by Radclyffe
“You make it really really hard for me to think,” Emory complained weakly. Needing more contact, aching for Dana in a way she had never before experienced, she pulled Dana on top of her. She kissed her, fusing their centers while massaging the strong muscles in Dana’s shoulders and back. “Oh God, that’s good.”
Dana braced herself on her arms, thrusting harder and faster between Emory’s legs. Emory’s nails dug into her skin, raked the length of her back, and clutched at her ass. Emory’s eyes flew open and the awe and pleasure skating across her face made Dana’s clit swell and pulse.
She groaned.
“Oh, you’re going to come, aren’t you,” Emory said, wrapping her legs harder around Dana’s hips. “I love it when you…oh. God… I’m…”
“You too.” Dana gasped and her eyes slammed shut. “Oh Christ.”
They clung to one another, straining, shivering, crying out. Then Dana’s arms folded and she collapsed into Emory’s embrace. Emory stroked her hair, the back of her neck, her shoulders.
“I love what you do to me,” Emory whispered.
“You kill me.”
Emory smiled, physically satisfied and supremely content. She thought about what she’d said last night, that if she made love to Dana, kept control, she wouldn’t lose herself. How foolish she had been. She hadn’t been able to keep Dana out of any part of herself. She hadn’t known what true need was until Dana had awakened it in her, and answered it. “God, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Dana raised her head, a frown forming between her brows. “About what?”
Emory traced Dana’s mouth with her fingers. “About you. About this hunger I have for you.”
“It’s new for me too,” Dana said. “But last night feels like a beginning. I’m not going anywhere.” She glanced at the clock and grinned ruefully. “Well, not permanently. But I have to go now.”
“Work?”
“’Fraid so.” Dana rolled out of bed.
Emory missed her immediately.
“I have a pre-press interview scheduled with Blair, and if I don’t get going, I’ll be late.” Dana kissed Emory quickly and grabbed her clothes before she gave in and did what she wanted to do, which was taste her and tease her and make her come again. And again. She pulled on her jeans and T-shirt. “Can I see you later? Alone.”
“Yes.” When Dana leaned down for another kiss, Emory curled an arm around her neck and, unable to stop at just a light kiss, plunged into her mouth, drinking her in. When she let her go, she knew she would ache for her for hours. “But I can’t promise I won’t attack you the instant I see you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Dana ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Jesus. I really don’t want to go.”
Emory yanked the covers up to her chin and clutched them to her body. “Go now. Go, or I’m going to drag you back down here and I’m not going to let you up again today.”
Dana backed away, her eyes devouring Emory. “Think about me.”
“You have no idea.” Emory sighed. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else since the moment I saw you.”
Dana slipped out the bedroom door and Emory collapsed into the pillows. Her body was in turmoil, but her mind was as clear and calm as it had ever been. For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to understand something to know it was right.
Matheson watched Cameron Roberts stride down the path toward the lodge just as another agent he didn’t recognize headed toward the cabin. That made three agents stationed somewhere in the vicinity of the cabin. He was neither surprised nor deterred. The president’s daughter was never alone, but there were usually fewer people around her while she was in her private quarters than out in public. That’s why he had organized the first strike on her loft. This cabin wasn’t much different. The main lodge was crawling with agents, and according to the White House press bulletin the previous day, a press conference was scheduled later on in the morning. His window of opportunity to get to her was very small, and would never be perfect. Fortunately, surprise was on his side. And of course, so was God. If he’d wanted to kill her, she’d be dead by now. For the moment, at least, he would attempt to deliver what his foreign friends had requested. He removed the Glock from its holster and set off into the woods. If he approached the cabin from the side farthest from the lodge, he would be invisible most of the way.
He drew in a deep breath of sharp mountain air. It was a great day for a hunt.
“Morning,” Dana said to Paula Stark as she climbed the steps to Blair’s cabin. She indicated the door. “I’m expected.”
“Morning.” Stark knew the day’s schedule, including the media circus that was planned for noon. Nightmare was more like it. Controlling traffic up and down the mountainside was going to be a challenge, and despite ID checks and required press passes, limiting Blair’s exposure to the press and the curious was essentially impossible. Short of keeping Blair inside, absolute security was unattainable. Nevertheless, it was Stark’s job to provide just that. “She’s waiting.”
“Thanks.” Dana knocked and Blair answered immediately. “I hope I’m not too early.”
Blair smiled. “You’re right on time. Come on in. I just put fresh coffee on.”
Dana stepped through the door and removed her jacket. She’d barely had time to grab a shower, pull on fresh jeans, a T-shirt, and pullover before rushing back to Blair’s. When she had passed Emory’s cabin, it took all her willpower not to detour for just a minute. She’d resisted because she knew that a minute was not going to be enough, and she could hardly keep the president’s daughter waiting. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help wondering if Emory had gone back to sleep, curled around the memory of their night together. Pushing away the images that threatened to stir her up and wreak havoc on her concentration, she indicated the coat tree. “May I?”
“Of course.” Blair headed back toward the kitchen. “Hungry? I’ve got bagels to go with that coffee.”
“Sold.”
As Dana followed, she heard a thump on the back porch. Snow sliding off the roof, most likely. A new storm had blown in sometime before dawn, and already several new inches had accumulated on the path.
The guard on the rear deck jerked to attention when a figure appeared around the corner of the cabin. Without hesitating, he stepped forward, his hand sliding inside his jacket. “That’s far enou…”
Matheson raised the pistol and fired. Blood blossomed on the agent’s forehead, and he fell. Before the body landed, Matheson reared back, kicked the back door open, and vaulted into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly as he leveled his gun on the first daughter. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Who are you?” Blair quickly backed up into the doorway, hoping to shield Dana from the intruder’s line of sight. If he didn’t see her, Dana might have a chance to get out. She judged the distance to his gun hand. Not enough room for a roundhouse kick, but with luck a well-placed snap kick might work.
Before Blair could try, Matheson rushed her, spun her around toward the living room, and shoved her with a fist to the middle of her back. “Move.”
Blair shouted a warning to Dana before crashing into an end table. Matheson clubbed Dana in the temple. As she fell, the front door burst open. Stark raced inside, shouting into her transmitter, her gun sweeping the room.
Matheson opened fire.
As the red-alert signal came over her receiver, Patrice Hara jumped up from the small dining room table, knocking her coffee cup to the floor. “Greg!”
Wozinski crashed through the double doors from the kitchen. “I heard it!”
“Someone advise Commander Roberts!” Patrice raced for the door.
Seconds later, she and Wozinski sprinted down the snow-covered path toward Blair’s cabin. Vaughn ran up the trail toward them from the far side of Blair’s cabin. Patrice shouted into her radio. “Stark? Julio? Status?”
“Jesus,” Wozinski panted when his rec
eiver remained silent. “Where are they?”
Patrice caught movement out of the corner of her eye and pivoted, her gun extended. Cameron Roberts ran toward them over the hard-packed snow in her shirtsleeves, her weapon out, her face a study of eerie calm.
“Report?” Cam barked, never slowing her pace.
“Don’t know.” Patrice stepped aside as the commander barreled past, then rushed to catch up. “I got an interrupted transmission from… oh Jesus.”
Everyone except Cam skidded to a halt. Blair stood framed in the doorway of the cabin. A man in winter BDUs stood behind her, watching them approach. He held an automatic pistol to Blair’s temple.
“Hara, Wozinski, stay back,” Cam shouted, halting at the foot of the path that led to Blair’s cabin. Then she leveled her weapon on the man in the doorway. Matheson. At last. “Let her go.”
Matheson smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Cam’s head felt like it might explode. She was going to kill him for touching Blair. Not now. Later. She would kill him later. She forced back the terror at the sight of the gun against Blair’s head. Not like Janet—Blair, not Janet. Blair. He would not take Blair. Cam eased slowly forward in the unblemished snow, one step at a time, her weapon steady in a two-handed grip. “What do you want?”
“That’s far enough.” Matheson pushed the gun barrel into Blair’s temple, and Blair winced, coming up on her toes to relieve the pressure.
Cam was close enough to see the expression in Blair’s eyes. Fear, yes, but above all, fury. Good, Blair would need that anger to keep her head clear. Cam halted. Dead man. You’re a dead man.
“What do you want?” Cam repeated calmly. If he’d wanted Blair dead, he would have shot her and been long gone.
“Tell the president to expect a call.”
“I can help you get what you want.” Cam took another cautious step forward. Twenty yards. She was good at twenty yards, but not good enough. Always trade for something. She would have to break a few rules, but this was Blair. “Let’s work together here.”
“Why should I do that? I hold all the power.” He looped an arm around Blair’s neck and jerked her against his chest, shielding his body further. “I have her.”
“You know how it works,” Cam said, playing to his ego. “Show of good faith. You give me something, I make a call to the right person.”
“And what would you want?”
“I need to come inside. Then I’ll make some calls.”
“No,” Blair cried, her voice muffled from the pressure of Matheson’s arm on her throat.
Matheson laughed. “We’ve got enough people inside already.”
“Then I’ll trade places with her. I’ll be a lot more useful to you than her. I know who holds the power in Washington. Do you really think it’s her father?” Cam laughed and took another step. Almost close enough. If she could just draw his fire. She was counting on her team to have gotten someone into position with a sniper rifle. “Me for her.”
Blair struggled in Matheson’s grip and cried out when he fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head back. His expression hardened. “Maybe everyone will feel more inclined to be helpful if I put a bullet in her.”
“All right, all right,” Cam shouted. “If you hurt her, you’ll have nothing to bargain with.”
“I’ve got a lot to bargain with. One of your agents is bleeding out on the floor just inside,” Matheson said conversationally. “And I’ve got another one who’s going to have quite a headache if she ever comes to.” He smiled. “I’ve got plenty of currency.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Cam said, standing rigid, her gun still trained on him. She didn’t raise her voice, but it carried through the clear cold air like steel slicing flesh. “Hurt her, and God Almighty could be in that room and it won’t save you.”
“What makes you think God isn’t in this room?” Matheson dragged Blair backward into the cabin. At the last instant, he turned his gun on Cam.
Blair’s scream was lost in the sound of gunfire.
Chapter Twenty-three
For the span of a heartbeat, Cam stood her ground with bullets singing around her head, praying for a one split-second glimpse of Matheson’s unprotected body. But the bastard was smart, and he held Blair so close that only an inch or two of head and torso was visible. She was a good shot, but not good enough to risk Blair’s life. Cam held for another heartbeat, petitioning the universe to bend to the force of her will, but it would not yield. She dove to the ground chest first, barely registering the pain lasering through her bruised ribs. When silence fell, she rolled to her knees, breathing hard, and trained her weapon on the closed cabin door. She wanted to storm the cabin, she wanted to be in that room with her hands around Matheson’s neck. She wanted to shout that if he hurt her, if he so much as touched her again, she would tear his still-beating heart from his chest with her bare hands.
“Commander,” Hara called from somewhere behind Cam. “Commander, take cover, for God’s sake.”
Cam stood up, her gaze riveted to the cabin, and slowly backed away. Take cover. What kind of cover did Blair have inside that cabin with a maniac? When Cam reached the trail in front of the cabin and saw no activity from inside, she holstered her weapon and sought out her people, who had taken positions in the trees around the clearing. Hara and Wozinski had been joined by the other members of Blair’s security detail along with Steph and the rest of Tanner’s team. All told, a dozen formidable professionals. Someone, probably Hara, had deployed them to cover the cabin should Matheson try to escape, with or without the hostages.
Cam needed to formulate a counterattack. Matheson was going to move fast, and he had the advantage as long as Blair was alive. That he intended to kill her was a given. At some point, Blair would no longer have value as bargaining currency, and then Matheson would execute her. Cam had only one option—kill him before he ever had that chance.
“Steph,” Cam said, “put your best sniper on that door. Put another on the rear. I want only you, me, and Hara to have a channel to them. I give the go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Make sure we have a tight perimeter on the cabin. Then evacuate the other cabins, get everyone into the lodge, and post someone on all the entrances. No one leaves without my say-so.”
“On it.” Steph spoke into a throat mic as she ran toward the closest cabin.
“Hara.”
“Commander?”
“I need aerial surveillance. Have Wozinski contact the president’s advance team in town and tell them we’re canceling the press conference because we need extra time to secure the road up here. Do not apprise them of the situation here. Then put Greg and one of Steph’s long-range shooters into the air in our bird.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hara started away.
“Hara,” Cam said.
Hara looked back. “Ma’am?”
“If I go down, you have the command.” Cam stared at the cabin. “He’s going to try to move her. Soon. He’s going to come out and she’s his ticket to freedom. Do not let him put her in a vehicle. Give the sniper the green light to fire at will.”
“Understood.” Hara’s voice was raspy with tension.
Hara disappeared and Cam signaled for one of Steph’s men to take up the position that Hara had vacated. Then she went in search of Mac Phillips. She found him hunkered down behind a boulder, an assault rifle trained on the cabin. “Stark’s down.”
“Could you tell—”
“Status unknown.” Cam fisted her hands. “Dana Barnett’s in there too. That’s all we know.”
“Jesus.”
“Do you have people on the back?”
“Two teams.”
“Good. Who was on the back door?”
“Julio.” Mac shook his head without taking his eyes off the cabin. “There’s a body on the porch. Must be him. No way Matheson could have gotten past him unless he took him out.”
“I agree.” Cam’s head was buzzing, her insti
ncts were at war. Her heart and a good part of her mind screamed for her to get Blair out now, get Blair away from him, get Blair to safety. But her training demanded she be calm and dispassionate—assess the situation, plan for contingencies, and ultimately, execute a counterattack. The Secret Service did not react, it acted. She could not allow Matheson to dictate the plays. She knew that. But she wanted to be inside that cabin with Blair more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, and she didn’t care if she died trying. Not the way she needed to be thinking. She closed her eyes and directed every bit of willpower she possessed into resurrecting her professional shields. She would do this by the book, until she had no other choice.
“You think he’s alone?” Mac asked.
“Looks that way. So far.” Cam’s nerves settled as she focused on the problem. “No covering fire when any of us took position, and these kind of guys don’t pass up a ready target. Besides, I think the only way he could have gotten this close without being detected was to come alone or with one or two others.”
“Bold plan but makes sense.”
“The lone gunman,” Cam said bitterly. “The hardest to defend against. Christ, he could have skied to within a hundred yards of here from almost anywhere on the mountain and we wouldn’t have known.”
“What does he want?”
“What do any of these fanatics want? Someone to listen to them. The semblance of power.” She raked a hand through her hair. She was afraid it was more than mere political fanaticism this time. She feared his true target was Blair and always had been. Her shirt, wet from her dive into the snow, had frozen and chafed her skin. She shivered. “He’ll tell us soon enough. In the meantime, I need you back inside the lodge.