Price Of Honor

Chapter Two

Dusty stroked Atlas’s sleek, muscular back and read the question in the dark chocolate eyes that studied hers. Why are we wasting time in here when we could be working and having some real fun? “I know, I know. I’m not any crazier about this than you are. But public relations is part of the job, right?”

Atlas flicked an ear dismissively. He didn’t care any more for PR or politics than she did. Work was his only interest and his greatest joy, just like it was hers. His long, fluted tail brushed slowly from side to side on the cement floor of the training run, as measured and steady as his temperament. His right shoulder lightly touched the outside of Dusty’s left leg. She had him on a short lead, but it wasn’t really necessary. He wouldn’t leave her side unless she gave him the command to search or release. But since they were meeting a civilian, she wanted to send the message he wasn’t a pet and ought to be given the same respect as any other professional. Too many people didn’t think twice about approaching a strange dog, even when it was obviously a law enforcement dog engaged in serious work. Atlas would tolerate a stranger’s touch if she assured him first it was all right, but it wasn’t fair to him to put him in an awkward situation because of a human’s ignorance.

“I’ll get us out of there as fast as I can, I promise. It’s just a couple of questions and a few photo ops. The bosses say good publicity is always important.” Dusty wasn’t any more eager to be interviewed by a member of the press than Atlas was to be inside when he’d rather be out on the training course. Dog stories were apparently popular with the public and, according to public affairs, created sympathy and support for the federal agencies who employed them, helping to balance the more frequent critical portrayals that seemed the daily fodder of the press. She didn’t much care how those outside the unit viewed her. She much preferred the company of her dog to almost anyone.

She and Atlas had been together since he was just weeks old. They’d been living and training together over a year. They understood each other, communicating without words more effortlessly than she’d ever been able to communicate with anyone. They slept together, ate together, trained together, worked together, played together. What else could she possibly need? She stroked between his ears for a second and he nudged her leg.

“Eleven thirty. Time to meet the reporter.” She brushed a stray Atlas hair off the front of her dark blue BDU shirt and signaled him to heel. The reporter from the Washington Gazette was doing a feature piece on the role of the Secret Service K9 division in the protection of the president. She didn’t mind talking about Atlas—she loved letting people know how amazing he was. What she wasn’t about to admit was that tomorrow would be the first time she and Atlas took to the field as part of the PPD. She wasn’t a rookie, though. She’d worked with protection dogs on the White House grounds before moving to the explosives-detection unit. Atlas was young but seasoned, with one of the best noses in the division. He’d passed all his training certifications with flying colors, and she couldn’t wait to get started. Instead of preparing for the upcoming operation, she’d gotten stuck with this.

“Twenty minutes,” she muttered and led Atlas down the long hall of the training facility to the conference room at the front of the building. The small room was made smaller by a table too big for the ten-by-fifteen-foot space already crowded with wooden folding chairs and a whiteboard on wheels. The flat fluorescent overheads cast a harsh glow on the off-white walls and scuffed gray tile floor. A metal cart sat in one corner with a coffee urn, a stack of Styrofoam cups, individual plastic containers of cream and packets of sugar, and plastic stir sticks. Otherwise the stark, bare room was empty.

Except for the woman sitting at the end of the table who forced everything else into a monochromatic blur. Even sitting, she looked tall, possibly taller than Dusty’s own five-nine. She was ivory complected with dark, dark hair pulled back from her face and clasped at the back of her neck. Shorter strands slanted across her forehead above arched black brows. Lipstick just short of deep red highlighted a wide full mouth. Her high cheekbones, narrow nose, and heart-shaped face were too angular for conventional beauty, but her piercing dark almond eyes were magnetic, mesmerizing.

“Like a Modigliani,” Dusty murmured.

“I’m sorry?” The woman stood, her deep green jacket and skirt draping perfectly over a model’s body, slender and sleek.

Dusty froze in her tracks and Atlas sat obediently at her side. Feeling a flush creep up her neck, she self-consciously cleared her throat and said a prayer of thanks that her utterance hadn’t been clearer. “Ms. Elliott?”

The woman walked around the table and held out her hand. “Yes. Vivian Elliott.”

Conscious of her calloused palm meeting smooth cool flesh, Dusty shook her hand. “Dusty Nash. This is Atlas.”

Vivian glanced down, smiled. “Gorgeous.”

Dusty couldn’t shake the disquieting sense that Vivian Elliott wasn’t quite real. She’d never seen a woman so beautiful before, not in real life or in any of the dozens of museums and hundreds of paintings she’d viewed over the years.

“He probably prefers handsome,” Vivian said, making no move to touch the dog. He was, indeed, handsome. Quick, intelligent eyes, glowing mahogany coat shot through with black over his shoulders and hips, a broad strong head, and tapered snout. “How old is he?”

“A year and a half.”

“Young for this work, isn’t he?”

“Not for his breed.”

“Belgian Malinois?”

“Yes.”

Vivian mentally sorted through the research she’d done when prepping for the interview, searching for something that would help her connect to the handler. Agent Nash appeared far less communicative than her dog, whose liquid eyes spoke volumes as he tilted his head and appraised her. Nash’s eyes, a startling shade of true green with tiny flecks of brown-gold that matched her windblown collar-length hair, were wary and intense. On most people a green that pure screamed contact lenses, but nothing about Nash suggested artifice or vanity. Her hair was casually cut, her fair, faintly freckled face without any kind of makeup, her uniform standard, well-worn BDUs, unadorned except for the ID hanging around her neck and the unit patches on her sleeves and chest. Agent Dusty Nash was not a people person. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could talk outside, where I could see him work a little?”

A spark flared in Nash’s eyes, and Viv congratulated herself. Bingo. It was all about the dog with this one. Not so different from some of the breeders she’d known growing up. “After all, he’s the star, right?”

“You do know it’s twenty-five degrees out there,” Dusty said.

“Does he mind the cold?” Viv teased.

Dusty laughed, and the transformation was breathtaking. Her stoic expression softened and heat melted the coolness in her gaze. “He’s bred to work in the mountains. He loves the cold. He’d much rather be outside than inside.”

“Does that go for you too?” Viv knew the answer, but she needed to keep Nash talking so the freeze didn’t set in again. Not an unfriendly, arrogant disinterest, but something else. A rare air of self-containment, a subtle barrier that provoked Viv’s curiosity.

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what we should do. Let me get my coat.”

Viv retrieved her dark green wool topcoat and shrugged into it. She extracted her tape recorder from the left pocket and held it up. “I can’t take notes while we’re walking, so I’ll be taping. Are you all right with that?”

Dusty shrugged. “Sure.”

She held up her camera with the other. “Photos, of course.”

“Can you just take him?”

Viv considered her approach. Nash wouldn’t care about personal publicity. “You’re a team, right?”

“Sure.”

“He wouldn’t work as well with anyone else, or you either, for that matter. Right?”

Dusty’s left hand dropped to Atlas’s head and he pushed against her palm. “That’s how we train. I have to be able to read his actions and the signals he gives when he alerts to something. No one else knows him that well.”

“Exactly, and that’s what readers really want to see. The teamwork.”

“I thought this was about using dogs on protective details.”

“It is, some,” Viv admitted. “But you know most of that is classified. I’ll get some photos on the train to tie in with what we do here.”

“You’re going?”

“White House press corps,” Viv said, pointing to her ID.

“I’ll grab my jacket, and we’ll go out the back,” Dusty said, oddly pleased to hear Vivian Elliott would be traveling with the press on the upcoming trip. “I’ll show you some training exercises.”

“Wonderful.”

Vivian smiled, and Dusty was reminded of her favorite, enigmatically beautiful paintings again.

*

Blair woke slowly, nestled in the curve of Cam’s body, Cam’s arm looped around her waist, holding her close. Cam’s chest and belly were warm against her back and hips. She laced her fingers through Cam’s, drew up her hand, and kissed her fingers. “You awake?”

“Mm,” Cam murmured. “Sort of.”

“We’re going to have to get up.”

Cam sighed and kissed the back of Blair’s neck. “I know. Five more minutes.”

Blair laughed. “You’re getting lazy, you know. This cushy desk job of yours might make you soft.”

“Nah.” Cam burrowed against Blair’s shoulder. “Just spoiled. Married life agrees with me.”

Blair caught her breath. Married. They were, as of just a few weeks before. She felt the ring on her finger that matched the one on Cam’s. Thought about the future, a future so very different from the one she’d imagined a year ago when she’d rarely considered the next day, let alone anything beyond. Her father wouldn’t be the president forever, and she wouldn’t be an object of public speculation or a potential target any longer. She could have a life like other people. They could have a life without danger around every turn.

Cam would probably always have the kind of job she did now. She was driven to serve, driven to protect, but when the administration inevitably changed, she might actually spend more time behind her desk. She’d never completely leave the field, no matter what she said her intentions were. It just wasn’t part of her. But there might come a time when someone else really did take the risks. Blair tried to imagine how they would live and thought of the house they’d purchased on Whitley Island. Remote, wild, beautiful. Where they could be alone and she could paint and…

She jolted at an unexpected, nearly frightening image.

“What?” Cam murmured, kissing her again.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

Blair turned onto her back and found Cam leaning on an elbow regarding her with that serious look she got when she was waiting for Blair to decide to share a secret. Or not. “I was thinking it might be nice to have a child.”

Cam’s pupils widened. “A baby, you mean.”

“Maybe. Or a toddler. Or an older one.”

“Adopt?”

“I think so. There’s so many kids who need homes.” Blair pushed a dark lock from Cam’s forehead, searched the storm-gray eyes, and waited. Cam was an only child, they both were, and neither had had an easy childhood—losing parents far too soon. They’d barely begun their life together. Her timing was pretty terrible.

“We have pretty busy schedules,” Cam said slowly, carefully.

Blair laughed and kissed her. “I don’t mean right away.”

The tension in Cam’s shoulders eased and her breath came out in a long sigh. “No? When then?”

“I don’t know, four or five years. When our life is a little more normal.”

“Adoption is fine with me,” Cam said. “You don’t want to be pregnant?”

“I don’t feel any burning need to be. Do you?”

“No. Never pictured it.”

“What about children? Did you ever picture that?”

“Blair.” Cam eased down on the pillow beside Blair and wrapped an arm around her. “I never thought about being married until you. Beyond that, no. But I’m thinking about it now.”

“That’s good, then. There’s no rush.”

“It’s a big deal. I know you know that. You might change your mind about wanting to carry a child by the time we’re ready to.”

“If I do, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Then we have a plan. We’ll revise as needed.”

Laughing again, Blair slung a leg over Cam’s hips and pressed close. Their bodies joined effortlessly, naturally. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Blair gave a little shove and Cam fell onto her back. Blair rolled onto her, sliding one leg between Cam’s. Smooth and hot skin kissed her wet, swollen flesh and she rocked, enjoying the rush of pleasure that filled her. She braced her arms on either side of Cam’s shoulders and worked herself in long teasing strokes to the edge. Cam cupped her breasts and squeezed her nipples lightly, knowing the pleasure would push her even higher. Blair caught her lip between her teeth, felt the tension coil deep in her belly.

“I am so going to come on you in about ten seconds.”

“That’s right, baby,” Cam whispered. “You’re so hot.”

Blair’s vision wavered, heat flooded her belly, and she arched her back. The orgasm started slow and then burst like sunlight, jolting along her spine. She gasped and cried out, her head falling forward, her hair draping Cam’s face in a golden veil.

Cam caught her as she fell and pulled her close, reveling in her pleasure. “That was the best five minutes I’ve had in a long time.”

Blair sighed and kissed her throat. “I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Who cares, as long as there’s more,” Cam whispered.

“If we don’t get up, we’ll be late.”

“I suppose we can’t keep the White House waiting.” Cam stroked her back and squeezed her ass. “But I want the rest later.”

Blair pushed herself up, still trembling. “Once we walk out the door, we might not be alone again for days.”

Cam kissed her. “We’ll find time. Guaranteed.”

Blair laughed. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

*

Jane called the last number she’d gotten for her brother. Her heart seemed to stop as it always did until he answered. Now more than ever, he was the one at risk, so close to those looking for her, maybe him too.

“Hey. You all right?” Robbie said by way of greeting.

“Yes. Is it still on?”

“Yes, heading out tomorrow.”

“And you’re going for sure?”

“Front-row seat.” He laughed. “Well, not exactly. Probably four or five cars back, but close enough.”

“And the itinerary?”

“Just a preliminary, so far. I expect an update later. I know quite a few people aren’t happy about this little excursion.”

“Just the usual super-paranoia?”

“Well, given what’s happened here and then…out there, security is even tighter than usual.”

What happened out there. They didn’t talk about their father anymore. He was gone. Now it was up to them. “What about Jenn?”

“I don’t know.”

The answer was a blade in her heart. “There must be something.”

“I know someone who knows a guard, but there’s not much news. I think she’s still here, but if they move her I’ll have no way to get information.”

“We’re not going to let that happen. She’s not going to disappear into some hole.”

“You have a plan?”

She did, at least the beginnings of one. She had to set her rage aside and think clearly. Revenge was a dangerous motivator. She’d been taught that. Sweet when accomplished, but dangerous when it clouded judgment. She wasn’t a martyr, and she wasn’t going to let Jenn or Robbie be martyrs either. “There are options. It might be better if you didn’t go.”

“You need inside information.”

“Yes, but that puts you—”

“In danger,” he said sharply. “You mean like you and Jenn? You think I’ve been happy all these years sitting on my ass scribbling useless articles and ingratiating myself to hangers-on and ass-kissers and perverts?”

“I know it’s easier to carry a gun, believe me. But we needed you there, and look what it’s accomplished for us.”

“Yes. Jenn in a cell.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted the mercenary quite so much.”

“We’re going to have to trust him again. Is the number for him still good?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I’ll be getting a new phone later today. I’ll text you the number.”

“I’ll change mine too and let you know.”

“Be careful, Robbie.”

“You know, you’re the only one who ever calls me that. If it weren’t for you, I might not remember my name.” He sounded sad, lost for a moment.

Jane pushed the sympathy away. “You know who you are. Don’t ever forget what we need to do.”

“Right,” he said briskly. “Well, at least the train will make a nice change from Air Force One.”

Jane laughed flatly. “And a nicer target.”