Honor Reclaimed

Honor Reclaimed

by

RADCLY f FE

2005

Acknowledgments

The Honor series began with the idea that it would be tun to write about a Secret Service agent who fell in love with her protectee. It was the perfect recipe for romance: political intrigue, an inherently dangerous personal situation, and a forbidden relationship all rolled into one. Above AH, Honor was conceived as a stand-alone, but the ending of that book was clearly just the beginning. I have been asked if writing a series is easier than writing a stand-alone. The answer is that it is not easier, just a different kind of challenge. The individual characters change from book to book as we explore the ever-increasing depth of their personalities and relationships. The cast of characters expands and circles back, always drawing energy from the central pair. Without Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts there would be no series, but this has become much more than their story. It has become the saga of friends, lovers, and a country in the midst of change. I am honored to have so many readers share in this journey and ask for more.

Thank you to my editors, Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia Seaman; my readers and proofreaders: Athos, Connie, Denise, Diane, Eva, Jane, JB, Mary, Paula, and RB; my many Internet supporters on the Radlist, and Helen, who began the list and has kept it going all these years. A big, big thanks to Becky and Janette at Bella Distribution for getting the books out day after day.

Sheri surpasses my expectations each and every time with her ever-evolving vision. I am grateful to have her covers grace my books.

Lee stands always ready to encourage, cajole, and occasionally browbeat me into believing that I still have stories to tell. Her belief in me is my daily inspiration. Amo te.

Radcly f fe 2005

Chapter One

Thursday, September 13, 2001

S ecret Service Agent Cameron Roberts opened her eyes in the one place she had never expected to awaken—on the second floor of the White House in a 200-year-old bed. A Thomas Sheraton original. And curled up naked beside her was the daughter of the president of the United States. Blair Powell's cheek was pillowed against Cam's breast, her breath soft and warm, caressing Cam's skin with the to-and-fro cadence of sleep. Cam cradled Blair with one arm curved around her shoulders, her fingertips gently smoothing the bare skin of Blair's upper arm in long slow strokes.

The room was dark, the heavy drapes pulled closed over the floor-to-ceiling leaded-glass windows on the far side of the spacious room. She judged it was probably not yet five and still dark outside. The house seemed utterly quiet, although she knew that at the far end of the hall the president slept and that one floor below, the halls would be teeming with Secret Service agents and members of the Metropolitan Police division who patrolled the White House grounds. While the first family was in the private quarters on the second and third floors, the Secret Service did not physically guard them. But as soon as they left that sanctuary and stepped into the public areas, sensors located in every hallway and room tracked their movements and the Secret Service agents assigned to each family member resumed their surveillance.

She was one of those Secret Service agents, and the family member she was charged to protect was lying in her arms. A year ago she would have denied even the possibility of such an occurrence, but that was before she had been reassigned from the investigative arm of the Secret Service to the protective division, and had reluctantly accepted the responsibility of safeguarding Blair Powell. Now, Blair was central to her life, and although protecting her remained her solemn duty, it was also the critical focus of her days. The urgency and importance of that charge had always been clear to her, but never more so than in the last forty-eight hours when terror had struck the nation in the form of multiple hijacked commercial airliners that had been turned into enormous airborne missiles. A simultaneous, near-successful assault on Blair within the confines of her own heavily fortified Manhattan home merely underscored the first daughter's terrible vulnerability with devastating precision. Unconsciously, Cam tightened her grip on her sleeping lover.

"It's all right," Blair murmured, stroking her palm up the center of Cam's abdomen to her chest. "I'm right here."

Cam rested her cheek against the top of Blair's head and covered Blair's hand with her own, pressing the warm fingers to her breast. "How can you know what I'm thinking when you're asleep?"

Blair laughed softly. "I can sense you when you switch into protective mode. Your whole body feels like you're ready to throw yourself in front of me, even when we're lying in bed."

"Sorry."

"You don't need to be. In a crazy kind of way, I like it." Blair pressed a kiss to the side of Cam's breast. "At least, I like closing my eyes and feeling totally safe. I don't like the idea of you protecting me with your body for real."

"I know."

No other words were needed. Because Cam had put herself between Blair and danger more than once, and the first time had nearly cost her life. Blair's guilt over that event had almost kept them apart, and they still lived with an uneasy truce regarding Cam's role as Blair's personal security chief—a position that at any moment could force Cam to sacrifice her own life for Blair's. And now, in the aftermath of tragedy, that possibility had escalated a thousandfold.

"I can't believe it really happened," Blair whispered. "God. All those innocent people."

"No," Cam replied, her voice thick with fatigue and sorrow. "Neither can I." She sighed. "I guess it's more fair to say I don't want to believe it. But I am lying here with you in the official presidential residence, and only something as catastrophic as a direct assault on you—Christ, on the heart of the nation—could have brought that about."

"It's sad, isn't it, that it took something like that to bring us together under my father's roof." Blair rubbed her cheek against Cam's breast, seeking comfort. "Love wasn't enough, but the death of thousands was. Now the fact that you and I are lovers is of no interest to anyone."

"It doesn't matter to anyone today" Cam said with a trace of bitterness, "but in a week or a month, it will. When the media frenzy over this has wound down some, then your personal life will be headline news again."

Blair raised up on an elbow and struggled to see Cam's face in the dim light. She was unused to hearing frustration and anger in her lover's voice and knew even without being able to make out Cam's chiseled features that her dark gray eyes would be nearly black with pain. It was rare for Cam to be unable to hide her anguish. She always dealt with reality, no matter how difficult, with a cool head and a steady hand. But then, they, like every other citizen of the United States, had been deeply shocked by the events of September 11. Their mad flight to safety from New York City and the subsequent evacuation to DC had left them little time to deal with the aftermath.

Cam had lost one agent in the assault on Blair's apartment, her second in command—Mac Phillips—had been critically wounded, and another agent under her command had actually been part of the assassination attempt. Blair had often seen Cam assume responsibility for things over which she had no control. It was one of the things that Blair loved best about her as well as one of the things that frustrated her to no end. She ached knowing that Cam was blaming herself now, and suffering.

"What happened in New York wasn't your fault."

"Blair," Cam said gently. Wordlessly, she kissed her. She wanted to point out that one of her team members had come within a heartbeat of shooting Blair, but she didn't want to resurrect that terrifying memory in Blair's consciousness when it was still so fresh. She knew that the horror of that moment was not over for either of them, but for now, they had to deal with more immediate concerns. If there had been one traitor on her team, there might be others. And it was far from clear that the nation itself was safe, that another attack wasn't imminent. She and every member of the law enforcement community had to be concerned with one thing, and one thing only—ensuring that the nation and those critical to its survival were safe. Her official part in that was to protect Blair. Her private obligation was to track down those responsible for the attempt on her lover's life. "You're going to need to stay here for a while."

It was Blair's turn to stiffen. "I don't live here. My home is in New York City. My place is with you."

"Your safety is what matters, and this is the safest place in the world for you right now."

"And where will you be, Cam? Where will you be while I'm sequestered here, with someone watching my movements twenty-four hours a day? When will we have time to be together? Where will we have the privacy to touch?" Blair hadn't raised her voice, but her tone was rough with fury. "Is that what you want? For us to be separated?"

Cam slid her fingers beneath the thick blond hair at the nape of Blair's neck and massaged the taut muscles on either side of her spine. Her voice was quiet, calm, because she knew that Blair's anger was born of pain. "You know I don't want that. I love you. I want to lie down with you every night and open my eyes with you beside me every morning. I want that more than anything in my life."

"Oh Cam," Blair sighed, resting her forehead against her lover's. "I'm sorry. It's just the last thing I want right now is for you to... disappear."

"Jesus, I wouldn't." In a swift lift of her hips, Cam rolled them both over until Blair was beneath her, their legs entwined. She levered her body above Blair's on her bent arms and lowered her head to kiss her. She had meant only to reassure her, but the first touch of Blair's lips to hers sent a shock of need coursing through her. A kaleidoscope of images skittered across her mind—Foster with his automatic pointed at Blair's heart, a fusillade of bullets streaming around her and Blair in the alley behind Blair's building, Parker and Mac lying in crimson pools of their own blood. They came so close to killing you. Jesus, I almost lost you.

Cam moaned, an agony of loss in the quiet sound, and pressed her body hard against Blair's, her tongue thrusting deep inside Blair's mouth. She needed her, needed to feel Blair's heart beating in her every cell.

Blair felt the call of Cam's passion, and her blood fired hot in an instant. She was always ready for Cam—ready to hold her, take her, give herself to her—-ready to answer whatever need arose between them. It had always been that way, since the first moment they'd touched. For the last two days they had run for their lives, uncertain of when or from where the next assault might come. She had seen agents—not just her guards, but her friends—shot and killed. She'd seen her lover struck yet again by a bullet that had been meant for her. The sudden reality of all she might have lost swept over her, and she drove her hands into Cam's hair, clenching her fists in the thick dark locks as she arched into Cam's body, desperate to obliterate any barrier between them. A moan that might have been a cry caught in her throat and ended on a gasp as Cam drove a hand between their bodies, between her legs, and inside her. She wrenched her head away from the kiss.

"Oh God." She clamped her fingers hard around Cam's wrist to still her motion. "Stop. You'll make me come."

"Yes." Cam's voice was rough, hard, but her hand was gentle as she pushed deeper, then stroked. "Yes. Yes."

Had Blair wanted to wait, she couldn't have, because the unexpected force of her lover's desire had already broken her control, and her body surged toward the first peak. But she had no desire to hold anything back. Cam's need was her need; Cam's passion, her own. They gave and took, calIed and answered, with nothing between them but the whisper of skin on skin. They were as close as they had ever been, as joined as they ever could be.

When she came, Blair pressed her face to Cam's neck, her open lips against the heartbeat in Cam's throat. Her cry of release was one of wonder and surrender, and for long moments after, she felt Cam still deep within her. "I love you," she finally murmured.

"I love you. Jesus," Cam groaned, "I love you,"

"Cam?"

"Hmm?" Cam lay full-length along Blair's body, fingers still gently enclosed by the warm, faintly pulsing muscles inside her. She never wanted to move. When they were like this, so intimately connected, she forgot everything that haunted her. There was no danger, no threat of loss, no loneliness. All she knew was the rightness of being with this one woman. She sighed and rested her cheek against Blair's shoulder.

"We just made love in the White House."

"Mmm-hmm." Cam stiffened. "Jesus." She raised her head and squinted in the gray light that stole around the edges of the window drapes. She could just make out the laughter in Blair's blue eyes. "I think we may have committed a state offense."

"Several."

Cam shifted her hips and pressed her pelvis lightly against the hand she still cupped between Blair thighs. "Wanna do it again?"

Blair's lids fluttered at the sudden pressure deep inside, Her laughter fled on a soft moan. "Oh yes."

"Let's try it a little slower this time." Cam eased away enough to bring her mouth to Blair's breast, where she lightly circled one small, tight nipple with her tongue.

"Why?" Blair curled her fingers on the back of Cam's neck and forced her lover's mouth harder against her breast. "I've never minded fast"

Cam bit slowly as she began the soft slide of her fingers through Blair's slick heat. "I know, but I want—"

The bedside phone rang, and they both froze. A second later when Cam started to withdraw, Blair murmured, "Wait," and stretched an arm out toward the phone.

"Blair," Cam said urgently, "it might be your father. You can't talk to him with us.. .like this."

Blair found the receiver and pressed it to her chest to muffle her words. "Why not?"

Carefully, Cam pulled away. In a tight whisper, she said, "Because. It's against protocol."

"Oh, Commander. I do love you." Blair brought the phone to her mouth. "Yes?" She glanced at Cam and raised an eyebrow. "Hi, Dad... Uh-huh, she's right here."

Cam groaned.

"Yes. All right.. .What time?.. .We'll be there."

Blair returned the phone to the bedside table and rolled back against Cam's body. She pressed close, wrapping both arms around Cam's neck. "You have twenty minutes to finish what you just started."

"And then what?"

"We have a meeting with the president."

"Christ. Talk about performance anxiety."

"Then don't talk."

Chapter Two

P aula, sweetie," Renee Savard whispered, gently tracing her fingertips over the smooth skin of the woman sleeping beside her. The sky had lightened just enough to paint the surprisingly youthful face of her lover with the soft, pale colors of dawn. At just after five, there was no sound in the hallway outside their hotel room, and they could have been anywhere in the world, just the two of them, alone with all that mattered within the circle of their embrace. For one wild moment, she wished she never had to leave that room. That she didn't have to return to the site of a horror so unimaginable that the mind rebelled and the heart was torn asunder. For the first time in her life, she wished that she weren't an FBI agent, that she hadn't sworn to stand for what was good and right and just. What she wanted was to close her eyes and lose herself in the sweet solace of this new love. She leaned down and kissed the corner of Paula Stark's mouth. "It's time."

Without opening her eyes, Stark replied, "Did you sleep?"

No. Because I knew what I would dream about. Renee pressed close against Stark's back, hoping that the warmth would penetrate the cold that had overtaken her days before and which she feared might never thaw. She rubbed her cheek against Stark's shoulder and then kissed the angle of her jaw. "I have to go."

"I know."

Renee caught her breath at the sight of a single tear escaping from beneath Stark's long dark lashes. "Oh no, sweetie. Honey. Don't."

"I'm sorry. It's just.. .1 keep remembering how I felt when I heard that the South Tower collapsed. I knew you were there. I thought that you had been killed." Stark turned onto her back and opened her eyes.

Their normally vibrant brown was dull with fatigue and the remnants of a fear that she could not banish. Her voice cracked with the effort of holding back more tears. "It was as if this huge pit opened up in me and swallowed...everything. My heart and my soul just...died. After that, I was still walking around...doing my job, but there was nothing inside."

Renee caught her lower lip between her teeth to stop the trembling. Her ocean blue eyes swam with tears she feared to shed lest they never stop. "I know. I do know. I felt the same horrible emptiness when I heard there'd been an assault on the Aerie and that there were agents down." She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. She couldn't. The memory was a physical pain. "I know you're never far from Blair. All I could think was that I'd lost you." She opened her eyes, met Paula's, and managed a weak smile. "The last thing in the world I want right now is to let you out of my sight."

"Maybe we can just stay here. Order room service. Unplug the phone. Hold each other for a year or so." Stark searched Renee's face, her eyes clouded with a mixture of hope and sadness.

Solemnly, Renee nodded. "It sounds perfect to me. Except you have a duty to Blair, and I have one to the thousands who were murdered on Tuesday."

"I know we can't just turn our backs on all of that, but sometimes it just...it feels like we're always saying goodbye."

Stark turned away, but not before Renee caught the glimmer of despair that eclipsed her normally exuberant expression. She slid down in bed until they were face-to-face and their bodies touched. With an arm around Stark, she circled her palm down the center of Stark's back as she kissed her. She kissed her until the memory of terror and the heartbreak of unimaginable loss faded to a faint scream in the recesses of her consciousness. Then she drew away. "We'll never say goodbye, okay? We'll just say 'until soon.' Because no matter where I am or what I'm doing, you're always in my heart, in my mind. Always, Paula. I love you."

"I'm not usually like this," Stark murmured, struggling to keep her voice even. "I'm tougher than this."

"Oh, I know." Renee's voice was gentle. "It was that tough Secret Service agent I fell in love with the very first day we met." She kissed Paula again, her lips moving with tender insistence over Stark's full, generous mouth. "The one who made it very clear I was on her territory and not altogether welcome."

"Well," Stark said, grasping Renee's shoulder and pushing her flat on her back. The bullet wound in her upper arm throbbed, but she didn't care. She needed Renee. Just Renee. She followed her over and caught both of Renee's wrists in her hands, pinning her to the bed. "You're on my territory now too. And very welcome."

"And just how do you intend to stake your claim?" Renee's blue eyes were suddenly filled with questions.

Stark stopped halfway to the next kiss and searched her lover's face. The last two days had changed everything. A month ago they had talked about a three-week trial of living together. Just to see how it worked out, as if they had all the time in the world. And maybe they still did. And maybe Renee would walk out the door in thirty minutes and never come back. "Maybe we should start with you moving the rest of your stuff into my apartment."

"Maybe." There was a note of uncharacteristic uncertainty in Renee's voice. "I don't know what's going to happen when I get back to Manhattan. There was no real organization up there after.. .after the Towers. Every available agent was activated, but most of us weren't even working with our regular squads. We were just thrown into it. I got pulled off the Tower investigation almost immediately and sent up to the Aerie because of the attack on Blair. Then, eight hours later, I was reassigned to one of the counterterrorism units and back at Ground Zero. I might not even be in New York City after today."

"You have to live somewhere." Stark placed a quick kiss on Renee's mouth. She smiled, but her dark eyes were serious. "It doesn't matter where you're stationed, you still need a place to call home."

"I need...a little time." Renee brushed her fingers over Stark's cheek, then kissed her to soften her words. "It's not about loving you. It's just...these last few days. Sometimes I feel...numb. And then, suddenly, it's like every nerve is screaming." She laughed shakily. "I'm a bit of a mess."

"You were right there, honey. You were in the South Tower. I can't even imagine how bad that must have been." Stark eased back onto her side and drew Renee into her arms. "And then you worked for two days straight in the middle of all that horror. It's no wonder things feel off."

"I just don't want to start our life together when I'm not sure I can be totally there."

Stark's stomach went queasy, but she managed to keep her expression calm. The very thought of Renee going away, leaving her somehow, not loving her, was terrifying. She made the monumental effort to concentrate on what was happening for Renee and to set aside her own fear. Still, she barely managed to hide her hurt, "I love you. We don't have to decide anything right away."

Renee pressed her face to the curve of Stark's neck. She couldn't see the clock, but she could hear it ticking in her mind. Their time was almost up. She wanted to he close, she wanted to make love, and yet inside, she felt so cold. "Would you mind very much just holding me? Is that all right?"

"It's more than all right." Stark kissed her forehead and held her tightly. "It's everything."

*

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the president's national security adviser exited the president's private dining room just as Blair and Cam walked down the hall. Both men nodded to Blair and ignored Cam as they passed. Secret Service agents were no more than background noise in the normal day-to-day life of the first family and were rarely acknowledged as individuals.

Blair knocked and, at the sound of a deep male voice calling Come in, pushed the heavy walnut door open and entered. Her father sat alone at a white-linen-covered table in the center of the room with a cup of coffee by his right hand and a half-finished omelet on a china plate pushed to one side. A stack of documents rested in front of him.

"Hi, Dad."

Andrew Powell, a trim and vigorous fifty-year-old with thick blond hair a shade darker than Blair's, was already dressed for the day in a white shirt and dark trousers. When he removed his reading glasses and smiled at Blair, his cobalt blue eyes were only faintly shadowed with fatigue. He showed no other outward signs of stress. "Hi, honey. Cam."

"Sir," Cam replied. She was always just a bit startled to see the strong resemblance between her lover and the president of the United States. Automatically, she stopped a few feet inside the door, in the position she would ordinarily take when guarding Blair in a social situation. Far enough away to afford privacy, but close enough to intercept an assailant or interpose her own body between Blair's and any source of danger.

Blair stopped and turned back with a soft smile. She extended her hand. "Cameron. Let's sit down with my father."

Cam glanced at the president.

"There's plenty of coffee," Andrew Powell said, gesturing to the silver carafe. "You two could probably use some." He glanced at his watch. "I have thirty minutes before I'm due in the operations room, and we have some things to talk about."

Cam and Blair took seats on the opposite side of the table and helped themselves to coffee. Then they waited.

"Blair," he said, "everything all right?"

Blair lifted a shoulder. What could she say? I've been assaulted and nearly killed. My lover's been shot. Some lunatics have massacred thousands of people blocks from where I live. The world has gone crazy and I just want to be left alone. "I'm okay, Dad."

The president studied her a moment longer, then nodded slightly and looked at Cam. "I've been briefed by the directors of both the Secret Service and the FBI about what happened at Blair's on Tuesday morning. I'd like your report."

"I apologize, sir. I haven't had a chance to prepare that yet."

Powell shook his head. "I'm not interested in paperwork. I want your opinion. I want to know what you think happened—and I want to know how and why it's possible that someone nearly assassinated my daughter in her own apartment."

"Dad," Blair said quietly. "Cam isn't respons—"

Both Cam and the president spoke at once.

"I am—"

"She is—"

The president held up a hand. "There's a difference between being responsible and being at fault." He smiled at Blair. "I have no doubt that Cam guarded you better than anyone else could have. What I need to know now is whether it's going to happen again." He swung his gaze back to Cam. "And how to prevent it."

Cam nodded gravely. "I agree. I don't have enough information yet to give you a complete report, Mr. President, but I can tell you that four heavily armed men with a knowledge of both the layout of Blair's apartment building and the placement of our agents carried out a well-timed and well-conceived assault." Her eyes never wavered from his. "I can also tell you that at least one of the Secret Service agents on Blair's personal security team was involved."

"Just one?"

"I don't know that, sir. But I intend to find out."

"Gut feeling?"

"He acted alone. The probability of two rogue agents assigned simultaneously to Blair's team is not impossible, but extremely unlikely. My feeling is that Foster is the key, and that's where our investigation needs to start."

"Our investigation?" The president's tone was mild but his gaze was intensely focused on Cam's face.

"I'm not leaving this to anyone else, sir. I spent twelve years in the investigative division of the Secret Service. I know how to uncover and infiltrate clandestine organizations."

Blair turned in her seat and stared at Cam. "And just when did you decide this?"

Cam shifted her attention to her lover. "It wasn't something that needed to be decided. The minute they came through that door, it was done."

For a millisecond, Blair closed her eyes, then snapped them open; her blue eyes were on fire. "You're not doing this. We have the entire FBI, the CIA, the National Security Agency, and I don't know what all else to do this kind of thing. It's not going to be you."

"Sir. You tell her."

"What?" Blair snapped. She looked at her father, her body rigid. "What?"

"Honey," Powell said gently. "As your father, you are my number one priority. But the number one priority of the country right now, and therefore my number one priority as president, is to find out what happened in Manhattan on September 11, to bring those responsible to justice, and to ensure that it never happens again. Yes, a team will be appointed to investigate the assault on you. Good people. Dedicated people." He sighed. "But there's going to be pressure from all fronts to deal with the terrorist threat, and that's going to overshadow every other agenda. 1 need someone leading the investigative team who won't be sidetracked by politics—or anything else."

"Not my lover." Blair's voice was as hard and cold as ice. Her hands trembled and she kept them out of sight beneath the table. "Because I know Cameron. She'll find out who's behind it, and she'll go after them, and this might be the time that she doesn't win." She turned to Cam. "I don't want you to do this."

Cam's eyes were tender, her voice gentle. "Blair. It's the only way to be sure you're safe."

"It's the right decision," Andrew Powell added.

"I don't care about what's right," Blair shouted. "I am sick to death of hearing about what's right, about duty, and responsibility, and fucking justice. I'm tired of giving up everything that matters to me because of someone else's—" Her voice broke and she looked away, covering her eyes with a trembling hand.

"Hey." Cam slid her chair closer to Blair and wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders. She brought her mouth close to Blair's ear. "It's all right. The last two days have been hell. We all need a chance to get our bearings again." She kissed Blair's temple, "It's all right."

Blair pressed her face to Cam's neck, her arm going around Cam's waist underneath her blazer. "I'm sorry. When they were shooting at us, when you and Paula were in front of me and all the bullets—I kept seeing you that morning on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building. I kept seeing the blood and then.. .then you stopped breathing. Oh God, Cam. You stopped breathing."

"Sweetheart, it's all right. It's all right." Even as she held Blair protectively, her expression grew fierce at the memory of the sick terror she'd felt not knowing if the bullets that passed her by had found their target in her lover's body. She cut her gaze to the president's and said with her eyes what she did not want to say aloud. Not now. Not when Blair was still so raw and the terrifying events of September 11 still so painfully vivid. No one is going to hurt her. I'm going to be sure of that.

He nodded, knowing that she did not blame him for sparing no one, not even her, to secure Blair's well-being. Knowing instinctively, too, that she would not allow anyone else that sacred charge. She would die for his daughter, not out of duty, but out of love. "Blair, honey. Let's all take a little while to think about it."

Blair shifted her head on Cam's shoulder and met her father's gaze across the table. "It's already decided. The two of you—you didn't even need to have this discussion because somehow you both already knew what you were going to do. Sometimes I really hate how alike the two of you are." She sighed and straightened. "And I love both of you for it too. So.. .how exactly is this going to work? Because I'm part of this too."

Chapter Three

C am crossed her arms and leaned against the door inside Blair's bedroom. She watched in silence as Blair methodically stripped off the T-shirt and jeans she had hastily donned for the meeting with the president.

"I'm going to take a shower," Blair said quietly.

"Want company?"

A beat passed before Blair nodded. "Yes."

Cam shed her clothes, tossed them on the foot of the bed, and followed into the bathroom. Blair was already in the shower, and the glass enclosure was misted with steam. Visible through the haze, the outline of Blair's nude form swayed hypnotically beneath the spray. Cam stood still, holding her breath, watching. There were moments like this when she was overcome with the wonder of having Blair in her life. When she felt the longing and desire so acutely, it was like a pain deep in her chest. If asked, she couldn't have explained what it was about this one woman that settled in th& very heart of her like none other. Blair was beautiful, intelligent, strong and willful and tender, and so many other things that Cam admired. But it was more than that. This thing, love, that she couldn't define or explain, was what shaped so much of what truly mattered in her life.

Cam gave a start as the shower door slid open and Blair looked out.

"Darling? What are you doing?"

"Just thinking." Cam stepped into the shower and closed the door again. She doused her head in the warm spray and flicked the hair back out of her eyes with one hand. She turned to find Blair leaning against the back shower wall observing her. "Are you angry?"

"You first. What were you thinking about?"

"Come here." Cam pulled Blair close to her beneath the spray. "You'll get cold."

"Don't change the subject." Blair wrapped her arms around Cam's neck and slid her wet body against Cam's until they fit together seamlessly, two parts of a whole. "You had this look on your face.. .like something hurt."

"No," Cam said softly, "nothing like that."

Blair tightened her fingers in Cam's wet hair and tugged. "You know I won't quit."

"I know." Smiling, Cam kissed her.

Blair leaned into the kiss, rolling her hips slowly between Cam's thighs, matching the deep, leisurely strokes of her tongue to the easy rhythm of her body teasing Cam's. "Mmm. Tell."

"Christ," Cam gasped, lifting her head from the kiss. Her stomach was in knots and her thighs trembled. "You don't play fair."

The corner of Blair's mouth lifted in a satisfied grin. "Then why take me on?"

"Because," Cam growled, gripping Blair's upper arms and pushing her against the shower wall, then following with her body hard and fast, pinning her there, "you make me crazy when you get tough."

Before Blair could answer, Cam's mouth was on hers, hot and hungry, and her hands were everywhere, closing over Blair's breasts, squeezing her nipples, running up the inside of her thighs to cup her sex.

Blair's hips bucked as fingers glanced over her clitoris and were gone. She hooked one calf around Cam's hips and drove her center against Cam's thigh. She moaned and thrashed her head, and still Cam kept her pinned, plundering her mouth while Blair rode her thigh. Blair felt the orgasm on the verge of careening through her, and she twisted her torso as she pushed away from the wall. She reversed their positions before Cam could stop her. Ignoring the climax that shimmered just beneath her skin, she went down on her knees with the water pounding on her back and sucked Cam's clitoris between her lips. She heard Cam shout, felt her stiffen, and then they were both coming, shuddering and groaning until their trembling limbs could no longer support them and they slid to the floor.

"God."

"You were saying?" Blair murmured. She snuggled against Cam's body, her head resting between Cam's breasts.

Cam's mind was fuzzy and her barriers down. "I was thinking how much I love you and that nothing else in my life matters except that."

"Why did that look like it hurt?" Blair asked gently.

"It never hurts unless I think about being without you."

"Oh no, never." Blair inched closer and tightened her grip around Cam's waist. She pressed her lips to Cam's breast. "Never."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Water." With another groan, Cam tried assembling her extremities into some kind of working order. "Water. Cold soon."

Laughing, Blair got to her knees, then stood with one arm braced against the shower wall. She turned off the water and stared down at her lover. "Why, Commander, I do believe you've been done in."

"Not so fast." Cam grinned up at her. "That was only a skirmish. There's plenty of fight left in me."

Blair extended her hand and tugged when Cam took it, pulling her to her feet. "Let's hope so."

When they.stepped out and wrapped themselves in towels, Blair leaned her hips against the vanity and regarded Cam seriously. "You know I don't like it. What you're planning to do."

Cam stopped in the midst of toweling her hair. "I know."

"Then why do you do it? Since the moment we've met, this job— this duty of yours—has been between us."

"I know." Cam lifted a thick white robe from the back of the bathroom door and shrugged into it, then passed the matching one to Blair. "There are a lot of reasons. I'm trained to do it. I'm good at it. I have more reason than anyone else in the world to do it right."

Blair nodded. "All good reasons. But not good enough to put the smallest wedge of anger or resentment between us. I don't like anyone protecting me at the risk of their own life." She held up a hand when she saw Cam about to protest. "I understand that it's necessary. I know what my security means for my father, for the country. I know that, and I've accepted it as best as I can." Her voice trembled, but her eyes were dry and hot and hard. "All my life, Cam. All my life I've accepted it. And now I have you, and I'm supposed to be happy about risking you?" She laughed harshly. "I don't think so."

"There's one other reason." Cam kept her hands in the pockets of her robe, because she wanted so much to reach out to Blair. She wanted to touch her, stroke her, soothe the hurt she heard beneath the anger. But she didn't, because Blair did not need that now. What she needed was the truth. "I have to do it, because if I leave it to someone else and anything happens to you, it will break me. I would rather be dead than lose you."

"Oh, Cameron."The anger left Blair's eyes on a wave of tenderness. "I feel the same about you. Can't you understand that?"

Cam closed the distance between them and caught Blair's face gently between her palms. She kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I do understand, I do. There's a reason I'm your security chief, Blair. It's because I'm good at it. Trust me. Nothing is going to happen to me."

"And what about this.. .other? Are you going to be the best at that too?"

"With your safety on the line?" Cam's eyes hardened to obsidian. "Count on it."

"I'll be so happy when the day comes that the only thing we have to worry about is paying the mortgage."

"Me too," Cam whispered. She rested her cheek against the top of Blair's head and closed her eyes. In the distance, she could see a future where they would be together, living an ordinary life, with ordinary problems and ordinary joys. But between this day and that, there was a war to be won.

*

Stark paced in a tight circle around the perimeter of the surprisingly spacious waiting area. When she caught the eye of the slightly amused administrative assistant observing her, she abruptly sank into the nearest chair. She clasped her hands between her knees, fingers entwined, knuckles white, and stared at the door on the far side of the room with the neat, unassuming brass nameplate that said Assistant Director. She'd never been to Assistant Director Carlisle's office before. She'd never been to any assistant director's office. She'd taken her entrance exams, she'd had her psych eval, she'd gone through qualifying physical fitness trials, and she'd endured the Academy, all without ever having seen anyone higher than a regional director. Cameron Roberts, as security chief for the first daughter, held more rank than anyone she'd ever worked with.

The door from the hall opened, and Stark looked over to see the woman in question enter. As usual, the commander wore a dark suit with a slightly paler monochromatic shirt, opened at the neck. The jacket was flawlessly tailored and there was no telltale sign of a weapon, although Stark knew that the commander was one of the few who still wore a shoulder harness. Her own weapon rested in a belt holster on her right hip. Stark bounded to her feet. Standing, she was a head shorter than her chief and compact whereas the other woman was lean.

"Good morning, Agent Stark," Cam said.

"Ma'am." Stark cast a sideways look at the attractive blond behind the desk, who did not seem to be paying them any attention. "I received a call at 0600 to report, Commander. I would have called you, but I wasn't certain of the protocol."

Cam shook her head. "If the assistant director calls you to come in, you come in. No problem."

Stark glanced at the closed door. "Do you know what—"

The intercom on the desk buzzed, and the blond picked up a phone. A minute later, she replaced it and smiled at Stark and Cam. "Director Carlisle will see you now."

"Thank you," Cam said.

Stark followed silently, having no idea what to prepare for. Once inside the functional, unadorned office, she relaxed to a small degree. The silver-haired man behind the desk was in his mid-50s, sharp-eyed and intense looking, but not particularly threatening. When he nodded to her and Cam and said, "Sit down, please," Stark felt almost normal. Except for the pounding in her chest and the queasiness in her stomach. That had been there since their flight from New York City, and she was starting to realize it was her new normal condition.

Stewart Carlisle picked up two file folders and set them next to each other on the blotter. Then he opened one and flipped through several pages. When he finished, he looked at Stark. "Six years on the job, correct, Agent?"

"Yes, sir." Stark was very pleased that her voice did not waver.

"And"— Carlisle glanced down again—"two years as one of the lead agents on Ms. Powell's security team."

"Yes, sir."

Carlisle straightened, his hands resting palm down, one on each folder. "I'd like your assessment of the events of Tuesday morning, Agent Stark."

Stark struggled not to look at Cam. Something was going on, and whatever it was, the path she was about to walk was narrow, twisting, and fraught with danger. "In what respect, sir?"

"What would be your opinion on that?" he countered.

"There are several factors to be considered, sir. The origin, identity, and intent of the assailants. The extent of the security"—she struggled for a word and in the end, could find only one—"breach. The response of the security team. The potential compromise of the evacuation—"

"All right, Agent," Carlisle interrupted, "All valid points. Let's focus on our particular area of responsibility. Do you want to tell me how an armed assailant managed to be standing outside Egret's door at nine a.m. on Tuesday morning?"

For the first time, Stark glanced at Cam, who sat beside her, one leg crossed over the other, her forearms resting on the arms of her chair, her hands relaxed. In profile, her face was smooth as granite, her expression remote. Stark wanted to be anywhere in the world but sitting in this room. She turned her attention back to the assistant director. "With what limited information I have at this moment, sir, I would speculate that the details of the building's security system, the placement of our agents, and the daily shift schedule had been provided to the assailants by Agent Foster." Her throat was dry, and voicing the incomprehensible was like swallowing chips of glass. She had spent hours every day with the man, worked out with him in the gym, stood guard with him, played cards with him during those interminable nights when Blair slept in a hotel room nearby. She couldn't believe that she had suspected nothing, Blamed herself for noticing nothing amiss.

"How is that possible?"

She held his eyes. "I don't know, sir."

"Well, we'd better damn well find out." He leaned back in his chair and expelled a long breath. In a conversational tone, he continued, "It's customary during the transfer of command for the outgoing commander to brief the incoming commander on sensitive matters not included in the Eyes Only report."

He picked up the second folder, stood, and extended it across the desk to Stark. "Once you've reviewed this material, Agent Stark, Agent Roberts will brief you on any additional information pertinent to your new command. As of 0800, you are Egret's acting security chief. That will be all."

Chapter Four

S tark and Cam left Carlisle's office in silence. In the reception area, Stark hesitated, glancing at the file in her hand and wishing with all her heart she could throw it into the nearest trash receptacle. It symbolized something she fervently did not want.

"Commander—''

"Let's take a walk, Agent." Cam gestured with her chin toward the folder. "You're going to need to get a briefcase." She handed hers over. "Here, use mine for now. There's nothing classified in it."

Stark stared at the offered item as if it were a ticking bomb. "No, I—"

"You can't walk around the streets of DC with that in your hand. Go ahead." As Stark reluctantly accepted the briefcase and deposited the folder, Cam added, "It's not personal, Stark."

"I'm sorry, Commander. It feels that way to me."

Cam moved toward the door to the hall, pushed it open, and waited for Stark to pass. As they started down the wide, marble-floored hallway, she said, "I recommended you for the position because I trust you to do it."

"Thank you." Stark blushed and kept her eyes forward. "But with all due respect, ma'am, I don't want the job."

"I said the same thing almost a year ago."

"It should be Mac."

Cam shook her head. "I spoke to Felicia earlier. Mac is stable, but he's in for a long recovery. And I wanted you."

They exited on Fifteenth Street and walked south toward Pershing Park. Cam led the way to a bench in a deserted corner and sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her and pushing both hands into her pants pockets. Stark sat ramrod straight beside her, the briefcase balanced on her knees, held firmly with both hands. Her knuckles were white where her fingers curled around the edges. "There's no reason to replace you at all."

"What happened Tuesday at the Aerie was not only unacceptable-— it was inexcusable," Cam said quietly. She looked out over the small, neat park, automatically registering the presence of the few tourists strolling through, but in her mind she saw, in stark black and white as it had played on the security monitors in Command Central, the lobby door of Blair's apartment building burst open and four heavily armed commandos rush inside. She saw Secret Service Agent Cynthia Parker take down the first assailant before a burst of automatic fire, silent on the monitor and evident only from the muzzle flare flashing on the screen, blew Parker off her feet. Cam had lost an agent in a surprise attack that had been orchestrated by one of her own people. Cynthia Parker's blood was on her hands. "There's no way I could be allowed to maintain my command."

"You saved Egret's life." Stark too stared into the past, experiencing a different take on the endless loop of nightmare images playing from the same silent reel. Cynthia going down; the smell of sweat and adrenaline and, beneath it all, fear; the hail of bullets and smoke; Mac bleeding on the ground; the gut-wrenching pain of the gunshot ripping her flesh. "You probably saved some of the rest of us too."

"Consider this our transition briefing," Cam said, knowing that they'd all been lucky to survive. Whenever she thought of how close Blair had come to dying, a surge of pain so sharp she lost her breath struck at the heart of her. No rationalization would ever erase the knowledge that she'd nearly lost her, and that Blair's death would have been her fault. "The entire team has been placed on administrative leave until the investigation into the assault on Egret is completed."

Stark swiveled her head sharply to stare at Cam. "Everyone?"

"Everyone except you. We need some degree of continuity or the new team can't function effectively."

"I..." Stark took a long breath. The decision had been made, and there was nothing for her to do but step up. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your confidence in me."

"I think we can dispense with the Commander, now," Cam said with a small laugh.

"No, ma'am, I don't think so. There's no way anyone's going to be calling me that."

"You are the first daughter's security chief, Agent Stark."

"Fine, then they can call me Chief," Stark's tone left no room for argument.

"I imagine that will work," Cam observed mildly. "Blair doesn't know yet."

"Oh, man."

"Assistant Director Carlisle advised me of the director's decision just before the meeting this morning."

"Does the president know?" Stark asked.

"I imagine he does, although the way these things work, he was probably informed by the security director after the fact."

Stark perked up. "Then it's possible he could still reverse the decision."

Cam shook her head. "No, I don't think he will. This action is the right one, and he'll recognize that. Plus, considering everything else that's just happened, he's not going to oppose any recommendation made by his security advisors. Or the DOD."

"I know that the conclusion looks right from the outside," Stark said, meeting Cam's eyes, "but those of us on the inside know it's just wrong. There's no one better for this job than you. And we need the rest of the team."

"I agree with the last part. I'm going to do everything I can to see that our people are cleared and back on the job just as soon as possible." Cam stood. "Let's walk over to the residence. I'll talk to Blair while you review the Eyes Only docs."

Stark kept pace by Cam's side, wishing she could talk to Renee. Wishing that she could share her misgivings and uncertainties, because she understood that outwardly she must never allow them to show. She glimpsed Cam's face as they approached the security checkpoint at the White House and saw nothing but calm. She wondered as she had so many times before what feelings the commander kept hidden from everyone, and at what cost.

*

Blair looked up and sketched a wave in the air as Cam walked into her suite, then smiled into the telephone. "I miss you too. Believe me, I'd rather be home than here." Her expression grew somber. "How is it up there?"

Cam removed her jacket and weapon harness and placed them on a small table just inside the door. The sitting room adjoined Blair's bedroom and was furnished much as the other rooms in the White House, with original American period pieces. She walked to the minibar tucked unobtrusively into one corner of the room, pulled a Pellegrino from the small refrigerator, and carried it to the sofa. Blair was curled up on the opposite end talking, Cam surmised, to her best friend and art agent, Diane Bleeker. As Cam sipped the sparkling water, Blair drew her legs up onto the couch and settled her feet in Cam's lap.

"I'm coming up with my father in the morning," Blair said. "I'll call you as soon as I'm free and we'll get together."

Cam rubbed her thumb up and down Blair's instep as she listened to the conversation. Clearly, her lover had been busy in her absence. The president would need to visit the site of the tragedy to show the world that the United States did not bow to terrorism, but the last place Cam wanted Blair was in Manhattan so soon after the attack. There was no way, despite the hundreds of local and federal law enforcement agents scouring the region, that the area could be remotely secure. Guarding the president was going to be a nightmare. Adding Blair to the mix would only complicate matters further. Cam switched her attention to the opposite foot and closed her palm around the delicate bones and muscles beneath the nearly translucent skin, kneading gently. Blair traced the toes of her free foot back and forth along the inside of Cam's thigh.

"You heard from her already!" Blair's voice rose in surprise. "Really—she's still in Manhattan? The news reports said there are hundreds of people still stranded because of the canceled flights." She stretched and pushed her foot higher between Cam's legs. "Well, I guess if she can't get a hotel room, she could always stay in your guest room for a few days." She laughed. "Very convenient. I'll call you tomorrow. See you soon."

"Diane, I take it?" Cam asked as Blair switched off the phone and placed it on the floor beside the sofa.

"Mmm. Apparently Valerie called, and she's temporarily stranded in New York. Diane is very pleased about that,"

"Huh." Cam wasn't altogether comfortable discussing a woman with whom she had been intimate, although under extremely unusual circumstances and in what now felt like a different lifetime. And even though Blair knew about her liaison with Valerie, Diane did not. "What's this about you going to Manhattan tomorrow?"

"I'll fill you in on the details later." Blair pushed the heel of her foot gently against Cam's crotch. "You know, there's nothing on the agenda for today."

Cam grasped the foot teasing between her legs and stilled the entirely too pleasant motion. "I expect to get called back to Justice for my debriefing this afternoon."

Blair craned her neck toward the Seth Thomas clock on the mantelpiece. "It's not noon yet." She rocked Cam's thigh with her other foot and her expression grew distant. When she spoke again, the bantering tone had disappeared and her voice was thick, as if with unshed tears. "You know, I keep thinking about Cynthia and Mac. When I do, all I want is your skin against mine. I need to hear you breathe. You, feel like the only solid thing in my world right now."

"Oh, Christ," Cam whispered. She lifted Blair's legs and slid closer to her on the couch before slipping her arm behind Blair's waist and drawing her into an embrace. She kissed her mouth, then nuzzled her face in thick blond hair that smelled of sunshine and roses. "I love you. And God knows, I want you."

Blair pulled back, her eyes narrowing. "But?"

"But we need to talk about a few things."

"What happened with Carlisle this morning?" Blair withdrew from Cam's embrace and inched away, as if she wanted space in which to carry out the conversation. "What's wrong?"

Cam shook her head, wishing that Blair could not read her quite so well. "Nothing's wrong."

"There's something you're not telling me. You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"No. Stewart called me right before the briefing this morning, so there was no time to tell you."

"Tell me what, Cameron?" Blair's voice had grown cold and her eyes were a hard, icy blue.

Fast and hard seemed to be the only way to do it, because Blair was best at handling sharp, swift pain. "I've been replaced. Stark's your new security chief."

Blair grew utterly still. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Son of a bitch!" Blair jumped up and paced in a small, tight circle before storming back to stand within inches of Cam's legs. "They can't do this. Does my father know?"

"I don't know. I think he does, bu—" Cam caught Blair's wrist as she was about to pick up the phone. "Wait."

"For what? For you to tell me one more time that I have to accept everyone else's decisions when they affect my life?"

"This is all about your life, baby," Cam said gently. "It's about taking care of you the best way possible."

"You take care of me. I take care of you." Blair pulled her arm from Cam's grip. "That's what lovers do."

Cam stood, but she did not try to hold her. "This isn't about us as a couple. It's about you as the first daughter. I've been relieved of my command because I almost let someone assassinate you. The entire team has been suspended, with the exception of Stark."

Blair's head jerked back as if she'd been struck. "Everyone? This is crazy."

"A board of inquiry will investigate what happened, including the possibility that other members of your security team were involved. As soon as our people are cleared, I'll push Carlisle to get them back on duty."

"Why did they make an exception for Stark?"

"Because I insisted. Because she put herself between you and the assailants, and had she been involved with the assassination attempt, she never would've done that."

Because she took a bullet meant for you.

Blair sank down on the sofa and rested her head against the back, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm going home. I can't stay here like this."

"Your apartment isn't secure. Hell, New York City isn't secure." Cam settled next to her and clasped Blair's hand. "Just give it a few weeks, please. Just until we have a better idea of the scope of these attacks."

Blair turned her head and stared at Cam. "While I'm living here under twenty-four-hour guard, where are you going to be?"

"I'll stay in my DC apartment. Your father wanted me to investigate the assault at the Aerie, and I'm still going to do that, one way or the other."

"What about us?"

"I'm not letting you go anywhere without me. If you travel, I'm coming."

A faint smile flickered across Blair's mouth. "Kind of like a groupie?"

"Your number one fan."

"What about at night?"

"With the press corps downstairs?" Cam's gaze flickered around the room, and she sighed. "I can't stay here every night."

"Then I'm staying with you at your place."

Cam groaned. "Jesus, if you can just be patient a few-—"

"No."

"Blair," Cam sighed and brushed her mouth over the top of Blair's hand. "All right, as long you promise to stay here if I'm out of town."

"Until I go home."

"Agreed."

Blair smiled. "There, see? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"Perfectly painless." Cam leaned forward and kissed her, sliding her fingers into Blair's hair. She let herself linger in the soft, warm comfort of Blair's mouth, savoring the press of Blair's body along the length of hers. The connection steadied her, centered her, and she would need that in the days ahead.

Chapter Five

S o what about that suggestion?" Blair slipped her fingertips inside the waistband of Cam's trousers and brushed the back of her fingers over Cam's abdomen.

"You mean the one where we ignore the fact that I'm out of a job and that we're in the White House where someone might notice if we never leave the bedroom?" Cam curled both arms around Blair's waist as they swayed together, hearts and bodies attuned. "God, you smell so good."

Blair laughed softly and pulled Cam's shirt free. Her laugh became a soft purr when her hand met skin, and Cam stiffened, emitting a throaty growl. "I was thinking more along the lines where we have a quickie, short but intense. Maybe right here on the sofa. I seem to remember you liking it quite a bit when I knelt between your le—"

The phone rang, and they both cursed simultaneously. With a sigh, Cam stepped away, automatically tucking in her shirt.

"Don't be so quick to give up on that idea," Blair muttered as she snatched up the phone. "Blair Powell...Hi...Yes, she's here... When?...Okay, fine." She clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the sofa, then faced Cam with a frustrated expression. "I feel as if I'm in that groundhog movie. The same goddamn scene keeps replaying."

"Your father?" Cam was already on her way to retrieve her jacket and weapon.

"Just about. Lucy Washburn."

Cam turned as she shrugged into her shoulder harness. Lucinda Washburn was the White House chief of staff and the second most powerful person in the nation. Others might assume that the chairman of the Joint Chiefs or the head of the State Department might hold that position, but Lucy Washburn was the president's confidante and his oldest adviser. She was also an accomplished politician in her own right and somehow always managed to juggle the simmering Capitol Hill rivalries, shifting loyalties, and internecine power struggles to the president's advantage. "She wants to see me?"

"Both of us."

Their eyes met in silent acknowledgment that a command appearance in Washburn's office was never good news.

*

When they arrived in the West Wing, they were shown directly into the chief of staff's office. Lucinda Washburn, an imposing auburn-haired woman in a double-breasted, charcoal pinstriped suit, stood at the windows overlooking a lush garden, her back to the room. She turned at the sound of their entrance, the lingering remnants of sadness softening the strong lines of her jaw and deepening the shadows beneath her hazel eyes. She squared her shoulders and strode to greet them, indicating the seating area in front of her desk with a sweep of one arm. A thin gold filigree bracelet that matched her earrings encircled her right wrist. "Blair, Cameron. How are you?"

It was the first time the three of them had been together since Blair's evacuation from her makeshift sanctuary in Maine upon Marine One the day before. Blair still found it hard to believe that it had only been two days since the world had exploded. So much had happened in those forty-eight hours to alter the landscape of an entire nation's existence that time itself seemed to have been altered, each moment somehow stretching toward a point in a future that was clouded with questions and uncertainty. Blair reached for Cam's hand, instantly comforted by the warm, solid strength of the fingers that closed around hers. She glanced quickly at her lover, whose eyes said that the connection mattered to her too. Blair felt a wash of appreciation, because Cameron made it so easy to love her. She never let her unshakable strength diminish her tenderness, or her need. Blair smiled her thanks and turned to the woman whom she'd known since childhood.

"We're alive, Luce, and that's what counts." Blair sat on the floral brocade love seat in front of a wide, glass-topped coffee table, her hand still clasping Cam's. "But everything else has gone to hell. Cam's been taken off my security detail."

"Yes, I know," Lucinda said, settling into a chair across from them.

"So I guess my father does too?"

Lucinda nodded. "There really wasn't anything to be done. Considering everything that's happened, all we've been trying to do is follow protocol in an effort to reestablish some kind of order."

"That's ridiculous," Blair snapped. "My personal security detail has nothing whatsoever to do with national security. It has nothing to do with what happened—"

"It does, Blair," Cam interrupted gently. "The assault on the Aerie was timed to coincide with the airliners hitting the Towers. Those hijackings and the gunmen at your building were two arms of a single assault."

"Yes," Lucinda said, regarding Cam intently. "That seems to be the only conclusion." She looked at Blair. "Which means that you played a key role in a terrorist plan to destabilize the nation. Obviously, your ongoing security is now of the utmost importance."

Blair's fingers tightened around Cam's. "So we're going to high priority coverage."

Lucinda nodded.

"An agent physically in the room with me twenty-four hours a day. Doubling the number of agents on every detail. Limitations on social appearances and foreign travel." Blair shivered nearly imperceptibly, then held Lucinda's gaze. "For a few days, maybe. But for weeks? Maybe months? I can't take it, Luce. I just can't."

"We don't know what kind of time frame we're looking at." Lucinda's tone was kind but unyielding. "We don't know anything yet, Blair. We don't know if this was an isolated terrorist cell acting alone on orders from outside this country or if this represents just one faction of a highly organized national network that may be planning another attack right now on Chicago or Los Angeles or Dallas." She leaned forward, her expression intent, but her eyes gentle. "All we know is that you were singled out for elimination. We must assume that you are still a target."

"What makes this any different than any other day? The entire focus of my security team is to protect me from the potential of attack. And they do it very well." Blair looked at Cam. "Just like they did on Tuesday."

"From the limited intelligence we have available thus far," Lucinda said, "the attack on the Aerie was nearly flawless. You were all lucky to survive it."

"I agree with Lucinda, Blair," Cam said. "There might have been only one strike team capable of that kind of assault, and if that's the case, they've been eliminated. But we don't know that. We don't know that there isn't a second team already trained with a contingency plan for another strike. We just don't know."

"If that's the case, Luce," Blair argued, "then why take my most experienced agents away from me? Cam and the others are the best people to protect me."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree, and I have, in the past. This isn't the first attempt on your life, and we've kept your security team in place." Lucinda gave Cam a look that was as close to an apology as she ever offered. "But this time, there was inside help. A United States Secret Service agent was involved in an assassination attempt on the first daughter. Clearly, we have a profound breach in security. No one is above suspicion."

Blair stiffened. When she spoke, her tone was flat and deadly. "You're talking about my lover."

"I'm giving you the opinion of the highest-ranking members of our security services."

"I don't give a flying fu—"

"An opinion, by the way," Lucinda went on, "that I don't happen to share. And neither does your father. Which is why you're both sitting here right now." Lucinda smiled wryly. "And if you would simply let me brief you, I could probably save us all a lot of time."

Blair opened her mouth, then sighed deeply and settled back against the sofa. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."

"Justice and the NSA want to keep the investigation into the incident at the Aerie under their jurisdiction as part of the larger inquiry surrounding the terrorist attacks."

Cam spoke quietly, her tone mild and uncritical. Her eyes, however, shone hot with emotion. "It will take that kind of multijurisdictional commission two years to investigate something of this magnitude."

Lucinda laughed. "You're being generous, Commander. I would have ventured closer to three."

"Ma'am," Cam acknowledged with a tip of her head. "Your estimate is probably more accurate than mine. Either way, it's too long not to know the scope of the threat to Ms. Powell."

"Yes, well," Lucinda said, serious once more, "however long it takes, I believe we all can appreciate that regardless of intentions, the greater emphasis of any investigation must be on the national threat."

Blair saw a muscle along the edge of Cam's jaw flutter, and she sensed the utter stillness in Cam's body that she had come to know preceded the lightning strike of her lover's rare but powerful fury. "Are you baiting her, Luce? Because it's not a very good idea."

Lucinda kept her eyes on Cam's face. "No, I wanted to see for myself exactly why the president has such faith in her."

"Maybe it's because I love her," Blair said sharply.

"No," Lucinda said softly, "it's because she loves you." She settled back in her chair and crossed her legs, one smooth silky glide of tight flesh along tight flesh. "So let me explain, Commander, your new assignment. The president intended to be here, but he was called away for, an emergency meeting. You may assume the orders come from him."

Cam nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"You will head a special investigative team appointed by the president whose sole purpose is to determine the origination of the assault on Ms. Powell's apartment building, ascertain how deep the intelligence breach goes within our security ranks, and establish how this operation was associated with the attacks on New York City and Washington, DC."

"I'll need free access to various intelligence files, including those of the FBI, ATF, CIA, and Justice," Cam replied immediately.

"You'll be granted clearance and provided contacts, but your inquiries will need to be very circumspect."

Meaning that this is a secret commission. Cam did not voice the question, knowing that she would not receive an answer. "I want to choose my own team members."

"Granted."

"I want the original members of Blair's security team reinstated as soon as the Justice inquiry clears them."

"That will take some time, but I'll see to it." Lucinda lifted a shoulder. "Nothing makes their wheel turn quickly."

"When we find the people responsible, I want to coordinate the takedown."

"Cam—" Blair protested.

Lucinda broke in, "You'll coordinate any strike team efforts with a military liaison."

"Agreed," Cam responded.

"The president will name the liaison."

Cam considered arguing for her own choice of military personnel, but one did not question the president's authority during negotiations like these. "I want to attend the daily briefings of Blair's security detail."

"The new commander may take offense."

"Possibly," Cam said. "I would. Nevertheless, these are my terms."

Lucinda tilted her head and appraised Cam with interest. "What makes you think you have any bargaining power here, Commander?"

"Because you know that I'm going to investigate with or without your sanction, and you'd prefer to know what I'm doing. And what I find out."

"If you were to undertake an unauthorized investigation, you'd be placing yourself in violation of any number of security regulations. Theoretically, you could lose your clearance, possibly face prosecution."

"Lucinda, what the hell?" Blair started to rise, and only Cam's hand in hers held her back.

"It's okay," Cam said quietly.

Blair rounded on her, her blue eyes flashing. "If you think I'm going to sit here and listen to her threaten you, you're crazy."

"I'm not threatening her, Blair," Lucinda said. "I'm only laying out the facts. And the reason that you're here listening to this, against my advice, by the way, is because your father doesn't want to keep this a secret from you."

"And why did vow want to keep me in the dark?" Blair sat forward on the edge of the sofa, her free hand fisted on her thigh.

"Because I knew you wouldn't like Agent Roberts heading this investigation, and your reluctance could interfere with her—"

"Bullshit, Luce. Nothing interferes with Cam's effectiveness, and you know it."

"Not her effectiveness," Lucinda said gently. "Her safety."

Blair jerked. "What? Do you think I would compromise her in some way? Risk her life?"

"No, I think your resistance would distract her, and distraction can lead to mistakes."

"I have never wanted her to do this job, and she knows it." Blair's words sliced the air as her body quivered. "Do you think she was distracted the day she stepped in front of me outside my apartment building and intercepted the bullet that was meant for me? Do you think she was distracted on Tuesday when she stood in front of me again- —"

"Blair," Cam murmured. "It's—"

"But she's still doing the job." Blair's voice cracked but she continued, "because she has to, and I know that. Because not doing it would hurt her more than anything that might happen to her, even..." She finally lost her battle to block out the images that, under ordinary circumstances, she so successfully kept at bay. Now she couldn't stop reliving the nightmare of her lover dying. She turned her face away from Lucinda and Cam, closing her mind to the memories.

Cam, stood, ignoring the surprise on Lucinda Washburn's face. "Let's go, baby. It's been a tough couple of days, and I need a break."

"I need a decision, Agent Roberts," Lucinda said.

Cam circled Blair's waist with one arm. "I'll let you know tomorrow. There are some people I need to speak to first."

"That's a bit irregular."

"These aren't normal times."

"I'll expect your answer in the morning."

Cam nodded as she and Blair turned to leave. "You'll have it."

Once they were beyond the hearing of Lucinda's deputy chief of staff, Blair asked, "What are you waiting for?"

"You and I need to talk, and I need to go to New York tonight."

Chapter Six

B lair and Cam walked in silence through the warren of offices that was the nerve center of the nation. The West Wing at almost any hour of any day was alive with activity, but now the very air was charged with a sense of urgency. Aides, deputy chiefs, military advisers, and security personnel hurried through the halls, all looking as if they were on a mission of vital importance and already behind schedule.

They nodded to the Secret Service agents stationed at the elevator to the residential floors, and once inside, Blair asked, "Why New York and why tonight?"

Can looked as though she was about to answer, but when the elevator doors slid open and they stepped out, she nodded in the direction of Blair's suite. "Your security chief is here."

Paula Stark stood just outside Blair's door, her gaze fixed on some point on the opposite wall that appeared to hold great interest. She wore a dark suit, and her face was nearly the same shade as her white shirt. Blair's new chief did not look toward them as they approached,

"Paula?" Blair queried as she stopped in front of the Secret Service agent.

"Ma'am," Stark responded stiffly. "In case the commander hasn't yet informed you, I've been assigned as your new security chief."

"Yes, I know."

"I'd like to review your plans for the next few days."

"I don't know that I have any." Blair's voice held just the slightest edge of irritation. "And now isn't a very good time."

"I understand. I'll be happy to wait."

Blair stopped with her hand on the doorknob. "For how long?"

"Until it's convenient for you to meet with me."

"This is a new tactic," Blair said with the barest hint of appreciation in her tone. She glanced at Cam, whose eyes held a glint of humor. "If I don't decide to come out for forty-eight hours, you'll get awfully hungry out here, Paula."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you already look done in."

Stark shifted and met Blair's gaze, "I'm fine, Ms. Powell. And I appreciate that you weren't given any notice of these changes, so I don't wish to disrupt your schedule."

"Your presence is a disruption. But you've always known that."

"Yes, ma'am. I should have said any more of a disruption than necessary."

"Fair enough." Blair smiled with a mixture of humor and bitterness. "So, can I expect you to talk like you have a stick up your ass from now on, then?"

"I'm not sure," Stark replied seriously. "I really haven't had time to work on a command voice."

Blair sighed and pushed the door open. "Come on in. Your approach is unique, and there's no way you could match Cam's command voice anyhow. But for God's sake, relax."

Just inside the door, Stark stopped and looked toward Cam, who had walked to the far side of the room, and gave her a brief shrug of apology. Then she returned her attention to Blair. "I'd like to say right now that I have no intention of replacing the commander. However, I've been given a job to do. A job which I consider vital, and I intend to do it in the best way possible. My way."

"Well. That sounds a lot like the previous security chiefs I've dealt with." Blair flopped down on one of the sofas and indicated a nearby chair. "Sit." She trained her head in Cam's direction. "Are you going to join us?"

"I've got some calls to make. And I think this ought to be between the two of you." She smiled at Blair and nodded to Stark as she headed for the adjoining room. "I'm glad to see you're on the job, Agent."

"Thank you, Commander."

"Let's get this over with, Stark," Blair said testily. "You'll find that the daily briefings are not one of my favorite exercises."

Stark took a breath and launched into her prepared speech. "The first team, at least temporarily, will consist of myself and two to three other agents, depending upon the circumstances. Right now, I don't have the duty assignments because I've just been given the names of your new team members."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "I'm not happy about working with strangers, especially if we're at Priority One."

"That's why I'll be on the first team. Outside the perimeter of the White House, I'll be your primary agent."

"It'll be tough, doing double duty as both the crew chief and my primary."

Stark's expression didn't change. "In my opinion, that's the appropriate action."

"All right. Thank you, that will make it easier for me."

"As to the commander—"

"There's nothing about Cam's presence in my life that's open for discussion." The faint warmth that had seeped its way into Blair's voice since they had begun talking quickly disappeared. "You and I are friends, Paula." In fact, for a few brief hours in what now felt like the distant past, they'd been more than that. "I hope you're not going to suddenly pretend that you don't know what she means to me."

"I was going to suggest that the commander attend daily briefings, since I'm sure you would both prefer that."

Blair tilted her head and studied Stark appraisingly. "And you don't mind that? My lover and your former boss observing your new command?"

Stark released a long, pent-up breath and leaned forward, her hands clasped loosely between her knees, her eyes holding Blair's unflinchingly. "It doesn't matter whether I mind or not. What matters is that your security team functions effectively, and I believe it will run more smoothly if the commander is aware of the daily plan." She separated her hands and curled her fingers over her knees, her voice softening for an instant. "But just so you know, I won't forget anything."

"They should have assigned more agents like you in the past, Paula," Blair said quietly.. "I might not have found it necessary to disappear quite so often."

"I'd like it if you could promise not to do that in the future, Ms. Powell," Stark said, all business again. "Because the danger is far more than theoretical now."

"I can't." There was no aggression in Blair's voice, only an undercurrent of regret. "But I'll do the best I can."

Stark nodded. "Then we have a plan." She leaned back and unbuttoned her jacket, the first break in her formal posture. "We need to talk about the next few days."

"I'm flying with my father to Manhattan tomorrow to view.. .the scene."

"I'll discuss the itinerary with Agent Turner," Stark said, referring to the president's security chief. "And you'll be staying here tonight?"

"You're blushing."

"I've been working on that," Stark acknowledged conversationally. She grinned for a fleeting second. "No luck so far."

"I don't know where I'll be tonight."

"Ms. Powell—"

Blair interrupted. "It depends on Cam's plans. If she doesn't stay here, then I'll stay with her in her apartment."

Stark winced. "Security would be far easier to accomplish here."

"That's not my concern." Blair rose abruptly. "I have your number. I'll call you about my plans."

"Yes, ma'am." Stark stood. "Thank you."

Stark had nearly reached the door when Blair stopped her with a question.

"Have you heard from Renee?"

"Yes. She's.. .uninjured." Somehow all right didn't feel quite like the truth. Stark looked over her shoulder. "It sounds.. .bad.. .up there."

"I can't even imagine," Blair murmured. Her expression softened. "Get some sleep, Paula. I won't be going anywhere for a while. And I promise, I'll call."

"Will do," Stark lied, knowing that before she could sleep, she needed to review the dossiers on the seven new agents she'd been assigned and try to choose three whom Blair would be able to tolerate having in close proximity during her waking hours for the foreseeable future. "I appreciate the time, Ms. Powell."

"Lose the stick, Paula," Blair said with a laugh. Stark smiled. "Working on that too."

Cam, sitting on the edge of the bed, hung up the phone as Blair walked into the bedroom. She'd removed her jacket and weapon harness and had rolled up both sleeves to mid-forearm. "How did it go?"

"She's still standing."

"That good, huh?" Cam grinned.

"I'm glad you got them to appoint her as security chief," Blair said as she settled next to Cam. She threaded an arm around Cam's waist and leaned her cheek against Cam's upper arm. "It's so much easier with a woman, and one who knows about you and me. Because I can't go back to the way things were. I can't pretend that I'm not who I am and that we're not lovers."

"I wouldn't want you to." Cam kissed her temple. "In fact, I don't think I could take it either." She eased back onto the pillows and drew Blair back with her until they reclined, Blair curled against her side. "I can't pretend that I don't need you with me all the time."

Blair shifted until she lay full-length atop Cam. "Why the sudden change?"

Cam ran her fingers through Blair's hair, holding the thick blond strands away from Blair's neck so that she could raise her head and kiss her there in the sweet triangle just below her ear. "I'm sorry if you ever thought it was easy for me not to be with you. It's always been hell, but these last two days..." She caught Blair's earlobe between her lips and sucked it softly. When Blair stiffened, she released the small, fleshy morsel. "I don't want to let you out of my sight."

"Same here." Then Blair felt it coming, the powerful surge of tenderness and want and need that coalesced in her heart and body to become love and something far greater than she could define with words or contain with mere flesh. But still she tried to articulate with insufficient phrases and her woefully inadequate touch the places mat Cam filled in her life. "I love you."

As Blair began to unbutton Cam's shirt, Cam tugged Blair's blouse from her jeans.

"No," Blair murmured. "Lie still."

"Blair," Cam protested.

"Shh."

Blair knelt astride Cam's hips, slowly loosing each button until the shirt lay open with a column of flesh exposed down the center of Cam's body. She edged her fingertips beneath the crisp fabric, crested the rise of Cam's breasts until she reached the tight peaks, and brushed lightly over the puckered nipples. She smiled when Cam's hips twisted against her thighs, and she carefully squeezed and molded Cam's breasts beneath her palms, drawing the swollen cores of the nipples between her fingers until she elicited a soft moan from her lover's throat.

"Oh God." Cam's pupils dilated until black eclipsed the gray and desire swam in the dark eddies left behind.

"I never get the chance to go slow with you," Blair said in a quiet conversational tone as she rocked back on her heels and ever so slowly slid the length of Cam's leather belt through the silver buckle at her waist. Ignoring the flutter of muscles beneath the smooth skin of Cam's abdomen, she deftly popped the clasp at Cam's waistband with one hand and drew the zipper down with the other in a single fluid motion. Then, as she turned her hand and slid her fingers into the soft curls she'd just laid bare, she leaned forward and caught a nipple between her teeth. As she closed her eyes and sucked, she circled her fingers over the base of Cam's belly, not touching the focus of her need, but knowing that the motion would tease the blood into the sensitive flesh only inches away. "Mmm. I love how hot you feel in my mouth."

Cam gripped the back of Blair's head and pushed herself hard against Blair's mouth, causing teeth to scrape across her hypersensitive flesh. Pleasure shot straight to her core and struck between her thighs, bringing her hips off the bed. In a voice so hoarse her words were barely recognizable, she rasped, "Bite it."

"Oh no," Blair whispered, pulling back to lick ever so lightly at the swollen nipple. "I don't trust you not to come."

Cam could only groan.

"And," Blair said, her breath rushing in and out as if she'd been running for hours, "there's no hurry." Then she pushed herself lower until her breasts were nestled between Cam's thighs and her cheek was against Cam's abdomen. As she sucked and nibbled on the pliant crescent of skin edging Cam's navel, she smoothed one hand up the inside of Cam's leg, briefly cupped the vee between her parted thighs, and then slipped inside her fly again. This time, she pushed lower until her fingertips found the hard rise of Cam's clitoris. She wanted it between her fingertips, wanted to tug and stroke and twist until she felt the rapid lengthening and swift swelling that always signaled Cam's rush toward orgasm. She loved that power, that unbelievable intimacy, that singular knowledge that she and she alone could do this to the woman she so craved. Shivering, she forced herself to grow still.

"Touch me."

"Soon, darling, soon."Blair pressed down once, hard, against Cam's clitoris, making her whole body twitch, and then quickly withdrew her hand. Getting swiftly to her knees, she grasped the waistband of Cam's trousers. "Lift your hips."

In seconds, Blair had her naked. Groaning at the magnificent sight of Cam, neck arched and hands lying open, palms up at her sides, Blair tore off her blouse and threw it aside. She ran both hands up her own abdomen and over her breasts, tugging her nipples in passing and moaning at the pleasure. Then, her control slipping, she threw herself down between her lover's legs. She stretched one arm up to close a hand over Cam's breast as she simultaneously took her into her mouth.

Cam arched off the bed, both hands tangling in Blair's hair. "Going to come."

"Wait," Blair mouthed against the swollen, pulsating flesh, too needy to stop her assault. She licked and sucked and drank of her lover's passion, tugging Cam's nipple to the cadence of her lips working the stiff shaft in her mouth.

"I gotta come." Quiet, desperate.

"Nooo," Blair breathed, lifting up just enough to slide her fingers into Cam's silky depths. She pushed.

"Gotta come." Wondrous, pleading.

Blair bit down gently.

Cam twisted and jerked. "That's it. Oh.. .that's it."

Blair never let up, never stopped the thrust and pull that kept Cam clenching around her fingers, even when she felt herself explode inside her tight jeans. Whimpering, she rode Cam's climax until they both lay limp and panting in a tangle of sheets and sweat-slicked limbs.

"You want to tell me," Cam gasped, "where that came from?"

Still stroking Cam lightly, Blair slid up beside her and kissed her. "Wanna tell me what's in New York?"

Chapter Seven

C am hiked herself up onto an elbow and studied Blair through narrowed eyes. "Did you by any chance just screw my brains out so you could extract information from me while I'm in a weakened condition?"

"But of course," Blair said, sliding her lips over Cam's nipple. "It's a tried-and-true interrogation technique. Of course, we reserve it for the hard-core cases."

"Very effective." Cam caught Blair's chin in her palm and eased that talented mouth away from her breast before the pleasure eclipsed what remained of her control. She kissed Blair swiftly on the lips and then guided her lover's head down to her shoulder, curving an arm around Blair's waist to keep her close. "There are things I need to do up there that I should have done yesterday."

"Yesterday morning we didn't know if there was anyplace in the world we were really safe," Blair reminded her.

"I know. And the only thing that mattered was getting you back here. But once Marine One picked you up, I probably should've gone back to Manhattan right away."

Blair struggled to contain her protests. This was about what Cam needed, not her. "Did you stay here because I needed you to?"

"No." Cam hugged her. "I stayed because I needed to. Since the day I walked into that loft and saw you in that blue silk robe, I've been doing what I've needed to do instead of what I should have done."

"Sorry?" Blair made aimless patterns on Cam's stomach with her nails, listening hard for what lay beneath the surface of her lover's quiet musings. With Cameron, she had learned that the truth of what really lay in her heart was in all the things she did not say.

"Never," Cam said immediately. "But now you're safe, and there are things I need to do."

"You said that." Blair raked her nails harder across Cam's lower abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan. "Now explain."

"That distraction procedure is working too," Cam gasped.

"I know. I'm waiting."

Cam grabbed Blair's wrist and pressed her hand firmly against her stomach to stop the torture. "Your apartment building is a crime scene. I need to get a look at it first hand before there's nothing left of the evidence."

"God, Cam," Blair said in surprise. "The FBI must have been all over that place already. There's not going to be anything left that they haven't already analyzed."

"I don't let other agents do my investigating for me. Besides, they're FBI."

Blair laughed. "Don't let Renee Savard hear you say that."

"She's the exception."

"What else are you planning?"

"To talk to whichever of our people are still around." Cam's voice held an edge. "I'd like to hear their reports before the special inquiry begins."

"You think they'll be under a gag order not to discuss anything about what happened?"

"Ordinarily, not from me, but now that my status is in question, I don't want to put them at risk for disciplinary action if anyone finds out they briefed me."

"I doubt they would pass that information along to the Justice people."

"A week ago I would have been certain of that."

"You still trust them, don't you?"

"I trusted Foster too." The bitter acid of self-recrimination burned her throat as she said his name.

Blair heard the frustration and regret in Cam's voice. "Hey. You're not the bad guy here." She circled her fingers soothingly in the hollow between Cam's breasts. "Remember, you saved my life."

That was my job, my duty, and I almost blew it. God. Cam brushed her lips over Blair's hair, "I know. You're right."

"Once those interviews are done, you'll be finished up there?"

"I also want to talk to Diane."

Blair sat up quickly, the sheet falling away and leaving her breasts bare. "Diane? Why?"

Cam ran her fingers up and down Blair's arm, aware of the steel bands of tension beneath the velvet skin, "Because she's your best friend. Because there isn't a better source of information about you on the planet. Because someone might have approached her without her even realizing it, and if they did, I want to know."

"She would never hurt me."

"I know that. But sometimes we say things innocently, without realizing the implications."

Blair shook her head vehemently. "No, not Diane. She's known me my whole life, and she's always understood the security issues. Christ, she used to fine-tune my alibi in boarding school when I escaped from my security details to meet my girlfriends. She would never let anything slip."

"I'm sure you're right, but I have to check."

"Of course you do. And of course you have to do it all yourself." Blair tried to keep her voice light, because she didn't want Cam to know how very much she didn't want to be apart from her right then. She knew she was safe in the White House and probably anywhere else she might go with the heightened security she was sure to have, although she never really felt as safe with any of the other agents as she did with Cam. But that wasn't why she didn't want Cam to be gone long. The attack on the Aerie—no, the attack on her —was more frightening than she wanted to admit. Mere blocks away, thousands of unsuspecting, innocent people had died for a reason no rational person could fathom. She had always known the danger was there, lurking in the background like an ominous shadow, but this had brought her true vulnerability home with undeniable clarity. Life felt so very tenuous, and being with Cam was the only thing that made it right. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"I had thought a couple of days. But if you're coming up with your father tomorrow, I want to be there. I may come back with you, it depends."

"Cam, I'll have a full security detail. Why don't you just—"

"No." A public appearance this soon after the attack was ill advised, but Cam didn't want to say that, knowing that Blair was not about to change her mind. Frightening her would accomplish nothing.

"It will be a new detail with a new chief. I want to be by your side. I'll get the schedule when you're en route and meet your vehicle when you arrive downtown."

"Stark can handle it."

"I have no doubt. But she's going to have a new team. And I won't know them."

"If being with me tomorrow means you going back to the city again in a few days, then I'd rather you just do what you need to do and get it done. I'll be fine."

"It's not going to get done quickly, baby," Cam said gently. "That assault team was too well organized and too professional not to have known the risks of discovery if they failed. We're going to have to dig, and dig hard, to find out who they were. And even that may not tell us who sent them."

"How long, do you think?" Blair shivered, but the cold was deep inside. Despite her best efforts, not knowing who had wanted her dead gnawed at the edges of her awareness, threatening her comfort and peace of mind. But if the question was to go unanswered for weeks and months, leaving the threat of another attack hanging over her, her life would never be her own again. Nor might her lover. Blair feared that Cam might become so immersed in the hunt that she would lose her to it. "How long?"

"Weeks, probably months. You're shivering." Cam tucked the sheet around Blair's shoulders. "Or we could get a break and have an answer in days." When Blair shivered again, Cam pulled her back down beside her. "Hopefully, closer to the latter than the former. You okay?"

Wordlessly, Blair nodded. The course of their days, it appeared, had already been charted. As had so often been the case throughout her life, she had no choice but to commit to the journey. And this time, with her lover by her side, she hoped that she would not lose herself along the way. "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as I shower."

A half hour later, Blair walked Cam to the private entryway that the first family used to come and go without the scrutiny of the ever-present press.

"You'll call me?"

"Of course." Cam looked past Blair back into the White House. A guard stood ten feet away, staring in their direction but appearing to register nothing about their actions or conversation. She glanced over her shoulder to the expansive gardens, noting the distant sound of traffic. Her shoulders tightened.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked.

Cam shrugged and grinned ruefully. "We haven't been apart for a long time. It makes me uneasy."

Blair smiled. "Sometimes, Commander, you say the most wonderful things."

"I love you." Cam leaned forward in full view of the uniformed officer and kissed Blair softly. "See you soon."

Blair put both arms around Cam's neck and pressed against her. "Be careful."

Cam kissed her again. "You too."

*

The ground shook as a bomb detonated, and then she heard the thunder of incoming fire. The roar filled her head, so thick she couldn't breathe. She ran for cover, the smell and sound of destruction engulfing her. The air was a thick black blanket, nearly impenetrable. She ran blind, one arm stretched out in front of her, praying she wouldn't stumble down a dead-end alley or under the wheels of a vehicle. The whine of high-velocity projectiles assaulted her eardrums, and she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to die.

Renee Savard lurched to her feet, her weapon in her hand, and pivoted in an unsteady circle, searching for the enemy. She banged her shin on the edge of the coffee table, and the deep, sharp pain brought her fully awake. Still, the rattle of gunfire persisted until she snatched up her cell phone, its digital readout marking its place on the floor by the sofa.

"Savard," she croaked. The room was dark. The night outside the windows was black. She fumbled on the side table and finally found the lamp switch. The light hurt her eyes.

"Are you busy?"

"What?" Her blazer lay in a crumpled ball just inside the entrance to the apartment she shared with Stark. What the hell?

"Renee?"

"What? Who? Paula?"

"Hey, did I wake you?"

"No. I just...I just walked in." When had she left the search zone and come back to the apartment? When had she fallen asleep? "Sorry."

"Is everything all right?" Stark's voice was quietly cautious.

"Yes. Sure." Savard stared at her left hand. Her fingers were clenched around her service weapon. Jesus. Quickly, she holstered her weapon and sank down onto the sofa. "What time is it there?"

"It's seven thirty. The same time as it is where you are. Renee? What's going on?"

Savard scrubbed an unsteady hand over her face and took a long breath. She forced a lightness she did not feel into her voice. "Nothing. Just lost my watch. I'm always a little disoriented when I don't have it."

"You're done for the night now, right?"

Done for the night. When had been the last time she'd been off duty? She'd left DC before sunup, reported in at the local field office in Manhattan, and gone straight back to Ground Zero. Search teams were still scouring the massive area of destruction, still hoping for survivors even while gathering evidence of the unimaginable damage. She and her fellow agents were still at the stage of gathering physical evidence, and everyone was working frantically while trying to deny the devastating knowledge that they had failed. She hadn't slept in three days.

"Right. I'm off shift."

"Look, you sound really beat. Why don't you call me back after you've had a chance to unwind."

"No, hey. I want to talk to you." Savard struggled to call up the image of the woman who had touched her just hours before and made her feel alive, of the tender lover who had held her in the night and helped her forget the fear. Love and gratitude for that woman hammered against the wall of despair that had somehow appeared around her in the last seventy-two hours. She knew the emotions were there even though she couldn't feel them all the way inside. But she clung to the memories nevertheless. "How are you?"

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Come on, sweetheart, tell me about your day." Just talk to me. Just let me hear your voice.

"Well, I've got some news."

"What?"

"The commander and the entire team are under investigation for what happened at the Aerie. They've all been suspended."

Savard straightened, her weary mind suddenly clear. "You've got to be kidding. That's ridiculous. Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry."

"Not me, honey. I'm the only one they didn't suspend."

"Why not? I mean, I'm glad, but why not you too?"

Even through the phone line, Stark's voice conveyed her lingering astonishment. "I'm Egret's new security chief."

"Oh my God. God, Paula. Congratulations."

"I guess."

"That's incredible. I'm so proud of you." Savard felt it then, the swell of love and pride and tenderness, and close behind it, a rush of relief. Somewhere inside, she was still alive. "I love you."

"Oh man, I love you too. So much. I miss you."

"Same here, sweetie. I—wait a second, I've got another call." Savard looked at the number on the screen. "I'm going to have take this. It's a scramble."

"Okay. Look, call me when you can, okay?"

"I will. I love you." Savard switched to the second line. "Savard."

"This is Cameron Roberts."

"Commander. How are you?"

"Fine. I'd like to see you."

"Of course. When?"

"How about now?"

Savard pushed her fatigue and the pain of the last few days into the recesses of her consciousness where she kept all the other horrors she'd witnessed over the years. "Certainly."

Chapter Eight

C am slowly circled the rental car around Gramercy Park. Blair's building was dark, as she had expected.

"What's, the security situation?" she inquired of Savard, who had been silent for the short trip across town from Stark's apartment.

"What? Oh." Savard straightened and cleared her throat. "There isn't any."

"No one is detailed to watch the building?" Cam pulled to the curb around the corner from the entrance. "Didn't anyone consider that whoever ordered the assault might be just as interested as we are in what was left behind? Or that a second team might be waiting for Blair to return?"

"I don't know, Commander. I was pulled off the investigation the first day."

"Right." Cam fought back her anger at still further corroboration that this investigation would inevitably take a backseat to the greater threat of another terrorist attack. Added to that was the complete disruption of business as usual at the highest levels and the inevitable preoccupation of those in charge with what was sure to be a long siege of finger-pointing as to exactly which agency was responsible for the nation being taken by surprise. Still, seeing the clear lapse in protocol was a cold reminder that she couldn't count on anyone else to ensure Blair's safety. "Let's not assume that just because we aren't watching the building, no one else is. Is the rear door functional?"

"The door's there, but I'm not sure about the stairs. They blew the fire door from the lobby to the stairwell."

Cam remembered the thud of plastic explosives and the grating scream of twisting metal as she'd shepherded Blair out of the building toward the waiting vehicles. The men behind them had been so close, and Blair had been so vulnerable. A trickle of sweat snaked between her shoulder blades despite the cool night air. "Let's have a look. We'll walk south a couple of blocks, track back on Second Avenue, and approach the rear from the east."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wait for me to come around." Cam stepped out of the car and walked to the passenger side, then leaned down and opened Savard's door. She'd worn jeans and a leather jacket to travel in and hoped that to anyone watching they would look like a couple headed out for an evening date. She extended her hand. "Just pretend we're together."

With Savard's hand in hers, Cam turned her back to Blair's building and walked south on Irving Place. Savard's fingers were like ice in hers, and she saw Savard shiver. Although the September night was chilly, she did not think it was the cold that bothered her companion. "The Bureau must be pushing hard on the evidence-gathering at the site."

"Every available agent is there."

"Working around the clock, I guess," Cam said mildly as she turned east several blocks later.

"Pretty much."

Savard spoke in a monotone, her usually animated expression flat. Cam resisted the sudden urge to put her arm around Savard's shoulders. Something told her the action might be welcome, but possibly more contact than Savard was ready to handle. She knew from experience that there were times when the only way to get beyond pain was to walk through it, unshielded and alone. "I'm going to need you to take me through the scene tonight. You were one of the first responders, and you saw it fresh. I'm going to need to see what you saw, smell what you smelled, feel what you felt—every detail. Can you do it?"

"Yes." Savard met Cam's questioning gaze. Even with her face illuminated only by the streetlights, the feverish intensity in her eyes was clear. "Yes. Yes, I can do it."

Cam nodded once as they turned north again. A few minutes later, they walked down the narrow access alley that ran the length of the block behind Blair's building. The turnaround where Mac and Felicia had parked the Suburbans was littered with the detritus of a hasty medical evacuation that marked the spot where Mac had lain shot and bleeding. Where Cam had left him to fend for himself while she took Blair to safety. She pulled a small, powerful Mag-Lite from the inside pocket of her leather jacket and shone it on the ground. While Savard watched, she walked the perimeter of the scene and then crisscrossed the area in a methodical grid, examining every square foot of concrete as she moved.

"The team from Quantico has been over this, Commander," Savard observed quietly.

"Uh-huh."

At one point, she squatted down and brushed her hand over the surface of the concrete. The stain from Mac's blood yielded no answers. She stood, clicked off her light, and pocketed it. "Let's go inside."

The steel security door was dented and the brick surrounding it for fifteen feet was pockmarked from the storm of bullets Cam, Stark, Felicia, and Mac had fired at the assailants. Cam's gaze swept over the bullet marks, her face registering nothing, as she fit her key card into the lock. The door opened and they stepped inside. Cam switched on her light and played it over the stairwell. Bits of plaster, shards of metal, and other debris from the explosion one floor up covered the stairs, but they were passable.

"You go ahead." Cam instructed, playing the light ahead of them as they climbed. Their footsteps in the cavernous space were a distant echo of the automatic weapons fire that had followed her down the same stairs only days before. Once in the lobby, she walked directly to the spot where Cynthia Parker had fallen. Traces of her blood remained on the scuffed tiles. Turning toward the entrance, Cam assessed the distance and knew that the assailants' plan had included eliminating the Secret Service agent on duty Tuesday morning. The security desk where Parker had been stationed was too far from the front entrance for any other scenario to have been possible. Parker had been lucky to get off a shot at all, and it was a testament to her skill that she had actually taken down one member of the assault team. They had come into the building planning to kill her, and they had known exactly where she would be positioned. Fury settled in Cam's stomach like a stone. Someone had set her people up to die, and it had taken more than a rogue Secret Service agent to do it.

"Okay—tell me what you saw when you arrived. The position of the bodies, what type of weapons, the amount of ammo the attackers carried, communication devices—-all of it."

As Savard recounted her observations in a steady unwavering tone, Cam played her light over the area as if highlighting action on a stage. Once or twice she asked Savard to repeat a detail.

"Who has the tapes from the security camera up there?" Cam asked as she illuminated the corner opposite the front entrance.

"All the tapes are at the regional office."

Cam nodded. "I want them."

"Commander—"

Cam angled the light between them so that their faces flickered in shadow as their eyes met. "I'm going to run this investigation, and in order to do that, I plan on getting all the information there is, no matter who has it. I want you on the team."

Savard's lips parted in surprise. "But the World Trade Center—"

"Is critically important, I know that. And I know that you want to be part of it. But the attack on Blair Powell was a threat to national security too, and"—Cam shone her light on the dark brown stain where Cynthia Parker had lain dying—"this is personal. Parker deserves justice too." She studied Savard's face and saw her pale even in the gloom. She didn't have to say that this could easily have been Paula Stark's blood flaking like so much rust-colored paint on the floor. "They came after us where we live, Savard. We can't let that happen again."

"No, ma'am," Savard said softly. "We can't."

They moved through the lower floors quickly. The apartments were all corporate rentals and infrequently occupied by business executives in the city for short stays.

"We'll need a list of anyone who stayed here in the last year, and another search on all property owners. The FBI databases should be good for that," Cam noted.

"Got it," Savard replied.

In the command center, Cam halted in surprise when she saw all the computers still present and humming quietly on standby. "Who the hell was in charge of this field operation? Didn't they realize that our computers might have been hacked for some of the information the perpetrators needed to carry out their operation? They might have left a trail."

Savard shook her head. "It's been crazy, Commander. We haven't been able to put together a cohesive team since Tuesday. Agents keep getting pulled to different shifts, the SACs are being shuffled around and no one knows why, and everyone is paranoid that they were the ones that missed some key bit of information that would have tipped us to Tuesday. Especially those of us who were in the counterterrorism squad."

"The CTS was established to analyze and coordinate data, not gather intelligence. There's a huge difference, and we all know that," Cam said. "You guys weren't to blame."

"But that's not going to make any difference now," Savard said solemnly.

"No, probably not." Cam dialed a number on her cell phone from memory. "Are you still in the city? I've got a job for you.. .tonight. I need you to strip out the hard drives from the computers in command central and anything else that might help us find out what happened here." Cam listened, then laughed softly. "Low-profile...yeah, you might say that. It could get dicey. You sure?.. .1 don't know. For now, why don't you take it all home with you."

Cam pocketed her phone and grinned at Savard, a grin completely devoid of humor. "We have another team member."

"Should I ask?"

"Soon enough." Cam took one last look around, knowing that they might never be returning to the command center again. The entire security system had been compromised. In all likelihood, Blair would need to find a new home. "I want to go up to the Aerie. I need to see what kind of shape it's in before she does."

"Her paintings.. .I made sure no one touched them."

For the first time since they'd walked together like lovers, Cam touched Savard's shoulder. "Thank you. If you don't mind waiting down here..." She handed over her Mag-Lite. "Here, take this."

"No, there's plenty of light from the window. You'll need it upstairs. I'll be fine, Commander."

"You will be," Cam said gently. "I'll be right back."

Five minutes later she stood in the doorway of Blair's apartment, Foster's blood a Rorschach print of anger and regret beneath her feet. She looked into the loft and remembered the first time she'd stepped across the threshold and confronted the first daughter. Blair had been angry, aggressive, and alluringly seductive. Cam had tried for months to pretend that she hadn't felt the sharp spike of attraction the instant she'd seen her. But the more she'd tried to deny it, the stronger the attraction had become, and the more time she'd spent with Blair, the faster her attraction turned to something far deeper. Now, she thought of the woman she loved and the conspiracy that had been hatched by nameless individuals to destroy her, and she felt the mantle of resolve settle on her shoulders. Beneath it seethed the desire for retribution, and at the heart of her, a clearer, cleaner paean for justice. But what drove her, and what would drive her until the danger had been annihilated, was the pure and simple fury that someone would try to take from her what mattered most.

She switched off her light and whispered into the darkness. "You made a mistake when you chose her. Get ready, because I'm coming for you."

*

Diane Bleeker opened the door to her apartment clothed in the deep burgundy silk dressing gown that Cam remembered with graphic clarity. The subtly curvaceous blond with a mouth made for kissing smiled a slow, sultry smile as she leaned with one hip cocked and an elegant arm stretched out to the door. Her breasts slid under the silk like shadows beneath the surface of a still pond on a hot summer's day, and after one involuntary glance, Cam kept her eyes firmly fixed on Diane's laughing blue ones.

"Why, Commander, to what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?"

"I'm sorry I didn't call ahead," Cam began, then stopped suddenly as another figure moved into her range of vision. Another blond, this one cool where Diane was hot, remote where Diane was tantalizingly available, and one, Cam knew, capable of rendering a woman helpless with lust and need. "Hello, Valerie."

"Hello, Cameron."

Valerie, or Claire, as Cam had known her when they'd shared a clandestine relationship, also wore a dressing gown. Hers was black satin and gave her willowy form the glint of obsidian honed to a razor's edge. Cam felt the pull of a familiar ache deep in her groin, a visceral memory of talented hands and a torturous mouth, and she shrugged the unwanted response away with an impatient jerk of her shoulders.

Valerie smiled, but while Diane's smile was always playfully seductive whenever she detected the slightest reaction from Cam, Valerie's was sad. "I guess we're all a little surprised."

Cam looked questioningly from Diane to Valerie just as Diane cast an inquisitive glance at first Valerie, then Cam.

"Valerie is marooned here for a few days until the cross-country flight situation gets straightened out," Diane said. "She's, ah, using the guest room."

"Yes," Valerie added, her cultured voice completely composed. "Diane has been very gracious with her hospitality."

"I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time," Cam said to Diane. "Alone, if you don't mind."

"My, that sounds very officious." Diane's smile suddenly disappeared and she took a step forward, curling her fingers tightly around Cam's forearm. "Blair's all right, isn't she? I spoke with her on the phone earlier—"

"She's fine," Cam said gently "She's still at the residence."

"Oh, but I bet that she hates that."

Cam grinned. "You could say that." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valerie studying her intently. She wondered what it was Valerie hoped to see, because it was no secret that she and Blair were lovers. What else was she looking for? "I'm really sorry to barge in on your evening."

"Believe it or not, we were on our way to bed even though it's only eleven." Diane sighed. "The last few days have just been... unbelievable. I'm drained."

"I'm sorry. I can come back in the morning and we can talk then."

"Where are you staying?"

"I was planning on checking into one of the hotels."

"What about your apartment?" Diane asked curiously.

"No room service," Cam said, seeing no reason to point out that if someone was watching Blair's apartment, they would be watching hers as well. For the time being, she preferred to avoid anyone's scrutiny, friend or foe. She'd taken special precautions driving to Diane's after dropping off Savard to ensure that she hadn't been followed. No one knew she was in the city, and she preferred to keep it that way.

"Then stay here, because there's nothing available in the city in the way of hotel space. Too many stranded travelers. The couch is comfortable enough, and I can promise you good coffee in the morning."

Cam shook her head. "I've already disrupted your evening."

"Don't be silly." Diane leaned up and kissed Cam chastely on the cheek. "Stay. And give Blair my love when you talk to her."

"Thanks. I'll just grab my overnight bag from the car."

Diane handed her a spare key that she retrieved from a glass bowl on a nearby secretary. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good enough," Cam said. When she met Valerie's eyes and saw the question in them, she returned her gaze evenly. "Good night, Valerie."

"Sleep well, Cameron," Valerie murmured before turning away.

When Cam returned to the apartment, she changed into a T-shirt and boxers and stretched out on the sofa. Then she speed-dialed a DC number.

"This is Blair Powell."

"Hey, baby," Cam said softly as she closed her eyes and imagined Blair's face. "I miss you."

"You know, Commander, sometimes you say the most wonderful things."

Chapter Nine

Friday, September 14

C am stood on the small balcony outside Diane's living room, watching the occasional headlights cut curving swaths through the trees of Central Park five hundred yards away. It was two a.m., and she couldn't sleep. When she'd said good night to Blair, she'd closed her eyes, hoping that the sound of Blair's voice would carry her into the night. Sometimes, just imagining Blair by her side was enough to settle her mind and dispel the lingering worries and concerns so that she could rest. That hadn't been the case tonight, despite the fact that the oversized sofa was comfortable, just as Diane had said, and that Diane had covered the broad surface with a fine-weave cotton sheet and left a down pillow for her. Behind closed eyes, Cam lay awake running the probabilities as to when and where the next strike might come.

She had been trained to expect the unexpected and to respond to the unanticipated with a combination of skill and instinct, and her instincts had always been accurate. It had been her instinct that had saved Blair three days before, and her instincts now told her that the danger was still much closer than anyone suspected. What bothered her was that she could no longer clearly envision the enemy or predict their weapons. She wasn't certain whether she should expect another armed assault, or another kidnapping attempt, or a car bomb. Not knowing what shape or form the threat might take, she felt the urgent need to prepare for everything. Sleep was a luxury she could not afford, so she finally got up, pulled on her jeans, and walked barefoot outside in her T-shirt. The cool night air felt good on her face and neck.

A few minutes later, the glass doors behind her slid quietly open, but she did not turn. When the distinctive scent of Monyette Paris drifted to her on the tail end of a breeze, she recognized who approached. Even so, the whiskey-warm voice sent a tremor down her spine. Her stomach tightened, and she closed both hands around the railing, the muscles in her forearms bunching with tension.

"Couldn't sleep?" Valerie asked as she moved close to where Cam stood leaning against the heavy wrought-iron balustrade.

"No." Glancing sideways, Cam took her in. Valerie would be naked beneath the black dressing gown, she knew, and Cam didn't need the moonlight to envision the swell of her breasts and the long sensuous curve of belly as it gave way to the smooth arc of hip. She'd run her hands over that body countless times and felt the sweet slide of passion-slicked skin on her own. The tangle of limbs, the swift rush of pleasure, and the cries of release—hers and Valerie's rising as one—were only a brief memory away. "You?"

Valerie shook her head. "I fall asleep, and then I dream." She shrugged. "And then I'm awake." She moved as if to touch Cam's shoulder, and then stopped. "Do you mind the company?"

Cam breathed in slowly, tasting the unbearably tantalizing mixture of perfume and desire. The last time she had stood on this balcony in the night, the woman beside her had been Blair, and she remembered the soul-deep longing and near-crippling hunger she'd had for Blair then. She looked at this woman—could feel the heat of Valerie's mouth on her body—and knew that she'd never wanted Valerie the way she wanted Blair. Wanted her then, wanted her now— would want her, always. The fist of arousal that had gripped her when Valerie first appeared released its stranglehold on her, and she was free. "No, I don't mind at all."

"Diane doesn't know about us."

"I know."

"Is it going to be a problem if she finds out?"

Cam shifted until she could watch Valerie's face. "A problem for whom?"

Valerie smiled. "You always were so careful, Cameron. For you, for Blair."

"Blair has known for a long time."

"Oh, I know. I was looking into her face the exact moment she understood." A small smile skittered across Valerie's mouth, transforming the perfect symmetry of her face for an instant, making her seem less flawlessly beautiful and more vulnerable. "I could see her struggle with her anger, knowing that I had touched you. I watched her win that battle. She's quite a remarkable woman."

"Yes."

"And you love her." Valerie was watching Cam just as intently as Cam watched her.

"With everything in me."

"You would, of course." Valerie settled her fingertips lightly on the top of Cam's hand. "She knew.. .Blair.. .that I was in love with you, but she also knew on some instinctive level, even that first night, that you did not love me."

"Valerie—"

"No," Valerie said quickly, curving her fingers over the edge of Cam's hand now, "you don't need to explain anything, Cameron. I always knew what you felt and what you didn't. You were always very honest about that."

"I'm sorry," Cam said, "for using you, nevertheless."

"Using me?" Valerie laughed, a deep genuine laugh. "Oh, hardly. You have no reason to apologize for the pleasure that we shared. That was our agreement, and anything beyond that was my responsibility." She took her hand away and turned to face the park, her shoulder resting lightly against Cam's. "I really shouldn't be here."

"Why are you?"

"I don't know," Valerie said pensively, reaching up to tame a stray lock of blond hair that the wind had whipped into her face. She pushed it impatiently behind her ear, the movement inadvertently exposing the pale, slender column of her neck, as if beckoning a kiss. "I could have found somewhere else to stay, or hired a car and driven into the country for a week or so. But when everything happened—when the entire world suddenly tilted, the first thing I thought of was Diane. So I called her, even knowing that I shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't you, Valerie?" Cam asked quietly. They'd had a liaison for almost a year, and for part of that time, Cam had been Blair's security chief. And during that time, there had been two attempts on Blair's life. Cam knew with absolute certainty that she had never divulged one single piece of information involving Blair or her security, but everyone in her life, everyone in Blair s life, was a suspect now as far she was concerned. And Valerie—Claire—remained a mystery on many levels.

"Oh, so many reasons." Valerie shrugged and laughed again, this time a small, self-deprecating sound. "I could strike some platitude such as she deserves better, which is absolutely totally true, or I could mention that her friendship with Blair might be damaged—"

"Blair will handle it."

"Yes, I imagine she will. But I wonder if Diane will when she learns that Blair knew about my relationship with you and didn't tell her."

"You can't ever know how anyone is going to react. You just have to go with what you feel."

Valerie turned, leaning a hip against the railing, and regarded Cam seriously again. "Philosophy, Cameron?"

"No, just lots of mistakes."

"Diane and I aren't sleeping together."

"Yet?"

Valerie moved her head from side to side. "I don't know about that."

"But you're here."

"Yes." Valerie sighed. "And now so are you. I heard you get up and come outside. I lay there thinking about the last time we were together. You wanted to make love to me that night, and I didn't let you. I regret that."

"Things have changed." Cam's voice was gentle, and she didn't move away when Valerie leaned toward her. There had been too much between them to turn her back.

"Yes, but.. .sometimes it just takes one last time to put the past to rest." As she spoke, Valerie slid her hand under the bottom of Cam's T-shirt and pressed her palm to Cam's abdomen. She made a small sound of pleasure when Cam's muscles twitched at her touch, and she slowly smoothed her fingers lower, turning her hand to edge her fingertips under the waistband of Cam's jeans.

Cam clamped her hand over Valerie's wrist through the T-shirt and stopped the caress. She'd gotten wet at the first touch. "There won't be another time."

Valerie, her mouth close enough to Cam's to kiss, stared into Cam's eyes for a very long moment. "God, you always did have exquisite control."

Cam grinned and withdrew Valerie's hand from beneath her shirt. She released her wrist, then let out a pent-up breath. "Sometimes looks can be deceiving."

"Perhaps." Valerie edged away, putting space between them. "But your message is quite clear. I won't make another pass."

"Thank you. Because you're a beautiful woman, and very desirable, and I happen to be completely in love with someone else."

"I knew that well before you did, Cameron," Valerie said with a soft smile. "I just wasn't certain how you'd handle it, and never really had the chance to find out. Now I know."

"What about Diane?"

Valerie closed her eyes for a moment. "I wish I knew. It's been so long since I've had an uncomplicated feeling for a woman, I don't know if I can recognize one any longer."

"I know what you mean."

"I believe you do." Valerie traced her fingers along the edge of Cam's jaw and then turned toward the apartment. "Remember tonight, Cameron. Remember that in this moment, there was nothing between us but the truth."

Cam watched Valerie open and close the glass doors and disappear into the darkness beyond. There was more to be said. Or perhaps confessed. Of that she was certain. As she turned back to the night, she wondered when she would find out what other secrets lay between them.

*

Valerie stepped carefully across the dark living room by the aid of memory and the slivers of moonlight that hinted at the shapes in her path.

"We should talk," Diane said quietly, rising from her seat in the corner opposite the balcony. "I hadn't meant to spy, but I heard you get up. I was worried that you'd had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

"You do, you know. You cry out in your sleep. The first night," Diane said as she joined Valerie in the archway that led to the hallway and the bedrooms beyond, "I got up and opened your bedroom door. You were moaning and thrashing under the covers. I didn't know if I should wake you or not."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Diane shook her head. "You don't need to apologize."

"But you didn't wake me."

"No. I walked to the side of your bed, and then I realized that you were naked and I just looked at you. I looked at you and I wanted to touch you, and then I knew I needed to leave."

"Diane," Valerie murmured, grazing her fingers down Diane's arm without thinking.

"I saw you outside with Cam. I couldn't hear what you were saying, but I didn't need to." Diane gently withdrew her arm from Valerie's grasp. "Blair Powell is my best friend."

"Blair knows," Valerie said quietly.

"I need to, too."

"Yes." Valerie sighed. "Let's go to your room."

Valerie followed Diane down the hallway and into the master bedroom suite. She waited while Diane opened the drapes enough to provide illumination for them to see one another. Diane did not turn on a light, and Valerie was grateful—their pain would not be exposed in the harsh clarity of lamplight, but muted by the forgiving luminosity of the moon. She sank down on one end of the small love seat that faced the floor-to-ceiling windows in the sitting area and waited to speak until Diane joined her.

"Cameron and I were...involved...for close to a year," Valerie said immediately, seeing no reason to pretend that the discussion was about anything else. "It's over now."

"It didn't look like it was over." Diane's voice held no hint of censure, only an undertone of sadness. "Of course, you don't owe me any explanation."

"I do." They were inches apart, and Valerie wanted to touch her, as if her flesh could somehow instill in the other woman a belief in the truth of her words. "I'm here, in your home, and I do owe you an explanation."

"I wondered why you hadn't responded to my"—Diane laughed— "not-so-subtle hints that I was interested in you. I hadn't thought to ask if there was someone else. Foolish of me-"

"That wasn't the reason that I didn't respond," Valerie said quietly. "And I wanted to."

"Is it because of.. .Cam?"

Diane stumbled over the words, and Valerie knew that it hurt her to say them. What surprised her was that it hurt her to hear Diane's pain. "I'm sorry. No. It was because I wanted..." She stopped, considered carefully what she was about to say. "I wanted to be sure you never regretted anything that happened between us, And I knew that could never happen until I told you about Cameron."

"Were you going to?"

Valerie hesitated. "I don't know. It's not just me involved."

"You said that Blair knows. So I assume she knew the night of the gallery showing?"

"Yes."

"And you're still alive? Amazing."

"Blair knows her lover."

"Any woman can be tempted," Diane said bitterly. "Believe me, I know."

"Tempted, yes—but anything more than that is not going to happen with Cameron Roberts."

"But you want it to." Diane wrapped her arms around her body just below her breasts, as if to ward off a chill. The room was warm. "I could see from across the room how much you wanted her."

"I did, yes." Valerie drew one leg up onto the sofa so that she could turn and look directly into Diane's face. "I did want her, out there just now. When we ended things, there was a part of me that hadn't said goodbye. I wanted to say goodbye tonight." She extended her arm along the sofa back until her fingertips almost touched Diane's shoulder. "Now I have."

"Is it that easy?" Diane did not move away or lean into Valerie's touch.

"I've just accepted what I've known for a long time. So in a way, yes, it was easy."

"All right."

Valerie stroked Diane's shoulder and then pulled her hand back. "There's something else that you should know. About when Cameron and I were together."

"No, there isn't. Whatever it was or wasn't is none of my business." Diane caught Valerie's hand as she was about to move away. She clasped Valerie's fingers between her own and rubbed her thumb back and forth over Valerie's knuckles. "Why did you come here Tuesday night?"

"To be with you. I don't know why, but I wanted to be with you now. I.. .needed to be with you."

Diane nodded. "I'm glad."

"There are other things I haven't told you," Valerie said quietly.

"There always are."

Chapter Ten

T his is Cameron Roberts. I'd like to speak to the chief of staff, please."

"It's 4:30 in the morning, ma'am," the polite male voice informed her. "I'll be happy to take a message."

"You might want to check your priority list before you do that." Cam heard a rustle of papers. When the duty officer spoke again, he sounded as if he were standing at attention.

"I'll put you right through, ma'am."

"Thank you. Scramble it, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Within seconds, Lucinda Washburn answered, her voice brisk and sharp. Cam had no doubt she'd been awake.

"Problem, Commander?"

"Call it precaution, ma'am. I'm in Manhattan. I suggest you give Stark a few extra people for this afternoon." Despite the fact that their transmission was scrambled and therefore presumably secure, Cam left nothing to chance where Blair was concerned. She expected that Lucinda would get her meaning without further explanation.

"Any particular reason?"

"Just a feeling."

"That's good enough." Lucinda sighed. "And the Eagle?"

"I imagine Tom will already have that covered." Cam knew that Tom Turner, the president's security chief, would have pulled out all the stops for the president's first public appearance since the attacks. No doubt every FBI agent, Secret Service agent, and NYPD security officer available would be detailed for Andrew Powell's visit to Ground Zero. "But Egret tends to fly far from the nest."

"God, that she does," Lucinda said with a fondness that was apparent even over the line. "You don't have anything specific?"

"I've only been here a few hours, but things are loose at the Aerie. I don't like it."

"Damn. Neither do I. You'll stay close this afternoon?"

Cam smiled, a cold, hard smile. "Count on it"

"I'll see that she leaves here with extra people."

"Thank you. Oh, and one other thing."

"I knew yesterday that you wanted something in particular," Lucinda said. "What is it?"

"Not what, who."

"Let's hear it."

"I want Felicia Davis detailed to me as of today."

"That's going to be difficult. The security clearance will take time, and there's only so much I can do to go around the Justice Department's special investigative committee."

"If we're going to find these people," Cam said with certainty, "it's going to be through some connection to Foster. I need a computer expert for that."

"I can get you someone.. .There is at least one Justice agent who is supposed to be the best they ever had. A bit of a renegade, apparently, but—"

"Won't work," Cam interrupted. "Felicia is one of mine already. She was vulnerable during the assault, just like Stark. She's lucky to be alive. There's no way she's involved."

"I'll see what I can do, but these things don't come free."

"Oh, I know that. If there's some price attached, I'll pay it. Now, as to the other team members—"

Lucinda laughed. "You've been busy since we talked yesterday."

"Things are bad up here," Cam said quietly.

"Yes. Whom do you need?"

Cam told her and waited.

"That shouldn't be a problem. Consider it done unless you hear from me by midday."

"I'll have them working by then."

"Yes," Lucinda said, "I imagine you will. Good hunting, Commander."

*

Cam was thinking about the hunt as she poured her first cup of coffee at a little after seven a.m.

"I see you still remember where the essentials are," Diane said from behind her.