Love & Honor

Chapter Four

Felicia Davis met them halfway to the house as they climbed back up Hyde Street to the top of Russian Hill. The tall, lithe, ebony-skinned woman nodded cordially and silently fell into step beside Stark, who moved slightly to her left so that the two Secret Service agents walked slightly behind and on either side of Blair Powell.

Almost oblivious to their presence, Blair replayed the conversation with Cam in her mind as she climbed. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Even though they'd known each other less than a year, and for a good part of that time, they had been estranged, she could sense the tension in Cams voice, and it was more than fatigue.

Theyd been lovers for the last two tumultuous months-following an even more harrowing four months during which Cam had been in the hospital and then on medical leave after being struck by a bullet meant for Blair-a bullet that had nearly killed her. A bullet which the Secret Service agent had intentionally blocked with her own body.

For the first time in her life, Blair had to face the stark truth that her life-by virtue of her father's position-was somehow valued more than that of another human being. It was a realization which she could not accept, and because of that, and the haunting image of what that reality had almost cost the woman she loved, it was increasingly difficult for her to allow anyone to place themselves between her and danger.

Intellectually, she understood the need. If she were kidnapped, it would bring unbearable pressure on her father to give in to threats and manipulation. Something that as a man, and as a father, she knew he would want to do. However, as the President of the United States, it was something he would never be able to do. For that reason,she also bore the responsibility of seeing that he was never placed in that position. The conflict for her was a lifelong struggle, because she had been in the public eye since the time her father was a governor, and during the eight years of his Vice Presidency when he was being very publicly groomed for the office of President. And now, she was having an affair with the chief of her personal security detail.

Life was a lot simpler a year ago.

"Do you need something, Ms. Powell?" Felicia Davis asked, inclining her head slightly at the sound of Blair's voice.

"No. I'm fine."

The three women walked on in silence. When they reached the house, entering this time through the front door, Marcea Cassells, Cameron Roberts' mother, was just bidding her other house guests good night. The dark-eyed, strikingly beautiful woman turned as the trio came through the door and smiled.

"I see youve found each other."

"Yes," Blair replied, smiling in return. In a casual, emerald green silk blouse and darker slacks, Marcea looked like a softer, only slightly older version of Cam. That alone would have drawn Blair's smile, but she liked and respected the other woman. An artist herself, Blair was still slightly in awe of the critically acclaimed painter.

"Can I get you anything?" Marcea asked. "A drink or something to eat?"

"If there's port-that would be great," Blair replied.

The two Secret Service agents declined. Davis crossed the living room and disappeared into the depths of the house to check the back entrance and the rear grounds. Stark followed, but stationed herself in the dining room which adjoined the living room through an archway. She took up a post from where she had a clear sight line to the front door, but a position that was far enough away to afford Blair and Marcea privacy.

"Did you speak with Cameron?" Marcea inquired while pouring the wine into two crystal glasses. She carried them to the sofa were Blair was seated, handed her one, and sank into one of the matching chairs that sat at right angles to the sofa.

The house itself was a contemporary multilevel structure with many skylights, small decks beyond sliding glass doors that extended from the hillside rooms, and a general sense of uncluttered expansiveness. The sharp, cool lines of the structure were softened by the warm, muted colors of the rugs and furnishings. It was an Architectural Digest home made for living in. Only one painting out of the many gracing the walls was Marcea's. Despite her international reputation, she had the same sense of intense privacy that her daughter displayed. "She called looking for you."

"I spoke with her briefly a few minutes ago."

"I suppose she thought I wouldn't notice, but she sounded...worried."

Blair hesitated. She wasn't accustomed to discussing personal matters with anyone-well, anyone other than Diane. Diane Bleeker was her business agent as well as her oldest friend, and although they had often shared a rivalry over the years for the same women, they understood each other. She thought that quality, more than anything else, was the most important thing a friend could offer.

Nevertheless, despite her short association with Marcea, they shared a critical experience, and one that had forged a deep bond. For nearly forty-eight hours after Cam had been shot, they'd waited together by her bedside. Forty-eight hours during which time they hadn't known whether she would live or die. They had stood silent witness to her struggle, and they had shared grief and uncertainty. They'd also shared something else, although they had not spoken of it. They both loved her.

Blair drew a deep breath, and smiled a bit wanly. "That's my fault, I think. I decided to go for a walk, and I'm afraid I didn't follow Roberts' rules of order."

"I can imagine those rules must get very tiresome."

Blair shrugged. "They do, but I suppose, too, I should be used to it by now."

"I doubt very much I could ever get used to it," Marcea stated emphatically. "I also have a feeling that Cam understands that." There was kindness in her tone, and sympathy that sounded genuine.

To her absolute horror, Blair felt her eyes well with tears. Abruptly, she rose and crossed to the front window, desperately trying to contain her sadness. "Cam understands," she said, her back to face Marcea. "I know she does. But she has a job to do, and I'm her job. That comes first."

"Yes. I know how seriously she takes that. I'm sure that's why she was given the job." Marcea's voice was calm and gentle. "Loving you must make it quite a challenge for you both."

Startled, Blair turned abruptly, meeting Marcea's eyes. "Has she said-"

"No," Marcea said with another smile. "But it's plain to see every time she looks at you. I'm not trying to excuse her, you know. She's like her father-completely devoted to her work, often to the exclusion of her own needs. But in her defense-"

"You don't need to defend her to me. I lo She fell silent, shocked. She hadn't meant to say that-she'd never said that to anyone-about anyoneever before. First, because thered neverbeen anyone about whom to say it. And even had there been, there was no one to whom she would've felt safe saying it. Not even to Diane-not because she didn't trust her friend with the knowledge, but because saying it would make it real. She'd have to acknowledge her own vulnerability. To say it would be tofeel it, and that was terrifying.

The silence between them grew longer until Marcea spoke softly.

"I didn't intend to defend her. I'm sorry-it's the mother in me. I only meant to say that despite her single-mindedness, she cares."

"I know she does". Blair tilted the glass and swallowed the rest of the wine. She carried it to the sideboard and placed it carefully on the silver serving tray.I only wish I knew if it was me or the First Daughter who came first in her affections.

She turned and said tonelessly, "I need to call her. I promised I'd let her know when we got back."

"I hope I haven't offended you."

"No. You haven't."

Wordlessly, they nodded good night. As Blair passed Stark in the dining room, she informed her without turning in her direction, "I'm going to bed."

Start did not reply, because no reply was required. She'd already radioed Mac to inform him that Egret was secured for the night, and she had called Cameron Roberts in Washington DC to tell her the same thing.

Now, she herself could go to bed.

*****

Blair showered quickly and got into bed, naked. She turned off the lights and punched in Cam's number by the faint glow from the LCD readout on her cell. The line was picked up after the first ring.

"Roberts."

"It's me."

"How are you?"

"Tired, I think. Jet lag probably."

"Yes."

Neither of them mentioned that in the last two weeks there'd been an assassination attempt, a car bombing, and several explosions-all of the events involving Blair or a member of her security detail.

Blair shifted on her side so she could watch the moon as it moved slowly in and out behind the few scattered clouds in the sky. The house was very still and quiet-unlike the ever-present city noises she was used to hearing, even from her eighth floor penthouse on Gramercy Park in NYC. The view, too, was so different than New York, the sky somehow brighter and the stars more brilliant. It was beautiful, and she felt again the stab of loneliness. "What does it look like, out of your window?"

Cam was silent a moment as she focused on the night. "The sky is nearly cloudless, and very black. I can see the stars and a lot of planes taking off and landing. There's a glow off to the left that reaches into the lower layers of the clouds-that's the White House. It's always flooded with light. I'm surprised anyone can sleep-" She laughed shortly. "Well, you know that don't you?"

"It's not easy to sleep there," Blair said thoughtfully. "For any number of reasons. As you know, it's not my favorite place."

Cam chuckled. "I have noticed that."

"It's what, almost three there?"

"Just about."

"And what time do you bureaucrat types reconvene in the morning?"

"Seven." Cam tried to keep her weariness from showing in her voice. "I think thebureaucrats feel guilty about not really doing anything, so they work extra long hours to make up for it."

"I believe you have a point," Blair agreed, laughing. "You should go to sleep, Cam. You've got to be even more tired than I am."

"At least I don't have to contend with jet lag."

"No, but you haven't had much sleep in the last week and you're hurt."

There was silence and Blair could envision Cam trying to find a neutral comeback. That silence was more telling than anything else. "How bad is it?"

"I've got a knot on the back of my head that throbs at inopportune moments. Of course, it could be listening to Doyle for twelve hours-"

"Cam."

Cam heard the serious tone in Blair's voice and sighed. "I feel like a stream roller ran over me-coming and going. Twice."

"What else?" Shed seen the bruises the day before God, was it just yesterday? and although they looked painful, it would take more than that to make Cam complain.

"Nothing too bada bit of dizziness, a little blurry visi

"Jesus. You shouldnt be workingyou should be in bed. Can't you postpone this goddamned briefing?"

"It's got to be done-and the sooner the better. Events tend to get skewed the longer we wait. People have selective memory loss, or fortuitous recollections that make them look good and everyone else look bad."

"You expect trouble, dont you?"

Again Cam hesitated, because she had spent more than a dozen years on the payroll of the US Treasury Department, and she wasnt used to discussing her work with anyone. Even when she and Janet had been together, they hadnt talked shop. And Janet had been a cop.If wed talked a little more, maybe I would have known where shed be that morning. Maybe I could have warned her off. Maybe she wouldnt be de

"Cam?"

"Sorry. I guess I am tired". She rubbed her eyes, pushed the memories aside. "We have one dead agent and two seriously wounded. You came very close to being a victim yourself. Any one of those events is a serious issue. All of them togetherthere has to be an accounting".

"But youre okay in all of this, right? My God, Cam you almost died. If it hadnt been for you, who knows what would have happened to Grant and Savard".

"I'll be fine. Dont worry".

"Willyou tell me what happens?" Blair knew that she was asking Cam to cross a line. But they'd crossed so many already, and if they were ever going to have anything together-

She waited.

"Full report."

"I miss you." It took all Blair's willpower to say it, but it was such an overwhelming feeling that she had nowhere else to put it. She had to give it voice or choke on it.

"I'd give anything I have to be lying next to you right now," Cam said very quietly. "Anything."

"You know what makes me angry so about you, Roberts?"

"No, what?"

"I can't stay angry at you very long."

Cam laughed. "I have to have something going for me, because I know that most of the chips don't fall on my side."

"You're wrong about that, Commander."

Blair's voice was very quiet, too, but Cam heard her clearly. "Things will get better once these debriefings are done."

"Will they?" Blair asked. "Washington politics never change. You know that, Cam. It's just more of the same in a different package."

"Things will get easier foryou , at any rate. Now that he's been stopped-"

"You mean now that he's dead."

"Yes," Cam said softly. "Now that he's dead, your life will be a little bit easier."

"Do you have the final ID?"

Cam hesitated, but only for a second. "No, not yet. Everything is being handled out of Quantico, and you probably know how notoriously slowly those wheels turn."

"But there isn't any doubt, right?"

"There isn't any doubt we got the right man," Cam said with as much conviction as she could convey. "The ID remains open, but Savard took care of him."

Blair shifted uneasily under the covers, acutely aware of what Camwasn't saying. The FBI task force had indeed gotten someone. Thatsomeone was presumably the man who had been stalking her, threatening her life, and endangering her entire team. She was too intelligent not to know that what Cam wasn't saying was that only time would tell if indeed the dead man was whom they'd been tracking.

"Are you going to make it for your mother's opening?" Blair asked, changing the subject intentionally. Neither of them could do anything to change the circumstances regarding Loverboy. There was no point in talking about it.

"I'm going to try," Cam replied. "I haven't made it to very many of them, and I know this one is particularly important. I'll do the best I can."

"Good. I know she wouldn't say it, but I can tell she likes it when you're there."

Cam sighed again and rubbed at the tension between her eyes. "I know."

"Go try to get some sleep."

"I will," Cam assured her, wondering if she could possibly, now, having heard the touch of forgiveness in Blair's voice.

"Call me tomorrow?" Blair asked.

"I will. As soon as I get a break. About the morning...Mac will be-"

"Cameron, Mac can handle things. I'm fine."

"Right." After a moment, Cam added softly, "Goodnight, Blair."

"Goodnight," she whispered.

Blair shut off her cell and laid it on the bedside table. She drew the covers up to her shoulders and continued to stare out the window.

*****

Cam placed the receiver in the cradle, then stood and stretched. Her shoulders ached from the bruising she had sustained from being forcibly slammed to the ground by the concussive force of the explosion. She crossed the short distance to the window, drink in hand, and contemplated the skyline again.

Finally she drained the scotch and set it on the nearby bar. She needed to try to sleep. As she turned from the window, the phone rang.

Immediately, she grabbed it up.

"Roberts. She listened for a moment", then said, "No, thats fine. Send her up".

A minute later she opened her door to admit a tall, stately blond exquisitely attired in an expensive evening dress.

"Hello, Claire. Come in".