Honor Guards

"So you let me kick you in the face instead." Blair touched her fingers gently to the swelling on Cam's jaw, "God."

Cam settled her arms around Blair's waist and kissed her forehead, taking care not to move her head too much. The pain had actually subsided to a dull throb. She'd been hit before, and she knew no serious damage had been done. "It was just an accident. Next time I'll be sure to toss you on your ass. Hard, if that will make you happy."

Blair laughed in spite of herself, nestling her face against Cam's chest. "I hate for you to be hurt."

"I know." Cam untied the rolled red bandanna that Blair wore around her forehead when she sparred. She tossed it onto the bench behind them and combed her fingers through the damp tresses at her lover's neck. "Is everything okay with you?"

"I've got a sports bra on that's tight enough to cut off my circulation. My breast is fine." Blair tilted her head back and kissed the darkening smudge at the angle of the left side of Cam's jaw. "More than I can say for that."

"Mmm. I think that might have made it all better." Cam rested her head back against the flaking, green-painted locker, enjoying the sensation of Blair in her arms. Sparring with Blair always got her blood up, because Blair was the most beautiful when she was at her strongest. In the ring, with her muscled arms exposed, a cutoff T-shirt baring her stomach, and her toned legs dancing over the canvas, she was magnificent.

"What are you thinking about?" Blair murmured, kissing the pulse that beat at the base of Cam's neck. "Your heart just started hammering like crazy."

"You," Cam whispered. "I was thinking about what an incredible woman you are and how much you excite me."

The unexpected answer and the absolute seriousness in Cam's voice turned Blair's insides to liquid heat. "Don't move." She licked a tiny dab of sweat that had pooled in the hollow between Cam's collarbones with the tip of her tongue. Nearly purring, she stretched languidly against Cam's body. "You taste good."

Cam sighed, closing her eyes. "You feel good."

"Yeah, I do." Blair leaned back, her legs braced against Cam's, and pulled off her T-shirt.

"Blair," Cam warned.

"We're the only two women in the gym, Cam." Blair spoke quietly as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. "Take this off for me."

Cam slipped her fingers beneath the shoulder straps and slid the bra down Blair's arms, exposing her breasts. She looked down, drawing a quick breath as she watched the sweat-glistening nipples harden in the air. "Oh, Christ."

Following Cam's gaze, Blair smiled lazily. "Now, put your hands on them." When Cam cupped her breasts, thumbs and forefingers automatically encircling her nipples, Blair closed her eyes and arched her back. "Oh, yes."

"You have such beautiful breasts," Cam murmured hoarsely.

"Just keep touching me." Blair shifted a few inches until her legs straddled Cam's thigh and then, in one swift motion, insinuated her fingers beneath the waistband of Cam's gym shorts and pushed her hand down between her legs.

Cam jerked, groaning in surprise.

"Shh," Blair soothed as she caught Cam's clitoris between her fingers. "Quietly, now."

"I can't," Cam said desperately. "Jesus, Blair."

"Squeeze my nipples." As she spoke, Blair stroked Cam's length, pulling the blood into the tense tissues beneath her fingers, teasing the nerve endings that already pulsed and quivered on the brink of explosion. As she worked Cam toward orgasm, Cam's fingers tugged spasmodically at her breasts, and the sharp points of pain became sweet pleasure in her depths. "That's it. That's it, darling...hold my breasts in your hands while I make you come,"

Shivering, Cam closed her eyes tightly and braced herself for the orgasm that was fast climbing along her spine. She couldn't think, couldn't be sure what she was doing with her hands, didn't want to do anything except feel the weight and heat and wonder of Blair's breasts against her skin as she came. Her knees buckled and only Blair's body straddling hers kept her upright. She groaned and choked back a cry and came hard in Blair's hand.

Blair watched Cam's face as the orgasm consumed her. I will never be able to paint anything as beautiful as you are in this moment. Feeling her breasts cradled in Cam's tender hands, Cam's passion flooding hers, she fought sudden tears and failed. Despite the moisture dampening her cheeks, as she rested her head against Cam's shoulder, Blair knew nothing but joy.

1930 7 September 2001

Cam knocked on Blair's door and checked her watch. Five minutes earlier, Mac had confirmed that the vehicles were waiting streetside, Captain Landers had verified that her people were in position on the perimeter, and the advance team at the gallery had radioed an all clear. Everything was set. Everything was as secure as she could make it.

The door opened, and Cam allowed herself a minute to be no one other than Blair's lover. She found Blair attractive in anything she wore, whether faded jeans and paint-splattered T-shirt or an elegant evening gown and diamonds. This evening, Blair had chosen a sleeveless black dress, so simple in design that it appeared to have no design at all. The shimmering silk sheath was scoop-necked, cut just low enough to reveal the barest hint of cleavage before it fell away in a gentle sweep that accentuated the sensual strength of Blair's body. Sapphires, the same deep blue as her eyes, glinted at her ears and throat, and tonight, in distinct contrast to her usual style at official functions, she had left her hair loose. The golden curls teased along her neck and shoulders, and it was all Cam could do not to drag her fingers through them. "Christ, you look beautiful."

"Thank you," Blair replied quietly. A smile flickered and was quickly gone. "Can you believe I'm nervous?"

"I can imagine." Cam leaned forward and gently kissed her, running the tip of her index finger along the edge of Blair's jaw. "But you're a wonderful artist, and your work is very special. Just enjoy tonight—you deserve it."

"I'll try." Blair hooked her arm through Cam's as they walked toward the elevator. Her lover wore a slate gray suit and open-collared charcoal silk shirt that lent her long, lean form a sharp, edgy look. "Your jaw looks better. And you look hot."

"I'm not supposed to look hot. I'm your escort, and I'm also working." Frowning, Cam keyed the elevator. "What I'm supposed to look like tonight is background."

"It's not working," Blair stated, her tension easing as they rode down to the lobby. "Well, it's working, but probably not the way you planned."

Just as the doors opened to reveal Stark, waiting to escort Blair to the Suburban, Cam muttered, "Don't start. I have to concentrate."

Blair laughed and forgot entirely why she had been nervous.

2043 7 September 2001

Blair stood with Marcea before one of her oils, their arms linked. "I'm still not certain that the texture of the paint is right for the tone of the work."

"Oh, I think it is." Marcea tilted her head, sweeping the canvas again. "If it were any thinner, you'd lose some of the impact of the color."

"It was so nice of you to come all the way East for this," Blair said. "I know how busy you are."

Marcea gave her a fond smile. "I wouldn't have missed it. First of all, I love your work. And," she slid her arm around Blair's waist in a gentle hug, "I wanted to be here for you. I know how difficult it can be with your heart up there on the walls for anyone to see. Not that you have anything to worry about."

"I've had paintings in galleries before, but never a solo showing." Blair glanced around the room and saw so many pieces of herself on display. For the most part, the people who strolled about were friends whom she trusted, but even so, she rarely exposed so much of her soul to anyone. Only Cam has seen it all. "It will almost be easier tomorrow night at the open house, with strangers. Somehow, their reactions don't seem as critical."

"I'd like to tell you that you'll get used to it, but you probably never will. Every time you let one go, you'll wonder if anyone will understand what you saw when you painted it, what you felt in your heart that compelled you to create it." Marcea shrugged, her expression distant. "But you'll keep doing it, because that's who you are."

Strangely, Blair was comforted by the sentiment, because coming from Marcea, an artist whom she revered, her own uncertainties seemed far less momentous. "It's a wonderful feeling in the moment, though, isn't it? When in the midst of painting you begin to see those indefinable emotions coming to life on the canvas."

Marcea's eyes brightened and she laughed. "I won't say it's the best thing I've ever experienced, but it comes close."

"Yes." Unconsciously, Blair's eyes drifted to Cam, who stood a few feet away, her attention seemingly focused entirely on the room. Despite the remote expression on her lover's face, Blair was certain that Cam knew precisely where she was. It comes close — but it can't compare to her.

"Everything is all right, I take it?" Marcea questioned gently, following Blair's gaze. "The press has left you alone about your relationship?"

Blair shrugged. "We're still getting the questions every time I'm out in public, but there isn't much more to say than what we've already said. For the time being, the newshounds are content with their usual speculations."

"Well, I suppose that's the best you could hope for then."

"Apparently." Blair gave a start as she spied Diane talking with another woman on the far side of the room. "Would you excuse me for a few minutes?"

"Of course. I want to have some time alone with these wonderful paintings."

Blair kissed Marcea on the cheek and headed across the room to where Diane stood with Valerie Ross. Singly, either woman would have been considered striking. Both were blond, fair skinned, fine boned and classically beautiful, and both radiated sensuality and confidence. Standing side by side, however, they were breathtaking.

Diane radiated the golden heat of sunlight. Her body language and sultry voice always reminded Blair of a young Lauren Bacall. In contrast, Valerie—Claire—was Bergman. Deceptively cool and remote on the surface, but ice was capable of burning, too. Under other circumstances, Blair would have enjoyed watching the two of them together, would have enjoyed speculating how one, or both, might have responded to her in an intimate setting. Now, she registered their individual magnetism and how together their allure was magnified, but she felt no compulsion, no desire, to experience any part of it herself.

The two women were so deep in conversation that they did not notice Blair until she stood beside them, "Good evening."

"Blair!" Diane kissed her cheek, then indicated her companion. "This is Valerie Ross, one of the art dealers here for the preview. This is her first time with us."

Blair looked into Valerie's eyes as she extended her hand, noticing as she hadn't that night in DC under the dim glow of the streetlights how piercingly intelligent those blue eyes were. "Blair Powell, Ms. Ross."

"Hello."

"I'm happy that you could join us this evening," Blair said smoothly as she released Valerie's hand. The other woman's grip had been firm, her palm warm and dry. She didn't appear nervous, but she was watching Blair intently.

"I have a client who saw one of your works in San Francisco not long ago and was very interested in what you're showing here."

Blair frowned. "San Francisco? I didn't show anything..." She laughed. "The sketch that Marcea Casells included in her recent show?"

Valerie nodded. "Yes. Apparently my client was quite captivated by it and was finally able to cajole Ms. Casells into revealing your name. I hope I haven't gotten her into any trouble."

"Not at all. Have you had a chance to look around this evening?"

"I've only just arrived." Valerie gave Diane a slow smile. "Ms. Bleeker and I were getting acquainted."

Blair was astounded to see Diane blush. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed that particular reaction from her friend before. "Is there anything in particular you're interested in?"

"My client," Valerie responded with the slightest emphasis on the word, "has rather eclectic tastes. I thought I'd just wander around for a few minutes. If you don't mind?"

"Absolutely," Diane interjected, resuming her role as Blair's agent, "Take your time. If you have any questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them, or, I'm certain, Ms. Powell would." She looked at Blair questioningly.

"Of course. I'd be happy to." Blair gestured to the small bar on the far side of the room. "I was just about to get a glass of wine. Would you like one?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

"I'll see you later, then, Diane," Blair said as she and Valerie turned away.

As they moved through the crowd, Valerie said in a low tone, "I'm sorry. This is awkward. The invitation said it was a private pre-opening showing. Would you like me to leave?"

They had reached the bar, and Blair merely replied, "White wine?"

When Valerie nodded, Blair asked the tuxedoed woman managing the drinks for two glasses and handed one to her companion. She led Valerie to an out-of-the-way spot before speaking again. "Is there a client?"

Valerie's sculpted eyebrows rose. "Yes. A rather wealthy one who I'm quite sure will be making a purchase."

"Cam is here."

"Yes, I saw her."

"Is she any part of the reason that you're here?"

Valerie held Blair's gaze steadily. "No."

Blair sipped her wine and nodded. "I'm an artist, Valerie, and you're an art dealer. If Diane invited you, then she believes it's important for you to be here. So I'm pleased that you're here as well."

"Thank you, Ms. Powell." Valerie tasted the wine. It was a very good white burgundy, much better than the average fare at such gatherings. "Would you prefer that I not speak to Cameron?"

Cameron. Blair took a long slow breath, the corner of her mouth finally lifting in a faint smile. "I doubt there's a lesbian on the planet immune to your charms, but I trust Cam to resist."

Valerie laughed, her alto voice rich and full. "Should I ask if those legions include you?"

"You can ask," Blair replied.

"No, I don't need to." Briefly, Valerie looked past Blair, finding Cam in the crowd. "I already know the answer. I do want to see your work, and I have work of my own to do. At some point, I'd like to say hello to...an old friend."

"I understand." Blair extended her hand. "Please let me know if there's anything you'd like to know about the paintings."

"I will. Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Powell."

Blair nodded. "And you, Ms. Ross."

2125 7 September 2001

Cam watched the encounter, her expression impassive. Blair and Valerie appeared intensely engaged, but there didn't appear to be any sign of imminent bloodshed. She hadn't really expected there to be. If Blair had not wanted Valerie to attend, she would have said so. And Valerie was much too savvy and sophisticated to be anything other than totally decorous. And, most importantly, Valerie knew that Cam loved Blair, and that whatever they might have shared belonged to the past. In fact, their relationship belonged to a completely different lifetime.

Cam checked her watch. One minute. She keyed her mic to the open channel for all of her agents. "All teams—no one enters the building from this point on, regardless of invitation. Copy?"

A chorus of affirmatives sounded as Cam made her way through the crowd to Blair's side. "Everything all right?"

"Mmm." Blair curled her fingers around the inside of Cam's forearm. "Yes. Fine. You?"

"Sure." At that moment, Cam heard the commotion that she had been expecting and reached for Blair's hand. "I'm so proud of you."

Confused, Blair looked at Cam and then toward the rear of the gallery where a tall, thin African American man entered, followed closely by two more Secret Service agents, Lucinda Washburn, and her father. "Oh my God. Dad!"

The president spied Blair and, grinning broadly, crossed the room with his customary purposeful stride, Lucinda at his side. He kissed a still-stunned Blair. "Hi, honey."

"Dad? Luce?" Blair stared at Cam. "Did you know about this?"

"Only since this morning. And I was sworn to secrecy," she hastily added.

"Don't blame Cam. I wanted to surprise you," the president said, "and you know that I can't go anywhere without someone announcing it. We didn't even let her tell her own team."

"This is so..." Blair put her arms around her father's neck and hugged him. Voice choked, she murmured, "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me, honey," Andrew Powell whispered. "I love you."

Blair hugged him once more and then stepped back, her smile brilliant. "So, do you two want to look around?"

"How about a guided tour?"

Blair, flanked by her father and Lucinda, turned and headed toward the front of the gallery. Tom Turner, the president's security chief, fell into step with them along with the other agents.

"This has got to be the most exciting gallery showing I've ever been to," Valerie remarked as she stepped up to Cam's side.

Cam looked into the familiar blue eyes, her own impenetrable. "Have you been to many?"

"Quite a few, over the years."

"Are things going well?" Cam followed Blair with her eyes even as she spoke to the woman with whom she had once shared a part of herself, perhaps even a part of her heart.

"Yes. There don't seem to be any repercussions from the situation in DC."

"Good." Cam glanced at Valerie. "I'm glad."

"Well, I only wanted to say hello. And to wish you happiness, Cameron."

"Thank you." Cam smiled. "You, too. Valerie."

As Valerie moved off into the crowd, Cam's gaze had already returned to Blair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

1000 09Sep01

Report: Team One's pilot and six other men checked out of the Panther Hotel in Deerfield Beach, Florida. Destination: Boston.

1005 9 September 2001

At the sound of footsteps, Diane looked up from where she sat reading the morning paper on her tiny balcony overlooking Central Park. "Good morning! I can't believe you're up before Cam."

"Neither can I," Blair said as she sat in the tan canvas director's chair opposite her friend and balanced a full cup of coffee on her knee. "She has to be totally exhausted not to wake up before this."

"Well, the reception last night did go on until almost four. And the two of you have been running around like maniacs for a month straight."

Blair, wearing only a borrowed T-shirt and her briefs, stretched out her legs and sipped her coffee. "I know. And she's not only had to worry about my security, she's had to worry about...my health."

"I'm sure she can handle it, but these few extra hours of sleep will probably help." Out of habit, Diane lowered her voice unnecessarily. "Where are the rest of your spookies?"

"Probably down on the street with the vehicle. They usually hang around in case I decide to go out wandering."

"You haven't done much of that in the last six months," Diane commented dryly.

"No." Blair smiled softly, thinking that the restless urge to escape her own life had abated since she'd fallen in love with Cam. "I'm getting downright boring."

"Oh, right." Diane snorted. "I wouldn't stray too far from home either if I had that woman of yours waiting for me."

Blair grinned, then sighed and leaned her head back, squinting into the sun. "God, what a weekend."

"Yes," Diane said fervently. "An excellent weekend. Between the Friday and Saturday shows, we sold a total of six paintings, and I anticipate at least four more will go before the end of the week. You, my love, are a great success."

"Maybe." Blair turned her head to regard Diane, her expression pensive. "Or maybe they just want to own something painted by the president's daughter."

"Darling, people do not spend thousands of dollars for souvenirs. Trust me, I know these buyers. And they know art."

Blair blushed. "You think?"

"God, I know." Diane's voice was a combination of fond exasperation and mild irritation. "Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean that I don't know my business. Because I do, and I wouldn't represent you if you weren't going to make me rich."

"I know, I know," Laughing, Blair propped a bare foot up on the railing.

With forced casualness, Diane asked, "So, what do you think of Valerie Ross?"

"Uh...well, I only spoke with her for a few minutes."

Diane arched her brow. "As I recall, it was closer to ten minutes. And did it really take you more than one to form an impression?"

"No, actually, it took about thirty seconds—maybe less. She's gorgeous, sophisticated, intelligent, and...well, I guess, sexy."

"You guess?'"

"Okay, she's sexy." Blair pushed upright and regarded Diane intently. "Is this simply an academic discussion or does it have a point?"

"I really don't know." Diane sighed. "Her name first came to my attention about six months ago in conjunction with a large sale at another gallery. And she's currently representing a client whom I know to be a generous buyer. That's why I extended an early invitation to her."

"Uh-huh. That's business. What about the rest?" For the second time in two days, Blair was surprised to see Diane blush. "Ooh, there is something going on."

"No," Diane said with a swift shake of her head. "There really isn't. She gave me her card along with an invitation to call her. She's in town for a few more days."

Carefully, Blair asked, "And are you going to?"

Diane turned in her chair, curling one silk-pajama-clad leg beneath her, and met Blair's probing gaze. "I don't know."

"Why? Did something about her bother you?"

"No." Diane toyed with the corner of the newspaper lying in her lap. "Well, yes."

Blair waited.

"Everything about her attracted me."

"Ahh, I see."

"No, I don't think you do." Diane considered how intense the connection with Valerie—a woman whom she barely knew—had seemed from the beginning. She'd not felt that kind of instant synergy with anyone hi more years than she could remember. "I'm not sure that even I see."

Blair thought of what she knew, and did not know, about Valerie Ross. The only thing she was certain of was that Valerie had meant something to Cam, and Cam would not have trusted a woman who was not worthy of it. In her own brief conversations with Valerie, she had sensed both honor and integrity. Is there anything else that really matters?

"I think," Blair said gently, reaching out a hand to her best friend, "that if she affected you that much, then you should make that phone call."

"You don't think I'm being...rash?" Diane asked softly.

Blair laughed. "And if you are?"

Diane smiled ruefully. "Yes, I suppose there are far worse things than losing at love."

"Yes," Blair murmured. "And if you don't try, you can't win."

1115 9 September 2001

Cam walked out of the bathroom naked, toweling her hair. Blair sat on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee. Another sat beside her on the nightstand.

"Hey," Cam said. "You abandoned me this morning."

"I didn't have the heart to wake you." Blair swung her legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows, watching her lover with an appreciative smile. "You were really out."

"I always seem to sleep like the dead after we make love." Cam leaned down and kissed Blair's mouth. "I had a great time last night."

"At the gallery?" Blair's tone was teasing.

"Yes," Cam replied seriously as she straightened up. "And back here afterward, too. I especially liked the part where you begged me to—-" She ducked as a pillow sailed toward her head.

"Be careful, Commander," Blair threatened. "I have ways of making your life hell."

Cam grinned. "Where's Diane?"

"She went out. A brunch date."

"Ah, sorry I missed her." Cam reached for her trousers, which she'd left across a chair the night before. "I guess it's time for me to check in with the team."

"Diane's having brunch with Valerie," Blair added quietly.

Cam picked up her pants, stepped into them, and, her expression unchanged, zipped the fly. "Really."

"Yes. A spur-of-the-moment thing." Blair's tone was neutral, but she watched her lover's face carefully. "Does that bother you?"

"Not for the reasons you might be thinking," Cam said gently. Still shirtless, she sat on the side of the bed and reached for the coffee Blair had brought for her. "I don't have any romantic feelings for...Valerie. I like her, I also like Diane." She sipped the coffee, her eyes on Blair. "But I love you, and Diane's your best friend. You're the one I care about."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"How are you going to feel if they start seeing one another seriously?"

Blair shrugged. "I honestly don't know. It's been a long time since Diane has had a real relationship. That can change things in a friendship, and I suppose it would take some adjusting on my part."

"Has our being together changed things for you and Diane?"

"I don't think so, but then most of the time we still see each other alone."

Cam nodded. "Diane doesn't know anything about Valerie's past, does she?"

"I don't see how she could, they just met." Blair sighed. "Do you think Valerie will tell her?"

"I don't know. But if she does, she won't mention me." Cam set the cup aside and covered Blair's hand where it lay on the bed with her own. "But you know. And if they're seeing each other, Diane would probably want the four of us to spend some time together. That would only be natural."

"Yes, I've thought of that." Blair gazed past Cam, her eyes distant, an image of Valerie in her mind. "I actually rather like Valerie myself." She looked back at Cam. "But she's beautiful and accomplished and sexy, and I'm not entirely certain that I could be trusted to behave rationally if she were anywhere near you."

"Jesus. Well. That could be dicey, then." Cam rubbed her forehead. "I guess we'll haye to wait and see what happens between them."

"I suppose it would be good impulse-control training," Blair mused.

"I need you to believe me when I say that I'm not attracted to Valerie. And she knows that I love you and will respect that." Cam shifted onto the bed and put her arm around Blair's shoulders, relieved when Blair turned into her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You're the only woman in my life, in my heart. You're the only woman for me, forever."

"I do believe you," Blair said quietly. She rubbed her cheek against Cam's breast, more for comfort than anything else. "I'm just so crazy about you. Sometimes it still makes me a little crazy."

"That's okay." Cam kissed the top of Blair's head. "I love you a little crazy, I just don't want you ever to doubt what we have."

"I don't doubt it. Sometimes I just worry I'll lose it."

"You won't." Cam turned swiftly and moved on top of Blair, fitting her thigh between Blair's legs. With one hand, she reached down and pulled Blair's T-shirt up, exposing her breasts and abdomen. As she kissed her, she stroked her fingers along Blair's side and down her thigh. When she felt Blair's breath quicken and her body rise to meet hers, Cam lowered her head and kissed Blair's breast. She ran her tongue lightly around Blair's nipple, then flicked it until it stiffened against her lips. "Do you have anywhere to be for the next hour or so?"

"No." Blair's voice was already thick with need.

Cam slipped her fingers beneath Blair's briefs and pushed them down, lifting her hips so that Blair could free herself of the garment. Then she slid down on the bed until her bare breasts nestled between Blair's legs. Looking up, she met Blair's hazy blue gaze. "Good."

0900 10Sep2001

Report; Strike Team One pilots have departed for Portland, Maine- Remaining members of Teams One and Two have secured accommodations at Boston area hotels.

1230 10 September 2001

"There's something particularly sinful about leaving the office in the middle of the day," Renee Savard remarked as she leaned back into Stark's arms. They sat on the grass a top a knoll that overlooked the Pond in Central Park. Although the walking path was only fifteen yards behind them, they were secluded from casual view by the trees and shrubs that bordered one of the most idyllic spots in the park.

"Oh, I don't know." Stark clasped her arms loosely around Renee's waist, settled her chest against Renee's back, and nuzzled her lips behind her lover's ear. "Everybody's entitled to a lunch hour, even important FBI agents."

"Yes," Renee laughed and tilted her head back, turning her face to kiss Stark's neck, "but I don't think they're supposed to sneak off to meet their lovers in Central Park."

"Well, we could've gone with my idea."

"Oh, sure," Renee scoffed. "I'd really be able to go back to the office and bore through a hundred field reports about potential subversive activity after having a nooner with you."

"Do you think it will be any easier going back to work thinking about it?" Stark nibbled on Renee's earlobe. "But not having done anything?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to tease me." Renee snugged her hips a little tighter into the space between Stark's legs and wrapped her arm around the outside of Stark's thigh. She smoothed her palm up and down the undersurface of her lover's leg.

"Oh, right," Stark said, her voice husky. "And you're not teasing?"

"Nope. I'm just appreciating you."

"Could you appreciate me a little further north?"

"Not unless you want to risk getting arrested."

Stark sighed. "Actually, I'd almost take the chance. You make me feel so good, I can barely think of anything else."

Head cushioned on Stark's shoulder, Renee regarded her tenderly. "Do you know that I spend 90 percent of my waking hours thinking about making love with you?"

"I still can't believe you...want me."

"Oh, sweetie," Renee breathed, "I am certifiably crazy over you."

"I keep expecting to wake up and find out this was all some fabulous dream." Stark kissed the corner of Renee's mouth and held her more tightly. "I didn't have any idea how good it could be."

"Neither did I." I'd even stopped dreaming.

"You know," Stark said softly, rocking Renee gently in her embrace, "tomorrow will be three weeks since you came to stay with me."

"It seems so much longer sometimes, as if I'd always been there with you." Renee's tone was quiet, uncharacteristically subdued. Contemplatively, she ran her fingertips up and down the trouser seam on the inside of Stark's leg. "But you're right. Tomorrow our trial living-together period will be over."

"Uh-huh." Cautiously, Stark asked, "So, where do we go from here?"

"I guess we need to talk about that."

"I have the split shift tonight—I won't be home until late."

"Mmm, and we'll both have to be up and out again early in the morning." Renee kissed Stark's neck. "I think we should go out to dinner tomorrow night, some place secluded and romantic."

"That sounds kind of positive." Stark's heart was suddenly racing. Say you'll stay. "Are you going to give me a hint?"

"Oh, I don't think so." Renee curved her arm back and spread her fingers into Stark's hair, drawing her head down. Against Stark's mouth, she whispered, "Just remember how good it is when I make you wait."

Closing her eyes, Stark groaned softly just before Renee's kiss claimed her.

2330 l0Sep0l

The phone rang in a back room in a dingy apartment in Chelsea.

"Yeah," the Patriot leader rasped.

"Our target has returned to the nest. We have a green light."

"How many opposition forces can we anticipate?" The heavyset man gave a thumbs-up sign to his three comrades, who sat around a low table cleaning their rifles and readying for the morning assault.

"The routine briefing will be over by 0830, and only the day team will be on-site. Three, maybe four people in the command center, and one in the lobby." In a flat, emotionless tone, the Secret Service agent went on, "I'll handle things upstairs while you eliminate the person on the door and secure the exits."

"What about Roberts?"

"I'll make certain she doesn't get in the way."

"Tomorrow is the dawn of a new era in this country," the large man in the khaki fatigues said fervently. "And may God bless us all."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

0430 11Sep0l

Patriot encampment, Tennessee

G eneral Matheson, in a crisp, starched khaki uniform with his rank insignia gleaming on his collar, sat down behind his desk and with a steady hand opened a predetermined satellite channel to monitor the real-time events that were about to reshape history and define his destiny. He pictured a heavily bearded man in coarse, dirty robes, crouched in the caves of his mountain stronghold half a world away, doing the same. They were not compatriots, merely temporary allies forged by necessity, and though their motivations differed, their goal was the same—to demonstrate to the world the weakness and decay at the heart of the greatest superpower history had ever known.

Whatever success their parallel battle plans achieved, life as they knew it was about to change forever.

0500 11 September 2001

Cam awakened without the benefit of the alarm, slipped quickly from bed, and pulled a T-shirt and gym shorts from her bureau. She dressed quickly and walked to the window that faced Gramercy Park. Across the square, above the trees, she could see the windows of Blair's loft. They were dark now, but the lights had still been burning at 2:00 a.m. when she'd finally gone to bed. She imagined that Blair had been painting, or perhaps reading, and when she herself had been unable to fall asleep, she'd briefly contemplated calling her. She had resisted the impulse, however, because sometimes hearing Blair's voice and knowing that she was so close was harder to bear than the simple pain of missing her.

With a sigh, Cam pushed the nonproductive thoughts away and buckled on a small pack containing her beeper, cell phone weapon, and credentials.

After the briefing, I'll surprise Blair and take her out to breakfast. For once, her schedule is clear.

As she started her run, Cam thought fleetingly of how pleasant it would be to have a few unhurried hours with her lover.

0545 11Sep0l

Report: Confirmed - Team One pilots have passed through security check in Portland, Maine. Departure as scheduled for Logan Airport, Boston.

0550 11 September 2001

With her arm around Renee's waist and her breasts against Renee's back, Stark nuzzled her face in the sweet, warm skin of Renee's neck. "What kind of disciplinary action do you think we'd get if we skipped work today?"

Lazily, Renee turned onto her back and threaded both arms around Stark's neck, guiding her lover down on top of her. Lids heavy with the remnants of sleep and the first stirrings of desire, she murmured, "Do you have something besides duty in mind?"

"Oh, yeah," Stark said with a grin, settling her hips between Renee's thighs. "First I thought I'd start with this." She dipped her head and nipped the tip of Renee's chin, then licked the spot as Renee arched beneath her with a gasp of surprised pleasure. "And then," she ran her tongue slowly over Renee's lower lip, "I thou—"

"Sweetie," Renee interrupted, her voice pitched low and husky, "I have to leave in thirty-five minutes."

"Uh-huh." Stark lifted her head, a perplexed expression on her face. "And your point is?"

Laughing, Renee reached up and brushed the hair from Stark's forehead. "You're going to wear me out."

"Is that even possible? Is there like some magic orgasm quota, and once you hit that number, you can't have any more?"

In a swift movement, Renee lifted her hips and rolled Stark over onto her back, following in one fluid motion until she straddled her. With her palm in the center of Stark's chest, she leaned forward, her breasts swaying in silent invitation. "If there is, I'm going to get there pretty fast, especially if you keep after me the way you have been."

"Jeez, you look so sexy when you sit on me like this." Stark lifted both hands and cupped Renee's breasts, brushing the tight pink nipples with her thumbs.

Surprised yet again, Renee arched into Stark's hands with a groan. "I love the way you touch me."

"That's good," Stark said, her throat dry and her stomach already simmering with need. "Because I can't seem to stop."

Renee dropped forward, catching herself with her palms on either side of Stark's shoulders, her breasts pressed into Stark's hands, her face inches above her lover's. She rocked her hips over Stark's stomach, slicking the soft skin with the warm, silken evidence of her desire. The tantalizing friction teased her already stiff clitoris, and her thighs trembled. Her eyes, glazed with urgent pleasure, found Stark's. "I don't want you to ever stop."

Before Stark could reply, Renee raised her hips and slid higher on the bed until she knelt just above Stark's face. Curling her fingers into Stark's hair, she held her head down while she lowered herself carefully to Stark's mouth. "One kiss."

With a groan, Stark wrapped her arms around Renee's hips as she took her into her mouth, thirsting for her passion. The wild heat and sweet scent overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes to immerse herself in the wonder of her lover's desire.

Renee's stomach tightened at the first soft touch of Stark's tongue, and when the sharp pull of Stark's lips around her clitoris sent fire streaking along her spine, she pushed herself away and collapsed onto the bed, panting. "Okay. That will have to do until tonight."

"Oh my God," Stark exclaimed, rolling onto her side toward Renee and sliding one hand down Renee's abdomen, seeking entrance between her thighs. "I'll die, I mean it. I can't wait until tonight."

"You have a fabulous mouth," Renee gasped. "And I'm going to be thinking about it the entire day."

Stark stared in shock as Renee jumped from the bed and hurried naked toward the bathroom. Half a second later, she catapulted up in pursuit, shouting, "I'm going to make you pay for this!"

Outraged, delighted, and indescribably in love, Stark followed the beautiful sounds of her lover's laughter.

0800 11Sep0l

Report: Team One aboard American Airlines flight 11 has departed Logan Airport en route to Los Angeles. 81 passengers and 11 crew members.

0805 11 September 2001

"That's it, then," Cam finished. "Egret has no public appearances on the docket for the rest of the week, and her personal calendar is flexible. Standard shifts the rest of the week. She has a luncheon scheduled with the board members of the American Teacher's Association in DC on Saturday. Mac will go over those assignments tomorrow."

When she and Mac left the conference room to review reports and intelligence updates, the remaining agents began to gather their notes. The conversation was desultory as the night shift prepared to go off duty and the day shift sorted out their assignments.

Stark, the day-shift leader, looked toward Cynthia Parker. "You've got the lobby this morning, Cyn."

"Sure," Cynthia Parker replied. "I'll head down to relieve Foster as soon as I grab a cup of coffee."

Glancing at Felicia, Stark said, "You feel like joining me in the gym for a workout?"

"You go ahead. I'll join you as soon as I check my e-mail messages."

"No problem. See you there." Stark's nerves still jangled with an undercurrent of excitement and lingering arousal. An hour or so pumping iron sounded like just the antidote she required to clear her head.

0814 11Sep0l

Report: Confirmed - Team Two aboard United Airlines flight 175 has departed Logan Airport en route to Los Angeles. 56 passengers and 9 crew members.

0815 11 September 2001

"Everything looks to be routine, Mac," Cam said after a swift survey of the printout's that had come in from the various intelligence agencies. "I'm going to check in with Egret. We may be going out-—I'll let you know."

"Sure, Commander." Mac rose as Cam left the room and crossed to the desk where Felicia sat studying her computer monitor.

"We haven't had much of a chance to talk lately," Mac said. When Felicia glanced up, a curious question in her eyes, he shrugged. "I know you're not interested in anything serious between us, but how about a friendly lunch sometime?"

"Do you really think that men and women can do anything that's just friendly?"

"I don't know," Mac answered honestly, "I'm not sure that I even want to where you're concerned. Maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind when you discover what a nice guy I am."

Felicia couldn't help but smile. "Mac, I already know that." She studied his clear blue eyes, his handsome face, his gentle mouth. "Lunch would be nice."

0821 11Sep0l

Report: Confirmed - Team Three aboard American Airlines flight 77 has departed Washington Dulles International Airport en route to Los Angeles. 58 passengers and 6 crew members.

0822 11 September 2001

"Hey," Blair exclaimed with pleasure, reaching out for Cam's hand and drawing her into the loft. She pushed the door closed and curled an arm around Cam's neck, pressing close to kiss her. "Mmm. This is a nice surprise."

Cam tightened her arms around Blair's waist and buried her face in her soft, fragrant hair. Silently, she just held on, filling the empty places inside with the comforting sense of her lover. Blair smelled of sunshine and sweet wildflowers.

"Cam?" Blair stroked Cam's neck and shoulders. "Darling? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Cam replied, straightening. She kissed Blair once more, allowing the gentle heat of Blair's mouth to soothe the last sharp edges of her longing. "Just missed you."

"Then come to me, Cameron," Blair urged. "It's all right."

Cam smiled, the shadows in her eyes lifting. "I know, and I will. I'm still trying to judge how best to balance everything, that's all."

Her arms around Cam's waist now, Blair nodded. "I understand. But I miss you, too, every night when I close my eyes. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from calling you is knowing that it will make things harder for you if I do."

"I love you." Cam kissed Blair once more. "So, if you're not already scheduled, how do you feel about joining me for a walk and breakfast somewhere?"

Delighted, Blair nodded. "Sounds perfect." She indicated her T-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. "Let me grab a fast shower and change."

"Go ahead. I'll read the paper and wait."

0835 11 September 2001:

Federal Aviation Administration has alerted the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) that American Airlines flight 11 has been hijacked.

0837 11 September 2001

The radio on Cam's belt crackled as Mac's voice sounded in the quiet loft.

"Commander, I think you should come downstairs."

Tossing the newspaper aside, Cam stood swiftly, alert to the concern in Mac's voice. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I just received word that a commercial airliner has been hijacked in the Northeast corridor."

"I'll be right down." Cam crossed swiftly to the bathroom, opened the door, and called inside, "I need to check something with Mac. I'll be back."

"All right," Blair answered from the shower. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

0842 11Sep0l

Report: Confirmed - Team Four aboard United Airlines flight 93 en route to San Francisco has departed from Newark Airport. 38 passengers and 7 crew members.

0843 11 September 2001

The instant Cam walked into the command center, she knew from the expression on Mac's face that there was a serious problem. "Report."

"Look at this." Mac indicated the computer screen where he was monitoring encrypted messages transmitted from the Department of Defense to a select group of high-level recipients.

0843 11 September 2001:

The FAA has notified NORAD that United Airlines flight 175 from Boston to LAX has been hijacked.

"That's the second plane." Mac's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. His body, however, was rigid with tension.

Two of them at once. Cam felt an instant unease and glanced at the bank of monitors that showed the building's exterior, the lobby, and the stairwells. Nothing seemed amiss—Foster and Parker were visible talking at the desk in the lobby. The street outside was clear. She turned her attention back to the computer as another message appeared.

0844 11 September 2001

: NORAD has scrambled two F-15 fighters from Otis Air National Guard Base in Falmouth, Massachusetts on intercept course to New York City.

"Whatever's going on, someone thinks it's headed this way." Mac's hands were clenched on the desktop.

"Call Captain Landry and see if you can get a local update from the NYPD." Cam's voice was tight, her mind sorting possibilities and struggling to make sense of something that could not be rationalized by a sane mind.

"Roger that," Mac responded grimly. As he reached for the phone, Cam gripped his shoulder hard.

"Wait."

Mac swiveled back to his console, and as he read, his blood ran cold.

0847 11 September 2001

: American Airlines flight 11 has crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

It had begun.

"Oh my God," Mac uttered in a hushed, stunned voice.

It made no sense. It was inconceivable. It was too monumental to be absorbed.

Cam narrowed her eyes and focused on her duty, which was all that she could do in the face of such horror. "We're evacuating. Now. Advise Stark to get the cars."

Out of habit, Mac swept the bank of monitors to his right.

"Commander!"

Cam followed his gaze, a tight fist closing around her heart. On the monitor, four shadowy figures burst through the lobby door, automatic weapons raised. Cynthia Parker came out from behind the counter, her extended arms jerking slightly as she discharged her service weapon. The first man through the door fell. The one immediately behind him leveled his weapon and the muzzle flashed. In the eerie silence of the black-and-white tableau, Parker's body lifted from the floor and flew backward, disappearing out of range of the cameras.

"Signal red alert and lock us down," Cam snapped, drawing her automatic. "Evacuate through the rear. Use the stairs."

As Cam ran toward the stairwell to reach the penthouse and her lover, Foster stepped from the elevator into the foyer outside Blair's door.

CHAPTER THIRTY

0900 11 September 2001 (Sarasota, Florida)

: The president of the United States has been informed by the White House chief of staff that a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center.

S tark heard her radio sound a red alert at the same instant Mac burst through the doors of the gym. Red alert—a direct assault on Egret. She didn't need to know anything else; she was already on her feet and reaching for her weapon. Across the room, Felicia did the same.

"Stark, back up the commander in the Aerie," Mac gasped, his pale face streaked with sweat despite the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere in the command center. "Felicia, we need to get the cars."

There was no time for questions or explanations. There was no conversation at all as Felicia immediately disappeared with Mac. Stark raced down the narrow corridor outside the gym toward the stairwell at its end, her heart thundering with the adrenaline rush, but her mind completely clear. She had trained for this moment for years. She darted into the equipment room and grabbed a bulletproof vest. One was all she could carry, but one was all she needed. Less than thirty seconds after Mac's orders, she was in the stairwell. As she pounded up the stairs, taking two at a time, a brief shaft of light streaked across her line of vision, and she knew that someone had just gone through the door above into the penthouse foyer.

090111 September 2001

When the knock sounded at her door, Blair settled a navy blue New York Yankees baseball cap over her hair, tucked her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans, and crossed the loft with a rush of anticipation. She and Cam so rarely had unscheduled time together that this unexpected outing felt like a gift.

Maybe after breakfast, I can talk Cam into going off-radio for a few hours. Diane won't mind if we make an unplanned visit. God, only two days and it feels like forever since we 've been alone together.

Her mind preoccupied with sweet remembrances of her last moments in Cam's arms and the promise of pleasures to come, she pulled open the door.

0902 11 September 2001:

United Airlines flight 75 has crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center, demolishing floors 78 through 87 .

0903 11 September 2001

Cam shouldered through the heavy metal stairwell door twenty feet from where Foster stood in front of Blair's apartment. In a fraction of a second, time slowed and her vision tunneled until all she saw was the man, the weapon raised in his hand, and the door to her lover's loft swinging open.

There was no time for analysis. No time for reason. The rules had been altered forever at 8:45 a.m., September 11,2001.

"Foster," she shouted, leveling her automatic, "drop the weapon!"

When he heard his name, Foster hesitated in the act of centering his weapon on Blair Powell's chest. Swiftly, he swung to his left in the direction from which the command had come, preparing to fire.

Cam didn't hesitate. She knew only one thing, the only thing that mattered. Secret Service Agent Foster's automatic had been pointed at the most important person in her world.

She shot him through the forehead, and he dropped without a sound.

Then she was running, Blair's scream replacing the silence that had filled her mind since she'd seen the assault team come through the lobby door and kill her agent.

"Oh my God, Cam!" Blair stood in the doorway, staring at Foster's inert form, the blood pooling beneath his head and soaking into the Oriental carpet beneath his body. Her eyes wide with shock, she stared at her lover's grim face. Cam's eyes were hard, darker than Blair had ever seen them. "What's happening?"

"We're under attack. Let's go."

At that moment, Cam heard the stairwell door opening behind her. She shouldered Blair back into her apartment and pivoted toward the stairs, crouching into a firing stance.

"Commander, all clear," Stark shouted as she ran up, breathing hard but her voice steady.

Swiftly, Cam took the Kevlar vest from her and extended it to Blair. "Put this on." Then she bent down, picked up Foster's service automatic from where it lay by his lifeless right hand, and held it out to her lover. "Can you use this?"

"Yes," Blair replied, the faintest tremor in her voice. She shrugged into the vest, knowing there was no time to argue and knowing that she couldn't. Whatever had happened, Cam was in charge. Had to be in charge. There could only be one leader in moments like this.

"Good," Cam said. "Don't hesitate to fire, even on one of us. Let's go."

Blair gripped the gun tightly, swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat, and nodded. "All right."

With Stark in the lead, Cam took Blair's arm and kept her close as they rushed to the stairwell and started down. Their footsteps clattered eerily, amplified by the utter stillness in the stairwell after the thundering sound of the gunshot in the foyer. As they approached each landing, Stark trained her weapon on the door until Cam and Blair had passed, then skirted around them to lead the way down to the next floor.

The journey seemed endless, but it was only minutes before they reached the basement level that opened into a small service area at the rear of the building.

"Stay inside against the wall," Cam said curtly as she swept her arm across Blair's chest and pressed her lover against the concrete. "Do not come out unless you hear the order from me or Stark. If you don't get an all clear, go back upstairs and lock yourself in the command center." Cam held Blair's gaze for one fierce moment, then turned to Stark, who had taken a position on the opposite side of the door. "On three."

Stark two-fisted her weapon, raised it to chest level, and nodded.

Blair knew what the two women were going to do. They were going to go through that door, not knowing what was on the other side, prepared to fire or be fired upon. Neither woman was wearing body armor. In a matter of seconds, they could both be dead. She knew it, but she couldn't fathom it. Life couldn't be that precarious, could it? But of course, she knew that it could. "I love you."

Blair thought she'd spoken the words aloud, but she wasn't certain as she heard Cam begin the count in a strong, steady voice.

"One...two...three."

Cam and Stark pushed through the door together, Stark swinging her arms in an arc to the left as Cam swung right. The small turnaround was empty. Just as two black Suburbans careened up the alley, Cam heard a muted blast from somewhere inside the building and felt a faint tremor. She turned back into the basement, grasped Blair's arm and pulled her outside, handing her over to Stark.

"They just blew the stairwell doors from the lobby. Get her into the vehicle. Move. Move!"

The vehicles screeched to a halt, and Mac and Felicia jumped out. Stark herded Blair toward the open rear doors of the nearest vehicle. Blair looked over her shoulder for Cam, who covered their retreat, and caught the hint of movement in the doorway.

"Cam!" Blair screamed in warning.

Moving as one, Cam and Stark closed ranks, shoulder to shoulder, putting themselves between the building and Blair, while Felicia grabbed the president's daughter around the waist and threw her bodily into the rear of the vehicle. Then the air erupted with the sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of cordite.

The first man to exit the building, automatic rifle blasting, went down amidst a fusillade of bullets. Out of the corner of her eye, Cam saw Mac drop his weapon and fly backward against the other Suburban before sliding to the ground. She fired in the direction of the building while backing toward the vehicle that held the president's daughter. Beside her, Stark did the same. They'd almost reached the cover of the open Suburban doors when Stark uttered a sharp cry, staggered a few steps, and then regained her footing.

Cam emptied her weapon in the direction of the last man standing and, reaching for the extra clip on her belt, blinked sweat from her eyes. No one returned fire. Her vision was blurry and the air in her lungs burned with every breath. She turned, afraid of what she might see. Stark leaned against the vehicle, partially shielding the interior with her body, a red stain high on the right arm of her T-shirt. The tension in Cam's chest eased when she saw Blair, kneeling on the backseat of the Suburban, Foster's automatic trained on the rear of the building.

Oh, Jesus, she's all right. Panting, Cam rasped hoarsely, "Davis, you hit?"

"No, I'm okay," Felicia shouted, already running toward Mac. He lay on his back, both hands clamped to his side. Blood ran in rivulets between his fingers, soaking his shirt and pants, and dripped into a spreading pool beneath his body. His face was white, his eyes glazed. "Oh my God, Mac."

"Davis," Cam commanded, stopping Felicia in her tracks. "Get in the car. You're driving."

Evacuating Egret had to be her priority. Everything and everyone else was secondary. Felicia looked up from Mac's body, eyes wide with shock, as Cam appeared beside her.

"Now, Davis," Cam snapped. Then she leaned down next to Mac and put her reloaded automatic into his hand. "Mac. Can you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice was hollow, but he focused on her face.

"I'll radio your location. You just have to hold on."

"Yes, ma'am." He closed his fingers weakly around the automatic. "Go."

"Stay awake, Mac." Cam gripped his shoulder for a second, then ran back toward the Suburban, which Felicia was edging around the second vehicle that Mac had been driving. Cam threw herself into the backseat, pulled the door closed, and shouted, "Get us out of here, Davis."

"Where?" Davis's voice was steady, her hands clenched on the wheel.

Cam focused on her lover. "Blair. Are you hurt?"

"No." Blair felt calm. Far too calm. "You are. So is Stark. You're both bleeding."

"Commander, extraction plan?" Davis inquired again from the front seat. She was driving north on First Avenue. The air reverberated with the wail of sirens. It sounded as if every emergency vehicle in the city was in motion.

"Just keep going—we have to get out of the city." As she spoke, Cam fumbled for her cell phone and took Foster's gun from Blair. "And Davis, raise emergency services. Get someone down there for Mac—Priority One."

"I'll do that, Commander," Stark said hoarsely. Her right arm shook and burned, but she had feeling in her fingers, and the pain wasn't much worse than the ache in her legs after a ten-mile run. She cradled the phone in the palm of her right hand and punched in numbers with her left. Every agent on Blair's team was familiar with the priority numbers in the event of an emergency involving the first daughter.

"Good," Cam responded. Thinking of the devastation at the World Trade Center, she could only imagine the chaos that must be overtaking not just the city, but the entire nation. "I'll try to raise Landers and secure an NYPD escort, but we may be on our own."

0912 11 September 2001

: The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey has ordered that all bridges and tunnels in the metropolitan area be closed.

0918 11 September 2001

"Cam, let me look at you." Blair put her fingers beneath Cam's chin and turned her lover's head toward her. Her stomach lurched at the sight of blood running down the right side of her face. "You need medical attention."

"I'm all right." Cam clenched her teeth as she held the phone to her left ear. The dispatcher who had picked up the priority line at Captain Stacy Landers's extension had sounded breathless and close to panic. She'd put Cam on hold. "Davis, turn on the scanner."

"Darling," Blair insisted quietly. "I think you've been shot."

"Ricochet probably. See to Stark, would you?" Across from them, Stark enunciated Blair's address in clear, sharp tones. "Rear of the building, federal agent down. Repeat, federal agent' down. ETA?" Her face lost all remaining color. "What?...Yes. Yes. Copy."

Stark closed the phone and stared, stunned, at Cam. "He said that both towers of the World Trade Center have been hit by hijacked airliners."

"Yes. Right before the assault on the command center."

"All those people," Blair gasped. "Cam, what's happening?"

"How bad is it?" Stark asked, her voice wavering for the first time since the assault had begun. Renee, Renee is there somewhere. She felt something that she hadn't felt even when she'd been standing in the midst of a hail of bullets. Agonizing, gut-wrenching fear. "Do we know anything about casualties?"

"I don't have any details. The only thing I know for sure is that we're under attack, and the city is not secure." Cam straightened as a voice finally sounded in her phone. "This is Trailblazer One. We need immediate coordinates for evacuation." She gave their current location, then listened. "Understood. Yes." She glanced at her watch. "ETA ten minutes. Clear the way for us." Cam closed the phone and leaned forward to speak to Davis. At the sudden movement, a wave of dizziness took her by surprise, and she was forced to close her eyes against the unexpected vertigo. She sucked in a sharp breath and braced her arm against the seat to steady herself.

"Cam?" Blair touched her lover's shoulder with concern. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but Cam's face was ashen. Suddenly, Blair's heart seized. There'd been so many shots, so many. Maybe Cam was hurt somewhere else. "Darling, please. Lean back. Let me look at you."

Blair's voice floated to her from far away, a lilting sound that made Cam want to drift on the sweetness of it and just sleep. Blinking several times, Cam shook her head vigorously, the movement causing the pounding behind her eyes to escalate and her mind to clear behind the surge of pain. Hoarsely, she instructed, "Davis. Evacuation route Bravo. No escort, but they'll clear the bridge for us."

"Yes, Commander." Felicia stared straight ahead, deftly maneuvering the Suburban through the ever-increasing traffic. She knew her job. She knew her duty. She functioned as the well-trained professional she was, but all she could think about was Mac. He might be dying, and he was alone. How can this be happening?

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

0926 IX September 2001:

The FA7V has ordered all nonmilitary planes grounded and has canceled all flights in the United States.

0930 11 September 2001

"Davis, I'm patching NYPD traffic control through to you," Cam said. "They'll plot a route out of here for us."

Silently, Felicia adjusted the earphone from the NavCom, struggling to keep the image of Mac lying helpless and bleeding at bay while focusing on the directions relayed to her by an adrenaline-charged NYPD officer.

While Cam watched the street for signs of further attack, Foster's confiscated weapon in one hand and her cell phone in the other, Blair fought to clear her head of the kaleidoscope of nightmarish sounds and images that followed fast one upon the other. She could still hear the gunfire, smell the metallic odor of the bullets, see the neat round hole blossoming red in the center of Foster's forehead and Mac's body bouncing off the Suburban and crumpling to the ground. If all that weren't horror enough, she had visions of the tens of thousands of people in the World Trade Center who might be trapped, injured, or dying as a result of the plane crashes. It was more than she could absorb. Then a cold hand clamped around her heart. If we 're under this kind of attack here, what else might be happening? "Cam! My fath-—"

Shaking her head, Cam signaled with a tilt of her chin that she had an incoming call. "Roberts." She spared Blair a glance, her heart twisting at the panic she saw in her lover's eyes. She wanted to offer comfort, but she simply didn't have time. They weren't safe yet. "Egret is secure, but we've taken fire. I have casualties." She listened intently, narrowing her eyes against the throbbing pain at the base of her skull. "Negative...we've been internally compromised...Not in my opinion, no." She shook her head, and then regretted it as her stomach heaved. "No sign of pursuit. Negative.. I am not relaying my position. I will advise when I've determined that we are secure." She shook her head again, the pain eclipsed by anger and frustration. "On my authority."

Abruptly, Cam terminated the call, rested her head against the seat, and closed her eyes for a second. Mercifully, the nausea subsided. She opened her eyes and met Blair's. "That was the White House security chief. The president is safe. He's in the air, location and destination unknown."

"Thank God." Blair studied Cam intently, noting the fine mist of sweat on her forehead. "You don't look well."

"I'm all right."

"Cam—"

Cam set the phone aside and rested her fingers on the top of Blair's hand. "My head took a glancing hit and it's stirred up the headache. Not too bad."

Blair bit back another question. There was nothing to be done—Cam had to do what she was doing. "What were you arguing about with the White House?"

"The Armageddon protocol has been set in motion, and the idiots don't understand our situation here."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked quietly. She'd never heard Cam say anything quite so critical of her superiors. The Armageddon protocol, she knew, was a response plan initially orchestrated by the Reagan administration in preparation for a nuclear attack or some other massive strike aimed at eliminating the president and other high-ranking federal officials. A shadow government consisting of a predetermined list of appointees would be sequestered in undisclosed, secure locations until the threat was contained. Such action would ensure that the government would continue to function even if the president, his staff, and his cabinet were destroyed.

"Ordinarily, we would proceed to a safe house, but with Foster..." A muscle in Cam's jaw bunched tightly and her fingers turned white as she gripped the dead agent's gun—the one he had trained on Blair's heart. "With one of my agents involved in the assault, I have to assume we are completely compromised. I can't trust the safe house locations or any evacuation plan to be secure." We 're out here alone,

"Commander," Stark interrupted urgently. "I have Reynolds calling from command central."

Instantly, Cam held out her hand for the other phone. "Reynolds," she said sharply, "Mac Phillips has been wounded. He's in the...yes...yes. Status?...What about Parker?" She let out a breath, her eyes emptying of all emotion. "Evacuate and secure the building. Notify the FBI...wait...hold a minute." She passed the phone back to Stark. "I've got another priority call coming in. You work through securing the scene with him. See if he can get someone from the local FBI office. We need to keep this out of the news."

"Yes, ma'am." White faced, shivering in the sweat-soaked T-shirts and shorts she had been working out in, Stark extended her left hand. Her throbbing right arm was stiffening, and she cradled it against her abdomen to help contain the pain. She forced herself to think about the myriad details that needed to be addressed—most importantly, determining the identity of the unknown assailants. But what she desperately wanted to do was to ask for information about the situation at the World Trade Center. Her lover was there somewhere. But Blair was still in danger, and her duty came first. "All right, Reynolds. Listen up."

0941 11 September 2001

: American Airlines flight 77 has crashed into the west side of the Pentagon.

"Jesus Christ," Cam breathed as she heard the words she could not believe. Phone to her ear, she glanced at Blair. "They're evacuating the White House. A hijacked airliner just hit the Pentagon."

"Oh my dear Lord." Blair's eyes grew huge, brimming with agony and despair. "This can't be happening. Oh, Cam."

"We're leaving the city, Commander. Your orders?" Felicia's voice through the open partition that separated the rear compartment from the driver's area was hollow, eerily devoid of inflection.

Blair wasn't certain that Cam had heard the question, but it was clear to her that no previously determined official destination was secure. Suddenly, she leaned toward the front and spoke to Felicia in a low voice. "Drive to the Mass Turnpike and head east. And I need to use your phone."

Briefly, Felicia flicked her eyes to Blair's in the rearview mirror, then back to the road as she removed her cell phone from the pocket of her sweats. Handing it through to Blair, she murmured, "Yes, ma'am."

While what was left of her security team attempted to coordinate their safe passage, the president's daughter decided to make arrangements for a temporary sanctuary on her own. She'd spent half her life disappearing, and she'd been very good at it. Praying that she could get an open line in the midst of a panic that must be overburdening the telephone systems, she pushed 411. Sighing in relief when an operator finally answered, she gave a name and address and waited for a connection. Answer. Please answer.

Expelling a pent-up breath at the sound of a voice on the line, Blair said urgently, "Tanner? It's Blair. I've got a problem."

Blair closed the phone just as Stark and Cam finished their calls. She looked from her lover to Paula Stark. Both were hurt. Both at the very minimum needed first aid for their wounds, if not professional medical attention. Felicia was holding up, but she looked shell-shocked. What she was about to say was only going to add immeasurably to everyone's pain, but there was nothing she could do. In a voice dry as tinder, she repeated what she'd just been told. "The South Tower of the World Trade Center just collapsed."

"No!" Stark jerked forward on her seat, her eyes wild. "That's impossible. There are 50,000 people in that building." Renee! Renee is there!

"Paula," Blair said softly.

"Listen," Felicia said abruptly from the front seat. "I've got something coming over the scanner here."

The vehicle grew eerily quiet as the sound of a disembodied voice filled the silence.

United Airlines flight 93 has crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, presumably en route to a target in Washington, DC.

"Is that number four?" Blair's voice was tight with disbelief. "This can't be. This just can't be."

Cam reached for Blair's hand as Stark slumped in her seat, her face ashen. "It's imperative now that we maintain radio silence. No one makes any calls except me."

"Renee is in the South Tower," Stark said, her voice trembling. "Can I call her?"

"I'm sorry, no." Cam's tone revealed none of her regret. "We have no idea who is behind these attacks, or how much they know, or where the next target might be. We can't risk broadcasting our location."

"Cam," Blair said quietly, her heart aching. "One more call couldn't hurt, could it?"

"I don't know what might hurt at this point. I can't risk it." The disappointment in Blair's face stung, and Cam's question came out more abruptly than she intended. "Who were you just talking to?"

Taken aback, Blair stared, and caught the flicker of pain in Cam's eyes before they went flat. That brief glimpse of her lover's anguish dispelled her own mounting anger. Cam's leg was rigid beneath their joined hands. The only visible sign of the terrible strain she was under was the low, tight tone of her voice. The depths of her charcoal eyes, however, were nothing more than opaque obsidian reflections, more impenetrable than Blair had ever seen. Oh, darling, I can't imagine what it's costing you to do this.

Gently, Blair replied, "An old friend of mine from prep school. We can go there—it's as secure as any place right now. Probably more."

Cam narrowed her eyes. "Were you lovers?"

Blair blinked. "I hardly think that matters now."

Impatiently, Cam shook her head and bit back a grunt of pain. "No, if you were, it's probably a matter of record. Somewhere, someone put it in a file, and we don't know what intelligence has been compromised."

"God, do you really think something from so long ago—"

"I don't know, Blair. Jesus, I've got one dead agent—"

"Mac?" Felicia cried.

"No," Cam replied swiftly. "Parker. Reynolds said Mac was unconscious but alive when he reached him. He managed to commandeer a NYPD cruiser off the street to transport Mac to NYU hospital." In a gentler tone, she added, "That's all I know, except that Mac is tough."

Blair stroked her hand absently along Cam's thigh. "Tanner was never my lover. And she lives in a fairly remote area. I told her we were coming."

Cam sorted through options, ranking them in order of possible security risks. Until she had more information about the nature and extent of the attacks, she couldn't be certain that any federal or military installation was secure. In all likelihood, Foster had passed along the details of their internal evac routes to whoever was behind the assault. She had to admit they'd be better off lying low in a civilian location. "All right. Where are we going?"

"Whitley Island."

1005 11 September 2001:

The skies over America are empty.

For almost a minute, there was complete silence in the vehicle. Felicia drove east toward the Mass Turnpike at a steady sixty-five miles per hour. Stark leaned against the door, her face turned to the window, her eyes glazed. She was shivering uncontrollably.

"Cam," Blair said quietly, nodding in Stark's direction. "She needs medical attention. And so do you."

"I don't want to stop yet." Cam kept her voice low out of habit, although in actuality, the only people she could absolutely trust were in the car with her. Other than Mac, and she missed him tremendously now. "I don't think we're being pursued, but I don't know if there's another assault team looking for us or already on an intercept course. The last thing I want to do is go to a hospital and televise to the world where you are."

"Can't we drop her off at a hospital somewhere, then?"

A brief, sad smile crossed Cam's face. "You don't really think she'd go, do you? Plus, I can't afford to lose another agent. I need her on the job."

"You can assemble tbe rest of the team in a few hours once we reach Tanner's."

"No, I can't." Cam rubbed her eyes. "Foster was part of the attack, Blair. I can't trust any of the agents now. Every one of them is a suspect."

"All right," Blair conceded. Carefully, she moved to the opposite seat, knelt facing the rear, and leaned over the back of the seat into the storage compartment behind it. She rummaged around until she found the emergency medical kit, which she lifted back over the seat and set on the floor. Then she resumed her search and, a few minutes later, swiveled around with a bundle of clothing in her arms. "The Suburbans may be ugly as hell, but they're very well equipped. I've got the ever-present blue polo shirts and one-size-fits-all khaki pants. Felicia and Paula can at least get out of their damp clothes."

"Davis," Cam said. "Pull into the first drive-off you see. Park well away from any other vehicles."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ten minutes later, Davis pulled the Suburban into a rest stop, drove to the far end of the narrow parking lot, and stopped. Blair slid over next to Stark.

"Paula," she said gently, putting her hand lightly on Stark's arm. "Let's get your T-shirt off so I can take a look at your shoulder. I've got a dry shirt for you, too."

Stark, her gaze slightly unfocused, searched Blair's face. She blinked. "Thank you. You don't need to do that. I can take care of it. You should see to the commander."

"Yes, I will. But you first." Patiently, Blair waited.

After another few seconds' hesitation, Stark lifted her T-shirt with her left hand, but couldn't mange to raise her right.

"Let me help you with that," Blair said, carefully manipulating the garment and working it slowly over Stark's injured right arm. The sports bra she wore beneath was wet with sweat and blood. "Take off the bra, too."

Stark flushed.

"It's okay, Paula."

Stark glanced across the compartment to Cam, who sat quietly with her eyes trained out the rear window, scanning the incoming vehicles, her weapon still at the ready. The sight of the commander, so steady, so focused, infused Stark with purpose. I need to get myself together. The commander needs backup. Quietly, she said to Blair, "Can you help me, please."

"Of course."

After helping Stark out of her underwear, Blair cleansed the jagged bullet wound in Stark's deltoid area with peroxide, applied an antibiotic ointment, and bandaged it. Throughout the process, Stark remained still and silent. "Let me help you get a dry shirt on."

As Stark carefully pulled on the shirt, another bulletin came over the scanner.

1028 11 September 2001

: The North Tower of the World Trade Center has collapsed.

With an agonized moan, Stark pushed open the door and bolted from the car.

When Blair moved to follow, Cam said quietly, "Let her go."

Blair's patience snapped. "For God's sake, Cam. There's no danger here, and she's suffering. I don't want her to be alone with this."

"She needs to be alone with it." Cam's voice revealed no hint of anger, only sadness. "She needs to put it away for now, and she will. Just give her a minute."

"Is that what they teach you?" Blair demanded wildly. "To bury your pain, even when it's killing you?"

"We don't bury it, Blair. We just save it."

The grief in Cam's face brought tears to Blair's eyes. "Oh, Cam. I'm sorry." Quickly, she crossed the space between them and curled up against Cam's side, threading an arm around her lover's waist and resting her head against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. None of this is your fault, and everything you're doing is to protect me. I know that, and still I resent what this job does to you."

Cam pressed her lips to Blair's hair and closed her eyes. "I would do anything not to lose you."

"I know." Blair lifted her face and kissed Cam's neck. "I love you." She held Cam a moment longer, then pushed away. "It's time for you to get cleaned up, Commander."

By the time Blair had tended to Cam's scalp wound, Stark, hollow eyed and beyond pale, had returned.

"All right, Stark?" Cam asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Stark's voice was raspy and sore from choking back the bile that had threatened to erupt when she'd heard the bulletin. She had to believe that Renee was still alive. She simply had no other choice. Any other possibility was more than she could bear. "I'm ready."

"Davis," Cam said, "Ms. Powell will give you directions to Whitley Island. Get us there as quickly as you can."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

1344 11 September 2001:

The aircraft carriers USS

George Washington

and USS

John F. Kennedy

along with five warships have been deployed from the US Naval Station in Norfolk, Virginia to New York.

"Turn here," Blair said, peering out the side window at the open ten-foot-high wrought iron gates that stretched between high stone walls that were almost completely hidden by the dense native foliage.

"Is this the end of the island?" Cam asked. She'd been taking careful note of the topography and population distribution ever since they'd crossed the causeway from the mainland onto Whitley Island. There seemed to be very few residences on the island itself, although she'd caught sight of a marina at the southern tip that appeared to be fairly populated. The isolated locale was both an advantage and a strategic problem. They would be difficult to find, but if detected by unfriendly forces, it would be almost impossible for them to escape.

"Yes, the Whitley estate occupies the entire north half of the island." Wearily, Blair pushed a hand through her hair and glanced across the confines of the rear compartment to Stark. The young agent's eyes were open but so blank that Blair thought she might be asleep. She leaned close to Cam. "We need to have her looked at."

"I know." Cam brushed her fingers over the top of Blair's hand. "It may be twelve to twenty-four hours until I can establish secure links with Washington and get an accurate assessment of our security situation. Until then, we're going to be in a communication blackout. So no hospitals yet."

"What if Tanner could bring a doctor out here?" Blair pushed, because both Stark and Cam needed medical attention. She'd cleaned their wounds, but Stark gave every sign of being in shock, and it was clear that Cam was fighting a headache and possibly worse.

"Give me a few hours to assess the situation, and then I'll let you know my decision."

"All right." Blair squeezed Cam's hand. "Thank you."

As the car slowed, a large stone edifice fronted by terraced gardens, fountains, and flagstone walks came into view. Davis stopped the Suburban in a circular turnaround just opposite the wide steps that led up to a spacious veranda.

Cam gave Blair a raised eyebrow. Blair shrugged.

"This is Whitley Island, and that's Whitley Manor."

At that moment, the reigning Whitley came through the front door. Tanner Whitley was Blair's age, but dark and muscular where Blair was blond and lithe. Not quite as tall as Cam, she nevertheless exuded a similar aura of confidence and command, even in sun-bleached khaki deck pants and a short-sleeved cotton work shirt. She stopped by the side of the vehicle, her dark eyes beneath heavy, nearly straight brows and a slash of dark hair giving her a brooding, James Dean look.

Per protocol, Cam opened the rear door as Felicia came around the front. Blair stepped out between them with Stark exiting close behind.

"Blair," Tanner Whitley said with obvious affection as she stepped forward and kissed Blair on the cheek. "How are you?"

For the first time since the entire nightmare had burst upon her six hours earlier, Blair felt the full weight of the horror—not just her own personal fear and trauma, but what the innocent people in New York City and Pennsylvania and Washington and the rest of the country must be suffering. She reached for Cam, linked arms, and pressed close to her lover for comfort and support. "We're a little banged up, but basically okay. Tanner, this is my lover, Commander Cameron Roberts. My security staff, Felicia Davis and Paula Stark."

Tanner nodded to the agents and extended her hand to Cam.

"Commander."

Their dark eyes were equally appraising as they studied each other.

"Ms. Whitley. I'd like to get Blair inside, if you don't mind," Cam said. "Also, is there somewhere we can put the Suburban where it would not be visible to air surveillance?"

Tanner's gaze did not waver, but her expression registered immediate respect. "Certainly. Please go inside. The kitchen is through to the rear, and our housekeeper, May, will be happy to fix you something for lunch. I'll move the vehicle to the garage myself. My mother is..." Tanner swallowed. "My mother just returned to DC this past weekend, so her car is not here."

"Thank you." Cam nodded to Stark and Davis. "Let's go."

Once inside, the group gravitated toward the sound of a television in a large living room that faced the ocean. No one, however, spared the breathtaking view an instant's attention. The wall-mounted HDTV was tuned to CNN, and within seconds, the tape and voice-over had looped through the devastation in Manhattan, Washington, DC, and a field not far from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A well-known anchorman repeated the message that had been playing all afternoon.

"Mayor Giuliani has promised that rescue teams will work around the clock until all survivors have been found. At the present time, the number of police, firefighters, emergency personnel, and civilians potentially trapped in the rubble of the twin towers is unknown."

There was no mention of any attempt on Blair's life.

As the litany of destruction and devastation continued, the air in the room reverberated with the sound of Stark's uneven breathing and Davis's muffled moans of disbelief. Speechless with shock and horror, Blair stared at the screen while Cam's mind rebelled at the thought that such a huge-scale, coordinated attack could have been planned and executed within their own borders. Why didn 't we know this was coming?

Finally, Cam broke the silence that had overtaken the group. "Blair, I think perhaps Davis and Stark could do with some food. You, too."

"What about you?" Blair didn't see any purpose in pointing out that Cam was white as a sheet and that smudges of pain and fatigue rimmed her eyes. She was certain that her lover felt every bit as bad as she looked. She just wouldn't acknowledge it, even to herself.

"I need to establish a secure connection, if I can, to DC."

"You won't be any use to me in a crisis situation if you're too weak or ill to think, let alone fight." Blair moved closer, out of earshot of Felicia and Stark, both of whom still sat on the sofa, their attention riveted to the news broadcast. "You look like hell. We don't know how long we might be here. We don't know how long it might be until we get a relief team. We all need a meal, showers, and fresh clothes. Plus, I want Tanner to get a doctor out here." When Cam started to protest, Blair shook her head sharply. "I'm sure she can handle it discreetly. I'm not backing down on this, Cameron."

"I..." Cam's brows furrowed as her phone vibrated. She glanced down, but didn't recognize the number on the readout. She flicked it open and said curtly, "Roberts. Yes, sir." She held out the phone to Blair. "Your father. Two minutes, sweetheart. That's all we can risk."

"Daddy?" Blair said quickly. "Are you okay?...No, I'm fine. No, really. Are you sure you 're all right?" Blair glanced at Cam, who checked her watch and nodded to go ahead. "I'm perfectly safe, but I think you should talk to her. Be careful. I love you."

"Sir," Cam said sharply. "I believe we are secure. At the present time, it's my opinion that no one should be advised of our location. I prefer to brief you myself, sir, as soon as the situation is contained." She listened intently, then nodded. "Yes sir, that should be fine. Thank you."

Cam severed the connection, then said quietly, "We're here for twenty-four hours. That should give the CIA, the NSC, and the FBI time to construct an initial ongoing threat assessment. Until then, we're safer here than anywhere else. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes. I'd like to be with my father, but I suppose that's not possible right now." Blair struggled to keep the fear from her voice. "You really think he's all right?"

"Yes," Cam replied, sliding her arm around Blair's waist and kissing her temple. "If they'd been able to bring off an attempt on him, they would have. They tried for you instead."

Blair heard the bitterness and saw the anguish in Cam's eyes "You can't possibly think that any part of that was your fault."

Cam looked away.

"Cam," Blair said, resting her palm against Cam's chest. "No."

"Foster was my man," Cam said. And he came within seconds of killing you today.

Before Blair could protest further, Tanner walked into the room.

"I'll show you to your rooms, and then when you're settled, May has set out a buffet in the dining room. Just help yourselves." She balled her fists into the pockets of her khakis and rocked slightly on the balls of her feet. She looked from Blair to Cam. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No," Cam said quietly. "No more than what's on the television."

Tanner sighed. "I got a ten-second call this morning from Adrienne..." She looked at Cam. "My lover—Adrienne Pierce. She's a navy captain stationed nearby, and she said they'd been ordered to lockdown and that she didn't know when she might call again. That's the last I heard."

Cam saw the distress in the other woman's eyes and sympathized. The same story, she was sure, was being repeated across the country, and nowhere more so than up and down the Northeast corridor. The lines of communication were in chaos, and no one could be certain that the attacks were over. Although her main priority remained Blair's safety, she could appreciate the anxiety and frustration of not knowing the status of friends and loved ones and having no way to reach them. "When and if I know anything that I can disclose, I'll tell you."

As she straightened, Tanner's expression became one of resolve. "Of course. Please, let me get you all settled."

Blair watched silently as the doctor examined Cam. "She had a serious head injury not more than six weeks ago. She was unconscious then and probably shouldn't even have returned to duty as quickly as she did."

"Did you have a CAT scan performed?" the slender, blond man inquired as he studied Cam's retina with an ophthalmoscope.

"Yes. It was normal."

"No evidence of cerebral edema or bleeding?"

Blair's stomach tightened and her mouth went dry. "What? Why? Did you find something wrong?"

Dr. Anthony Wade turned with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. Just routine questions. Everything seems fine thus far."

"Oh." Blair couldn't keep the relief from her voice. "What about the...bullet wound?"

"You did a good job with the first aid. Most of it is within the scalp, and although I could suture it, at this point there's a lower risk of infection if I don't." He gave Cam a reproachful look. "As long as you take it easy and don't get banged around any more, you should be fine."

"Thank you," Cam replied dryly. "What about my agent, Paula Stark?" Over Blair's objections, she'd insisted that he examine Stark before looking at her.

"I wanted her to immobilize her right arm, just to reduce the pain. The wound itself penetrated just to the fascial level but didn't violate the muscular compartment. I Steri-Stripped it closed, but it won't hold if she gets into any kind of physical altercation."

"Hopefully, that won't be necessary."

The doctor grimaced. "She also informed me that she couldn't immobilize her weapon arm, so she very politely declined to follow my instructions."

A smile quirked the corner of Cam's mouth as Blair made a disgusted sound. "I'll see that she gets as much rest as possible."

With a sigh, the doctor packed up his equipment. He glanced from Cam to the president's daughter. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to be possible for anyone for a while, is it?"

Cam said nothing. There was nothing she could say that would make the truth any more bearable.

1854 11 September 2001;

The president has returned on board helicopter Marine One to the White House.

"Stark," Cam said quietly. "I'll need you on the first shift in the morning. Go get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Commander. You don't have enough people for perimeter patrol without me."

"Our perimeter is secure on three sides unless there is an ocean approach, and we'll hear that coming in plenty of time. Davis and I will cover the front."

Stark looked as if she was about to protest further, but Cam turned and walked into the other room where Davis waited, giving her no opportunity to object.

"Paula," Blair said gently, "you do need to get some rest."

Stark sat forward on the sofa, her elbows on her knees, and cradled her head in her hands. She stared at the floor, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with pain. "I'm afraid Renee is dead." She raised anguished eyes to Blair's. "God. All those people."

"You can't think that." Swiftly, Blair rose from the chair where she had been pretending to read the newspaper and crossed to the sofa. Without conscious thought, she slipped her arm around Stark's waist. "She's an FBI agent stationed at the epicenter of a terrorist attack. You know her—she's going to be working nonstop for days. Plus, it's got to be chaos there, and who knows what the communication situation is like. There's no way she would have been able to call you, even if she could find a free minute to do it."

"Her office was in the South Tower." Stark shuddered. At the news of the towers' collapse, she hadn't been able to think of anything except that she had lost the woman she loved. Voice breaking, she whispered, "I don't think I can take it."

Blair knew exactly what she was feeling. She'd almost lost Cam, and she was never going to get over the terror of those few days when Cam had lain in the hospital on life support. She pulled Stark into her arms and kissed her forehead. "You can't give up, okay? You just have to keep on going. Okay? Promise?"

Stark was silent, because she couldn't bring herself to lie. She wasn't certain where she would find the strength to carry on. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be comforted. For that isolated moment, the steady strength of Blair's heart beating close to hers was enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

B lair leaned on the railing of the upper deck, listening to the surf and watching the moonlight dance across the waves. The water was nearly as dark as the midnight sky overhead. She turned at the sound of the sliding glass doors opening behind her and recognized Tanner's form backlit by the few lights burning in the house. "Hi. I thought you'd turned in."

"No, I'm too wired to sleep."

"Me, too," Blair sighed.

"Mind a little company?" Tanner asked quietly.

"No." Blair regarded Tanner in the moonlight. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you. Sorry."

Tanner shook her head. "It's not a great time for catching up."

Blair studied Tanner's bold profile, silvered by moonlight. "You know, you look...older."

"I'm not sure how to take that," Tanner remarked with a short laugh.

Blair laughed as well. "Actually, you don't look older as much as you look...calmer. Even in the midst of everything that's going on, you look settled somehow."

"My life here is pretty much just what I want it to be, that's true."

"You managed to escape the clutches of the dreaded Whitley Corporation?"

"I still go into the offices on the mainland a few days a month, but I spend most of my time running the marina. Adrienne's stationed nearby, and the island is our home."

"You sound as if that agrees with you."

Tanner smiled, thinking about the new direction her life had taken in the last few years. "I can't even begin to tell you how good it is...my life now...working here on the island, living with Adrienne. All of it."

Considering the way her own life had changed in less than a year, thinking of Cam, Blair said, "Believe it or not, I can imagine it." She shrugged and gave a small laugh. "I never thought I'd be able to say that, but being with Cam...it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Well. I think I'm speechless."

"Yes. I am sometimes, still, too." Blair sighed. It seemed a very long time ago that she and Tanner had been young and wild and, for all their youthful pain, blissfully naive. "Have you heard from Adrienne?"

"No." Tanner rolled her shoulders and distractedly ran a hand through her thick dark hair. "I'm sure that doesn't mean anything, but I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I could just hear her voice."

Blair reached over and covered Tanner's hand where it curled over the railing. She tapped the thin gold band on Tanner's ring finger. "I noticed this earlier. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Tanner lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes briefly, wondering if life would ever be the same again. "You know, I can't reach my mother in DC, either. Her husband is a navy captain. He's got an office in the Pentagon."

"Oh, Tanner. God. You must be so worried, and I never even asked. I'm sorry. You've been a lifesaver today and—"

"Don't apologize." Tanner bumped Blair's shoulder with hers. "I don't know what happened to you this morning in New York, but considering that two of your security team showed up here with gunshot wounds, I figure you had other things on your mind."

"It almost feels like a dream." Blair shivered, more from memory than the chill gust of ocean air. "A terrible, horrible dream."

"I know." Tanner took a deep breath and fought back the melancholy and fear. "I've tried calling my mother, but I can't get through. From what I can gather from the television reports, it might be hours or even days before the phone systems get sorted out"

"At the moment," Blair said with regret, "there isn't even any way that I can contact someone in DC to try to find out for you. I'm sorry."

"I understand, and I wouldn't expect you to anyhow." Tanner turned her back to the water, leaned her hips against the railing, and looked into the house. Through the glass doors, she saw a shadow move across the swath of light that angled out from the living room. "Are Cam and Felicia going to stay up all night standing guard?"

"I'm sure that's what they have planned," Blair said grimly. "But that's not going to happen. We've all been through a lot, and Cam has been shot. She's going to get some sleep tonight, no matter how much she protests."

"I think I might be able to help out there," Tanner said, pushing resolutely away from the railing. "Let me make some calls."

Cam stood by the leaded-glass windows that looked out onto the curving approach road to Whitley Manor. In the moonlight, the landscape appeared untamed, almost otherworldly. It was hard to believe that beyond the confines of that isolated, protected place, the world was in chaos.

Blair hooked her arms around Cam's waist from behind and rested her cheek against Cam's back. "What are you thinking about?"

Cam laced her fingers through Blair's and absently drew Blair's hand beneath her jacket and pressed it to her stomach. The warmth of Blair's palm against her body eased the ache in her heart. "Just wondering what's happening out there tonight. Trying to get a grip on what happened today."

"Come to bed, Cam."

"Tanner has called in her corporate security team," Cam said, ignoring Blair's request. "She assures me they'll ask no questions and do the job as efficiently and effectively as military police. In fact, some of them used to be military police."

"And you don't believe her?" Blair slowly rubbed her hand up and down the center of Cam's abdomen and pressed more closely against her back, needing the contact more than she had realized.

"No, I do believe her. I'm absolutely certain that she knows exactly what her people are capable of." Cam sighed. "Unlike me."

"Cam..."

Cam turned, keeping her hand in Blair's. Her smile was rueful. "I should apologize. I don't ordinarily indulge in self-pity."

"Darling, don't." Blair lifted a hand and caressed Cam's cheek. "At least wait until we understand what happened with Foster. If there's blame to be assigned, I know that you will accept responsibility for whatever part might be yours. But until then, don't torture yourself. Please."

"How is it that you know me so well?" Cam rested her forehead against Blair's. God, I'm so tired.

"Because I love you so much." Blair gave Cam's hand a tug and, to her enormous relief, Cam followed her as she led the way through the house and upstairs to the bedroom they would share. "Just sleep with me for a few hours and then, if you have to, you can go back downstairs. But I need you now."

"I need you, too." Nearly stumbling with fatigue, Cam stripped off her clothes and left them in a heap by the bed. She kept her weapon holstered on a table by the bedside. She and Blair slid into bed at the same time and moved into each other's embrace.

Blair curled into the curve of Cam's side, her head on Cam's shoulder and one leg and an arm thrown over her body. "How's your headache?"

Cam gently kissed Blair's mouth before closing her eyes. "Better."

"When we get home," Blair's voice hitched, but she continued after drawing a steadying breath, "I want you to move in with me. I don't want to wait. I love you, and I want you in my life. Full-time, all the time."

"Is this because of today?"

"Partly, yes. But ever since we got back from Europe, I've been struggling to feel okay about being without you. Today made me realize that there are no certainties in life, and that the most important thing in mine is you."

"Oh, Christ, I love you." Cam turned on her side and gathered Blair into her arms, their bodies joining along their lengths. She cupped the back of Blair's neck in the palm of her hand as she kissed her, still gently, but deep and long. When she drew her mouth away, she whispered, "If I lost you, it would kill me."

Blair gave a small cry and tightened her hold on her lover. She pressed her face to Cam's neck and stroked her hand up and down Cam's back, over her shoulders, until finally she laced her fingers into Cam's hair. "We'll take care of each other. We'll be together— do you hear me? We're going to be together. I promise."

Finally, safe in the comfort of her lover's arms, Cam slept.

The first thing she saw was Parker, lying on her back, her arms stretched out to her sides. Her eyes were open, empty, glazed with that peculiar blankness that only death can bestow. The crimson starburst in the center of her chest seemed nothing more than an afterthought once she'd looked into those eyes.

Turning, she ran, the breath burning in her chest, the muscles in her legs trembling, threatening to abandon her before she could reach... She almost tripped on the leg extending out into the stairwell from the landing just above. Grasping the metal railing with her free hand, clutching her weapon in the oilier, she looked down. Stark lay still, a perfect maroon circle punched between her thick, dark brows. A river of red snaked down from that tiny crater and pooled in the corner of her eye before overflowing onto her cheek like tears.

Oh Jesus. I'm going to lose them all.

Heart pounding, stomach heaving, she stared up the final flight of stairs to the solid gray metal door at the top. Beyond that door lay everything that mattered in her life. She couldn't move her legs. She couldn't climb the stairs. She couldn't reach—would never reach—the top in time. She crumpled to her knees, her weapon dropping unnoticed from her limp fingers. Hands clutching at cold stone, she dragged herself upward, one agonizingly slow step at a time.

When she finally reached the door, there was no handle.

It's so heavy. I can't open it. Please. Please. I have to get through.

By the time she'd pried her fingers into the narrow crevice around the edges and inched the door open, her hands were torn and bleeding. Still on her knees, she fell through to the other side and saw, down the long tunnel of the hallway, the body outside the open door. Every laborious inch cost her blood, every breath clawed at her screaming lungs, and the terror in her belly eviscerated her with razor-sharp talons.

A lifetime later, her vision dim with sweat and tears, she touched a trembling hand to the pale, cold cheek. A single drop of blood, dew on the rose, lay like a forgotten kiss upon her lover's lips.

Blair. Oh God, Blair.

With a silent scream, Cam jolted awake, rolled from the bed, and stumbled hurriedly to the bathroom. She'd barely managed to get the door closed behind her, automatically thumbing the lock, before her legs gave out and she was on her knees, vomiting. It hurt, in her body, in her heart, as the images seared into her brain one after the other. Her stomach rolled, and she continued to retch long after there was nothing left inside her but grief.

In the distance, she heard a muted shout and felt the faint vibration of the bathroom door shaking. Some part of her brain registered that if she didn't get to her feet, get the door open, Blair would break it down. Pale and dizzy, she pulled herself up with one hand on the sink and turned on the cold water. She cupped her hands under the tap and splashed her face until her head stopped spinning.

"Cam! Cam, open the door!"

The words were clear now, and the pounding incessant.

Blinking to clear her vision, Cam opened the cabinet above the sink and fumbled out the small bottle of mouthwash. She rinsed, gagging again, but finally managing to hold everything in at last.

"Just a minute," she called hoarsely. She took a breath, steadied herself, and unlocked the door.

Blair's eyes were wild as she came flying in. Her voice vibrated with fear and fury. "Don't you ever lock me out again when you need help."

"Blair," Cam said weakly, "I—"

"Oh God, what is it?" Blair cried, her trembling hands framing Cam's face. "Are you sick? Cam...oh, Cam." Tears overflowed her lashes and she pulled Cam against her, running hands over her shoulders, her back, wanting desperately to shield her, heal her.

"Dream," Cam gasped, wrapping her arms around Blair's waist and holding on. "Just give me another minute."

"All right, darling. It's all right." Blair found Cam's hand, clasped it tightly, and gently drew her back into the bedroom and into bed. Her heart was pounding, her own stomach tight with dread and the lingering panic she'd felt upon awakening to the terrifying sound of Cam moaning. She'd never, never known Cam to break. The very thought of how much pain her lover must be in for that to happen tore her heart to shreds.

Working hard to keep her voice steady and calm, she settled Cam against her side and stroked her face gently. "Sweetheart, can you tell me?"

"It was just a dream. A very bad dream," Cam replied, her voice stronger as the night terror left her. "I saw Parker...she was dead. Then Stark...her, too." Cam pressed her forehead hard to Blair's shoulder and closed her eyes tightly. "Oh God, then...you."

"No," Blair soothed, brushing her fingers through Cam's hair, her free arm holding her close. "No, darling. Not me. Not Stark. We're here. We're both all right."

Cam shivered. "I couldn't reach you. I couldn't save you." She lifted her face, her dark eyes bleeding with loss. "I couldn't save Parker, and that's no dream."

Blair held her lover's gaze. "I know. I'm so sorry." She kissed Cam's forehead, then her mouth, tenderly. "If there was any way you could have stopped what happened today, I know that you would have." When she felt Cam stiffen, she said quickly, "No. It's true. Tragic, horrible things happened to so many people today. Things probably no one could have stopped. Perhaps someday we'll know who or why or how, but of one thing I'm certain. If you hadn't been there, I'd be dead."

"I was so fucking scared that I couldn't keep you safe." The words burned in Cam's throat.

"But you did." Blair brushed her lips over Cam's again. I forget—we all forget—-what that costs you. As she guided Cam's head down to her breast, wanting never to let her go, she murmured, "We're together now, and I'm not going to let anything change that. Ever."

The sound of Cam's phone woke them just after five. Cam's head pounded, but it was a clean, sharp headache with none of the sickness she'd felt the night before. Blair was beside her, naked and warm and alive. She felt her world right itself as she rolled over and picked up her phone.

"Roberts." She stretched out an arm as Blair moved closer to curl against her and wrap an arm around her waist. Automatically, Cam rested her chin against the top of Blair's head. "Yes sir, we're secure. No problems, and I don't anticipate any. Yes, sir." Cam extended the phone to Blair. "Your father again." "Hi," Blair said. "You're at the residence? Is everything okay?...Yes, all right, if Cam thinks we should." Blair laughed quietly, rubbing her palm over Cam's chest. "Yes, Dad, I understand that you're the president. But she's my security chief."

"Blair," Cam whispered urgently.

Blair looked at Cam. "Well, you are."

"And I'd like it to stay that way. Tell him yes"

"Dad? You can go ahead and send a helicopter."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

W hen Cam walked into the living room to inform Felicia Davis of their departure plans, she was surprised to find Paula Stark standing guard at the wide front windows. "Where's Davis?"

Stark turned from her survey of the grounds and the distant front gate, her expression somber. "I relieved her at 0400."

Cam nodded, thinking that if she hadn't fallen asleep after the nightmare and its aftermath, she would have relieved Davis herself. She couldn't fault Stark for being responsible, even if she had been ordered to get some sleep. "Very well." As Stark turned back to her silent vigil, Cam walked up beside her. "We're evacuating—ETD 0730. Once Egret is secure, you can call Renee."

"I'm sure she's up to her eyeballs in fieldwork right now," Stark said flatly. "I imagine, being right there..."Her voice wavered, and she drew a long breath. "Being right there, she's got to be one of the lead agents. She probably won't even answer her phone."

"No," Cam agreed, because the assessment was technically accurate and any other alternative scenario was unacceptable. There would be time to think the unthinkable if Savard failed to respond after a reasonable wait. And who knows what's reasonable any longer? "She probably won't see any downtime for another twenty-four hours at least."

Stark nodded, still at rigid attention, her jaw set and her eyes bleak. "Yes. That's what I figure, too."

In a rare gesture, Cam squeezed Stark's shoulder briefly. "I'll advise Davis to relieve you."

"It's not necessary, Commander. I'm fine."

"Yes, I know you are." They stood side by side in silence, watching the sea breeze blow the last edges of the night clouds from the sky. Eventually, without touching her again, Cam said,

"There's coffee in the kitchen. Get some, then grab a shower. We're headed to DC."

Stark jerked in surprise. But Renee 's in New York! With effort, she forced herself to reply quietly. "Yes, ma'am."

Cam wanted to add some word of reassurance, but she thought too much of Stark to lie. They both knew the chances of hearing from Renee—or not. Before she turned away, she said quietly, "You did a fine job yesterday, Agent Stark."

"It was an honor, Commander."

Their eyes met, steady and strong. Then Cam nodded and left Stark to her duty, A few minutes later, she stood with Blair in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Felicia entered, looking worn but in control, "A car was just cleared through the front gate by the private security team."

"Thank you," Cam said, setting her cup on the breakfast bar. "Do we have identification?"

"No, without a comm link, I have no way of receiving that information." Felicia didn't look or sound pleased. After the ambush the day before, none of the team was likely to take anything at face value ever again. "I assume it's someone known to them, but..."

Foster was known to us, too, and he orchestrated an assassination attempt that very nearly succeeded. Cam headed for the front of the house. "Let's just see for ourselves."

Tanner waited on the verge of the circular drive. A black sedan pulled to a stop just in front of her, and a tall thin blond in a rumpled navy uniform stepped out and hurried around the front of the vehicle.

Meeting her halfway, Tanner immediately slipped both arms around her waist. "Are you all right?"

"Just tired," Adrienne Pierce replied. She kissed Tanner softly, then stroked her cheek while searching her eyes. "How about you?"

"Much better now." Tanner brushed her fingers down Adrienne's arm and clasped her hand. "I am so glad you're home."

"Have you heard anything from Constance and Tom?"

"She just called," Tanner replied, her relief at having heard from her mother clear. "They're fine."

"Good." Adrienne slid her arm around Tanner's waist. "Why is there a guard at our gate?"

"We've got unexpected visitors."

At the sound of footsteps on the veranda, Adrienne shifted her gaze from her lover to take a close look at the women who gathered at the top of the stairs. "I see." She recognized Blair Powell although they had met only a few times. The others were easily identifiable as Secret Service agents just by the way they carried themselves and observed her with polite but intent attention. "Special visitors. Why are they here?"

"I don't know. Blair called yesterday shortly after the....attacks. She said that she needed a secure place to stay."

The president's daughter needs a safe house? Adrienne's heart hammered as she glanced quickly around. "My God, are they here alone?"

"There's just Blair and three agents." Tanner lowered her voice, although no one could hear them. "They're all a little beat up."

That information, coupled with the level of wartime preparedness she had just been part of at the base, made Adrienne wish she had brought a security team with her. Blair Powell was in her home in the midst of a national crisis, and surprisingly undefended. It didn't make sense. But then, absolutely nothing about the last twenty-two hours made sense. "You called in your own security?"

"I was a bit nervous."

Adrienne laughed thinly. "I can see why. I wonder if 1 can get some MPs out here—-"

"I don't think that's necessary," Tanner informed Adrienne as they crossed the driveway and started up the steps. "Blair told me just a little while ago that they would be leaving shortly."

"And I only have two hours before I have to head back to the base. I'm sorry I can't stay with you longer."

Tanner gripped her arm more tightly. "You don't have to apologize. I miss you, and I'm worried about you. But I understand."

With a sigh, Adrienne slid her arm around Tanner, allowing herself the comfort of leaning into her lover's solid body. "God, it's good to be home."

Tanner, in turn, hooked an arm around Adrienne's waist and together, they ascended the stairs to where Blair stood with Cam and Felicia. Stark came through the front door just as they reached the deck, and the six women met in a small circle. Stark and Felicia stood slightly behind and on either side of Blair, who stepped forward with Cam and extended her hand to Adrienne.

"Hello, Adrienne. I'm sorry about the welcoming committee— I'm sure you didn't count on us."

Adrienne smiled and took Blair's hand. "I'm happy to see you. I wish it were under different circumstances."

"Yes, we all do." Blair indicated Cam. "Adrienne Pierce, my partner and security chief, Cameron Roberts."

Cam shook Adrienne's hand as well. "Captain."

"How do you do." Adrienne smiled wearily. "Have you all had breakfast?"

"Yes, Tanner and May have taken wonderful care of us—" Blair broke off at the sound of a distant reverberation growing louder.

Cam stepped away from the small group and looked up into the sky, then back at Blair. "It appears that our ride is here."

Everyone turned and watched as Marine One, the presidential helicopter, settled down on the far side of the lawn. Four marines emerged, heads down to escape the buffeting of the rapidly spinning rotors, and hurried toward the house.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to be rude," Blair said, glancing from Adrienne to Tanner. "I wish it hadn't taken this to get us together again. I've missed you both."

Tanner took Blair's hand and squeezed it. "Me, too. When things...settle down, come back. You and Cameron, come back and spend some time with us."

"I'd like that very much." Blair leaned forward and kissed first Tanner's cheek, then Adrienne's. By then, Cam, Felicia, and Stark, along with the military escort, stood waiting to take her to the helicopter. For one moment, she considered telling Cam that she wanted to stay. Whitley Island was an oasis in a world gone mad, and she knew that as soon as she returned to Washington, she might be safe, but she might not be free. She looked to Cam, who was observing her intently. Stay here with me. Let the world take care of itself.

But she was the daughter of the president of the United States, and in the midst of a national crisis, her place was with him. With one last look at her old friends, she turned, walked down the stairs, and was quickly surrounded by her guards.

Once they were in the air, Cam signaled to the marine captain beside her for a secure communication line. Blair sat on her other side with Stark and Davis across the aisle in facing seats. The noise of the rotors made conversation almost impossible. With the headphones pressed to her ears, Cam requested a patch-through to the command center in Manhattan. She wasn't particularly surprised when John Fielding answered, knowing that in the absence of specific orders, her team would assemble there.

"This is Roberts. What's the word on Mac?" she shouted. Hunched forward, she listened intently. "Okay...right...you're in charge of the local field investigation. Have the FBI been on scene?...say again?" Unable to make out his response, she shook her head in frustration and checked her watch. "Stand by for another call at 1130. Full briefing then."

As soon as she terminated the call, Blair grasped Cam's forearm and leaned close. "What about Mac?"

"Last update he's in the ICU, but stable."

One of many fears lifted from Blair's heart. At least one of her absent friends was going to be all right. Now, if only they'd hear from Renee. As Cam leaned forward to relay the news to Stark and Felicia, Blair closed her eyes, her right hand resting on Cam's knee. Once they landed, they would both be immersed in official duties, and she wanted these final few moments of connection.

Lucinda Washburn met them just inside the West Wing. The first thing she did was kiss Blair's cheek. "Your father's going to be very happy to see you. He's in a security meeting right now, but he asked that you wait for him at the residence."

"All right." Blair glanced at Cam. "Can you come with me?"

"I need to report in. Stewart needs to be briefed about the events of yesterday." She touched Blair's hand fleetingly. "I'll make it as fast as I can. You should try to get some sleep."

Blair tilted her head, smiling faintly. "And you, Commander, should take your own advice."

"Point taken, Ms. Powell." Cam leaned close enough for a kiss, but merely whispered, "Please don't leave the residence without me."

"No," Blair murmured, her eyes on Cam's. "I won't go anywhere without you. Don't worry."

Lucinda cleared her throat. "We should go, Blair. Everyone's schedule is very tight."

Blair moved back from Cam and regarded the chief of staff with a cool, calm expression. "Yes, of course." She nodded once to Cam. "I'll see you later, Commander."

"Ms. Powell," Cam said quietly as she watched her lover walk away. Then she turned to Stark and Davis. "You're both relieved...temporarily. Until I know Egret's plans, I need you both to remain available. Get rooms at the usual hotel so I can reach you on short notice." She hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry. I realize that both of you might prefer to return to Manhattan. As soon as I can reassemble a secure team, I'll give you some downtime."

"Is it all right if we disclose our location now?" Stark asked. She felt like she'd been clinging to the side of a cliff in high winds and rain for over twenty-four hours. Her hands were numb, her grip was slipping, and she was about to plummet. She needed so desperately to hear Renee's voice.

"Yes, go ahead." Cam regarded Felicia. "Fielding is running the command center. He should have an update on Mac's situation,"

"Thank you. I'll speak to him, then, with your permission."

"Fine. Then both of you, get some sleep. You're first team until further notice."

Both women nodded wearily and then left together for the crosstown cab ride. Cam walked out of the West Wing and started toward the Treasury Building. She needed to advise her superiors that the president's daughter's security team was seriously compromised, and that she couldn't be sure that all of her remaining agents were trustworthy. She had lost one agent, she had another who was critically injured, and the president's daughter had barely escaped a kidnapping or assassination attempt. At the moment she wasn't certain which. Given the degree of penetration by the perpetrators, it was entirely likely that by the end of the day, she would no longer be the president's daughter's security chief.

In some respects, that would make her life much easier— her personal and professional lives would no longer be in direct conflict. It would probably make Blair happier, and that was no small consideration in Cam's mind. But her duty was not done, and would not be done, until she had brought to justice the men and womenbehind the attack on Blair. Whether she retained her position with Blair's team or not, officially or unofficially, she intended to find them. Someone had tried to murder the president's daughter; someone had tried to murder her lover. She wanted retribution, and she wanted to make it very clear to whoever might be planning the next assault that Blair Powell was not a target for terrorism.

Stark called Renee's number for the seventh time. She got the same recorded message. Out of service. All the news reports said the cellular carriers are either overloaded or down. It doesn 't mean anything.

She checked her personal voice mail. There was nothing from Renee. She hung up, then redialed her home number.

"Honey? Renee, if you check the answering machine and get this message, call me on my cell or at the usual place in DC. Okay? I love you, honey."

She ended the call and sat motionless on the side of the bed, staring at her hands. They were shaking. She was shaking. Everything inside of her felt like it was coming apart. She didn't know what to do, so she lay down on the bed fully clothed and curled on her side. She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn't sleep, and waited for the phone to ring.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

S tewart Carlisle, a deputy director of the Secret Service and Cam's immediate supervisor, shot up from behind his desk the instant Cam walked into his office. "Christ Almighty, there are bodies lying all over Egret's apartment building. There was a dead agent right outside her goddamned door! Tell me that someone didn't almost shoot her."

Cam had a ferocious headache that wasn't helped by the lack of sleep or the need for a decent meal or the immediate interrogation. However, considering what had happened to the nation the day before, she understood that no one in law enforcement was going to be getting regular sleep or food or much in the way of a break for months to come. So, steadfastly ignoring the throbbing pain behind her eyes, she took her customary chair across from Carlisle's desk and waited for him to sit back down.

"The dead agent is David Foster, and—"

"I know who he is," Carlisle snapped. "What I don't know is what happened to him."

"He's also one of the people who tried to assassinate Blair Powell."

"Oh fuck. Jesus. Are you sure?"

The muscles on either side of Cam's neck tightened, but her voice was steady. "Positive."

"And he ended up dead—-how?"

"I shot him myself."

Carlisle pushed back in his chair and expelled a long breath. "Well, we have a very big problem."

Grimly, Cam smiled. "That would be my assessment as well."

The first thing Blair did when Lucinda left her in her father's private study was to call Diane. "Hey. It's me."

"Oh thank God! I've been calling you nonstop for twenty-four hours." Diane's voice was tight with strain and sharp with accusation. "When I didn't get an answer, I walked down to your place. There was an FBI agent—"

"Renee? Was it Renee Savard? You remember her, the really nice—"

"Uh-uh. No. It was a guy, some stone-faced suit who didn't care who I was or what I had to say. God—are you all right? All I could think was that you'd been whisked away to some missile silo in Montana or someplace."

"I'm sorry," Blair said quietly.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in DC. I'll be here a while—I don't know how long."

Her uncharacteristically subdued tone must have registered with her friend, because Diane's next words were gentle. "But you're okay?"

"Yes. How about you?"

"It's—unreal here. But I'm...managing." Diane sighed. "I'm glad that Cam's mother left Monday for California."

"I have to call her next. The weekend, the show at the gallery-it all seems like another lifetime, not just a few days ago."

"I know,"

"I'd better go, Di," Blair said, suddenly weary in body and soul. "I'll call you again soon. I love you."

"Oh God." Diane's voice wavered. "I love you. Take care of yourself—and Cam."

"Yes. I'll do that."

After speaking with Marcea and assuring her that both she and Cam were unharmed, Blair leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

"Blair," a quiet voice murmured.

Blair jerked upright, her eyes darting open at the gentle touch upon her shoulder. Blinking in confusion, she stared at her father.

"Dad?"

"I'm sorry, honey," the president said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Blair shook her head, pushing her hair back with one hand. "No, you didn't. I just...What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "Three in the afternoon."

"I thought Cam would be back by now."

"Every available agent in every branch of federal law enforcement is up to their eyeballs right now trying to get a handle on what happened yesterday." The president sat beside Blair and tentatively placed his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sure she's no different, and considering what happened at your apartment building yesterday," his grip on her tightened as he kissed her cheek, "she's going to be very busy."

Despite her surprise at his unusual physical display, Blair nevertheless leaned her head against his shoulder. "After all the hijackings...all the terrible things in the last twenty-four hours... what happened to me seems so minor."

"No," President Powell murmured. "What happened to you could easily have been the worst thing I've ever experienced. I'm just so grateful that you're all right."

"And I'm grateful that you weren't in DC yesterday."

The president gave Blair one last hug and then stood. "I'd like you to stay here for a while, until we have a better understanding of the ongoing threat level,"

"How long?" Blair asked cautiously.

"A week." He met her eyes. "At least."

"I can't live here, Dad." Blair held his gaze, "I have a life. I have a lover who needs me, and we can't be together here."

"Cam is welcome to stay in the residence with you," he suggested quickly.

Blair laughed and shook her head. "Dad. Please. We really don't want to waste resources managing the press just now—and I doubt that Cam would agree anyhow. She's a...stickler...for protocol."

The president smiled. "That must drive you crazy."

"More man you can imagine." But Blair's tone was gentle, her eyes soft.

"The Security Council and the Secret Service, and now probably the CIA and FBI as well, are going to want to know what happened at your apartment yesterday, Blair."

"Is Cam in trouble?" At his silence, Blair stiffened. "How could she be? She saved my life"

"I don't know if she's in trouble. At this point, I don't even have a good idea where the investigations will focus—we don't even know where to start looking. But Cam will be asked some hard questions."

"You'll protect her, won't you, Dad?"

"If I can." His voice was steady and his tone unwavering. He never lied to his daughter.

Blair nodded silently. She would protect her lover, no matter what was coming.

Stark rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, disoriented and confused. There was very little light in the room. Night time? Yes, it must be after eight o 'clock. She was in a strange room— the hotel. She was alone; she felt so empty inside. Finally, she registered what had awakened her.

She stared at the door. Someone was knocking. Someone was calling her name.

"Oh, Jesus!"

Stark bolted from the bed, nearly falling. Her legs were shaking, whether from hunger or fatigue or hope she didn't know, but she managed to propel herself across the unfamiliar room, only knocking into one footstool in the midst of her mad dash. The swift pain in her shin didn't even register. She'd been so distracted earlier, she hadn't flipped the security latch, and all she needed to do was grab the handle and pull. She yanked the door open, heart pounding. The surge of pain in her injured shoulder never even registered as her gaze fell on the woman in the hall.

"Oh, thank you...God, thank you."

"Yes. Oh, sweetie, yes."

They fell on each other, unmindful of the partially open door bouncing against their backs, talking over each other as their hands roamed frantically, seeking reassurance and comfort.

"Everything was so crazy—the attacks—"

"I thought you were in the building—"

"We had no word on casualties."

"I couldn't reach you—the phones, the security blackout—oh, baby, I was so afraid."

"I don't know what I would have done—"

"All I could think was I'd lost you."

"I love you so much."

"I love you. God, I love you."

"Don't let go."

"No, I won't. Never. Never."

Finally, Stark was able to pull away enough to look into Renee's eyes. The wellspring of pain in their depths broke her heart. With trembling fingers she caressed her lover's cheek, then drew her into the room, letting the door swing closed behind them. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you."

Shaking her head, Renee pressed her face to Stark's neck and held on. Her voice was a fragile whisper. "As soon as we got word that the tower had been hit, we started evacuation procedures. We literally dumped Priority One files into the shredders on our way out the door. Within half an hour, we were outside on the street, but we still had no idea what was happening. Our radio links were still working, but it was chaos. None of the messages we could pick up were making any sense. Then..." her voice wavered, "we got an emergency call from Stacy Landers about an armed assault on Egret." She lifted her head and searched Stark's face, her expression a mixture of disbelief and terror. "Landers said there were dead and injured at the command center. I thought...oh God...the first thing I thought was that I'd lost you. And everything inside of me just... stopped."

"And I thought...when I heard about the towers...and then I couldn't reach you..." As tears streaked Stark's face, she fell silent. Unable to stop caressing Renee's back, her arms, her face, afraid that she might disappear at any second, Stark pressed a cheek to her lover's. "I love you so much. I thought I might die without you."

With a small cry, Renee clasped Stark more tightly. "I'm sorry, baby. Oh God, I'm sorry. I couldn't call you—I'm not even supposed to be here now. But when I finally got your phone messages, I had to see you." She stroked Stark's face, her neck, her chest, keeping her abdomen and thighs melded to her. "I had to touch you—not just talk to you. Oh, Paula, I love you. I love you."

Falling back on routine, because trying to make sense of what had happened in the last thirty-six hours was beyond impossible, Stark asked shakily, "You're investigating the attack on Egret?"

Renee nodded. "We were the closest team initially, and now... every other available field agent is working Ground Zero." She took Stark's hand, loath to move away from her even that much, and drew her toward the bed. Once there, she clicked on the bedside light before drawing Stark down beside her on top of the covers. "There's not much to say right now about the attacks—any of them. We don't know much."

"That's all right," Stark said immediately, turning on her side and wrapping an arm around Renee's waist. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to get used to you being here—you being all right." She drew back, her eyes suddenly intent- "You are, aren't you? You weren't hurt yesterday?"

"No," Renee said quickly. "We were gone before it...really got bad."

Relieved, and feeling guilty for it, Stark just nodded.

"What about you?" Renee questioned, running her fingers up and down Stark's arm. "When I saw one dead agent in the lobby and another outside Egret's apartment, and then Mac—God, baby. You're all right?"

"Yeah." Stark's throat suddenly felt tight, and she blinked away the images of Mac bleeding into the ground and the memory of bullets slicing the air around her. "Just a nick."

Renee jerked. "A nick? You were hit?"

The near panic in her voice cleared Stark's head of the cobwebs of fatigue and horror as nothing else could have. She gathered Renee close, and with her lips to Renee's forehead, murmured, "I'm okay. A round just grazed my shoulder. It's nothing."

"I want to see."

Ignoring her demand, Stark questioned gently, "How long can you stay?"

"I need to be back tonight. Everyone at headquarters—God, everyone everywhere —is screaming for information. I don't think anyone is going to be sleeping for the foreseeable future."

"I know. I can't leave here yet, either. I don't know how long it will be before I can get back home."

"That's okay. I'll be there." Renee slid her leg between Stark's thighs and kissed her, massaging her back with firm hands as her lips glided softly over Stark's mouth. After a moment, she drew back, breathless. "As long as we'll be together eventually, that's all that matters."

"That's everything," Stark whispered. Then she caressed her palm along the length of Renee's thigh and tugged the blouse free from the waistband of Renee's slacks when she reached it. With her fingers caressing the warm, smooth planes of Renee's abdomen she confessed, "I need you so much. Can you stay for another hour? Can you stay and let me touch you?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

Slowly, careful of bruises in body and soul, they tenderly brushed lips and fingers over the flesh they bared as they helped each other to undress. When at last they came together, breast to breast and belly to belly, their soft cries spoke of longing and love and gratitude. Gently, they joined passion and promises, holding each other safe in the only unassailable place remaining to them— within the sanctuary of their own hearts.

Blair scooped up the bedside phone on the first ring. "Yes?"

"This is the duty officer, Ms. Powell. I'm sorry to disturb you, but Commander Roberts sai—"

"Is she there?" Blair sat up, brushing the hair from her face with one hand as she checked the clock. 2:20 a.m. Once again, she'd fallen asleep without meaning to. The shower she'd taken earlier had relaxed her, and she'd only intended to stretch out on the bed for a minute. That had been four hours ago. "Please show her up."

"Yes, ma'am."

By the time the knock sounded at her door, Blair had donned a T-shirt and soft cotton drawstring pants. She opened the door to allow her lover entrance, nodded her thanks to the officer, and closed the door once more. Turning to Cam, she put both arms around Cam's neck and kissed her for a long moment. Drawing back, she appraised her critically. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah. I'm a little beat."

The very fact that Cam admitted to being tired told Blair just how close to the edge she was. She took Cam's hand. "Come on. Let's get you into the shower and then into bed."

"I probably shouldn't stay. I just wanted—"

"You're staying."

Through a fog of fatigue, Cam heard the edge of steel in her lover's voice. She was too tired to argue, and she really didn't want to. What she wanted to do was lie down beside Blair, pillow her head on Blair's breast, and sleep. "All right. But if you don't mind a little sweat, I'd rather just go to bed."

Blair smiled. "I've always thought a little sweat was sexy, when it was yours. Come on, Commander." As she led Cam through the suite, she asked as casually as she could, "Did everything go all right with the debriefing?"

Cam grimaced as she shrugged out of her jacket. "There wasn't much to debrief. The formal investigative panel hasn't even been convened yet. I just gave Stewart a general rundown."

"So there's likely to be more questions?" With practiced moves, Blair unbuckled the leather straps around Cam's shoulders and slid off the weapon harness. As if by second nature, she put the holster and weapon on the night table next to Cam's usual side of the bed.

''A lot of them," Cam grunted as she unbuckled her belt and after toeing off her shoes let her pants fall at her feet. "Starting tomorrow, probably." She pushed off her underwear and sat on the side of the bed to unbutton her shirt.

Blair leaned over, pushed Cam's hands away, and deftly worked the buttons open. She lifted the shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. "How's your head?"

Cam dropped back onto the pillows with a groan. "It's been worse." Then she extended one arm toward Blair. "Come lie down. I've missed you."

"Mmm, me, too." Blair settled onto the bed and encircled Cam's shoulders, drawing her close. "I love you."

"Thank God." Cam nuzzled her face against Blair's breast. With a weary sigh, she murmured, "Everything will be different now, baby. The whole world's going to change."

Blair's heart lurched, but she pushed aside the fear. Cam was here, in her arms, solid and real. Their love was real. "We'll be all right as long as we have each other."

"Yes," Cam said faintly as she surrendered to exhaustion within the protective circle of her lover's arms. "Together..I promise."

The End