Radclyffe - (Honor 4) - Honor Guards

by Radclyffe

  "Yes, go ahead." Cam regarded Felicia. "Fielding is running the command center. He should have an update on Mac's situation,"

  "Thank you. I'll speak to him, then, with your permission."

  "Fine. Then both of you, get some sleep. You're first team until further notice."

  Both women nodded wearily and then left together for the crosstown cab ride. Cam walked out of the West Wing and started toward the Treasury Building. She needed to advise her superiors that the president's daughter's security team was seriously compromised, and that she couldn't be sure that all of her remaining agents were trustworthy. She had lost one agent, she had another who was critically injured, and the president's daughter had barely escaped a kidnapping or assassination attempt. At the moment she wasn't certain which. Given the degree of penetration by the perpetrators, it was entirely likely that by the end of the day, she would no longer be the president's daughter's security chief.

  In some respects, that would make her life much easier— her personal and professional lives would no longer be in direct conflict. It would probably make Blair happier, and that was no small consideration in Cam's mind. But her duty was not done, and would not be done, until she had brought to justice the men and womenbehind the attack on Blair. Whether she retained her position with Blair's team or not, officially or unofficially, she intended to find them. Someone had tried to murder the president's daughter; someone had tried to murder her lover. She wanted retribution, and she wanted to make it very clear to whoever might be planning the next assault that Blair Powell was not a target for terrorism.

  Stark called Renee's number for the seventh time. She got the same recorded message. Out of service. All the news reports said the cellular carriers are either overloaded or down. It doesn 't mean anything.

  She checked her personal voice mail. There was nothing from Renee. She hung up, then redialed her home number.

  "Honey? Renee, if you check the answering machine and get this message, call me on my cell or at the usual place in DC. Okay? I love you, honey."

  She ended the call and sat motionless on the side of the bed, staring at her hands. They were shaking. She was shaking. Everything inside of her felt like it was coming apart. She didn't know what to do, so she lay down on the bed fully clothed and curled on her side. She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn't sleep, and waited for the phone to ring.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  S tewart Carlisle, a deputy director of the Secret Service and Cam's immediate supervisor, shot up from behind his desk the instant Cam walked into his office. "Christ Almighty, there are bodies lying all over Egret's apartment building. There was a dead agent right outside her goddamned door! Tell me that someone didn't almost shoot her."

  Cam had a ferocious headache that wasn't helped by the lack of sleep or the need for a decent meal or the immediate interrogation. However, considering what had happened to the nation the day before, she understood that no one in law enforcement was going to be getting regular sleep or food or much in the way of a break for months to come. So, steadfastly ignoring the throbbing pain behind her eyes, she took her customary chair across from Carlisle's desk and waited for him to sit back down.

  "The dead agent is David Foster, and—"

  "I know who he is," Carlisle snapped. "What I don't know is what happened to him."

  "He's also one of the people who tried to assassinate Blair Powell."

  "Oh fuck. Jesus. Are you sure?"

  The muscles on either side of Cam's neck tightened, but her voice was steady. "Positive."

  "And he ended up dead—-how?"

  "I shot him myself."

  Carlisle pushed back in his chair and expelled a long breath. "Well, we have a very big problem."

  Grimly, Cam smiled. "That would be my assessment as well."

  The first thing Blair did when Lucinda left her in her father's private study was to call Diane. "Hey. It's me."

  "Oh thank God! I've been calling you nonstop for twenty-four hours." Diane's voice was tight with strain and sharp with accusation. "When I didn't get an answer, I walked down to your place. There was an FBI agent—"

  "Renee? Was it Renee Savard? You remember her, the really nice—"

  "Uh-uh. No. It was a guy, some stone-faced suit who didn't care who I was or what I had to say. God—are you all right? All I could think was that you'd been whisked away to some missile silo in Montana or someplace."

  "I'm sorry," Blair said quietly.

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm in DC. I'll be here a while—I don't know how long."

  Her uncharacteristically subdued tone must have registered with her friend, because Diane's next words were gentle. "But you're okay?"

  "Yes. How about you?"

  "It's—unreal here. But I'm...managing." Diane sighed. "I'm glad that Cam's mother left Monday for California."

  "I have to call her next. The weekend, the show at the gallery-it all seems like another lifetime, not just a few days ago."

  "I know,"

  "I'd better go, Di," Blair said, suddenly weary in body and soul. "I'll call you again soon. I love you."

  "Oh God." Diane's voice wavered. "I love you. Take care of yourself—and Cam."

  "Yes. I'll do that."

  After speaking with Marcea and assuring her that both she and Cam were unharmed, Blair leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

  "Blair," a quiet voice murmured.

  Blair jerked upright, her eyes darting open at the gentle touch upon her shoulder. Blinking in confusion, she stared at her father.

  "Dad?"

  "I'm sorry, honey," the president said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  Blair shook her head, pushing her hair back with one hand. "No, you didn't. I just...What time is it?"

  He glanced at his watch. "Three in the afternoon."

  "I thought Cam would be back by now."

  "Every available agent in every branch of federal law enforcement is up to their eyeballs right now trying to get a handle on what happened yesterday." The president sat beside Blair and tentatively placed his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sure she's no different, and considering what happened at your apartment building yesterday," his grip on her tightened as he kissed her cheek, "she's going to be very busy."

  Despite her surprise at his unusual physical display, Blair nevertheless leaned her head against his shoulder. "After all the hijackings...all the terrible things in the last twenty-four hours... what happened to me seems so minor."

  "No," President Powell murmured. "What happened to you could easily have been the worst thing I've ever experienced. I'm just so grateful that you're all right."

  "And I'm grateful that you weren't in DC yesterday."

  The president gave Blair one last hug and then stood. "I'd like you to stay here for a while, until we have a better understanding of the ongoing threat level,"

  "How long?" Blair asked cautiously.

  "A week." He met her eyes. "At least."

  "I can't live here, Dad." Blair held his gaze, "I have a life. I have a lover who needs me, and we can't be together here."

  "Cam is welcome to stay in the residence with you," he suggested quickly.

  Blair laughed and shook her head. "Dad. Please. We really don't want to waste resources managing the press just now—and I doubt that Cam would agree anyhow. She's a...stickler...for protocol."

  The president smiled. "That must drive you crazy."

  "More man you can imagine." But Blair's tone was gentle, her eyes soft.

  "The Security Council and the Secret Service, and now probably the CIA and FBI as well, are going to want to know what happened at your apartment yesterday, Blair."

  "Is Cam in trouble?" At his silence, Blair stiffened. "How could she be? She saved my life"

  "I don't know if she's in trouble. At this point, I don't even have a good idea where the investigations will focus—we don't even know where to start looking. But Cam will be asked some hard
questions."

  "You'll protect her, won't you, Dad?"

  "If I can." His voice was steady and his tone unwavering. He never lied to his daughter.

  Blair nodded silently. She would protect her lover, no matter what was coming.

  Stark rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, disoriented and confused. There was very little light in the room. Night time? Yes, it must be after eight o 'clock. She was in a strange room— the hotel. She was alone; she felt so empty inside. Finally, she registered what had awakened her.

  She stared at the door. Someone was knocking. Someone was calling her name.

  "Oh, Jesus!"

  Stark bolted from the bed, nearly falling. Her legs were shaking, whether from hunger or fatigue or hope she didn't know, but she managed to propel herself across the unfamiliar room, only knocking into one footstool in the midst of her mad dash. The swift pain in her shin didn't even register. She'd been so distracted earlier, she hadn't flipped the security latch, and all she needed to do was grab the handle and pull. She yanked the door open, heart pounding. The surge of pain in her injured shoulder never even registered as her gaze fell on the woman in the hall.

  "Oh, thank you...God, thank you."

  "Yes. Oh, sweetie, yes."

  They fell on each other, unmindful of the partially open door bouncing against their backs, talking over each other as their hands roamed frantically, seeking reassurance and comfort.

  "Everything was so crazy—the attacks—"

  "I thought you were in the building—"

  "We had no word on casualties."

  "I couldn't reach you—the phones, the security blackout—oh, baby, I was so afraid."

  "I don't know what I would have done—"

  "All I could think was I'd lost you."

  "I love you so much."

  "I love you. God, I love you."

  "Don't let go."

  "No, I won't. Never. Never."

  Finally, Stark was able to pull away enough to look into Renee's eyes. The wellspring of pain in their depths broke her heart. With trembling fingers she caressed her lover's cheek, then drew her into the room, letting the door swing closed behind them. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you."

  Shaking her head, Renee pressed her face to Stark's neck and held on. Her voice was a fragile whisper. "As soon as we got word that the tower had been hit, we started evacuation procedures. We literally dumped Priority One files into the shredders on our way out the door. Within half an hour, we were outside on the street, but we still had no idea what was happening. Our radio links were still working, but it was chaos. None of the messages we could pick up were making any sense. Then..." her voice wavered, "we got an emergency call from Stacy Landers about an armed assault on Egret." She lifted her head and searched Stark's face, her expression a mixture of disbelief and terror. "Landers said there were dead and injured at the command center. I thought...oh God...the first thing I thought was that I'd lost you. And everything inside of me just... stopped."

  "And I thought...when I heard about the towers...and then I couldn't reach you..." As tears streaked Stark's face, she fell silent. Unable to stop caressing Renee's back, her arms, her face, afraid that she might disappear at any second, Stark pressed a cheek to her lover's. "I love you so much. I thought I might die without you."

  With a small cry, Renee clasped Stark more tightly. "I'm sorry, baby. Oh God, I'm sorry. I couldn't call you—I'm not even supposed to be here now. But when I finally got your phone messages, I had to see you." She stroked Stark's face, her neck, her chest, keeping her abdomen and thighs melded to her. "I had to touch you—not just talk to you. Oh, Paula, I love you. I love you."

  Falling back on routine, because trying to make sense of what had happened in the last thirty-six hours was beyond impossible, Stark asked shakily, "You're investigating the attack on Egret?"

  Renee nodded. "We were the closest team initially, and now... every other available field agent is working Ground Zero." She took Stark's hand, loath to move away from her even that much, and drew her toward the bed. Once there, she clicked on the bedside light before drawing Stark down beside her on top of the covers. "There's not much to say right now about the attacks—any of them. We don't know much."

  "That's all right," Stark said immediately, turning on her side and wrapping an arm around Renee's waist. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to get used to you being here—you being all right." She drew back, her eyes suddenly intent- "You are, aren't you? You weren't hurt yesterday?"

  "No," Renee said quickly. "We were gone before it...really got bad."

  Relieved, and feeling guilty for it, Stark just nodded.

  "What about you?" Renee questioned, running her fingers up and down Stark's arm. "When I saw one dead agent in the lobby and another outside Egret's apartment, and then Mac—God, baby. You're all right?"

  "Yeah." Stark's throat suddenly felt tight, and she blinked away the images of Mac bleeding into the ground and the memory of bullets slicing the air around her. "Just a nick."

  Renee jerked. "A nick? You were hit?"

  The near panic in her voice cleared Stark's head of the cobwebs of fatigue and horror as nothing else could have. She gathered Renee close, and with her lips to Renee's forehead, murmured, "I'm okay. A round just grazed my shoulder. It's nothing."

  "I want to see."

  Ignoring her demand, Stark questioned gently, "How long can you stay?"

  "I need to be back tonight. Everyone at headquarters—God, everyone everywhere —is screaming for information. I don't think anyone is going to be sleeping for the foreseeable future."

  "I know. I can't leave here yet, either. I don't know how long it will be before I can get back home."

  "That's okay. I'll be there." Renee slid her leg between Stark's thighs and kissed her, massaging her back with firm hands as her lips glided softly over Stark's mouth. After a moment, she drew back, breathless. "As long as we'll be together eventually, that's all that matters."

  "That's everything," Stark whispered. Then she caressed her palm along the length of Renee's thigh and tugged the blouse free from the waistband of Renee's slacks when she reached it. With her fingers caressing the warm, smooth planes of Renee's abdomen she confessed, "I need you so much. Can you stay for another hour? Can you stay and let me touch you?"

  "Yes. Oh, yes."

  Slowly, careful of bruises in body and soul, they tenderly brushed lips and fingers over the flesh they bared as they helped each other to undress. When at last they came together, breast to breast and belly to belly, their soft cries spoke of longing and love and gratitude. Gently, they joined passion and promises, holding each other safe in the only unassailable place remaining to them— within the sanctuary of their own hearts.

  Blair scooped up the bedside phone on the first ring. "Yes?"

  "This is the duty officer, Ms. Powell. I'm sorry to disturb you, but Commander Roberts sai—"

  "Is she there?" Blair sat up, brushing the hair from her face with one hand as she checked the clock. 2:20 a.m. Once again, she'd fallen asleep without meaning to. The shower she'd taken earlier had relaxed her, and she'd only intended to stretch out on the bed for a minute. That had been four hours ago. "Please show her up."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  By the time the knock sounded at her door, Blair had donned a T-shirt and soft cotton drawstring pants. She opened the door to allow her lover entrance, nodded her thanks to the officer, and closed the door once more. Turning to Cam, she put both arms around Cam's neck and kissed her for a long moment. Drawing back, she appraised her critically. "You look exhausted."

  "Yeah. I'm a little beat."

  The very fact that Cam admitted to being tired told Blair just how close to the edge she was. She took Cam's hand. "Come on. Let's get you into the shower and then into bed."

  "I probably shouldn't stay. I just wanted—"

  "You're staying."

  Through a fog of fatigue, Cam heard the edg
e of steel in her lover's voice. She was too tired to argue, and she really didn't want to. What she wanted to do was lie down beside Blair, pillow her head on Blair's breast, and sleep. "All right. But if you don't mind a little sweat, I'd rather just go to bed."

  Blair smiled. "I've always thought a little sweat was sexy, when it was yours. Come on, Commander." As she led Cam through the suite, she asked as casually as she could, "Did everything go all right with the debriefing?"

  Cam grimaced as she shrugged out of her jacket. "There wasn't much to debrief. The formal investigative panel hasn't even been convened yet. I just gave Stewart a general rundown."

  "So there's likely to be more questions?" With practiced moves, Blair unbuckled the leather straps around Cam's shoulders and slid off the weapon harness. As if by second nature, she put the holster and weapon on the night table next to Cam's usual side of the bed.

  ''A lot of them," Cam grunted as she unbuckled her belt and after toeing off her shoes let her pants fall at her feet. "Starting tomorrow, probably." She pushed off her underwear and sat on the side of the bed to unbutton her shirt.

  Blair leaned over, pushed Cam's hands away, and deftly worked the buttons open. She lifted the shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. "How's your head?"

  Cam dropped back onto the pillows with a groan. "It's been worse." Then she extended one arm toward Blair. "Come lie down. I've missed you."

  "Mmm, me, too." Blair settled onto the bed and encircled Cam's shoulders, drawing her close. "I love you."

  "Thank God." Cam nuzzled her face against Blair's breast. With a weary sigh, she murmured, "Everything will be different now, baby. The whole world's going to change."

  Blair's heart lurched, but she pushed aside the fear. Cam was here, in her arms, solid and real. Their love was real. "We'll be all right as long as we have each other."

  "Yes," Cam said faintly as she surrendered to exhaustion within the protective circle of her lover's arms. "Together..I promise."

  The End