Oath Of Honor

Chapter Twenty-nine

Blair set her book aside when the door opened and Cam walked into the apartment. Cam looked tired, and she never looked tired. She always seemed to have endless energy and incredible stamina. The only signs of fatigue were a crease between her dark brows and a tightness around the corners of her mouth. Blair saw the stress, even though to anyone else Cam would appear as calm and centered as always. “Did you catch any sleep?”

“I grabbed a couple of hours in the ready room. I’m okay.” Cam leaned over the sofa and kissed her. “Morning.”

“What’s going on?” Blair grasped Cam’s hand and pulled her down beside her. Draping her legs over the arm of the sofa, she shifted until her head rested in Cam’s lap. Blair tugged Cam’s shirt from her trousers and kissed her bare abdomen. “Have you eaten?”

“Coffee and half a chocolate doughnut.”

“That’s not food.” Blair settled back, and Cam stroked her arm beneath the edge of the threadbare USSS T-shirt of Cam’s she wore to bed. The light touch was gentle and reassuring and exciting all at the same time. She never realized how much she missed Cam until she walked back in the door. The scent of her, just looking up and seeing her nearby, filled her with comfort and a peace she’d never known she wanted. “You’re not supposed to deal with everything alone any longer.”

Cam sifted Blair’s hair through her fingers, soothed by the silky softness. “I’m not. I promise.”

“But?”

“I can’t help wanting to protect you.”

“I know that. I love you for that. But it’s a two-way street, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Cam sighed. “I think we may be honing in on our leak.”

“Who is it?” Blair kept a tight rein on the anger blazing in the very core of her. Disbelief and outrage stoked the flames. She wanted to strike back—and not being able to focus her rage only fueled her fury.

Cam gave her a capsule summary of what she’d reported to Lucinda. “If I’m right, there may be an attempted assault soon.”

Fear licked around the edges of Blair’s consciousness, but she pushed it away. “How? When?”

“I don’t know. Guesses are all I have.”

“Your guesses have always been good.” Blair sat up and faced Cam, her knee sliding over Cam’s thigh. She kissed her. “I know you’re doing everything that can be done. It’s not all on you.”

Cam nodded. “I know. I’m just...things are starting to move and I’m preoccupied. Sorry.”

“You’re also not giving me much in the way of details.”

Cam smiled softly. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Really, Cam.” Blair shook her head. “Who told you to keep me out of the loop? Lucinda?”

A spark of humor lit Cam’s dark eyes. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. And exactly why aren’t you following Lucinda’s orders?”

The humor disappeared but the darkness remained in Cam’s gaze. “Because I want you to be safe, and you can’t be safe if you don’t know what’s going on. I think Lucinda’s wrong in thinking you’ll be safer if you’re away from the action. We don’t know what’s coming, or where it’s coming from, and the only way to be prepared is to hone our defenses while we work out an offensive plan.”

“Meaning?”

“If your father’s the target, and I believe he is, you should limit your time with him.”

“That’s not going to happen. If my father’s the target, then I want to be with him. That means more agents, more surveillance, more protection for him.”

“That’s exactly what Lucinda wanted to avoid—both of you in the line of fire.” Cam stroked Blair’s jaw. “She loves you, you know.”

“I know. So why are you telling me anything at all?”

Cam circled the back of Blair’s neck, feathering her fingertips through her hair. “I’m telling you because I don’t think anywhere is safer than any other place, right now. And since you won’t abandon your father, you need to know what the potential threats are, to best protect yourself.”

“And you know I’d kick your ass if you kept this from me.”

Cam grinned again. “That too.”

“So tell me what you think I need to know.”

“I will.” Cam kissed her, a slow exploration that melted the tension in Blair’s body and settled the disquiet in her mind. “As soon as I say a proper good morning.”

Blair slid her hand under Cam’s shirt and stroked upward to her breasts. “Not too tired?”

“Not tired at all.”

*

Just before 1800 hours, Wes finished writing a prescription for one of the groundskeepers who had severed the tip of his little finger while attempting to clear ice from his snow blower. He hadn’t been able to find the missing piece of tissue, so Wes had shortened the bone fragment beneath his nail and closed it with a local skin flap. A week of antibiotics and a protective splint ought to be all he needed. His finger would be a little bit shorter, but he should have no functional deficit. He was lucky. She walked down to the treatment area where the PA on duty with her was splinting the digit. “Here you go. Stop by in two days for a bandage change. We’ll get the stitches out in a week or so. How does it feel?”

The groundskeeper smiled. “Doesn’t bother me at all. Can I go to work tomorrow?”

“Is there work you can do one-handed, because I don’t want you taking that splint off.”

“I’ll manage.”

“The splint stays on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right, then you can go back to work.” She clipped the prescription to his chart and went back to her office to finish her notes and shut down her computer. Five minutes later she headed for the briefing room she’d been in that morning. When she walked in, Evyn was there, sorting through an array of equipment on the table.

“Hi,” Wes said, eyeing the small receiver and attached wires. “What’s happening?”

“The director asked me to suit you up.” Evyn looked up. “You need to be wired.”

Wes loved the hazy purple of Evyn’s eyes, a sure sign her emotions were running hot. She hoped she was the cause—even if the timing was bad. Even if that turmoil in Evyn’s gaze was annoyance rather than attraction. Anything was better than the indifference and distance Evyn was so adept at hiding behind. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just take off your shirt and loosen your belt,” Evyn said neutrally, her attention back on the equipment.

Wes removed her blazer, folded it over the back of a chair, and unbuttoned her shirt. She tugged it from her pants and laid it with her jacket. She opened her fly and pulled up the bottom of the silk tank she wore beneath her shirt.

Evyn held up a slim black box about the size of a deck of cards, only thinner. “This audio transmitter is small enough we should be able to secure it inside the waistband of your trousers in the middle of your back. Unless you get...cozy, it won’t show.”

“I’m not planning to get cozy.”

Evyn grew still, her expression flat and closed. “Really? How do you plan on extracting personal information if you don’t?”

“People tend to relax in a social situation, even when it’s not intimate. They talk about their schedules, what they plan to do the next day, where they plan to go. Any of those things might help us pinpoint a potential exchange point.”

“You’re right,” Evyn said abruptly. “And I apologize.”

Wes grasped Evyn’s wrist, stilling her in mid-motion. “This morning, you said last night wasn’t over.”

“I remember.”

“What changed overnight?”

“I know you have no reason to believe this, but I did.”

“How?”

“I thought if I really connected with you, if I really let myself be open to caring about you, to letting you close, I’d lose my edge, lose control. Not be able to focus on what mattered.”

“Is that what happened this morning in the briefing?”

Evyn grimaced. “Yeah, it kinda looks that way. I hope I didn’t make you—”

“I said I liked that you care, and I meant it.” Wes moved around the table and gripped Evyn’s shoulders. “I don’t want to make you unhappy.”

“That’s just it, you don’t. The closer we are, the more I feel like myself, and that really scares me. Because if I need you for that, what happens when you’re not here?”

“What happens if I don’t go?”

“A whole other reason to be scared,” Evyn said, her heart belying the words. She was anything but frightened by the idea of having Wes around all the time. She was exhilarated.

“I get being scared—you walked away last night, and that hurt.”

“I know. And I know sorry doesn’t cut it, but I am.”

“I guess we’re both a bit scared,” Wes said.

“Yeah. And I don’t like that much.”

“Neither do I,” Wes said, “but you’re good at handling the tough jobs. So am I. We ought to remember that.”

Evyn grasped her hand. Threaded her fingers through Wes’s. “I will if you will.”

“You’ve got a deal, Agent Daniels.” Wes wanted to kiss her—but Evyn needed to keep focus. So did she. “Later.”

“What?” Evyn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you when this is over.”

“Then let’s finish getting you wired so we can find out what the hell is going on and put a stop to it.”

“Let’s do that.”

“Do I have to say be careful?”

“I don’t mind when you do, but I promise I will be. And I’ll see you at the end of the night.”

Evyn’s lips parted slightly, her face flushing. “I’d like that. A lot.”

The tightness in Wes’s belly warmed her until she was close to forgetting everything except the softness of Evan’s mouth and the taste of her skin. She pulled away. “Good.”

“Don’t take any chances,” Evyn whispered.

“Don’t worry. We have unfinished business, and I plan to take care of it.”

*

“Can I get you a drink?” Jennifer took Wes’s coat and hung it on a wrought-iron coat tree just inside the door of her town house.

“Scotch and water would be great,” Wes said. The town house in Adams Morgan was small but impeccably restored. The hardwood floors gleamed, the walls were painted in nineteenth-century period colors, the wood staircase leading to the second floor was adorned with a hand-carved newel post and banister. The furniture and thick area rugs were understated but obviously expensive. Jennifer lived well on her military salary.

“Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” Jennifer disappeared through a door beyond the staircase that Wes assumed led to the kitchen. She settled on the sofa and studied the books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves opposite her. American classics for the most part, a few contemporary titles. Nothing to help define Jennifer as an individual. On the short Metro ride, Jennifer had asked about her most recent posting and how she was finding the job. The kind of casual conversation individuals getting to know each other had. At one point as they walked, Jennifer had slipped her hand through Wes’s arm, an invitation or maybe a query. Wes pressed her arm closer to her body, securing Jennifer’s hold, signaling—she hoped—interest. Jennifer had responded by leaning into her shoulder a little more and squeezing her arm.

“Here you go.” Jennifer held out a crystal rock glass with two inches of dark amber liquid inside and sat on the sofa next to Wes with a glass of wine.

Wes sipped the scotch. Smoky, dense, expensive. “Thanks.”

Jennifer sighed. “This is nice. How about I order in? There’s a great little restaurant down the street that delivers quickly.”

“Sure, unless you’re too tired. I can go—”

“No.” Jennifer pressed her palm to Wes’s thigh. “Not now that I’ve got you here. I’ll get you the menu.”

“Don’t bother. Order what you like—surprise me.”

Jennifer smiled. “I plan to.” She rose and set her wineglass on the end table. “I’ll be right back.”

When Jennifer returned, Wes asked, “So where does your sister live?”

“Ohio,” Jennifer answered immediately. “She and her husband have a dairy farm there.”

“Just you and her or a big family?”

“Just us. My parents met later in life and they’re both gone now.”

“Sorry.”

“I was looking forward to my sister and her family coming here, but her husband’s mother needed emergency gallbladder surgery. That put an end to the Christmas plans. What about you?”

“Three sisters. I would’ve gone home for the holidays—I generally take my annual leave at this time of year—but I’m here.”

“You didn’t have much notice, I guess.” Jennifer cradled the wineglass in one hand, drew her legs beneath her on the sofa, and rested her free left hand on Wes’s thigh.

Wes tightened automatically and Jennifer made a sound as if she were purring. Wes tried to remember the question as Jennifer’s fingers stroked slowly up and down the inside of her leg. “I wasn’t expecting this job, true.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Jennifer leaned into Wes a little more. “They certainly got you on board at lightning speed.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t a drawn-out process.”

“I guess they explained what happened to Len—the heart attack out of the blue?”

Wes chose her words carefully. Jennifer might be searching—trying to find out if Wes had any suspicions about O’Shaughnessy’s death—or her questions could simply be curiosity. Somehow, though, Wes doubted it. “Nothing unusual on his post. Probably an arrhythmia.”

“You just never expect it, when someone’s in such good shape—” Jennifer’s cell rang. “Oh, sorry. That must be the restaurant. They always forget to ask about the hot sauce.” She grabbed her phone. “Hold on. Hello?”

Jennifer frowned. “I’m sorry. Let me just take this—it’s a friend from out of town.”

“Of course,” Wes said as Jennifer rose. “Take your time.”

“Hi, Tom,” Jennifer said, walking toward the kitchen.

Wes hesitated, uncertain how good her audio would be a room away through the old thick walls. She got up and walked toward the kitchen, pausing outside the archway.

“Ellie told me you’d be calling. Are you in town long?”

“I’m afraid tonight isn’t a good night. I think it would be awkward for me to change my plans. But if you’re on a tight schedule—”

“No, no, I’m more than ready. What about breakfast?”

“There’s a diner a block from my apartment. Eva’s.”

“Seven thirty?”

Wes registered the silence a second before Jennifer appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Sorry,” Wes said quickly. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

Jennifer smiled thinly, her eyes narrowing. “Top of the stairs on your left.”

“Thanks. Be right back.”

“The food should be here soon.” Jennifer traced a fingertip over the top of Wes’s hand. “I hope you’re as hungry as I am.”