightly, her skin alive to Cam's touch.

Cam took Blair's hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart pounded against Blair's palm.

"Neither is this," Cam whispered. "I've tried so hard not to want you. I've tried so hard not to need you. I can't help it. I can't stop it. We didn't choose this, either of us. I can't walk away from it. I can't walk away from loving you, and I can't walk away from doing what I know how to do to keep you safe. Please don't ask me to."

Blair turned her face away, struggling to resist the pull of Cam's words and the sweet seduction of her touch. "I don't want you to love me," she protested, her voice breaking.

Cam pressed her lips to the hollow of Blair's throat. "Yes," she said very softly as she reached under the sheet and gently cupped Blair's breast, "you do."

Blair moaned and arched her back, unable to control the surge of desire. "Damn you, Cameron." But the fine edge of longing was clear in her voice.

"Blair," Cam murmured, nudging the sheet aside. She moved her lips over Blair's chest, found her nipple, and pulled it carefully between her lips. She sucked it slowly as it grew hard and tight, then bit lightly, making Blair groan. She was hard too, and wet, and a pulse pounded demandingly between her thighs. She sat back, gasping with sudden urgency. "Help me get my clothes off."

Blair forced herself to focus through a haze of arousal and saw Cam struggling to pull the T-shirt off one-handed. "Here," she said quickly, sitting forward. "Let me do that."

She carefully worked the fabric down over the bandage on Cam's arm, then directed Cam to stand up, reaching for the ties on the sweatpants. When Cam kicked free of her clothes, Blair caught her uninjured hand and pulled Cam down beside her on the bed. She ran her hand along the length of Cam's body, over her abdomen, down her thigh and back up the inside of her leg.

Cam lifted her hips, breathing rapidly. "You're distracting me again."

Blair ran her fingertips through the thick wet heat between Cam's legs, her breath catching in her throat as her own body clenched in response. "I like distracting you," she murmured.

Cam made an effort to move on top of her and gasped sharply as she pushed up on her injured arm.

"What is it?" Blair asked quickly.

"Just my arm," Cam replied, attempting to direct Blair back onto the pillows with her other hand.

"Lie back, Cam," Blair said firmly. As she spoke, she took Cam's shoulders gently and pushed her down. "Let me."

Cam did not protest. She was still tingling from Blair's brief caress, and she was more than ready for more. "I actually enjoy being distracted," she admitted softly.

Blair laughed quietly and fit herself between Cam's legs, stopping briefly to press her cheek to Cam's breast and brush her lips over her nipple before kissing her way slowly down Cam's abdomen.

Cam closed her eyes with a sigh, a long, low sigh of surrender.

She lifted her hips as Blair's palms pressed against her thighs, opening her; and she arched her back, her muscles tightening, as Blair's lips closed on her; and she caught back a groan, trembling, as Blair's tongue tormented her. Blair's tender, knowing touch banished the pain and the fatigue and the worry.

"You are so good," Cam whispered faintly, her fingers trailing through Blair's hair. She was very close and desperate not to come. "So good."

Blair answered by massaging the spot that made Cam's muscles quiver and quickened her pace, drawing a sharp gasp from Cam. She felt Cam twitch under her tongue and knew she was there. Blair slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, knowing as she took her with her mouth and her hands and her heart, the simple truth of it.

There was no stopping, no turning back, for either of them. Not now. Not the next day. Not ever.