Honor Reclaimed

"I'll explain while we walk." The Army medical doctor turned and started off, and when Blair and Stark followed, she said over her shoulder, "Skin, blood, sputum, and urine cultures. Blood chemistries and cell counts. Baseline chest x-ray. Electrocardiogram. A complete physical examination."

"You think we're going to get sick, don't you?"

"I don't know," Captain Andrews said. "It's possible that the substance in your apartment was completely harmless. But until we know, we're going to treat you aggressively."

They filed into a large room, and Blair noted several windows set into an interior wall behind partially closed curtains. She pointed. "That looks an awfully lot like an observation window."

"It is," Captain Andrews replied. "The nurses' station is just on the other side. The glass allows them to check on you without actually entering the room."

Blair shivered, although the room was warm. Two hospital beds stood side by side with matching institutional bedside dressers between them. A television was mounted on a metal bracket in the upper corner of the room opposite the beds. A bathroom was visible through an open door in one corner. There were no outside windows. The walls were completely bare. Royal blue surgical scrubs in plastic bags were laid out on each bed. "How do we communicate?"

"There's a two-way intercom just above your bed and one by the windows."

"Do those windows open?"

"No."

"Wonderful," Blair muttered. The lightweight EP suit she'd been provided outside her building zipped up the front and covered her from toe to neck. It was unexpectedly durable, but she still felt as if she were practically naked. She pointed to the clothes. "Can we change?"

"Yes. Once you have, I'll examine you both, draw your blood, instruct you in how to provide the other specimens, and then we'll see about your phone calls." Captain Andrews indicated the beds. "For now, why don't you just make yourselves comfortable there, and I'll be back as soon as I collect the necessary specimen containers."

As soon as the doctor left the room, Blair turned to Stark. "Do we have a choice here?"

Stark shook her head. "No."

"What do they think it is?"

"I don't know, I—".

"Bullshit," Blair said mildly. "I know you know, because Cam would know. And now, you're Cam."

Stark turned her back to open the plastic bags of clothing, knowing that if Blair continued to study her face, she'd discern the truth. "I haven't heard anything about something like this—"

"Paula," Blair said knowingly, "lying won't work. You're way too obvious. Now tell me what you know."

"I'm not sure—"

"Just tell me what you heard. God damn it, don't leave me in the dark."

With a sigh, Stark dropped onto the side of one bed and unzipped her white coveralls, surprising Blair with her apparent unconcern for her nudity. Blair looked away, sensing that Stark was far more upset than she let on and would be embarrassed later. "What is it, Paula?" Blair questioned gently. "You can tell me. I'll be fine."

Stark pulled the scrub shirt over her head and sighed. "Every morning we get a copy of the Central Intelligence Report—that's the joint release from the CIA and FBI. Yesterday an envelope filled with white powder was delivered to a federal building in New Jersey. They suspect it might be anthrax."

Blair sat slowly on the bed, watching Stark's face carefully "Anthrax. Jesus. Do you think that's what that stuff was in my apartment?"

Stark squeezed her hands between her knees and shook her head. "I don't know. I think that's what these people think, though."

"What do the reports say about it? Just how dangerous is it?"

"It didn't go into detail. It's treatable, they said." Seventy percent mortality rate, they said. Stark indicated the clothing on the bed. "You should change before they come back. It feels better to have real clothes on."

"Yeah. Okay" Swiftly rising, Blair unzipped in the same motion and stepped free of the synthetic coveralls to stand nude by her bed. She ripped open the plastic bags and stepped into the surgical scrub bottoms and then pulled on the top. Barefoot, she stretched out on the bed to wait. If it was what they suspected, things were going to be bad. Very bad. "Paula?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not your fault."

Stark said nothing, unable to take solace in the kindness of what she knew to be a lie.

*

"Is Blair really all right?" Diane asked. She sat next to Valerie on the sofa in her living room where they had sat together barely a day before, but she felt now as if she were sitting beside a stranger. And of course, she was.

"Yes." Valerie swirled the white wine that Diane had poured for her when they'd both agreed upon arriving back at Diane's that a drink would be welcome. Their cab ride had been silent and awkward, just like the lie that hung in the air between them now. She sipped the wine and broke a cardinal rule. "There was a foreign substance in her apartment. We don't know what it is, and she's most likely been placed in isolation until it can be determined."

Diane's fingers tightened on her glass, and she had to consciously force herself to relax her grip. "Like a poison?"

"That's unlikely, since she and the two agents with her appeared to be fine several hours after they were exposed. It's more apt to be an infectious agent of some kind, if it's anything."

"A.. .biological weapon?"

Valerie angled her body to look directly into Diane's face. "Possibly."

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

Valerie smiled wryly. "No."

"Right. Well." Diane held Valerie's gaze. "Who are you, Valerie?"

"I work for the government."

"Like Cam?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Is your name really Valerie?"

Valerie nodded.

"Did you come here to seduce me?"

"No. I came here to gather information. That's what I do." She leaned toward Diane, but did not touch her. "I didn't want to seduce you until after I'd been in the gallery for almost five minutes."

A smile played across Diane's mouth. "Oh, that was very smooth."

"And very true," Valerie said quietly. She put her glass down on the coffee table and took Diane's hand, ridiculously grateful when Diane did not pull away. "It wasn't my intention to lie to you. I didn't come here to use you."

"But you would have, if it would' ve gotten you what you needed, right?" Diane asked with an edge in her voice.

Valerie hesitated, then sighed. "Yes. If I'd had to, I would have."

"Do you also have sex with women to get what you want?" Diane stared at Valerie, demanding an answer, and saw the truth in her eyes. "My God. You do. Jesus."

Abruptly, Diane pulled her hand away and stood. She walked rapidly to the far side of the room and stood looking out through the glass doors, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. With her back to Valerie, she said, "How can they ask that of you?"

It wasn't the response that Valerie had expected. She stood, but was afraid to approach. She wanted to touch her, just enough so that she wouldn't feel the ache of loneliness that she'd carried with her since she'd left the apartment the morning before. "It's not so much different than expecting soldiers to put their lives on the line in battle. Everyone risks something."

Diane swirled around. "Would you have slept with me?"

"I wanted to," Valerie said immediately.

"But you didn't."

"Because I couldn't, not until you knew, and I couldn't tell you." Valerie lifted a hand and let it fall, at a loss to explain how desperately she had not wanted Diane to be Cam all over again. "I didn't want to be having this conversation after we'd made love, because I knew...I knew you'd never trust me again."

"What makes you think I'll ever trust you now?"

Valerie closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the blow, then shook her head sadly. "I don't. I just hope that you will."

The silence that followed was worse than any recrimination Diane could have flung at her. Helplessly, Valerie watched Diane hurriedly leave the room, knowing there was nothing she could say to undo the hurt that had been done. She sank back down onto the couch, picked up her wine, and slowly sipped, tasting nothing.

*

"What do you think they've done with Fazio?" Blair asked. "Grau took him in the opposite direction when we got off the helicopter."

"He must be in another unit somewhere," Stark said, picking at the Band-Aid they had placed in the crux of her right elbow after drawing half a dozen vials of blood. "You know, he got the full brunt of whatever that stuff was."

Blair remembered him coughing and swearing and brushing the powder off his shirtfront. Her heart raced furiously, and for a second she felt dizzy. "It'll probably turn out to be nothing."

Stark forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Andrews has been gone half an hour." Blair paced. "How far you think they had to go for the cell phones?"

"Langley?"

Blair stopped, stared at Stark, and then started laughing. Langley— CIA Headquarters. "Probably. Like we're going to give away secrets from inside here." She stopped laughing as abruptly as she had begun and sank back down on the bed. "God, I wish I could talk to Cam."

A shrill noise rilled the room followed by a familiar voice. "Hey."

"Cam?" Blair jumped up and rushed to the glass window as a light came on and illuminated the room on the other side. Cam placed her hand against the glass, and Blair pressed hers to the outline of her lover's palm.

"How are you doing, baby?" Cam asked.

Frantically, Blair looked for the intercom while Stark rose and moved to the far side of the room, giving them a modicum of privacy.

"There's a switch just to the left of the window," Cam instructed.

Blair found it, flipped it, and said, "What took you so long?"

"Heavy traffic."

Smiling, Blair rubbed her fingertips back and forth over the glass as if she were touching Cam's skin, and the illusion of contact made her feel better than she had in hours. "What are they telling you about when we'll get out of here?"

"They're not telling me anything yet, but as soon as I know, you will too. You feeling okay?" Cam tried to keep her tone light, but her stomach clenched as she studied her lover. Blair looked like she usually did when she was steaming. Her eyes were bright, her skin slightly flushed, and her movements quick and tight. Cam realized in that moment just how sexy Blair was when she was angry and understood, too, that it was that very fire that had instantly attracted her to the president's daughter. "Christ, you're beautiful."

Blair grinned. "Be careful, Commander. Stark is here, and you don't want to embarrass her." Blair leaned close to the glass to look into Cam's eyes. When she spoke, she lowered her voice. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I feel fine. We both do."

Cam pressed her hand so hard against the glass her palm was white. She wanted to touch her so badly she hurt inside.

"Cam?" Blair asked quietly, "What's wrong with your finger?"

"What?"

Blair nodded toward the glass. "Your little finger. It's three times its normal size. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Turn your hand over."

"Blair—"

"Let me see it, Cameron."

Reluctantly, Cam complied, repeating hastily when she heard Blair gasp, "It's nothing. It's fine."

"What happened? Sweetheart?" Blair saw Cam's face take on that careful look of consideration she always got when she was about to soften the truth with diplomacy. "And don't try to snow me. That finger is broken, isn't it? What did you do?"

"Ah, hell. I lost my temper and jammed my hand up a little."

Blair's heart gave a lurch. Fear for her safety was the only thing in the world that could make Cam lose control. Instantly, Blair forgot her anger at being shuffled about the country with little explanation, forgot her loathing at her confinement, forgot even the dread that something serious might be wrong with her. All she could think of was Cam, worried and in pain. "Oh, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."

"I know." Cam worked up a smile. "I know that."

"You need to have that x-rayed."

"I will."

Blair tapped the glass sharply. "Now."

Cam grinned. "I love when you get tough."

"You'll love me when I get out of here and kick your ass if you don't get that taken care of too."

"Yeah, I will." When Cam spoke her voice was gravelly, and she had to look away to blink her vision clear. "So. Savard is here."

"Good. Paula could use a visit to lift her spirits." Blair narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"She's had it rough. You might want to prepare Stark for that."

"Okay." When Cam took her hand from the glass, Blair said quickly, "Wait."

Cam frowned. "What's wrong, baby?"

"When will you be back?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Cam said, her expression slightly incredulous. "I'll be right here in this room until you're ready to leave."

"Like you don't have anything else to do?" Blair laughed shakily and summoned a smile. "You go get x-rayed and then go back to work. I'll be out of here in another day."

"Nice try, Blair." Cam ran her index finger down the glass as if she were stroking Blair's cheek. "I love you."

"Oh," Blair whispered, "I love you too."

Chapter Nineteen

S tark pulled one of the straight-backed armless chairs over to the window and sat hunched forward, her hands curled over her knees, her eyes on the glass. Renee stared back at her from the other side. Stark struggled not to let her shock show in her face. It had only been a day since they'd seen one another, but Renee looked as if she hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. Her slender face looked gaunt, her normally brilliant turquoise-blue eyes were a dull gray, and her strong, lithe body appeared frail. Hoping her hand didn't tremble and betray her worry, Stark reached out to flick the switch on the intercom.

"Hi, honey."

Savard straightened her shoulders and smiled more brightly. "Hi, sweetie. You doing okay in there?"

"It's pretty boring, and nobody's telling us much of anything." Stark shrugged. "The usual bureaucratic story. I feel fine. So does Blair. What do you hear?"

Savard shook her head. "Nothing yet. The commander is talking with the medical team right now. I think she was on the phone to the chief of staff too, just a few minutes ago. She won't let them stonewall us. And she won't let them keep you and Blair in the dark."

"Thank God she's here." Stark dropped her gaze, unwilling to inflict her misery on her lover. But she couldn't help thinking that she had fucked up her first assignment pretty badly, and now the commander had to bail her out.

"Hey! Stop blaming yourself. There's absolutely no way you could've known."

Stark's head snapped up. "Less than a week ago there was an attempt on her life. I should've checked her apartment a lot more closely before I let her go in there."

"Paula, sweetie, the commander and I were in that building just a few nights ago. We didn't see anything either."

"I know. You're right," Stark said unconvincingly. "So how are you doing? You look tired."

"Nah, I'm fine. Too much time at the computer." Savard looked over her shoulder, ensuring that she was still alone. "Felicia and I have been dogging the computers 24/7 trying to ID the members of the assault team. So far, nothing. Dental records, fingerprints, photo databases. Zip."

"That doesn't make sense. Those guys were trained."

"We know," Savard said, sounding frustrated. "But we still can't put names to them. So now we're doing deep background on Foster. It's slow going, because his records were thoroughly buried when he entered the Academy."

"That's routine with the Secret Service so no one can access our personal data and compromise us with it."

"Yeah, the same for us. But it makes our job a lot tougher now." Savard leaned back and pushed both hands through her hair. "But Felicia will sort it all out, if anyone can."

"Any word on what the stuff was in the Aerie?"

"Not yet." Savard's eyes filled with tears, and she scrubbed a hand angrily across her face. "Sorry. I'm just. ..I just love you. You can't get sick, okay?"

"Don't worry, honey. Nothing's going to happen to me." Stark clenched her hands out of sight, wishing desperately that there were something she could do to ease her lover's pain. It tore at her to see Renee so close to the edge and to be so powerless to help her. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything." Savard sat forward, her eyes intent. "Anything."

"Will you try to get some sleep?"

Savard considered lying, but she could tell by the worry in Stark's eyes that it was too late for that. "I'll try. It's been.. .hard."

"You have to take care of yourself. I need you."

"Oh, that's blackmail."

Stark nodded solemnly. "Maybe. But it's true."

Savard indicated the far corner of the room. "There are a couple of beds in here, I guess for the staff when they're monitoring someone around the clock. I'm going to go lie down right now, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"I'll be here when you wake up." Stark smiled and tried to sound optimistic.

"Promise?" Savard asked shakily.

"Always."

*

"How long?" Cam asked as Captain Andrews buddy-taped her small finger to her ring finger, creating a functional splint. She sat on an examining table in a small anteroom adjacent to the monitoring area that looked into Blair's room while the doctor tended to her injured finger. She'd gotten the x-ray only because she knew Blair would ask her, and she couldn't bear to upset her now.

"Fortunately, it's a hairline fracture with no displacement. Ten days of immobilization will probably do it, if you're careful—"

"No, not me. Blair: How long until you're certain she's out of danger?"

Captain Andrews straightened with a sigh and met Cam's probing gaze. "I'm working under Delta level restrictions here, Agent Roberts."

"Understood."

"Define your relationship with Ms. Powell."

Cam's gaze narrowed as she studied the other woman. Not surprisingly, she could read little in her expression. Uncertain exactly where the doctor might be headed, Cam decided that a frontal assault was best. "I'm her lover."

"And her acting security chief?"

"That's right." Technically, Hara was next in line with Stark temporarily out of commission, but word had come from the White House via Lucinda that Cam was to "oversee" operations. Not quite a reinstatement, but the closest thing to it.

"Well," Captain Andrews said, crossing her arms over her chest. "The second might not qualify you as being in a need-to-know position, but the first certainly does."

Cam waited, a knot of apprehension tightening in the center of her chest. She gripped the table on either side of her body and squeezed, oblivious to the pain, preparing herself for the blow she feared was coming.

"Be careful with that hand, Agent Roberts, or you'll displace the fracture enough that I'll have to put you in a cast."

"Just tell me."

"The growth of microbial cultures can't be hurried, I'm afraid. It will be a minimum of twelve hours, and more likely twenty-four, before we identify the organism with absolute certainty."

Cam stopped breathing. "You know for certain there was an organism?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, the gram stains demonstrated that. Basically, that's a quick and dirty way to examine a specimen for living organisms. It doesn't tell us what the bacteria is, only the general class." She hesitated as if trying to judge Cam's reaction. "What we found is a gram-positive, spore-forming bacillus consistent with anthrax. Or smallpox."

"Jesus," Cam whispered, leaning back against the examination table as her legs suddenly went weak. "Smallpox? I thought that had been eradicated decades ago."

Captain Andrews dragged over a tall stool and edged a hip up onto it. "That's true, as far as it goes. Frozen specimens, however, were stockpiled in two places—the CDC in Atlanta and the Maximum Containment Laboratory in Siberia."

"Christ, I bet that place was secure."

"Unfortunately, no. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, a considerable portion of their stores disappeared. We suspect that they made their way to the Middle East and Asia."

"And you can't tell if this is anthrax or smallpox?"

Andrews lifted a shoulder and sighed. "We're running diagnostic immunoassays right now, which will hopefully give us a presumptive diagnosis while we await the definitive culture results,"

"What are we talking about here, in terms of casualties?" Cam's voice was steady, but inside, every cell trembled.

"Look, Agent Roberts-—"

"It's Cam."

The doctor nodded. "Ronnie. Look, Cam. We're starting treatment right now. In fact, they've all probably gotten their first dose of antibiotics. Fortunately, with treatment, the cure rate is excellent, assuming they're infected."

"Numbers, Ronnie."

"Once symptoms appear, even with treatment, the mortality rate is high. Seventy to ninety percent if it's anthrax. With smallpox?" She shook her head. "Closer to a hundred percent."

Cam paled and pushed herself off the table. "I want to see her now"

"Wait a minute, Cam. We don't know what they were exposed to yet."

Cam turned back. "But you'll know in a few hours, right?"

"We'll have the immunoassay results in just about four hours, yes, but they'll just be prelim-—"

"Then I'll see her at 2100 hours," Cam said as she set her watch.

*

"Hi, Dad," Blair said, holding the cell phone in her right hand as she sat propped up in bed in her surgical scrubs with an intravenous line taped to her left arm. Stark sat in a similar position across from her on the opposite bed.

"Hi, honey. I'm sorry that I haven't talked to you before this, Colonel Grau has been in constant contact, but he seemed to feel it was necessary to complete their preliminary evaluation before—"

"Dad, Dad, Relax. I'm okay." Blair grimaced. As okay as I can be considering that I'm locked up tighter than Alcatraz and people are poking and prodding me nonstop.

"I've been assured that you are, or I'd be there right now."

"Don't do that," Blair said instantly. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me, but you certainly can't come here and risk catching something. Besides, you're—"

"I'm your father, and if there's the slightest possibility that you're ill, I'll be there."

Blair could hear protesting voices in the background, one of which she was certain belonged to Lucinda. She would not want to be her father's chief of staff at this moment. "Look, Dad, I know the situation. And so do you. Even if there weren't any risk, the last thing we need is the media around here. So send me a card, but no visits. Come to think of it, no flowers either."

Her father laughed weakly. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I want out of here. Then I'll be fine."

"Where's Cam?"

"She's here. I can't get her to leave."

"Good."

"Dad," Blair said gently, "they're taking good care of me. And Cam won't let anything happen to me."

"I certainly got lucky when you found her."

Blair smiled. "Yeah, me too."

After she said her goodbyes and hung up, she turned on her side and regarded Stark mournfully. "This sucks."

"Yeah. It does."

"You doing okay?"

Stark shrugged. "I don't feel sick." She regarded Blair anxiously. "But Renee looks terrible. Something's really wrong."

"I imagine it's been pretty horrible for her, Paula," Blair said quietly. "But I'm sure that you being in her life is helping her get through it."

Stark closed her hands into tight fists and closed her eyes. "I'm not doing anything for anyone. You ended up in here, and Renee's out there, alone, worrying about me. And I'm no good to anybody."

Blair pushed back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed until she was sitting upright, leaning forward toward Stark. "What the hell is the matter with you? You don't usually sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm scared." Stark turned eyes dark with misery to Blair. "I'm scared for her, and I don't know what to do."

"Oh, honey, just love her."

"You really think that's enough?"

Blair smiled. "I know it is."

Both women turned at die sound of the door opening, and then Blair shot to her feet. "You can't be in here. Turn around right now and get your ass out of here."

"Hi, baby," Cam said as she hooked an arm around the back of a chair and swung it off the floor. She dropped it next to the bed and sat down a foot from Blair. In a very reasonable voice, she said, "You'll notice, Ms. Powell, that I'm wearing a mask and a cover gown."

"I don't care if you're wearing Kevlar. I don't want you in here." Blair pushed as far away from Cam as she could get. In a voice thin with fear, she said, "Please. Please leave."

"Blair," Cam said gently, making no move to touch her, although she ached to pull her into her arms. It had been only hours that they'd been apart, but the fear had unbalanced her. If she could only hold her—-just feeling the heat of her body and the play of those supple muscles beneath smooth skin would set her world right again. She forced a lightness into her voice. "It's okay that I'm here. The doctors cleared it."

"The doctors don't know everything. Hell, they don't anything. If we have something, I don't want you getting sick."

Stark spoke up. "She's right, Commander. I'd advise you to leave."

Cam looked from one to the other and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing her feet at the ankles. "Would you two like to be briefed, or would you rather try to throw me out?"

"You can stay," Blair said after a minute, "but no touching."

"Oh, jeez," Stark muttered.

"So brief us, Commander," Blair said, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"Captain Andrews will be here in a few minutes to give you all the correct medical terminology. She's on the line with the president right now," Cam said as she looked into Blair's eyes.

"But you know something, don't you?" Blair asked.

Cam never hesitated, because lying was not something she was ever going to do with Blair. "Yes. It seems that the preliminary tests are highly suggestive of anthrax."

Blair's lips tightened.

Beside them, Stark took in an audible breath and then asked, "Does Renee know?"

"Not yet. She's asleep, and I thought it would be better not to wake her. If you want me to get her-—"

"No!" Stark said immediately. "But if you'd tell her..." Her voice cracked and she looked down at her hands, struggling to push back her fears.

"Wait, you two." Cam continued in a steady voice, "There's plenty of good news. All three of you have begun treatment before any sign of symptoms, which means that you're very likely not going to get sick." She nodded toward the gauze taped to Blair's upper arm. "They vaccinated you too, didn't they?"

"Yes." Blair leaned forward, allowing her fingertips to brush Cam's sleeve. It was so good to have her close again, and she wanted so badly to touch her. She forced herself to stop before their skin made contact. She had to be sure that Cam was not in danger. "What's the bad news?"

"Unfortunately," Cam said with the first hint of frustration, "the incubation period is extremely long, especially for the inhalational form of the disease."

"How long?" Blair and Stark said in unison.

Before Blair could protest, Cam slid her hand on top of Blair's. Instantly, their fingers intertwined. "Sixty days after exposure."

Blair stiffened. "They're not going to keep us here—"

"No,", Cam assured her quickly. "In fact, Captain Andrews said if you're not showing any signs of illness—which you won't be—by the time the cultures come back, you'll all be released on medication."

"What about other people?" Stark asked, thinking of how ill Renee seemed already. "Are we—-you know—contagious?"

Cam shook her head. "Not at all. Person-to-person spread of the disease does not occur."

"So what's the bottom line here, Commander?" Blair asked, pulling Cam's hand into her lap and cradling it against her body. That was all the contact she was going to allow herself until she knew for certain that Cam was safe, but the firm grip of Cam's fingers around hers stilled the tremulousness in the pit of her stomach that had been there since the instant she'd seen the white substance burst into the air.

"You need to stay here for a few more days to be certain that the antibiotics and other drugs are working."

Blair regarded Stark with a vehement shake of her head. "I'm not playing pinochle with her as my partner."

Cam laughed. The last time Blair had been sequestered, they'd passed the hours playing pinochle. Blair had declared Stark the worst player she'd ever seen. "You don't have to worry about that. The only partner you're ever going to have, Ms. Powell, is me."

Chapter Twenty

Sunday, September 16

D im light filtered through the window in the door from the hallway into the room where Cam and Savard lay side by side on narrow cots. It had been quiet since the last time a technician had checked on Blair and Stark an hour and a half ago. Cam stared at the ceiling, listening to Savard shift restlessly in her sleep. Every so often she heard a quiet moan. When the moans grew louder and culminated in a sharp cry, she rolled onto her side and reached across the space between them. With a hand on Savard's shoulder, she said gently, "Hey, Renee."

Savard jerked upright, trembling as she fought to orient herself in the near dark.

"Sorry," Cam said, keeping her hand on the unsteady woman's arm. "You sounded like you were having a bad dream."

"Yeah," Savard said shakily. She had promised Paula she'd try to sleep, although she hadn't expected to. She'd stripped down to her camisole and panties after returning from her all-too-brief visit with Stark earlier, and looking down, she realized that she'd kicked the covers off in her sleep. With a small laugh, she reached for the sheet and pulled it up to her waist. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Cam dropped her hand and rolled onto her back again. "Couldn't sleep."

"I'm surprised I did."

"Having a tough time with that?"

Savard hesitated, but there in the dark, with a woman she trusted with her life, she had to believe she was safe. "Can't get it out of my head."

"Understandable."

"Working helps, but only for so long." Savard lay back down, gripping the sheet tightly in both fists. "And now, with Paula in here..." She heard her voice waver and break, but it seemed as if she were listening to someone else. The words kept coming, even though she hadn't intended them to escape. "I keep seeing things. Hearing things."

"When you're awake?"

Savard nodded, her throat constricting around the scream that had threatened to erupt since the first moment she'd realized what the plume of smoke high up in the sky meant.

"Renee?"

"Yes," Savard whispered. "And when I close my eyes."

"How much downtime have you had this week?"

"As much as anyone else," Savard said harshly.

"No one's been getting enough." Cam flashed on how she'd felt that morning when she hadn't known if Blair was hurt, or worse. The terrible fear. The aching helplessness. The soul-sapping powerlessness. She tried to imagine magnifying that a thousandfold or more and couldn't. "Both you and Stark need some downtime after she's released."

"No!" Savard sat up, the sheet falling away unnoticed. "There's work—"

"You're right. There is. A lot of it. Weeks of it, probably. And I need you both." Cam sat up and swung her legs over the bed. She'd removed her shirt and trousers and wore a thin sleeveless silk T-shirt and briefs. "You won't do me any good until you get your feet back under you. Where is your family?"

"Florida."

"Take Paula there."

"She won't go. Not now."

Cam laughed. "She'll go. And you need to see someone—a professional—to talk all of this over with."

"You know what will happen if wind of that gets into my jacket," Savard said bitterly. "My security clearance will disappear, and I'll end up holding down a desk in the middle of Kansas."

"Nothing is going into your file because no one's going to know about this except you and me. But I want it done, Renee. And you can consider that an order."

"A week. But I'll see someone."

Cam laughed again, impressed with Savard's toughness. "We'll start there."

*

"Have you eaten anything tonight?" Diane asked from the archway that separated the living room from the hall and her bedroom at the far end. Valerie stood at the open door to the balcony with her back to the room, a half-empty wineglass in her hand. It was after midnight, as Diane had discovered much to her surprise when she awoke from an unintended slumber. She'd showered hastily and gone in search of Valerie, wondering if she would even still be there and overtaken by a wave of sadness at the thought that she might not be.

A single lamp burned in the far corner of the room, and a nearly empty bottle of wine stood on the coffee table next to her own glass from earlier that day. "Valerie?"

Valerie turned with a weary smile. "No."

"What have you been doing?"

"Thinking, mostly." She finished her wine and crossed to the coffee table where she carefully deposited the empty glass. Diane, she noticed, had changed into a loose, scoop-necked blouse and wide-leg casual slacks. She was barefoot. And she was so beautiful Valerie's throat ached to look at her. She'd thought of her for hours—how she'd looked the first moment she'd seen her in the gallery, what they'd shared that week as they had mourned with the rest of the country, how Diane's strength and compassion had touched the place inside that she usually kept guarded against everyone. "Did you sleep?"

"I did. I can't imagine how."

"Sooner or later the stress catches up to you."

"Does it work that way with you? Does anything ever catch up to you?"

"Sometimes," Valerie said softly.

"What things?"

Valerie shook her head. "Things I chose twenty years ago when I said yes to a man who told me I had something special to offer my country."

Diane walked slowly forward, her eyes on Valerie's. "What things, Valerie?"

Valerie was unable to look away from Diane's face. Her mouth was so tender, her eyes so bruised. God. I've hurt her. "I'm so sorry."

Diane made an impatient gesture. "What things can't you get away from?"

"Loneliness," Valerie said softly.

"What do you do then?"

Valerie lifted both hands and let them fall, her chest constricting around the sadness and desire that warred within her. She stepped back, knowing that she would keep on hurting her, as she had hurt every woman in her life. She couldn't bear to have this woman's pain on her conscience. "I wait for it to pass. Go back to bed, Diane."

"Did making love with Cam make it better?"

"Don't. Please." Valerie took another step, and her legs bumped into the coffee table. Diane was so close to her now, within arm's distance, and she struggled not to run. She smelled something sweet and tangy, a lotion that Diane had put on after her shower. She imagined how smooth her skin would feel, how soft her kisses. She closed her eyes. "Please."

"Answer me. You owe me that much."

"It wasn't like that," Valerie said desperately.

"Oh, I know you were working," Diane said with just a trace of anger, "but being with her or...others...couldn't have left much room for feeling alone."

Valerie was tired. She was tired of holding herself back, tired of burying her needs so deeply that no one would ever have a hold on her. She'd let her guard down with Cam, and as hard as it had been, she was glad. Glad that she could still feel something for someone. And now, Diane was hammering once again at her defenses, and she was so tired of struggling to keep everyone out. She spoke without thinking. "There's nothing quite as lonely as making love to women who never touch you."

Diane gave a small start. "Are you saying...never?"

"It doesn't matter." Valerie shrugged impatiently. "That's the way I wanted it-—the way it has to be."

"It does matter." Diane reached out, her breasts brushing Valerie's, and lightly cupped Valerie's face between her palms. She smoothed both thumbs over Valerie's mouth. "You're trembling. I can feel you hurting."

"No, you're wrong." Valerie tried to pull her head away, but Diane held her firm. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry."

"Why did you?" Diane leaned closer and followed with her lips the path her thumbs had traversed. Valerie moaned quietly as Diane slid her hands to the back of Valerie's neck, deepening the kiss with a gentle exploration of lips and tongue. Then she eased away and murmured against Valerie's mouth. "Why?"

"Because," Valerie said, her voice choked, "when I'm with you, I don't feel alone." She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to Diane's shoulder as she wrapped both arms around her waist, giving in to the need to hold and be held. Just one minute. Just one minute to touch and be touched. She breathed in Diane's scent and rubbed her cheek lightly against the side of Diane's neck, finding her skin even softer than she had imagined. She tightened her hold and felt the supple strength contained within the lithe form. Marveling at the firm fullness of Diane's breasts, she moaned quietly as her own nipples tightened from the press of flesh on flesh. A tremor started in her legs and climbed into the core of her, and she knew she was falling. Falling from darkness into light, and she pushed away, afraid. "Diane. Go to bed."

Diane laughed shakily and cleaved more tightly to her. "One kiss. One simple kiss. One kiss, and I know I'll starve if I don't have you." She pressed a trembling hand to her heart. "In here, where I hunger."

"Oh God," Valerie whispered, taking Diane's mouth in one fierce motion. She was aware of Diane pulling her blouse from her slacks and felt hot fingers scale her spine. She circled her tongue inside Diane's mouth and groaned as Diane swept her palms around her body to lightly brush over her breasts and then whisper away. "Be sure. Please, be sure."

"I'm sure," Diane muttered, her lips moving along Valerie's throat, "that I'm not going to make love to you standing up out here." With effort, she stepped back and caught Valerie's hands in liers. "Come with me."

"Diane, I..."

"Shh." Diane tugged her toward the hallway. "Later. Later you can tell me everything. Now there's something I want to tell you."

Valerie followed, refusing to think beyond the moment, wanting these few minutes of forgiveness and forgetting. When they arrived by the side of Diane's bed and Valerie reached for the hem of Diane's blouse, Diane murmured no and brushed Valerie's hands away.

"I have this need," Diane whispered, her mouth close to Valerie's ear as she deftly unbuttoned the waistband of her slacks, "to touch you. Indulge me."

"Oh yes." Valerie swayed as a languorous heaviness settled in her stomach, and her limbs softened with the slow burn of desire. Lightly, she held Diane's hips, needing the contact as much as to steady herself. Diane's lips shivered over the rim of her ear, and sharp pinpoints of pleasure pricked her consciousness as teeth tugged at her earlobe. She shivered and her nipples ached as they rubbed against the inside of the silk cups that still contained them.

"Lift your arms, my beautiful one," Diane said, her voice husky and deep. Delicately, she slid Valerie's blouse and bra off in one motion, leaving her bare from the waist up. She pressed her thighs and lower body against Valerie's, her loins full and pulsing with arousal. She was determined to go slowly, but her body cried out for contact. She rolled her pelvis into the vee between Valerie's legs, tormenting them both. "Oh God, you feel so good."

With trembling hands, Diane caught the bottom of her own blouse and stripped it from her skin, dropping it mindlessly somewhere behind her. As her teeth closed on Valerie's lower lip, she tightened her arms around the slender body and rubbed her breasts over Valerie's. Their tight nipples chafed, and the beating between her thighs quickened, her clitoris tensing until she moaned.

Valerie edged a hand between them and spread her fingers over Diane's breast, squeezing gently. "I want you so much.. .so much."

Diane arched into the pleasure even as she pushed away. "Don't. I'm already far too excited."

"Then let me." Valerie covered Diane's other breast and worked her thumbs over her nipples, flicking as she massaged the tense engorged tissue. "Let me give you what you need. I want to."

"No. No." Diane pressed her hands over Valerie's, crushing her breasts beneath their joined fingers, stilling the torturous touch. She drew a breath and then another until her head began to clear. Then she pulled Valerie's hands from her body and jerked her toward the bed, turning them in motion so that Valerie ended up on her back with Diane above her, straddling her body. Her lips curved in a victorious smile, and she stretched full-length upon her, pressing one thigh firmly between Valerie's as she delved into her mouth. Between moans and kisses she worked her fingers between their bodies and finished unzipping Valerie's slacks and then her own. She rolled away only enough to push her clothing down and then to help Valerie shed the rest of hers. As they shifted and struggled and clung to one another, their mouths still joined, desperate not to lose contact, their bruising kisses grew more frantic and their hands more demanding.

"Please," Valerie begged, pressing her hips up to meet each of Diane's ever-more-rapid downward thrusts, "let me touch you. Let me make you come."

"No. You first." Diane's lids were nearly closed, her pupils wide and dark, her breath a rasping groan. She felt Valerie's passion slick her skin, but it was her own control that threatened to break. She braced her body on trembling arms and rocked herself to the brink of orgasm against Valerie's thigh, and still Valerie held back. She could feel her body shuddering beneath her, sense her hands trembling over her back like the frantic wings of a wounded bird, and still she held back. "Let go, darling. Let go."

"I can't," Valerie gasped. "Oh God, I can't"

"Oh yes," Diane said fiercely, "you can." And then she pushed herself down on the bed until she was between Valerie's thighs, and in the same motion took her into her mouth with one long slide of lips and tongue and gently grazing teeth. Valerie stiffened, her body rising off the bed as she choked back a scream.

Instantly, Diane gentled her caresses into swift butterfly kisses and short light strokes with the tip of her tongue until Valerie caught her breath and relaxed into the pleasure. Diane stretched both arms upward, finding Valerie's nipples and squeezing to the rhythm of her mouth, drawing the tense clitoris ever closer to the brink.

Valerie covered Diane's hands with hers, joining Diane's fingers on her nipples, guiding her in the twisting, tugging motion that would ignite the orgasm that lingered still in the shadows of her mind. "I'm so close so close.. .suck me harder."

With tender precision, Diane bit down on the base of Valerie's clitoris, and Valerie came instantly. Her shoulders wrenched off the bed as she cried out at the shock, then fell back shivering and twisting as the pleasure ripped through her. She was still coming when Diane pulled herself up and crushed her lips to Valerie's neck, moaning and shuddering, her body on fire.

"Oh, I'm going to come," Diane moaned, her fingers gripping, convulsing on Valerie's shoulders.

"Come in my mouth," Valerie gasped, reaching blindly for Diane 's hips, urging her upward.

"Next.. .time, oh God I'm coming." Diane buried her face in Valerie's neck and soared.

Valerie tightened her arms around the trembling woman, incapable of recalling a single instance when she had ever felt so satisfied. When Diane quieted and lay breathing softly, her muscles loose and her skin misted with a fine sheen of perspiration, Valerie stroked her hair, the angle of her jaw, her neck, her back, unable to fill her hands with enough of her and desperate to know all of her.

"Mmm, you're wonderful," Diane murmured contentedly.

Valerie laughed shakily. "Oh, my dear, I think that should be my line."

Diane raised her head, her eyes still heavy with desire, and kissed Valerie softly. "I've never wanted to make a woman come quite as much as I did with you just now. I'm feeling positively pleased with myself."

"As well you should be." Valerie stroked Diane's face. "I don't usually.. .I'm not usually like that with anyone."

Diane was silent for a long time. Then she turned her head and kissed Valerie's palm. "Good."

"Diane, what I do.. .It's not something I can change easily."

"Do you want to?"

"I want...I want this again, with you. And more. Other things. With you."

"Good. So do I. That's where we'll start." Diane rested her head on Valerie's shoulder and closed her eyes. "We'll work on figuring out the rest of it later."

Diane must have dozed, because she opened her eyes to find herself on her back and the most exquisite sensation she could ever recall building between her thighs. Murmuring her pleasure, she raised her head and smiled down at Valerie. "Whatever you're doing, it's wonderful."

"Remember what I said earlier?" Valerie asked.

Come in my mouth,

"Mmm." Diane shifted restlessly, full and aching. She looked into Valerie's eyes, her want answering Valerie's desire. Oh please yes.

"It's next time now,"

"Oh yes," Diane sighed as she leaned back and closed her eyes. "It is."

Chapter Twenty-one

D iane knocked on the bathroom door, opened it, and handed Valerie a burnished gold silk blouse, white silk panties, and a new pair of stockings. "I think these should fit you."

"Thanks." Valerie, fresh from the shower, stood in front of the vanity wrapped in a towel. Her shoulder-length blond hair was damp, her ivory skin flushed and moist with steam.

There was a great deal more of her uncovered than not, and Diane was struck with an instant rush of arousal. And there was no time. Even knowing that, it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to tug the towel to the floor and fill her hands with Valerie's breasts. She was already addicted to the way Valerie sounded when she was excited and hungered feverishly to hear her climax again. To touch her that deeply, to claim her so completely. She'd never wanted to possess a woman the way she wanted her. "I'm afraid my bra won't fit you," she said in as light a tone as she could manage through a throat tight with desire.

"I'll manage for a few hours." Valerie smiled gently as she set the borrowed clothing on the vanity. The suit she had worn the day before hung from a nearby towel bar. She rested her hip against the counter and sipped the coffee Diane had left for her while she was in the shower. "I appreciate you getting my things from the hotel. I've barely got time to grab a cab to the airport and make the flight."

"Do they do this all the time? Call you and tell you to be somewhere yesterday?"

"I don't usually move around this much. The last few months have been hectic, and then after what happened this week..." Valerie shrugged ruefully. Her identity had very nearly been exposed when the escort service she'd employed as a cover in DC had been the object of a clandestine investigation. She'd expected to remain on the West Coast until a new identity could be established, but she'd been ordered to Manhattan almost immediately for the gallery opening. "Most of the time, we aren't given explanations. I'm given a job to do, and that's what I do."

"I know you can't tell me those things, and I'm not going to ask." Diane grasped the free edge of the towel and pulled slowly until it fell away, watching Valerie's pupils flicker and dance. Surprise and desire. Warning and welcome.

"Diane," Valerie murmured, setting the coffee cup down blindly.

Diane pressed into her quickly, jerking open the tie on her own robe so that their bodies collided, skin to skin. "Just tell me that you're coming back." She worked her fingers into the tangled curls at Valerie's neck and bruised her lips over Valerie's mouth. "Tell me it wasn't just one night."

"One night? Oh no." Valerie angled her hips and spun Diane to the counter, caressing her breasts as she rocked against her. "No. So much more than that."

"God, I want you." Diane arched into Valerie's hands as she circled her tongue over Valerie's lips, tasting her heat. "I want to believe you."

"Believe me." Valerie lowered her head to pull a swollen nipple into her mouth. She licked and bit, then pressed her cheek over Diane's thundering heart. "Oh God, I have to go. I can't do this. I'm so sorry."

Gasping, Diane dragged Valerie's mouth away from her flesh. "I want you to go." At the devastation that flashed across Valerie's face, she shook her head vehemently. "No, darling. Just for now." She laughed weakly. "I can't imagine what they might do to you if you don't show up wherever it is you're going."

Valerie traced the curve of Diane's lower lip with her fingertips. "It's not quite as bad as you think. But I do have to go."

"All right." Diane kissed her softly and pushed her carefully away. "I'll be expecting you."

*

Wednesday, September 19

Stark shifted her shoulders and eased Savard's head onto her chest.

"Sorry," Savard mumbled. "Fell asleep."

When Savard started to move away, Stark tightened her arm around her. "No. Go back to sleep." Even though it seemed that her lover's sleep was far from restful, if the small twitches and moans that accompanied it were any indication, Stark figured if the commander had ordered them both to take time off, it was because she thought it was necessary. And she had to agree that the haunted expression in Renee's eyes and the dark circles beneath them warranted attention.

"Where are we?" Savard asked, closing her eyes and tucking her head beneath Stark's chin. She curled an arm around her waist as well, wanting her as close as possible. The nightmare separation in the hospital had nearly snapped the last strands of her control.

"About an hour from the Jacksonville airport." Stark tilted her cheek against the top of Savard's head.

"You have all your medicine, right?"

"Yep. All three vials," Stark assured her yet again. Savard had fretted about her ever since she'd left the hospital early that morning. Even though Stark was beyond the mandatory observation period, Savard remained agitated and hypervigilant, as if she was afraid Stark would suddenly fall ill—or worse—if she let her guard down for a moment. "I'm not going to get sick, honey."

"I know that," Savard said quickly. "I know."

"You really think it's okay to spring me on your family?"

Eyes closed, comforted by Stark's steady heartbeat, Savard smiled and nodded drowsily. "They're going to love you, because they're going to be able to tell that I do."

"Is it okay if they can tell that I love you too?" Stark kissed the top of Savard's head, "Cause I sorta can't look at you without it showing."

Savard squeezed her eyes shut around sudden tears. Don't leave me. Please, I need you so much.

"Honey?" Stark rubbed her hand up and down Savard's back. When she got no response, she whispered, "It's okay. You just sleep."

Savard feigned sleep as she immersed herself in the scent and sense of her lover's body. Deep inside, a small corner of the void that had threatened to consume her from the inside out slowly filled with the certainty of love. Long moments later, as the pain and terror of her waking dreams relinquished a fraction of its paralyzing hold on her, she finally slept.

*

"Tanner's here already," Blair said excitedly, leaning across Cam to look out the side window of the Suburban.

Cam rubbed her hand along the center of Blair's spine, not yet believing that they were actually able to touch. They'd left the hospital and flown directly into Boston, where Felicia and Valerie awaited them with a Suburban borrowed from the local FBI field office. Hara was behind the wheel now with Wozinski riding shotgun. Felicia and Valerie sat across from them. Cam ducked her head to follow Blair's line of sight and brushed her lips over the rim of Blair's ear in passing.

"Careful," Blair murmured, squeezing Cam's leg just above her knee. "We have company."

"Missed you," Cam whispered, but she dutifully postponed the next kiss until they were alone. Even as part of her mind was absorbed with the feel of Blair against her body and the hint of honey that lingered from her shampoo, she scanned the large homes set well back from the narrow road on expansive, wooded lots, assessing the security of then-new base of operations. "She chose well."

"Last house on a cul-de-sac," Blair noted. "Situated on the high ground with the ocean behind. Limits the approach points and gives us a three hundred and sixty degree view."

"Very good. You'd make an excellent agent, Ms. Powell." When Blair snorted, Cam laughed and took her hand. "And according to the layout Tanner faxed us, the guesthouse where Felicia and Valerie will be staying is between the main house and the beach. We can secure the perimeter with our ordinary complement of agents."

"I'm so glad you approve, Commander." Blair quickly kissed Cam's cheek and jumped from the car almost before the Suburban had come to a halt.

Cam swore at the security breach and vaulted after her with Felicia and Valerie close behind. By the time they caught up to their charge and stationed themselves in a triangle with her in the middle, Blair had her arms wrapped around a black-haired, tightly muscled woman in a white T-shirt and khakis and was spinning her in a mad circle. Cam met Tanner Whitley's laughing dark eyes when Blair finally set her down. "Place looks good, Tanner."

Tanner, the heir to a corporate dynasty and the owner of Whitley Point, slung an arm around Blair's shoulder and grinned. "I had a feeling this would be the kind of place you needed. All the other houses on this lane are vacation homes, and this time of year they're unoccupied. You should have this corner of the island to yourselves."

"I appreciate it," Cam replied. Were it not for the gold wedding band on Tanner's left hand, her sensuous good looks and confident manner would have suggested she was still the playgirl she had long been reputed to be. Cam, however, had met her partner, Navy Captain Adrienne Pierce, and knew otherwise. While they talked, the other agents parked the vehicle beneath the carport on the side of the two-story cecfar beach house and moved off into the scrub to survey the surrounding dunes.

"I can have my team set up with yours, if you'd like," Tanner said, referring to the private security force she employed. The men and women on her personal detail had been with her company for many years, and each had passed a rigorous background check.

"I might take you up on that. For now, though, why don't you have them swing through the general area four or five times a day and report anything that appears unusual to me."

"Will do."

Blair squeezed Tanner's waist affectionately. "Thanks for doing this. I didn't expect to be gate-crashing again so soon." Barely a week before, she had fled the chaos in Manhattan to Whitley Point and the safety of her old school friend's private island. They had stayed less than twenty-four hours before a contingent of Marines had arrived by helicopter to transport her directly to the White House.

"It's no problem," Tanner said seriously. "I'm always glad to see you. And Adrienne will be happy to have a chance to talk to you this time too." Her angular features settled into a frown. "If things ease up at the base any time soon. They're still on high alert status. She hasn't been home much."

"This time we'll be staying for a while," Blair said with a sad smile. She was back, and—this time—homeless. Tanner had always been the kind of friend who never asked questions. She and Diane had been Blair's closest confidantes in prep school and had offered her their unconditional support ever since. When she had called Tanner and told her what she needed in terms of a place to stay, Tanner had simply said she'd take care of it. And she had. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Hey. I'll take any excuse to get you out here." Tanner gave Blair's cheek a light kiss. "Come on. Let me show you around inside."

Cam watched the two women climb the stairs, arm in arm, and disappear inside after Tanner unlocked the door. Valerie joined her at the foot of the flagstone path that led to the house while Felicia left to unload gear from the Suburban.

"It looks like a good location," Valerie noted.

"I agree."

"Blair looks well. A little thin, perhaps."

"So far all the tests have been normal." Cam sighed. "Fazio has cutaneous lesions, though."

"Yes, I know." Valerie had read the update just that morning in the Central Intelligence Report—a summary of all pertinent intelligence data gathered by the CIA, FBI, NSA, and other agencies in the previous twenty-four hours. Of course, she had no way to determine just what data each organization volunteered—or held back—but any intel was better than nothing. "He had the most exposure, correct?"

"Yeah, and razor burns on his face, which was probably the route of infection. Captain Andrews says he'll probably make a full recovery. We got lucky."

"But you're still worried about Blair."

Cam said nothing.

"She's a very capable woman, Cameron. From what I hear, before you came along, she made eluding her security forces an art form. And nothing has ever happened to her."

"Someone almost gunned her down last week," Cam said, her eyes fixed on the door through which Blair had disappeared.

"But they didn't, and every other attempt has failed as well. You have a very good team here, and we're not going to let anything happen to her."

Cam looked away from the house and into Valerie's eyes. "Is that why you're here? To help protect Blair?"

Valerie smiled ruefully. "No, but since I am here, I intend to."

"Did you come straight up from Virginia?"

"Yes, why?" Valerie asked warily.

"I was wondering if you stopped in Manhattan."

"I'm afraid my schedule didn't leave room for side trips. And if it had, that would be personal." Valerie's voice held a distinct warning.

"Sorry, that was out of line." Cam puffed out a breath. "Everyone's just a little bit off balance, including me. Diane is Blair's best friend, and—"

"Cameron, I don't want to discuss Diane Bleeker."

Cam regarded Valerie thoughtfully, surprised at the faint tremor she'd heard in her voice, even though her beautiful face remained remote. "Okay. Like I said, I was out of line. Sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"As soon as I get Blair settled in, you, Felicia, and I need to debrief. I'll meet you in your quarters as soon as I can."

"We've got a lot of equipment to set up. I'm sure we'll have plenty to do." Valerie started along the narrow path that wound around the side of the house in the direction Felicia had taken to the guesthouse.

"Valerie."

Valerie looked over her shoulder, a question in her eyes.

"Thanks for the assist with Blair's security."

"Don't mention it." With a soft smile, Valerie turned and walked away.

Cam watched until she disappeared, then climbed the wide wooden stairs to the house and went inside. "Blair?" She walked through the house to the kitchen. Hara stood on the rear deck. "All clear?"

"Tight and tidy," Hara replied. "It's a good site. Easy to cover."

"Good. Put Wozinski out front, and the second team can relieve you at eight."

"Already done, Commander."

"I know I'm not official at this point, but,.."

Hara shook her head. "We know who you are, Commander. Everyone in the Service does. We're happy to follow your orders."

Cam knew that Hara was referring to the fact that she'd taken a bullet meant for Blair, the ultimate act for a Secret Service agent. Others considered her a hero. She just considered herself damn lucky that Blair had not been hurt. "Thank you. I'll be with Ms. Powell."

"Yes, ma'am."

On her way upstairs, Cam passed Tanner coming down. "Thanks again."

Tanner grinned. "Don't mention it. Oh, and Blair told me to tell you to get your ass upstairs."

"Aha. Message received, then," Cam replied, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time. As she searched out her missing lover, she heard the front door close downstairs. She opened the only closed door on the ocean side of the house and stepped through into a spacious bedroom. Out of habit, she quickly swept the room, fixing the location of the windows and doors in her mind. The room was appointed with a king-sized bed, matching Mission oak dressers and bedside tables, and a reading chair and lamp. A wide cedar deck was visible through double sliding glass doors on the opposite side of the room. She redirected her survey to the bed. Blair reclined against the pillows, a crisp, snow-white sheet angled diagonally across her waist. She appeared to be naked. "I understand you were looking for me."

"I understand that you're a Secret Service agent."

Cam reached behind her and flipped the lock with one hand. Her eyes on Blair's, she shrugged out of her jacket as she crossed with slow, deliberate strides to the side of the bed. "That's right."

"And exactly what does service imply?"

"Well now," Cam whispered, setting her weapon harness on the bedside table and kicking off her shoes, "that would be a secret, wouldn't it?"

"I'll never tell." Blair flicked the sheet aside and slid to the edge of the bed, where she extended a hand and grasped Cam's belt. "Stand still."

Cam looked down, watching through heavy lids as Blair deftly unbuckled her belt and pulled it through her belt loops in one swift motion. She sucked in air as Blair's fingers curved inside her waistband and released the button, then pulled down her fly. When Blair tugged her shirt free and leaned forward to put her mouth against Cam's stomach, Cam tilted her head back and groaned. Eyes closed, she spread her fingers in Blair's hair. "Baby. I've missed you."

"Take off your shirt," Blair murmured against Cam's skin, licking her way upward. "And get rid of these pants."

With trembling hands, Cam hurried to comply, stumbling on quickly weakening legs when Blair circled her navel. She put her hand to the back of Blair's head, stopping her dangerous explorations. "Jesus. Give me a minute here, will you?"

"Oh, I don't think so. It's been days." The instant Cam was naked, Blair wrapped both arms around Cam's hips and jerked her down into her arms. She nipped at Cam's neck with her teeth while insinuating one calf tightly around the back of Cam's thighs. "I'm ready to come right now."

Groaning, Cam kissed her throat, her jaw, her mouth. Tasting her after so many days of fear and worry was like finding a crystal pool in the heart of the desert. She drank, feasting, her hands roaming Blair's body, brushing over the peaks of her breasts, smoothing down her abdomen to dance along the inside of her thighs. She lingered inside her mouth, breathing her in, filling the dark places inside with her light. She pushed up until she could look into Blair's eyes. "I love you."

"These last few days—I thought I would scream if you didn't touch me soon." Blair's eyes were already hazy beneath trembling lids. "Don't let me come yet,"

"Let me up then, baby," Cam murmured, pulling away.

"Nooo," Blair protested, both hands on Cam's hips, pressing her sex hard against Cam's rigid thigh. The pressure against her hot, hard center tore a cry from her.

"You're going to come if you keep doing that," Cam warned halfheartedly. She wanted her to come. She slid two fingers around one tight nipple and squeezed.

Blair shuddered and groped blindly for Cam's hand, dragging it down her body and pushing it between her thighs. "Fuck me. God, Cam, fuck me now."

Cam curled an arm behind Blair's shoulders and pulled her tight against her body as she pushed inside her, knowing what would follow. Blair jolted in the circle of her arms, her head snapping back as she crashed into orgasm.

"Oh God oh God oh God," Blair keened.

"That's it, baby. That's it." Cam gloried in her responsiveness, loving the sheer, pure beauty of her passion. She drove deep, pulled out, and drove again, wanting to feel her—alive and vital, screaming out her pleasure in the safety of Cam's arms. She pushed her to another orgasm and started again.

Blair groped for Cam's wrist. "I can't.. .come.. .one more time."

Instantly, Cam stilled, keeping her hand inside as she pressed her face to the top of Blair's head. She tried to hide the tears that streaked her cheeks, but Blair knew. She always knew.

"Don't cry, darling. Don't cry." Blair pulled Cam's head to her breast and rocked her.

"I just need a minute to get myself together," Cam gasped, burying her face against Blair's neck. "Christ, Christ. I was so damned scared."

Blair's heart twisted, and she held her even more tightly. "You can have all the time you need. I'm not ever letting go. Not ever."

Chapter Twenty-two

W hen Cam opened her eyes, the room was dark. She lay on her back, Blair's head on her shoulder and their limbs entwined. Blair's breath was warm against her breast, and her heartbeat steady and strong. It took her another few seconds to realize that the hard knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach that had been her constant companion for five days was gone. She ran her fingertips along the plane of Blair's shoulder blade, then over the curve of her shoulder and down her muscled arm. When she reached her hand, she traced each strong finger, seeing them as they held a brush—applying paint to canvas with swift sure strokes—feeling them on her body, bringing her to orgasm with equal grace.

"I love you," she whispered.

Blair tightened her hold and pressed a kiss to the hollow beneath Cam's collarbone. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." Cam cupped the back of Blair's neck lightly and spread her fingers into her hair, teasing the strands over the back of her hand. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

"I think I can take credit for that," Blair said, laughing softly.

"Oh," Cam mused. "I remember now. That was you, was it?"

Blair bit Cam's shoulder hard enough to make her wince. "I'd better be the only one making you come hard enough to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon."

Cam kissed Blair's forehead. "You're the only one anytime, anyplace."

"That too." Blair circled her tongue over the red mark she'd left on Cam's skin. "You know, we've never talked about that."

"Monogamy?" Cam felt the slightest stirring of unease, but pushed it aside. Listen first, then react. In her ordinary dealings that wasn't difficult, but where Blair was concerned her heart tended to rule her head more often than not. "Should we?"

"What?"

"Talk about it."

"Okay." Blair lifted up on an elbow and peered intently into Cam's face. "If I find out that you've slept with anyone else, I'll kick your ass from here to China."

"That's it?" Cam asked as Blair settled back into the curve of her body.

"Yep."

"Okay. As long as it goes both ways."

"Okay."

Cam went back to stroking Blair's hair. "Does that mean we're engaged?"

"Well, two people usually only get engaged if they're planning on getting married."

"I know that." Cam felt Blair grow very still against her. "We're going to be here a few weeks, at least, until we get a clear fix on what happened at the Aerie. There's always the possibility that the FBI or one of the other agencies will break it, but I'm working under the assumption that their resources are spread pretty thin and ours are totally focused."

"Meaning you've got the better shot at getting some answers."

"Yes."

"I don't mind staying here, since I don't exactly have a home to go to at the moment."

"When it's time to leave," Cam said quietly, "I'd like us to find a place where we can live together."

"Is Manhattan okay?" Blair unconsciously cupped Cam's breast, needing the physical intimacy while they strayed into emotional waters that were unknown to her. "I like being near Diane, and it's good for my work."

"Sure. Anyplace works for me."

"So are you proposing, Commander?"

"Yes." Cam lifted Blair's hand and kissed her palm. "Are you accepting?"

Blair shifted on top of her, resting on her forearms so she could look into Cam's eyes. "The media will have a field day."

"That's nothing new."

"Lucinda will probably have a heart attack."

Cam grinned. "Nothing new there, either."

"I want a really, really big wedding with lots of Washington pundits and dignitaries."

"Uh, okay."

Even in the moonlight, Blair could see Cam pale. She couldn't hold back her laughter. "I'm sorry. Just a few friends, my father and Lucinda, and Marcea and whomever you want, of course."

"Rings?"

Blair drew in a sharp breath. "Whoever would have guessed I would have fallen for such a traditionalist."

"You weren't looking when I snuck up on you."

"Oh, I was looking." Blair kissed her, hard and long and deep, then drew away, murmuring her pleasure. "Why now?"

"This week...was hard," Cam said quietly. "I never questioned loving you—I think that started the first time I saw you. But now I know what it would feel like without you—really know. I don't ever want that." She touched Blair's face with her fingertips, and her hand was shaking. "This just feels right."

"Oh," Blair murmured before she brought her mouth to Cam's again. She poured her passion into Cam's body, with her mouth, with her tongue, with her hands streaking over her and, ultimately, into her. She didn't stop until Cam bowed underneath her and shook beneath the force of her devotions. Blair kept her head up, her eyes open, watching through lust-clouded eyes as Cam surrendered every defense, marveling at the trust she was gifted. As Cam came, Blair whispered, "I love you. Always."

Cam fought for breath as her arms and legs lay limp against the mattress, her head still reeling. She swallowed and found her voice. "Did you just say yes?"

"Mmm," Blair answered as she shifted upward, straddling Cam's shoulders and easing down toward her mouth. "I did."

*

"What are you going to tell your father?" Cam asked as she rummaged in her suitcase for a clean shirt,

Blair ran a comb through her damp hair and leaned against the bedpost, enjoying the sight of Cam, still nude after their shower. "That I'm crazy in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Cam straightened, a pale blue shirt, still in its plastic wrap from the dry cleaners, in her right hand. "Just like that?"

"Yep. What are you going to tell Marcea?"

"That you're the only woman for me and I want everyone to know it."

Blair put out an arm as Cam started toward her. "Don't come near me right now."

Cam raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Well, you can if it's your intention to go right back to bed. Otherwise, keep your distance, because I seem to be in that gotta have you every second state of mind."

"I think that's probably a result of you being locked up for five days."

Blair's expression grew serious. "Jesus, I hated that. Thank God Stark was with me, and you could visit the last few days."

"Yeah, I think you even started to enjoy the pinochle." Cam shrugged into her shirt and crossed to Blair as she buttoned it. She kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry I have to leave tonight."

"You're not going anywhere, are you?" Blair asked quickly, catching Cam's hand.

"No." Cam searched Blair's face with worried eyes. "Hey. I'm just going down to brief with Felicia and Valerie. You okay?"

Blair laughed shakily. "I hate feeling dependent almost as much as I hate being locked up. I just.. .1 just need you around right now."

Cam cupped Blair's face between her palms and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I'm not going anywhere." She kissed her again. "And just in case you were wondering, I need you around right now too."

"If I could just feel like my life is at least heading back toward normal."

"I'm going to be spending a lot of time coordinating this search, working out of the command center we've set up in the guesthouse." Cam stepped into her trousers. "It will probably get intense."

"I know. I expected that. Hopefully, I'lll be able to paint."

"And Tanner will be around, for company."

Blair nodded. "I love Tanner. And Adrienne. But I was wondering..."

"What?" Cam asked, pulling on her holster.

"There is one thing you can do for me before you leave tonight." Blair reached down and retrieved Cam's belt from the floor, then handed it to her.

"Thanks. What is it?"

Blair told her, and Cam nodded.It was going to cause complications. "Sure. If that's what you need, I'll take care of it."

*

"How's Mac doing?" Valerie asked as Felicia closed her cell phone.

The two women sat across from one another at a glass-and-chrome table in a makeshift office they had hastily assembled in the dining room of the spacious two-bedroom guesthouse. Through the patio doors the shoreline was visible one hundred yards away. A twisting path led from the wooden rear deck through low dunes to the sandy beach. Under other circumstances, it would be idyllic.

"They're feeding him, so that makes him happy." Felicia smiled softly. "He's been out of bed, but that's about it. It's going to take him a while to regain his strength, but he's young and in great shape."

"Your team took a battering."

Felicia pushed back from the table, stood, and walked to the far side of the room. She opened the patio doors and a brisk night breeze blew in. It was just after ten p.m. "Do you mind?"

"No." Valerie remained seated, unable to read much from her expression but suspecting she knew several of the questions on Felicia's mind. "I know it's not easy working with someone new, especially in light of all that's happened." She didn't think it was necessary to bring up the betrayal of one of the team's own. "But I want to help bring these people down."

Felicia looked over her shoulder, appraising the cool, composed, and almost painfully beautiful woman who, not more than a month before, had been the subject of one of her own investigations. "The only thing I know about you is that you say you're CIA."

"You have doubts?"

"It's hard to believe even the CIA would put an agent in that position," Felicia said, turning back to the night.

"The Agency makes its own rules." Valerie smiled thinly, realizing that Cameron's team knew the nature of her previous cover.

Felicia snorted. "Oh, we all know that. I just can't believe none of us tipped to it."

"Covert operations are our business. It wouldn't have been easy."

"But you broke your cover for this operation."

Valerie smiled fleetingly. "I follow orders too."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here?"

So that anything you find out, my superiors will know about immediately. Because someone thinks that you and your colleagues can do more than an interagency team made up of people who will be too busy trying to take credit to find out anything of value could. Valerie held Felicia's gaze. "I'm here to lend assistance. My understanding is that Camer—Agent Roberts's team is to be given unrestricted access to intelligence from every department. I'm here as a liaison from the Agency to see that happens."

"Just a glorified go-between, huh?"

"That's me."

Felicia shook her head, knowing they were playing a game that they were both too good at to lose. Valerie would not tell her what her true orders were, no matter how hard she probed. And they had work to do. "The commander trusts you."

It was a statement, not requiring an answer.

"So I do too." Felicia walked back to the table and sat down. "Let's go over what we have."

From the doorway, Cam said, "Let me grab a cup of coffee, and you can brief us both."

Valerie rose and said to Felicia. "I'll make it this time. You can get the next pot."

"Sure," Felicia said, watching Valerie follow the commander into the kitchen. She wondered what remained between them, and, despite the fact that Valerie's motives remained suspect, she felt sorry for her. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, and rested her face in her hands. It had been good to hear Mac's voice. Better than good. He had almost died, and the reality of what losing him would mean had struck her hard. It was time to rethink whether the barriers she had erected around her heart kept her safe or merely kept her alone.

*

"Okay," Cam said, pushing her empty coffee cup aside. She looked from Felicia to Valerie and then focused on Felicia. "What you're telling me is that we have the bodies of four men, each of which has been autopsied at Quantico."

"Yes, ma'am." Felicia passed the four folders across the table to Cam, who set them in a neat pile to her left.

"And the FBI's finest couldn't find a single thing to identify any of them."

"Nothing from the usual forensic evidence, no," Felicia said in a neutral tone. She was frustrated, they all were, and she needed a clear head to solve the problem. "We've run their fingerprints, obviously, and turned up nothing. We've got DNA—ditto. No matches. Dental impressions were made by the pathologist, but without a geographic area to focus on, it's impossible to even find adequate records to compare these to."

"So, if we ever find out where these guys came from, we might be able to run down the x-rays from area orthodontists, dentists, oral surgeons, and the like, right?"

Felicia nodded. "It will be corroborating evidence after the fact, but it's not going to take us anywhere now."

"What about retinal scans?"

Valerie shook her head. "The only retinal scans we might be able to access are from internal sources—the Pentagon, DOD, NSA, and similar agencies."

"FBI, CIA," Felicia added.

"Right," Valerie agreed. "Getting them is going to be tough, and retinal imaging from cadavers is very uncertain. The vitreous begins to coagulate soon after death, and because of the situation in Manhattan the day of the assaults, these bodies weren't retrieved for nearly eighteen hours."

"So no usable images?" Cam persisted.

"Not that we know of," Felicia clarified.

"Find out."

Valerie and Felicia made notes simultaneously.

"Anything else from the bodies? Old wounds, surgical scars— something we could track in hospital records."

"Nothing except they all had similar tattoos on their right upper arm," Felicia stated. She passed a computer image across the table. It showed a pale patch of skin with a tattoo of two crossed assault rifles above a small American flag.

Cam studied and frowned. "An Armed Forces division?"

"Apparently Savard checked that right away," Valerie said, referring to a sheaf of papers in front of her. "It's not an insignia from any division in the Army or the Marines."

"Well," Cam said, "I guess the American flag rules out any other nationality." She placed a fingertip on the lower corner of the paper and slid it back and forth in front of her staring at the blurry shapes. "Some kind of patriot group?"

"It's possible," Valerie said. "Savard also started a search through the FBI and CIA files on known paramilitary groups here and abroad. Unfortunately, there's no central database tabulating this kind of thing, and thus far we have nothing. It's going to take a lot of digging to assemble the available intelligence."

"These guys had some kind of military training, and if they don't show up in the Armed Forces databases, then it had to be well-organized, unofficial training." Cam regarded Valerie. "Your people must have some record of mercenary groups that employ a high percentage of Americans. There have been any number of actions in South and Central America as well as Africa where these guys might have been involved."

"It's on the list to check."

"Okay. Top of the list—mercenary and paramilitary groups." Cam pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the headache that was beginning to throb between her eyes. "And we need to look for a connection between these same groups and Al Qaeda." She swept her gaze from Felicia to Valerie, recalling the conversation she'd had with the president's security advisor that morning. "Because it looks more and more like Osama's claim to being behind the attack on the World Trade Center is true."

"God," Felicia exclaimed. "How did we all miss that?"

"That's probably what everyone in DC is trying to figure out right now," Cam said as she stood. "And that's why we have to be the ones to spearhead this portion of the investigation. Let's switch our emphasis from identifying the dead men to collecting everything we can about the organizations we mentioned and finding out all there is to know about Foster. He's our only solid link at this point."

"So far," Felicia said, rising to her feet as well, "he's squeaky clean. An all-American boy. Prep schools, Ivy League colleges, and straight into government service. He came to Treasury by way of graduate school in economics at UVA."

"Find out where he's traveled, especially abroad—and with whom."

"Working it."

"Good. There has to be something there, we just have to find it. Let's compile a list of his family members, girlfriends, boyfriends, roommates, every person he's ever known. These guys"—she pointed to the autopsy photos—"or the guys who trained them, are going to be in there somewhere."

"We're on it, Commander," Felicia said. "But that kind of record search takes time."

"I was told we'd have free access to anything we needed. If you run into a roadblock, tell me about it. I'll make a phone call."

"Thanks."

"Davis, I need you to make some transportation arrangements for the morning."

Felicia joined Cam on her way to the door. "Going somewhere, Commander?"

"No, it's for a new arrival."

Chapter Twenty-three

Thursday, September 20

A t just after five a.m., Valerie awakened from a restless sleep. After Cam had left the previous evening, she and Felicia had continued working for several more hours, setting up graphic charts and data grids to organize the plethora of information they had already accumulated, with more to come. They'd finally both admitted their efficiency had zeroed out and it was time to quit for the night. She'd gone to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned, her mind and body seeking something she couldn't define, until she exhausted herself and drifted into uneasy slumber.

She lay for a moment, staring at her cell phone on the bedside table. She reached out and held it in front of her face, her thumb hovering over the keypad. It would take so very little to banish the loneliness. Thirty seconds of hearing that low, sultry voice welcoming her. It would be so easy to give in, just once. She pressed the first three numbers, then pushed off and dropped the phone back onto the table.

Even though she'd had barely three hours sleep, she got up and showered, then pulled on a soft red cotton V-neck sweater and jeans. She slipped her feet into deck shoes and made her way through the quiet house to the dining room. Working only by the light from the monitors, she continued with the data entry, stopping intermittently to open a Web browser to cross-check facts with additional databases. She registered the sound of the shower running, followed by the rattle of utensils coming from the kitchen, but she kept on.

"How long have you been at that?" Felicia asked as she set a mug of coffee next to Valerie's right arm.

"Thanks," Valerie said with a sigh of appreciation. She checked her watch. "A few hours. Couldn't sleep. Too many things running around in my head."

"I know what you mean." Felicia dropped a hand onto Valerie's shoulder and squeezed. "You should take a break. Too many hours in a row and you'll start missing things."

'I will. Soon."

"Finding anything?"

"It's what I'm not finding that's the problem."

"How so?" Felicia sipped her coffee and watched the marsh grass blow outside the window. The sky was an even pewter gray, broken only by darker thunderclouds that threatened rain.

"There's no national registry for identifying marks—scars, tattoos, that kind of thing. Even trying to go state by state is hit or miss. If the various criminal divisions don't input the data, it just never shows up. And even when they do..." She brushed her hair away from her face with an impatient gesture. "It's damn hard to find it."

"We can't even share intelligence between security divisions at the federal level," Felicia noted, settling into a chair at the other computer. "It's too much to hope that the states would be able to."

"I'm willing to bet that situation changes now."

"I think a lot of things in this country are going to change." Felicia regarded Valerie contemplatively. "Do you really think nobody knew what was coming?"

Valerie hesitated for a second, then shook her head. "No, I'm willing to bet a lot of people knew something. The problem is not enough people knew everything —or even enough. We've been watching Osama—even before the attack on the Cole. But we've never gotten more than bits and pieces of the puzzle."

"Well, let's hope we can find a few of the pieces ourselves."

Two hours later, Valerie pushed back from the computer. "I need some air."

"You should get some sleep."

"Thanks," Valerie said quietly. "I'm okay. A walk will clear the cobwebs out."

"Take a jacket," Felicia said absently, her attention refocused on her monitor. "Supposed to rain."

Valerie pulled on a black nylon windbreaker on her way out through the rear door of the guesthouse. She crossed the deck and started down the narrow sand path to the beach. The wind had picked up and whipped her shoulder-length hair around her face. She hunched her shoulders and put her hands in the jacket pockets, trying to stay warm in the unexpected chill. Within minutes she was at the ocean's edge, surveying the steady march of white-tipped waves that broke and roiled over the small stones and shells that littered the beach inches from her toes. She narrowed her eyes and searched the horizon, but she couldn't make out the presence of any life. They must be out there, the merchant ships and fishing trawlers, fighting the elements, dwarfed by the immensity of nature's power. She looked up into the sky, which had darkened now almost to black, wondering if there would ever come a time again when the heavens would hold only beauty and not the threat of death. With a sigh, she turned away from the house and walked along the ocean's edge, unmindful of the first drops of rain. She had always known her purpose, always understood her place, but in the last few years the world had shifted on its axis and she had lost her balance. What had once been so clear, so simply delineated in black and white, had turned, like the sky, to ever more murky shades of gray. The rain fell harder, and now and then she absently brushed the water from her eyes.

She knew she imagined it when the wind carried the sound of her name, and she kept on. When it came the second time, unmistakable, she turned and held the hair back from her face with one hand. Down the beach, hurrying toward her from the direction of the guesthouse, was a woman in a navy windbreaker much like her own, her hair tucked up beneath a cap. There was no mistaking her gender, however, or, as she drew closer, her identity. Valerie held her breath, afraid to blink and break the spell.

"Valerie!" Diane called.

It was the first time in her life she could ever recall a wish coming true. She stood very still, trying to absorb every detail of Diane's face. The slight frown—worry or anger? Uncertain, Valerie waited for judgment.

Diane stopped inches from Valerie. "You're soaked."

"I got caught out in the rain."

"You should've come back."

"I would have. Soon."

Diane put both hands behind Valerie's head, tangling her fingers in the wet blond strands, and pulled Valerie's mouth to hers. Valerie's lips were cold, but her mouth was molten. Diane moaned softly as she delved inside, swirling her tongue over satin-smooth surfaces until the unexpected sensation of teeth tugging at her lip sent a stab of pleasure straight to her center. Her legs trembled, and she pressed hard into Valerie to steady herself, not surprised when strong arms closed around her waist and held her securely. She tilted her head back and kissed the tip of Valerie's chin. "I missed you."

"Oh God," Valerie gasped, burying her face against Diane's neck. "I missed you too. I'm sorry. I couldn't call. The security.

"I know." Diane curved one arm around her shoulders while she stroked her face with her free hand. "I thought it was something like that."

Valerie lifted her face. "You did? You didn't think I'd just.. .walked away?"

A small, sad smile flickered across Diane's face. "Only very late at night, when I was very tired and I ached for you."

"I'm sorry." Valerie cradled Diane's face in one hand, a thumb brushing at the rain that streaked her cheeks. The water was warm. "You're crying."

"I didn't know what to expect when I saw you again." Diane found Valerie's hand and clasped it. "I'm not used to wanting a woman the way I want you. I'm a little...a lot...out of my element."

"Me too." Valerie laughed and tilted her face to the sky. "Oh God, you can say that again." She tugged Diane's hand. "Come on, we need to get in out of the rain. This is crazy."

"I know," Diane said breathlessly as they began to run, still hand in hand. "I'm freezing."

"So am I," Valerie called above the wind. "Did you see Felicia?"

"Yes, she was on her way up to the main house."

"Blair arranged for you to come?"

Diane hurried up the path toward the deck, her feet sinking into wet sand. "Sent a car. Not the usual big ugly thing, and the spookies were cuter." She jumped up the stairs and stamped her feet to rid them of bits of detritus. "I don't think they were the normal Secret Service crew."

"They're probably Whitley's private security," Valerie leaned a shoulder against the wall under the eaves, trying to avoid the rain. She touched Diane's hand, then stroked up her forearm. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. Blair and I have been best friends forever. She.. .we,. .needed for us to be together right now. She called. I came." Diane searched Valerie's face. "So I'm a house guest."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Is it all right I'm here?" Diane caught Valerie's other hand and held them both, squeezing gently. "Because if you don't want me to st—"

Valerie pulled her into her arms and stopped her words with a hungry kiss. When she finally pulled away, she said, "I want you. Don't ever doubt it."

"Tell me that again," Diane murmured, sliding down the zipper on Valerie's windbreaker. She slipped both hands inside and underneath the light sweater, finding warm skin. Her pupils instantly dilated with a rush of arousal. "You're so beautiful."

"Let's shower."

"Felicia—"

"If she comes back, she won't bother us." Valerie opened the door and pulled Diane inside. "I'm still on my lunch break."

*

"How's it going?" Cam asked, lightly resting both hands on Blair's shoulders from behind. Blair sat on a high backless stool in front of a wooden easel that was angled to allow her an unobstructed view through the wide windows out over the dunes.

Blair looked at Cam over her shoulder, her expression abstracted. "It's an amazing storm."

"The weather report says we're looking at a nor'easter. There's going to be a lot of water coming our way." Cam studied the canvas. It was an astonishing riot of turbulent purples, indigo, and grays verging on black, cut through with slashes of white. She could almost feel the water beat against her skin. "God, that's fabulous."

"You think?" Blair's voice was both pensive and pleased.

"It's.. .awesome." When Blair rested her head back against Cam's chest, she slid both arms around her, resting her chin against the top of Blair's head. "I've never seen you do anything quite like this. It's.. .raw. That's not just about the weather, is it?"

Blair gave a small start and then laughed quietly. She closed her hands over Cam's and pulled Cam's arms tightly around her. "How could I forget that your mother is one of the world's finest artists. Of course, you would notice these things."

Cam kissed the top of Blair's head. "I notice you."

"I know you do." Blair was silent for a moment, staring out the window and watching the two women run through the dunes in the rain. Diane's hair had come loose from her cap and tumbled down almost to her shoulders, darkened by the water to a rich burnished gold. Valerie, soaked to the skin, was laughing. Blair thought she'd never seen either of them look quite so happy. "They're a beautiful couple, aren't they."

"They are."

"Did you know?"

Cam shook her head. "I suspected. Did you?"

"Not that things had gone this far. I don't believe I've ever seen Diane in love."

"Is that what they are?" Cam bent down and kissed the side of Blair's neck.

"Oh, I think so." Blair tilted her head back and looked up into Cam's face. "Does it bother you?"

Cam's gray eyes darkened, a reflection of the wild storm pummeling the island. "Are you asking me if there's something between Valerie and me?"

"Darling," Blair murmured, reaching up to stroke Cam's cheek. "I know there's something between you. She used to be in love with you. And I know that you cared for her."

"Cared for. That's different than—"

"Cameron."

"What?"

"You're being a bit of a jerk."

Cam's mouth twitched. "Am I?"

"I know you're not in love with her. It was just a simple question... more or less." Blair grinned. "Okay, there are moments when I'm jealous. But that's just because she's a beautiful woman and there was a time when she tou—"

"Don't." Cam leaned down farther and found Blair's mouth. She kissed her until she felt the tension ebb from Blair's body, to be replaced by a different kind of urgency. Then she drew her head back and said, "I love you. No, it doesn't bother me. Sometimes...sometimes I find myself hoping she'll finally be happy."

Blair stood, turning until she could press against Cam, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She nuzzled her neck, kissed the edge of her jaw, and finally her mouth. "You see? That's why I love you."

Before Cam could reply, Blair silenced her with another kiss.

*

"Are you sure about this?" Diane asked, dropping the towel over a wicker chair as she crossed the room. "I don't want to compromise you with your colleagues."

Valerie was already reclining in the center of the queen-sized bed, the sheets thrown back, her skin flushed from their recent shower. She was nude and she was breathtaking. Like I can walk away, Diane thought, feeling the heaviness of desire suffuse her. She was used to taking her pleasure from pleasuring women, but as much as she wanted Valerie to come screaming from her touch, she ached for the soft pull of Valerie's mouth on her nipples and her clitoris.

Valerie turned on her side and propped her head on one hand. Her smile was slow as her gaze drifted over Diane's body. "If you're really worried, we can get dressed and watch the storm,"

Diane settled one knee on the mattress next to Valerie and leaned over her, her breasts mere millimeters from Valerie's face. "We could do that. I love how wild it is out there."

"Or..." Valerie grasped Diane's hips and, rolling onto her back, brought Diane down on top of her. She slid one leg over the back of Diane's, bringing their centers together. "You could stay here with me, and..." She ran her lips back and forth over Diane's nipple. "We can rage together."

"Keep doing that..." Diane arched her back and groaned. "And I won't care if the entire Secret Service team comes through the door."

Valerie lifted her hips and rolled them both over in one easy motion, sliding down on the bed as they settled. She kissed the tanned, tight skin below Diane's navel. "I can't stop thinking about this. About how you smell. About how you taste. About how much I need to touch you." She turned her head and kissed the butter-soft skin at the very top of Diane's thigh. "Please, please let me love you."

"Darling," Diane murmured, her fingers drifting through Valerie's hair, guiding her lower, "you don't ever have to ask."

Chapter Twenty-four

Monday, September 24

I don't want to go back." Diane refilled her wineglass from the bottle of cabernet that sat in the center of the glass-topped coffee table. She sat on the sofa in khaki shorts and a navy sleeveless blouse with her feet propped on a rattan footstool.

Blair slouched next to her with her legs extended and her bare feet resting on the edge of the low table. Her grey Champion sweats were threadbare and hung off her hips; her red T-shirt with the sleeves and lower half torn off proclaimed "Arnie's Gym." She nudged Diane's knee with hers. "So don't. There's plenty of room here, and I don't get the sense that you're bored."

Diane smiled, thinking of the late-night assignations in Valerie's room and the early-morning walks on the beach, rain or no rain. "Bored. No, not that." She sipped the wine, then watched the bloodred liquid swirl in the glass. "It's been a long time since you and I have had this much time together. It's been good. And I can't say that I mind catching up on my reading."

"And then there are the other benefits," Blair remarked dryly. "Eating pizza every other night, strolling in the freezing rain, or if you're really lucky like me, finding strangers in the kitchen when you're in your underwear—"

"God, I thought that guy was going to kill himself trying to get out the door when we walked in that morning. He probably thought Cam would be right behind you and that she'd shoot him on the spot."

Blair laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time one of my security people has seen me undressed."

"Yes, but I'd bet Tanner's crew aren't used to it."

"True, and they've adjusted to our routine very well. She's got good people. I wasn't so sure when Cam decided to have them rotate with the Secret Service agents inside the house, but it's been fine." Blair angled sideways and rested her cheek against her arm, which she extended along the sofa back. Gazing at Diane, she grinned. "And don't forget how much fun it is to report your every movement to the crew chief. How could you possibly think of leaving?"

"Unfortunately," Diane said pensively, "I have a business to see to."

"Diane," Blair said quietly, "there is no business as usual in Manhattan right now. It's not going to hurt if you take another week off." She leaned closer and rubbed Diane's shoulders. "Here, turn sideways. Your back is in knots."

When Blair pulled her legs up onto the sofa, Diane shifted into the vee of her parted thighs. She sighed as Blair worked her thumbs up and down along her spine. "God, I've forgotten how good you are at that."

"Oh yeah? Well, it has been a long time."

They both laughed.

"I can't remember who seduced whom that first time," Diane said musingly. "Of course, we were fourteen."

"Well," Blair said, circling the flats of her fingers in the hollow at the base of Diane's spine, "you asked me to rub your back when you just happened to be naked, but I copped the first feel. So, I guess it was probably mutual."

"We were so innocent." Diane turned her head and looked back at Blair. "I was so crazy about you."

"You never said."

"I know. You were such a little heartbreaker already, and I guess I just didn't want to take the chance of getting hurt."

"I wonder what it would have been like," Blair said, sliding her hands back up to curve over the tops of Diane's shoulders. "If we'd been lovers then—I mean, if we'd admitted it was more than just the sex."

"We wouldn't have this. This friendship." Diane lightly stroked the tops of Blair's thighs where they cradled her body. "And as much as I've wanted you all these years, this is what I've always needed."

"You're okay with things now, right?" Blair spoke gently, her hands still.

Diane laughed. "I'll admit to having a twinge now and then, when you're looking particularly devastating." She patted Blair's legs. "But I'm not pining, and I can enjoy a back rub without getting wet."

"Well, fuck, I'm slipping," Blair muttered playfully, resuming her ministrations. After a few minutes of silence, she said, "You know what you said about taking a chance?"

"Mmm-hmm." Diane rested her head back against Blair's shoulder and closed her eyes. "God, that feels so good."

"You have to take chances when you're in love."

Diane shifted slightly so she could see Blair's face. "And who might you be? I could have sworn you were my old friend Blair Powell, who used to say that being in love was just a state of insanity."

Blair shrugged. "Maybe it is. But it feels really good, so why not choose a state of insanity that makes you happy instead of sad?"

"I think I know what you mean. After everything that's happened, if there's something—or someone—in life that's precious, we shouldn't lose sight of it."

"So are you?" .

"What?"

"Taking a chance. With Valerie?"

"Oh, I have no idea what I'm doing with her." Diane shook her head, her expression rueful. "She's...she's turned everything upside down on me."

"She's very beautiful."

"God yes."

"And terribly sexy."

"Mmm."

"And she might not be who she says she is," Blair said gently, draping her arms loosely around Diane's waist. "You know that, right?"

Diane stiffened, but did not pull away. "Talking about Valerie could get us into trouble."

"Maybe, but we need to." Blair kissed Diane's cheek. "Because I love you and I need you in my life. So, are you in love with her?"

"Yes. Totally."

"Thought so. She looks like she's in love with you too."

Diane sighed. "She hasn't said so. But the way she is with me, the way she touches me.. .God, she's so tender."

Blair smiled. "Well, it's a done deal, I can see that." She gave Diane a quick hug. "You know, being involved with one of these secret agent types is a real pain in the ass."

"I'm starting to understand that. There are a lot of things she doesn't say. Or can't say."

"They teach them not to trust, you know." Blair's voice was flat, restraining her anger.

"I know. But then, look at us. We're not that much different."

"True," Blair said sharply, "but we're not likely to disappear in the middle of the night on some mission to save the goddamned world. We're not likely to have someone put a bullet in us while we go about our daily business."

"Hey," Diane said, taking Blair's hand. She wasn't going to point out that Blair was as much a target as their lovers. "You can't think about that all the time. It will just make you crazy, and you can't change it. You can't change her. Besides, would you want to?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes." Blair closed her eyes, then took a deep breath. "No. But God, I think about something happening to her..." She looked away, her throat working around tears.

"Okay, what's happened?"

"Nothing."

"Yes. Something," Diane turned to face Blair, resting her hand once again on Blair's leg. "Tell."

Blair leaned forward and retrieved her wineglass. Then she set it down, lifted the bottle, and topped off both their glasses with what remained. She settled back, the glass cupped in both hands. She studied it for a while, as if some mystery lay revealed within, then met Diane's compassionate gaze. "Cam and I are going to get married."

Diane sat completely still. While Blair watched her expectantly, Diane finally took Blair's glass from her hand and set both their glasses back on the table. Then she scooped Blair into her arms. "I am so, so happy for you!"

"Thanks," Blair said softly, rubbing her cheek gently on Diane's shoulder. She leaned back and grinned. "Will you help? Because I don't have any idea what to do for this kind of thing. And I'm pretty certain Cam doesn't either."

"Ooh," Diane breathed, her eyes sparkling. "Will you give me a blank check and permission to do anything I want?"

"Nothing fancy."

Diane pouted.

"All right, nothing too fancy."

"Wait a minute, won't the White House want to plan this?"

"No fucking way," Blair said succinctly. "This is mine and Cam's, and no one is going to take any part of it away from us."

"Then leave it to me." Diane jumped up and started to pace. "Oh, this is going to be such fun. Can I dress you too? Oh, Cam is going to look so drop-dead gorgeous in a tux. Versace this time, I think, although I know she always wears Armani-—"

"What makes you think I'm not going to be wearing the tux?" Blair asked archly.

Diane stopped and looked at her, a small smirk on her face. "Please. You might be butch in bed, bu—"

"Ah," Cam said from the door, "is this a private conversation?"

"We were just discussing Blair's sex life," Diane said without breaking a smile.

"Really." Cam crossed to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed Blair. Then she straightened and settled a hip onto the arm of the sofa, resting her fingers on the back of Blair's neck. "Past, present, or future?"

"All of them, actually It makes quite an interesting-—"

"Okay," Blair said firmly. "That's enough."

Cam grinned. "I think I might be able to contribute something. On two out of three, at any rate." Blair punched Cam's thigh, and Cam winced. "On second thought, maybe not."

"How are things going?" Blair asked.

"Slow." Cam's expression darkened for an instant, then she forced a smile. "But we're just getting started. I didn't expect the answers to be easy to find. If they were, it never would have happened to begin with." She stroked Blair's hair as she studied Diane. "You look even more happy than usual, which is saying a lot. What's going on?"

Diane's brows rose. "You really are a secret agent, aren't you. Very good, Commander." She took one look at Blair, seeking permission, then at the slight nod of affirmation, replied, "Blair has just given me carte blanche to plan your wedding."

Cam sat up straighter. "Really."

"Uh-huh."

"Tell me when and where to be, and I'll be there." She kissed the top of Blair's head and stood abruptly. "I'm going back to work."

"Chicken," both Diane and Blair called toward her retreating back.

*

Savard rolled over onto her back and tilted her face to the Florida sun. The ocean sounded a gentle roar twenty yards away, and a breeze cooled the sweat from her skin. She and Stark were the only ones on the beach behind her parents' beachside home. Eyes closed, she stretched out a hand and found Stark's arm, then trailed her fingers down until she reached her hand. Clasping Stark's fingers, she said, "This is wonderful."

Stark turned her head and surveyed her lover. Her caramel skin had darkened in just a few days to a dark bronze, and the shadows beneath her eyes were nearly invisible now. The last two nights she'd slept without awakening. Stark knew it would take more than a few days away from the stress and horror to heal, but her heart felt lighter to see Renee's pain ease even a little bit. "It's great."

"It's our first vacation."

"I know. I never knew you golfed."

"I played on the junior circuit as a teenager," Savard said, turning onto her side and smiling at Stark. "It seems like a million years ago now."

"I was pretty terrible at it yesterday."

"Yeah, you were. But you looked really sexy in those shorts and that tight shirt." She stroked Stark's forearm. "You've got such a great body."

"Jeez," Stark mumbled, but she grinned with pleasure.

"Honey, you know I love you, right?"

Stark frowned. "Sure I do."

"I want to go back to work."

"We've only been here five days. The commander said at least a week."

"I know what she said," Savard replied, drawing random patterns in the sand between them. "But they need me up there. I'm the FBI connection, and I was in the counterterrorism division. They need me working on what happened at Blair's."

"You need a little bit of a break," Stark said carefully, "so you'll be able to work the way you should. That's all."

Savard met Stark's eyes. "I know I almost lost it for a while there. And I know you know."

"Sweetheart—"

"No, it's okay. I'm not embarrassed that you know that I'm not always... strong."

"You are. You're the strongest woman I've ever known. And the bravest."

"I love you." Savard smiled softly. "You know I've seen my old therapist—the one I saw when I was a teenager—twice since I've been down here. It's helped."

"Yeah, but sometimes it takes longer—"

"I know that too. But I can talk to him on the phone from wherever we are, whenever I need to. And I will, I promise."

"I just want you to be okay. I don't care about anything as much as I care about that."

Savard braced a hand in the sand and leaned forward, brushing her mouth over Stark's. "I know. And that's one of the reasons I'm going to be fine."

"Can I tell you something?" Stark said quietly.

"Anything."

"I want to go back to work too. It's driving me crazy that the commander's doing my job."

Savard laughed out loud. "I never would've guessed you were that territorial."

"Oh yeah?" Stark reached out and pulled Savard onto her beach towel, and kissed her hard. "Just try looking at some other woman."

"Really?" Savard's voice rose, surprised at the unexpected show of aggression from her normally laid-back lover. "We did need this vacation. I'm learning all sorts of wonderful things about you."

"I'm really glad we came. I love being alone with you like this. Your folks are great too, though."

"I told you they'd love you," Savard said. She frowned and ran her hand over Stark's abdomen. "Did you put on your sunscreen? Your stomach's getting pink."

"I did, and that's not a sunburn." Stark grinned. "It was the kiss."

"Don't tell me you're ready again."

"I've been saving it my whole life just for you."

Savard leaned closer, her breasts nestling against Stark's, and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "You are adorable. And so goddamned sexy. And as soon as we shower, I'll take care of that burn of yours."

"We can't."

"Why not?" Savard sat up and dusted sand from the back of her legs.

"Your mother's home."